A Song for Severus Part 10
It didn't take Fenrir long to pick up Remus' and Eloise's scents, and the werewolf tracked them, growling at the convoluted path they took. It was easy to tell they had been playing together, Eloise obviously taken by the lesser werewolf. Damn it…if Remus had mated with her, Fenrir would kill them both. He wouldn't take a chance that another werewolf fathered offspring for the muggle.
Shit. Eloise just…just ran off with him. The werewolf snarled, though inwardly he knew Eloise had not subjected herself to him or recognized herself as his mate. Fenrir had taken her, yes, but it had been violent and forced, the werewolf locking down on the scruff of her neck and holding her in place painfully as he mated with her. She ran from him the moment she was released and he had to catch her and bully her back to the cave with him. Eloise had no recollection of this, but that didn't matter. Fenrir had hoped to cement her bond to him by feeding her human flesh. As a provider of such delicious fare, Eloise might have latched on to him then.
Now Remus was trying to fuck up his plans. He should have killed the wizard when he was a child, rather than turned him. He would have if he had known what a bleeding heart the whelp would have turned out to be. Remus believed werewolves should live in harmony with humans…but the humans mistreated them at every turn. Such as banning them from entering certain institutions, and if they were allowed to enter, they had to do so following signs such as "Werewolves Enter Here," regulated to back rooms away from the public. Even the Ministry had a "back door' for werewolves to enter and Aurors with clubs abounded, ready to beat them viciously if so much as a snarl came out of them, transformed or not.
It was the sterilization that Fenrir hated the most. There was no proof that werewolf children turned, simply because no werewolf had been allowed to breed in centuries. Pregnant bitches were killed in the old days, now their offspring were magically removed and their wombs sealed to prevent further impregnation. It was as if the Ministry was trying to kill them off systematically. But still at least they were no longer hunted. The "good" werewolves. Still, there were those that believed that the only good werewolf was a skinned werewolf.
Fenrir hated all humans and believe the werewolves should rule. Humans were prey. Soft, weak prey without their wands.
Lupin was a turncoat…a lap dog. Willing to take the guff the wizarding world dished out to him in order to be "accepted" when he was the top of the food chain. The fool. And now he found the balls to steal a bitch that Fenrir had claimed? Remus had to smell him on her, and it didn't matter? He felt no fear? Fenrir growled deep in his throat as he approached the farm. Well, it would matter when he found them.
The werewolf tracked them straight to the barn. He stood on his hind legs and looked at the wooden door. It didn't offer much protection. Fenrir ran back a distance, then charged the door. It would splinter like it was made of matchsticks once he hit it.
Both Remus and Eloise leapt up startled when the entire barn shuddered as Fenrir hit the door. It should have shattered just as Fenrir thought, except it was charmed and warded against entry by werewolves. Rubin could have opened the door and walked right in…but not Fenrir. He was cursed.
Fenrir stood in front of the door, stunned that it didn't fly open. He snarled, backed up and charged it again to no avail. Both Remus and Eloise could smell him now, the ruff on both wolves' necks raised in reaction, Remus snarling viciously as Fenrir continued to batter the door. Eloise looked at him for several moments.
Presently the battering stopped, and Remus' ear flicked as he heard a noise on the roof, then frantic scratching. Fenrir was on top of the barn, trying to tear through the charmed roofing, to no avail. The werewolf let out a howl of frustration as he scrabbled at the wood, not even putting a scratch in it. He leapt down and tried digging under the barn, but the earth wouldn't budge. He couldn't make a simple gouge in the earth.
Fenrir sat on his haunches and snarled impotently at the charmed barn, then his great shaggy head swung toward the farmer's house. The wizard inside would be able to get into the barn. Fenrir padded over and attempted to batter down Rubin's door only to find himself in great pain as the silver threading did its work, burning the transformed wizard. Fenrir circled the house several times, but the threading was everywhere. Snarling again, he made for the barn where the animals were housed, intending on slaughtering every one in retribution. Again he was thwarted by the silver threading.
