Summary: A series of oneshots in the universe of 'The Rebel Snakes', exploring magic in other cultures, the intersection of magic and Muggle worlds, and the dichotomy of magic and faith. Mostly Gold-centric, with frequent appearances by the trio, the Slytherins and various others. Features linguistically brilliant Harry, morally confused Malfoy, flirty Myrtle, social justice Hermione, chessmaster Ron and BAMF Neville.

This is in response to requests for Astoria Greengrass's druidic roots and a meeting between Gold and Hermione's progeny. I'm sorry, but counter to request, I've kept it in line with the book epilogue because I like the book epilogue.

Part 8: Set some time after the final battle. Gold discovers that there are people on earth who find Malfoy attractive. And some of them aren't even horrible people.


Granger had long since stopped being able to visit him at Hogwarts. She'd moved beyond it; it wasn't part of her life any more. Gold knew that. He didn't wait for her like a new puppy any more. That rather pitiful phase had, he decided, been the byproduct of a transient depression brought on by the sudden and jarring realization that a) after so long spent with the knowledge that his time on earth was finite, suddenly he literally had all the time in the world, and b) he was dead.

He'd moved on, or at least learned to keep himself busy. He had a whole house full of students to concern himself with. He'd been the self-appointed Golem of Slytherin house since he was a chubby, pouty eleven-year-old and that title didn't just wash away with a silly thing like death.

But something kept pulling him back here. Sometimes bodily. Being incorporeal had its blessings - very few spells seemed to have the slightest effect on him now, and he could pass through walls at will - but now that he was no longer subject to physical forces, other forces seemed to move him as they would.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

"It's not like I was in love with her," he complained, waking up yet again in the tiled cool of the abandoned toilets with no idea how he'd gotten there. "She shouldn't mean this much, I shouldn't keep getting tugged here."

"Maybe it's me you're really here to see? I'm better company than the Baron."

"Oh, do shut up, Myrtle."

Somewhere behind him - Gold wasn't looking at her - he heard a splash and a wail. "You're so cruel! We're the only ghosts in this whole wretched castle who died as students - I thought I was finally getting- I don't know, something!" She gave a deep, waterlogged sniff. "You don't have to love me, just talk to me!"

"We live and die lonely, Myrtle," said Gold, who'd barely listened to a word she said, "Get used to it."


It had been a long time since he'd been back to Malfoy Manor. It looked.. different. Much of the well-kept grounds, run to seed during the war, had been allowed to grow somewhat wild. What had once been a massive, immaculate lawn was now a meadow, overrun with wildflowers. The peacocks were gone. The hedgerows assumed more natural forms than the perfect, boxy regularity that Gold had become familiar with during his many hauntings. The great oak trees that shaded the house were alive with birds and dripping with grapevine and mistletoe.

"I love what you've done with the place," said Gold, appearing stretched out on Malfoy's desk with one knee crooked, draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls style. Probably an unfortunate pose, considering, but he cared very little.

Malfoy shrieked. Then abruptly regained his composure and glared. "Not funny, Gold. Where have you been?"

He twisted round to sit cross-legged on the desktop. "Have I been remiss in my haunting duty?"

"It's been four months."

"Has it?" Gold frowned. "Time sort of gets away from me now. It never used to."

"You could have at least gotten in touch."

"Draco..." Gold tilted his head, staring. "Have you missed me?"

"No," said Malfoy, "I need you as a character witness."

It was possibly the only answer that could have shocked Gold more than a straight 'yes'. Malfoy, seeing the obvious bewilderment on his face, sighed and leaned in, speaking to him in a whisper. "The thing is, I've done what I can to make reputable connections and move forward, and so on, but sometimes one doesn't want any doubt in the matter and next to the sodding golden trio you're the only moral authority I know who's not, you know, the non-communicative form of dead."

"I'm flattered."

"Take me seriously for once in your bloody life."

"It's not my life any more, Malfoy, and I am taking you seriously," said Gold, holding up his hands, "I'm flattered. I mean it."

"Good. Er. Well." Malfoy had gone rather pink. "I'll go and - "

"-Draco, love, who are you talking to?"

Gold had been expecting Draco's mother, but the woman who walked in was far younger and, Gold thought, far more pleasant-looking. She was thin and dark-haired, dressed in brown robes that made her look more sensible than sensual, held in place with a large silver pin in the shape of a dragonfly. There was a cleverness in her eyes.

Gold's eyebrows shot up. "Oh." Then he saw the glittering ring on her left hand, and the eyebrows in question made a break for his hairline. "Someone's marrying you?"

Malfoy went crimson. Shut it, he mouthed.

The woman laughed. "Yes, gods call me crazy, I am." Her tone was lightly teasing, affectionate even. She actually seemed to like him.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Malfoy, to his credit, recovered his poise quite quickly. "Astoria - you remember I told you the place was haunted?"