Whoever this farmer was, he knew how to protect himself from werewolves. Fenrir padded back over to the barn that held Eloise, sat down in front of it and howled for his bitch longingly, scratching at the door on occasion so she would know he was out there.
Eloise cocked her head, listening, but didn't answer Fenrir although she could smell Fenrir's dominance. He was bigger and stronger than the wolf she was with, but there was something foggy in her brain that disliked him despite his worthiness.
Instead Remus howled back insolently, mockingly, which made Fenrir almost insane with anger and again he charged the door. Rubin pulled back the curtain and saw the large werewolf attacking the barn, recognizing him instantly. The farmer let the curtain fall back and returned to his armchair, laying his wand across his lap. Why was Fenrir trying to get to Remus? No doubt the bigger werewolf wanted to kill him. Well, Remus was safe and Fenrir would be gone by sunrise. He was a hunted wizard after all. Rubin could summon the Aurors but Fenrir would escape them and be bent on revenge because they had been summoned to capture him. Rubin didn't need that.
He would find out was what going on in the morning. If it were something too terrible, Remus would have to find someplace else to stay during his transformation.
Fenrir eventually tired himself out and flopped panting in front of the barn. He couldn't get in and would have to leave by morning. Damn it. He hoped he hadn't lost the bitch. Eloise would be good breeding stock if she wasn't ruined by Remus. Fenrir didn't believe she would accept the lesser wolf…at least…not in one night. Some Alpha females would mate with a lesser wolf on occasion although not pair off with him. Remus would have to work on Eloise to be acceptable. He had to have time to do this. If the idiot convinced her to register with the Ministry however, she would lose her value to Fenrir because she would no longer be allowed to conceive. At least, that is what he believed would happen.
Fenrir flopped on his side, exhausted and closed his eyes. He would stay there as long as possible. Tomorrow was the day the Death Eaters were to draw the names of their initial opponents for the competition. Eloise would have to wait. So would Remus.
He'd pay for this insult.
The next morning, a groggy Eloise woke up, spitting straw out of her mouth. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. She was fully dressed and looked around. Where was she? In a…a cage? Splinters of a large bone lay scattered next to her. She looked down at it, remembering chewing on it. She also remembered another werewolf…not Fenrir.
"You're up," a soft male voice said.
Eloise quickly rose to her feet and looked on the other side of the cage. Remus Lupin was sitting in the corner, looking at her with his gentle eyes. Eloise prepared herself for a fight, but the man didn't move.
"Who are you and where am I?" she demanded, her hands crooking into claws.
"My name is Remus Lupin. You are in a special holding cell for werewolves. I come here to transform every month during the full moon," Remus said, still not rising. It appeared the muggle was just as volatile as a woman as she was a werewolf.
Eloise looked at the door of the cell. It was wide open.
"Doesn't seem a very effective holding cell," she said, relaxing a bit.
Remus Lupin didn't seem threatening at all. He was a werewolf? He didn't smell as strong as Fenrir but she could detect the wolf scent on him. Nor did he seem aggressive.
Wait? Remus Lupin? This was the wizard Fenrir had told her about. The one he considered weak and foolish because he wouldn't embrace his werewolf side. Eloise studied him.
"How did I end up here?" she asked him, vaguely remembering running through the field with the werewolf.
"You followed me. We were playing in the moonlight. I didn't force you here," Remus said, slowly rising now and straightening his robes, "I brought you here to get you away from Fenrir."
"And he let you?" she asked Remus.
"Not exactly. By the time he realized you were gone, it was too late. Oh, he came after you…but couldn't get to you. This place is protected by magic. No werewolves can enter or leave once this cage shuts. It opens when our transformation is past," Remus said, approaching the muggle.
"Are you hungry?" he asked Eloise.
Eloise's brown eyes ran over him. Yes, she was very hungry.
"What do you have to eat?" she asked him.
"The farmer who lets this barn out to me often makes me breakfast after the night has passed. I am quite weak afterwards," Remus said.
Eloise looked at him closely. He was rather pale and looked a bit sick. She didn't think he could do much if he did try to attack her. Yet he didn't seem the type. She looked at the open barn door.
"How do we know Fenrir isn't out there lying in wait," Eloise asked him.
"Fenrir isn't patient. If he were here, he would already have attacked us…but I could have handled him," Remus said, showing her his wand, "I am his match magically if not physically."
Suddenly Remus stumbled at bit. Not thinking, Eloise rushed forward to help him, catching his arm and helping him straighten.
"I need to eat," he said softly, "The wolfsbane potion I drink before I transform takes a lot out of me when it stifles my wolf instincts."
Eloise began to help the wizard out of the cage. Wolfsbane?
"What is wolfsbane potion?" she asked him as they walked out of the barn.
Rubin, who had been sitting on the porch with two rare steaks waiting for Remus to appear, did a double take. There was a woman with him. Now he understood why Fenrir had been after the wizard. No doubt she was a werewolf too and somehow, Remus had taken her.
Shit.
Rubin hurried over to the picnic table resting under a tree in the yard, Eloise taking in the stout, red-faced wizard. He was dressed in a plaid shirt, coverall and boots. He had a healthy look about him. He set the steaks down and waited for them to walk over, his eyes curious as they rested on Eloise.
Remus sat down and slid over for Eloise, who looked first at the steaks, then at Rubin who returned her gaze. Then he stuck out his hand.
"I'm Rubin Fezwig. I own this farm and that barn you just walked out of. What is your name?" he asked her directly.
Eloise hesitated, then realized the farmer knew her nature. She shook his hand.
"My name is Eloise Hedgeberry," she said shortly.
Rubin gestured at the steaks.
"Sit down and have a steak. It's important to eat after a transformation, particularly if you haven't fed," he said knowledgably, "Though I have to say you look much better than Remus here."
Remus had already picked up a steak in his bare hands and was tearing into it unabashedly, blood running down his chin. He was starved and didn't care how he looked to anyone at this moment. He needed to eat to regain his strength. Rubin pulled out a pocketful of napkins and placed them on the table. Eloise looked at Remus tearing through the steak then sat down and reached for the plate. Remus growled a little, but let her take it, the brunette looking at him with a small scowl. Shit, she was hungry too.
Rubin watched as Eloise lit into the steak. She was a bit neater than Remus, grabbing a napkin to wipe her chin as she ate, but just as ravenous. Even more so. She finished her steak the same time as Remus did.
"Thank you, Rubin," he said to the farmer, who had also sat down, looking at the both of them.
"You're welcome, son," the farmer said, then looked at Eloise.
"So how long have you been a werewolf?" he asked Eloise, who looked at him a bit shocked. She had never discussed her situation with anyone, and this man was approaching it so…so normally.
"This is the second time I've changed," she said, "I haven't been one long."
Rubin and Remus exchanged looks, then Rubin continued.
"You're a muggle aren't you? Non-magic," he said to her.
"No, I can't do magic. I didn't even believe in it until this happened to me," Eloise admitted. "That bastard Fenrir turned me into one."
Remus nodded.
"He did this to me as well. I was only five when he bit me to get back at my father," the wizard said, his eyes hardening.
"Only five? You've lived with this all your life? How?" Eloise said.
"The best way I could," Remus replied, "It hasn't been easy, and there were times I thought about taking the coward's way out…but I kept going."
Eloise studied him. Suicide? She hadn't thought about that. The only thing she thought about was getting revenge on Fenrir for doing this to her.
"I want to kill the bastard," Eloise hissed, black veins appearing in her eyes for a moment, startling both Rubin and Remus with her hatred.
"Calm down," Rubin said nervously as Eloise's eyes returned to their normal brown color. "I'm sure you're not alone in wanting to kill Fenrir. He's made a lot of werewolves and a lot of enemies."
"So why don't they get together and kill him?" Eloise asked, frowning at the thought there were others who wanted the monster dead.
"Too frightened of failure," Remus said, "Fenrir is very powerful, very vicious. He kills humans even when he's not transformed. He likes it. He killed yesterday, intending on feeding the remains to you to hook you on human blood. It's hard to fight your urges once you've tasted it."