"I'm sorry for not believing you, love, but he did sound rather far-fetched." She turned to Gold. "So you're an old school friend of his?"

"David Gold, as I was known in life. Ghosts need titles, apparently, so I'm the Golem of Slytherin, as often as not. Were we friends, Draco?"

"...More like school enemies," admitted Malfoy. Then he tilted his head so that Astoria wouldn't see, and mouthed Please make me look like I wasn't such a berk.

Gold smiled like a cat with a can-opener. He was going to blackmail Malfoy something fierce later on. "But, you know, we saw past our differences after my death," he lied.

"So why do you still haunt him?"

"It's not really a proper haunting. We catch up on Slyth gossip and swap opinions on Muggle philosophers." Merlin, that part wasn't even a lie.

"Yes, he likes that, doesn't he," said Astoria, absently.

Gold had to fight the urge to snigger. The size of Malfoy's collection of Muggle philosophical literature was second only to the Song of Songs on the 'list of things Malfoy and Gold would never speak of again'. "I think it speaks volumes about his improved open-mindedness, really," he said, trying to sound pleasant. Oh, Malfoy, you owe me.

"I'll leave you two to chat for a moment," said Draco, who looked like he knew exactly what was going through Gold's head and was fighting the misguided urge to strangle him. "I think I might open a bottle of something. Astoria, darling, would you prefer the '69 cab to the ruffino? "

"You know I prefer beer, love," she answered, in a sing-song voice. Gold liked her more and more.

"Pour me a glass of the ruffino," he called out at Malfoy's retreating back, entirely to be difficult. "Just leave it out for me as a ceremonial gesture, like I'm Elijah."

"You tease him something terrible," said Astoria.

Malfoy had pleased with him to paint him in a good light, but Gold decided authenticity would make for a prettier picture. "Oh, you've seen nothing. This is us playing nice."

"He's a sensitive soul, you know. The war was hard on him. He was so afraid, all the time." She perched on a table, using one of the chairs as a footrest and revealing large, rather splendid boots. They looked like they could have kicked through walls. Gold was fairly sure they were dragonhide.

"I know," answered Gold, allowing himself to sober, "or at least I suspected, at the time. I held him in contempt for it. But he's got a will to change, and that means something."

"Do you think he's changed enough?" For the first time, there was worry beneath her fondness. "Don't mistake me - I love him. He tries so hard. He worships me. He makes me laugh. I just... don't want to see him relapse."

Gold thought about it. "I warn you, I'm not one for sugar-coating. Except for literal sugar coating, which is delicious."

"Go ahead."

"Never stop loving him, Astoria, or he will implode. He's always been so desperate for real affection and if you ever take it away I fear he'll be worse than he was."

Astoria let out a long, slow breath. "...No pressure."

"A lot of pressure. If you can't handle it, now's the time to get out."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How old were you when you died?"

"Seventeen."

"So this is an angsty adolescent's take on long-term commitment."

Gold shrugged. "I was always bollocks at love. But very good at reading people."

"...I think I can be what he needs. I hope I can."

"If it helps, you're already more than he deserves," said Gold, trying to resurrect a hint of levity. "Who are you, anyway? I know you drink beer instead of massively expensive wine and have boots that could crush bone, which is enough to sway my judgement, but still."

"Greengrass. Astoria Greengrass."

Gold frowned. "Your sister was in my year in Slytherin."

"That sister terrorized me all through my childhood," said Astoria, looking him dead in the eye.

"Really? Oh, thank Merlin, I was going to say she was a complete khaleria but I didn't want to offend you."

Astoria let out the faintest breath of a laugh. "I think maybe I shouldn't ask what that means. But. Daphne was mother's favourite. The only one who preferred me was my grandmother. She and I were both... well. There is a reason I chose not to go to Hogwarts."

Gold stared at her. Somehow the idea of not going to Hogwarts was unfeasible to him. "Where did you go?"

"Avebury Henge."

Something dawned on him. "...You're a Druid?"

"Like my father's mother, yes. I was always more drawn to moon and stars than stone walls. Hogwarts stifled my magic."

"Is that why there's mistletoe growing outside?"

She beamed. "Yes. Draco let me leave out the berries, even though sometimes it can kill an oak - do you know what the birds do? They eat the berries, and the seeds get stuck on their bills, and then when they alight in a tree they choose a new branch, not too new, because it's just the size for their feet, and wipe the seed off with their bills. And so it grows in the tree. When it grows thick enough I can perform a moon-hailing."

Gold gave her a confused look. Astoria looked quite happy to explain. "It's a purification ritual. Sort of a spell, sort of not. But I think it might help Draco... you know... forget. About the parts of the war he's not proud of."

"Ah, now that I understand.'