Eloise's eyes shifted guiltily. She had already tasted human blood and found it delicious. She didn't say anything, which made Rubin and Remus look at each other again. Had she already killed? If she had…more than likely she was a lost cause.
Remus cleared his throat and looked at the woman.
"Er…Eloise, I have to ask you this…have you killed a human being yet?" he asked the muggle.
Eloise shook her head.
"No, but I beat one almost to the point of death," she admitted, "He had raped me years ago and I recognized him on the tube. He came back to finish the job because he didn't want me to identify him. He had a new life and decided it would be best to end mine. He didn't succeed."
Eloise looked decidedly dark as she said this.
"Did you taste his blood?" Remus asked her, watching her face carefully.
Eloise hesitated. Should she tell them? She decided to do it. Remus was also a werewolf. He knew the urge for blood.
"Yes. There was blood left in my flat after they took him out. I couldn't help myself," she admitted, looking ashamed.
"You must never, ever, ever tell anyone you've tasted human blood! Do you understand me?" Remus suddenly snarled at her. Rubin's eyes were sober but he didn't say anything. "A werewolf who has tasted human blood is locked away until the day he or she dies, and they don't do anything to make you last if you know what I mean."
In the bowels of Azkaban prison was an area for werewolves. They were half-fed and mistreated, allowed to live in their own filth for much of the time until the smell became unbearable and they were hosed down along with their cells, left shivering, cold and much of the time ill. They never saw the sun. Since the moonlight never hit them, they remained in human form but eventually became more animalistic because of their harsh treatment. It was a horrible way to live and many took their own lives.
Eloise nodded, her eyes wide.
"Now, you have a decision to make," Remus said to her, "Fenrir is going to be angry that I took you and may want revenge or at least to punish you for going with me. Most likely he is afraid you've mated with me and are pregnant. You are in danger. If you return to the muggle world, most likely he will go for you."
Eloise looked at him.
"So what am I supposed to do?" she asked the werewolf.
Remus took a deep breath.
"Since a wizard turned you into a werewolf, the Ministry of Magic has some responsibility toward you. If you register with them, you can have some protection. However, werewolves are not treated well. There are…prejudices and laws that prohibit us from interacting fully in society. Most will not hire us for work and we aren't allowed in certain places. We have to show we have someplace to go far from the population when the full moon approaches. Most stay in the werewolf village. Me, I come here," Remus said.
Eloise frowned at this. Prejudice? She'd be nothing more than a second class citizen.
"And," Remus said haltingly, "If you do register, you will be sterilized so you can't bear children."
"What?" Eloise said, rising from the table, "Sterilized? Without my consent?"
Remus nodded slowly, then looked thoughtful.
"However, you are not a citizen of the magical world but a citizen of muggle Britain. They might not arbitrarily be allowed to treat you as they would a witch. Not if it broke the laws of your people," the werewolf said, "I would have to ask Albus about that."
"Albus? Who's Albus?" she asked.
"A very influential and powerful wizard. Also a friend of mine," Remus said, "It could be the Ministry cannot force you to be sterilized since you belong to another system of government. Although a wizard bit you, it does not necessarily put you under wizarding law. Do you want children?"
Eloise looked at Remus and sat back down.
"I want the right to make a decision later," she said evenly, "In Britain and most every civilized society it's illegal to sterilize a woman against her will."
Well, she was almost sure this was the case. Eloise hadn't really thought about having a husband or children, but having the ability to conceive taken away arbitrarily didn't sit well with her. She wanted a choice in the matter. Suddenly, her ovaries felt very precious.
"I will have to contact Albus then," Remus said, "Now the next question is, do you want to return to the muggle world and face the possibility of being taken by Fenrir, or do you wish to stay in the wizarding world until you can be set right?"
The truth was, Eloise was hanging on to her job by a thread. There had been numerous complaints about her attitude lately. She was short and nasty to customers a lot of the time, forcing them to pay for candy they'd eaten…she could smell it on them, growling at cat owners and at times, giving off an unpleasant animal-like odor. The owner wanted to let her go. If she lost her job, she'd lose her flat…and the idea of moving in with her sister and "perfect husband" made her shudder.
"If I decided to remain here, where would I stay?" she asked the werewolf.
Remus looked at her. Gods, if only she could stay with him. But he had a studio flat with one bed in the middle of Knockturn Alley…a quite unsavory location even for a werewolf. Plus he was gone early each day, looking for odd jobs to do.
Rubin stared at the young woman.
"You could stay here. For a while. Help me with the farm work if you don't mind getting your hands dirty. That would cover your room and board," he said, "But it's not easy work."
Eloise studied the farmer. He looked like a respectable old man…but still…
Rubin seemed to sense what she was thinking.
"You'd be safe here. I like my women older and magical," the farmer said to her with a smirk. "You're a child compared to me. I'm no pedophile."
Eloise relaxed and gave him a smile. Besides, if he tried anything, she could simply kick his ass all over the farm.
"It sounds like a plan," she said, "but it will just be temporary, right Remus?"
Remus started, having been swept away by a little daydream of he and Eloise sequestered in close quarters together. She was a werewolf. She'd be able to deal with his nature. He blinked at her, registering what she said.
"Yes. I need to talk to Albus and let him advise me what would be best to do," Remus said, "Usually he responds quickly."
Eloise nodded and looked at Rubin.
"What would be the sleeping arrangements?" she asked him.
Rubin's forehead wrinkled.
"You would have to stay in the barn Remus uses. My house is protected by silver. You can't stay there. Even if you don't touch it, it will affect you because of your proximity. Every wall has silver thread running through it. But I can fix it up to be homier. Put in a bed, lamps, things of that nature. You're going to have to go to the bathroom outside though," the farmer said.
That wouldn't be so bad, unless it was raining. It rained a lot too. Ah well, it was better than nothing.
"That will be fine, Rubin," she said, feeling Remus' gentle eyes on her.
She looked at him and he quickly looked away. The wizard certainly seemed shy. But he looked better now. Eating had helped and he had more color. The wizard stood up.
"Well, I had better go. I will come back and let you know what Albus suggested as the best course of action," Remus said, stepping back from the table.
"When will you be back?" Eloise asked him, feeling a bit concerned he was leaving. Remus was another werewolf. She felt…well…she didn't know how she felt he was going. But his presence was comforting, unlike Fenrir's, who made her feel on edge all the time.
"Within the week. Goodbye Rubin, Eloise," he said, disapparating with a crack of thunder. Eloise blinked at the empty spot. Magic was something else.
She and Rubin sat there a moment, before the farmer rose, collecting the plate and dirty napkins.
"You can start straightening up the cell," he said to the muggle. "I'll be out shortly and then we can get about setting it up to be more livable."
Eloise nodded as the wizard walked into the house. She sat at the table with her chin resting on her hand. Damn, what a situation she was in. It was a whole new world now.
Eloise wasn't sure she was ready for it, but would do what she had to do.
Fenrir wasn't in the clear at all. Maybe with Remus' help she could get revenge. He had bitten the wizard after all. Maybe he was courageous enough to be willing to try to kill the werewolf.
She'd have to find out.
Albus Dumbledore straightened his black robes and combed through his beard with his fingers. His hair was neatly combed and he wore a black pointed hat. His blue eyes were somber and without twinkle as he knocked on the heavy wooden door emblazed with a serpent. After several moments a house elf opened the door and looked up at him. Relief flooded the creature's face.
"Comes in, sir," the elf said, opening the door, "Is very glad to see you sir. You is needed."
Albus nodded to the elf and strode inside the Manor, then waited for the creature to close the door and lead him to Draco's study. He could hear the portraits whispering as he passed, and not all they said were good. Albus did not adhere to the pureblood superiority line and most of the portraits felt him a traitor. However he ignored the hisses and continued on.
When Malina visited, Draco put a silencing spell on his forebears so she wouldn't hear their insults. He wouldn't have to do that any longer. No doubt they were delighted by her death…but not one would openly gloat. In Draco's current condition he might tear them from the wall and destroy them.
The house elf pushed open the study door.
"Master, the great Albus Dumbledore has arrives for you," the elf announced to an armchair facing the fire.