"Few do." There was a hint of a challenge in her voice. "Latin wizards don't have purification rituals any more. Not since they drained all the faith out of magic. Druids are old, old as the hills. These lands used to be ours, until the Roman Empire came in. A different kind of Pagan magic took over then. There's so few of us left now." And as she spoke, she reached out towards a small potted vine that Gold was sure hadn't been there the last time he was here. It bent towards her like a snake, twining around her finger.

Gold laughed. He'd never been able to resist a whiff of a challenge. "Don't get competitive with me about old and oppressed magical cultures, miss Greengrass. Zeyda used to say a good Jew would keep an argument going his whole life rather than lose it. But if there's one thing Harry Potter successfully rammed down my throat it's that everyone has their old magic. It comes with the territory of believing there are levels of meaning in the world beyond what you can touch."

"I think it blurs into faith," said Astoria. "Latin wizards see a dichotomy, but I can't. You yourself are proof of the undying nature of the soul."

"You're too kind."

At that point Malfoy appeared, juggling a glass of amber beer, a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Merlin, Malfoy, you didn't think I was serious about the cup for Elijah, did you?"

Malfoy gave him a blank look.

"Draco," said Astoria, rising to her feet to peck him on the cheek, "Should we take these outside and show him my standing stones?"


When he left the Malfoys he didn't go back to the castle. Instead, he found the Burrow, and from there, the little cottage down the road where Granger and Weasley had settled. Draco and Astoria's happiness seemed to have cut a hole in him and it needed to be stitched up somehow.

Hermione had always been good at that part.

He didn't approach the house itself. That felt invasive, somehow. Instead he stood by the gate in the dimming twilight, watching the blooms of the dogwood tree in the front garden move with the evening wind and wishing he could feel that wind. Hoping, somehow, that she would catch sight of him in the window and come out to speak with him.

Eventually, he went back home, and awoke again in the abandoned toilets.


"Scorpius! Scorpius! Give it back, it's not funny!"

"I bet you write all your secrets in here, all the margins are full of ink-"

Rose stomped her foot. Scorpius knew a lot of things she liked hearing, about the moon, and goddesses who watched over flocks, and men in white robes who carried golden scythes. Spooky stuff, but interesting, too, and not stuff she could find in any book in the Hogwarts library, and she'd looked at all of the ones that weren't in the restricted section, thank-you-very-much. But he acted like he could just take whatever he wanted, especially when they went to the Slytherin common room. He was much better-behaved when he came to see her in Gryffindor because James and Teddy and all them were there to make sure he didn't get beyond himself.

Al Potter, who had been sitting by the fire reading his book, peeked his head around the wing of a big armchair. "Careful, Scor," he said, with badly-contained laugh. "A pureblood picking on somebody mixed-blood? The Golem'll get you for sure."

"Yeah, right, Potter."

"Or maybe I will. Give her back her book."

Scorpius rolled his eyes and handed Rose back her copy of Hogwarts: a History.

"What's the Golem?" asked Rose, perfectly content now that she had her book back. He'd only been teasing, but she did have secrets written in it.

"Don't ask, or we'll be here for hours," said Scorpius, rolling his eyes again. He was the king of eye-rolling. Rose had never met anyone so good at it. "Father says he's a friend, but all they do is argue anyway."

"Not strictly true," said a voice from behind her. She whirled around. Behind her, a silvery, transparent ghost lounged in one of the armchairs - a fat teenager with very fancy hair. "Sometimes we also play chess," said the ghost.

"While arguing."

"Hello, Scorpius."

"Hello Gold."

The ghost turned its eyes on her, tilting its head. A flicker of something passed over its face. "Who's this?

Rose swallowed, and went for the phrase she had always rehearsed for meeting new people who frightened her. He wasn't as scary-looking as the word 'golem' made him sound, but ghosts were still a little scary either way. "Rose Weasley, sir. It's a very great pleasure to meet you, sir." She started to stick out her hand, then faltered and pressed it back to her side.

"I thought so." The ghost was silent for a moment. "I knew your mother when we were students here. She's likely forgotten who I am, but I was very fond of her."

"Were you in love with her, sir?" asked Rose, who was too romantic a soul to show much subtlety.

Scorpius looked at her like she'd just said a very foul word. But the ghost just shook his head.

"I don't think so. In love is a big, important thing and I don't like to use it lightly." His tone was... not quite wistful, but thoughtful. "She was the best friend I ever had. Which may be even more important."

Rose had a thought. "What did you say your name was?"

"I'm the Golem of Slytherin."

"Not that name. That's just a title. The name you were born with."

The ghost looked at her oddly. "David Gold."

Rose laughed, delighted. "Oh, she remembers you."


Next up: The Unravelling Thread, in which a member of the D.A. learns the truth and Gideon Rowle learns a lie. Please throw me a review!