"Come in, Headmaster and sit down," Draco said in a tired, thick voice. He had been up most of the night, finding comfort in firewhiskey. The elves managed to get him to eat something. Albus walked over to the armchairs and saw they had been pulled back and a long table draped in green and silver rested before the fireplace. Draco stared at it.
"That is where Malina will be laid out," Draco said, his bloodshot eyes turning toward the Headmaster as he sat down, "Then I will bury her in the rose garden."
Albus looked at Draco for a long moment.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Draco. Malina Pascal was a special witch. She came to me when she ran away from home. She was quite resourceful to find us without help or a wand. However, her parents had poisoned her mind so much against Hogwarts it was apparent she would be unable to attend school here, and I took her instead to a school of the Arts from which she graduated. She was a marvelous talent. I mourn her loss," the Headmaster said gently.
Draco didn't even wonder how Albus knew about him and Malina. He just knew the Headmaster knew like he knew most things.
"Draco, I know how you felt about Malina. You loved her…however…" the Headmaster said, hesitating for a moment so Draco looked at him.
"…you cannot hold her funeral in your Manor. It would compromise you. Remember, you are a Death Eater. You cannot openly mourn a muggle-born. It will bring up all types of questions and at this point, when we are so close to ending their madness…we can't afford that," the wizard said gently.
Draco's eyes shifted back to the draped table.
"But I want her here," he said brokenly, "Just for a bit longer."
Albus shook his head.
"You can secretly inter her on the Manor grounds Draco and have a public memorial service at the funeral parlor. There are many people she worked with in the music industry who would like to say their goodbyes. It can be said her body was cremated and her ashes scattered. That will be accepted. But you cannot be a visible part of it. If you like, I will handle everything for you. I believe that will be best," Albus said.
Draco frowned at him.
"I have to abandon her too, then. Like her family did," he said bitterly, "I have to pretend I didn't know her, didn't love her, didn't…didn't…want her forever…"
Albus' eyes glistened at the pain in Draco's voice.
"Yes, Draco…because there are the living to think of," he said softly.
"Fuck the living!" Draco shouted, leaping up, "The hell with everyone! Everyone!"
He stormed over to the liquor cabinet to fix himself yet another firewhiskey, and scowled when he found the bottle empty.
"More firewhiskey!" Draco bellowed.
Almost immediately, a house elf with flattened ears winked in with a fresh bottle. Draco snatched it and wrested it open, sloppily filling his glass as the elf looked at Albus sadly and winked out.
"You don't mean that my boy," Albus said as Draco tossed down his drink, "That is grief speaking. Rage and anger at the senseless loss of the woman you love, Draco. It's understandable. But, you hold a very important position, one you've worked hard to maintain and all your hard work is about to come to fruition."
Draco looked at him.
"It wasn't senseless, Headmaster. It was murder. That bastard Felix used a carpet that was shoddily put together for that photo shoot. He's going to pay for that," Draco said with murder in his eyes. "Galleons were more important to him than Dirty Magic's lives. Than Malina's life."
Albus looked at Draco worriedly. Felix had spent millions of galleons to get the Ministry to ease up on the restrictions on Magic Carpets. Finally, they did so, people required to apply for a special luxury license to own one, and the carpets were highly taxed. In order to fly, one had to register the date, time, length of travel, place of departure and destination two weeks in advance, and it had to be on the weekend. With such restrictions, the Ministry believed they could monitor the carpets within reason and that the public wouldn't want to go through all the paperwork and processes. But they were wrong. Carpets were popular despite the costs and procedures.
But the main problem was, Felix himself hadn't bothered to register the photo shoot, in his never-ending attempt to save money. It was to be held over his own property and last only ten minutes at the most. He couldn't see spending thousands of galleons for that. The cost would be increased because of the size of the carpet. Also, since it was custom-made, it would have to have been inspected and that would have taken more money and time. Now with his business closed and being up on numerous charges, Felix most likely wished he had been more legitimate. Most likely he would end up in Azkaban, if Draco didn't get to him first.
"Draco, you aren't thinking properly. Let the Ministry handle it. Felix will have to pay reparation for the damage he's caused, and most likely faces a long prison term," Albus said, trying to defuse the angry wizard.
Draco snarled at Albus.
"Reparations? You mean Malina's parents will receive monetary recompense for the death of a daughter they disowned? That's sick, Headmaster…sick and wrong," he spat.
Draco could see William Pascal accepting money for Malina's death, despite mistreating her and forcing her to flee her home and her world. The blonde wizard shook with rage.
"It's all so twisted, so wrong, so unfair," he said, his voice quavering as he returned to his armchair. The firewhiskey had ceased to affect him and misery was the only emotion he felt now. Of course the Headmaster was right. He couldn't have Malina's funeral at the Manor. He would have to glamour himself at the memorial service as well.
Albus reached into his robes and produced a parchment for Draco to sign. It would give him the right to make Malina's final arrangements.
"Sign this, Draco. It will remove you from suspicion. I will arrange everything, down to the private burial on these grounds," he said gently.
Draco took the parchment from him and walked over to his desk. There were quills but he had muggle pens in the top drawer as well. He sat down and opened the drawer. There was a piece of parchment covering the pens. He took it out, put it on top of his desk then took out a pen and signed the form, giving Albus full responsibility over Malina's remains. He put the pen back in the drawer, rose and walked over to Albus, handing him the parchment.
Albus read it over, then folded it and placed it in his robes pocket. He rose and looked at Draco.
"Thank you, Draco," he said, gazing at him with affection, "I know you are a full grown wizard my boy, but at times like this…"
Albus opened his arms. Draco stared at him, his face contorting with mixed emotions as he looked at the wizard's open arms and felt his offer for comfort. The last embrace he had was from Malina. Dear, sweet, dead Malina. He needed human contact…someone to make him feel he wasn't completely alone in the world, someone who understood how much pain he was in.
Suddenly Draco flung himself into the old wizard's embrace, clutching at him. Albus patted Draco's back as the wizard's hands pulled and twisted the fabric of his robes, the wizard groaning, then choking on his own sobs. After about five minutes, Draco pulled away from Albus, wiping his eyes and not looking at the wizard.
Albus looked on Draco with kind eyes.
"This may not seem true now, Draco…but it will get easier…and better. The good memories will rise to the fore and Malina's love will be a balm to you all your life. People pass on, Draco…but true love…true love never dies," the Headmaster said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezing it lightly, "She will always be with you."
Draco blinked at him.
"Thank you, Headmaster," he rasped as Albus released him and turned toward the study door. Draco walked forward to escort him out.
Albus turned and gave him a small smile.
"No, Draco. I can find my own way out. I believe there is something on your desk you need to see," the wizard said. He gave Draco a small wave and exited the room.
Draco turned and looked at his desk. The piece of parchment he'd taken out was lying there. Slowly he walked over to the desk, sat down and drew the paper toward him. He drank in the familiar handwriting.
It was a song. A song by Malina. She had left the unfinished lyrics in his desk, probably trying to hide it to keep him from seeing it before it was completed. Malina was always so protective of her work. Draco read the parchment slowly, savoring each written word, picturing Malina writing as he did so.
A world so dark, the sun extinguished
Lost, I had no place to go
A tomb of silence screaming strongly
pouring night into my soul
and then the strangest thing occurred
suddenly my song was heard
through the gray a hope was raised
drawing me into the day
and it's said that every breath
draws us closer to our death
and so I breathe my love at you
you are the only thing that's true
in my life
in my life
in my life
A world so bright, I do not languish
Found, I've finally come home
your scorching touch a resurrection
pouring light into the tomb
And now the strangest thing occurs
my life is tangled with your words
and through the gray your hope was raised
love the burn that fires the day
although it's said that every breath
draws us closer to our death
the final breath I ever take
will never shatter never break
my love for you
for you
for you
Draco read the words over and over, his heart swelling as he wiped his eyes. These were Malina's final words, and they were about finding hope, happiness and a love that would never die, one that would survive even death. It was comforting and he felt the tightness around his heart loosen just a bit.
The wizard drew in a shuddering breath and pressed the parchment against his lips, his eyes glistening. He stared down at the words.
"Thank you, Malina," Draco whispered softly, "Thank you for loving me."
Albus quickly arranged a memorial service for Malina which was attended by those she worked with in the studio, a few former classmates and fans of Dirty Magic who found out she often sang with them. It was a beautiful send off, a large picture of Malina scowling slightly on display, surrounded by roses as people walked by paying their respects. She hated taking pictures.
There was no eulogy. Instead a few of her favorite songs were played, and one of her own…the song Hermione heard Valentine's night. When the song faded on its final haunting note, there wasn't a dry eye to be found. Everyone left, saying it had been a lovely memorial and Malina would be missed.
At the Manor, Draco watched as the house elves gently lowered Malina's casket into the earth magically. The wizard stood there somberly, her ring and necklace draped around his neck, a single rose clutched in his fist. He then looked at her headstone, and the image of the rose embraced by a serpent carved in the marble. The epitaph simply read: Malina Pascal, the Love of My Life.
Draco looked back at the grave and the white coffin resting within. He tossed in the rose and nodded to the elves, who filled it in with magic forming a smooth mound of earth above.
"You're home, Malina," Draco said, "Home forever."
The wizard swallowed, then sat down on a white bench near the grave, waving the house elves away. He sat there a long time…a very long time before returning to the Manor and his empty bed.
Pumbleberry hemmed and hawed importantly as each Death Eater drew a name out of a crimson silk bag with the Mordesmodre symbol embroidered on it in gold. Severus, who was sitting next to Rosier watched, his black eyes slightly bloodshot. It had been a horrible week for him. The revels had been worse than ever simply because the Death Eaters had cut back on kidnappings and only had a few victims who suffered horribly because so many abused them before they died. The Potions Master was so ready to leave, but he had to be here for this…the pairing off of opponents.
Fenrir Greyback was there, and in a foul mood even for him…though he wouldn't say what was bothering him. Elizabeth was also there, her blue eyes resting on the werewolf with hatred.
"Fenrir. Please, Fenrir," she breathed as she reached into the bag. But alas, she chose another Death Eater…an Arnold Fizzbang. Arnold's hazel eyes washed over Elizabeth speculatively, an ugly look on his face.
"Dead witch," he mouthed at Elizabeth as his name was announced. No doubt he wanted to try to psychologically frighten the witch.
Elizabeth simply looked at him coolly and said, "Make your peace with the world, wizard. You'll be departing shortly."
Arnold turned red with rage.
Fenrir was facing off against Sharon Bugeon, a small red-haired witch with wild brown eyes. She looked insane as she rocked continuously, pulling her fingers through her hair. Small, mean and carrying a grudge against the world, Sharon believed ruling it would make life better for her. It couldn't get much worse. She stared at the werewolf.
Fenrir gave her a nasty, toothy grin. She wouldn't take long at all.
Eleven more Death Eaters chose their opponents, who were announced then sized each other up. When all the selections were made, Pumbleberry stood up.
"Erm…all opponents have been…erm…selected. You have…erm…two days to polish up. Friday night at…erm…midnight will be the first face-off. Erm…survivors will be paired off and continue the competition…erm…next Friday," the fat wizard said, sitting back down.
Rosier stood up.
"Please make sure you have left final instructions for interment and names of next of kin you want notified in the event of your death before you leave," he said.
The Death Eaters murmured among themselves, some walking over to a table with quills and parchment to make their final arrangements. Rosier sat back down and looked at Severus, who was paler than usual.
"You seem ready to go, Severus," the jeweler said to him.
The Potions Master nodded.
"It's been quite a week, Rosier," he replied.
Rosier gave a small smile.
"Yes. The revels this week were truly brutal due to the lack of victims. They almost turned even my stomach. Almost. Not quite. But a lot of steam was let off, and that's what's important. There won't be any more revels until the new Dark Lord is selected and in power, so our Death Eaters made sure to get their fill. A pity you couldn't participate, Severus…except to kill them. There is so much more to enjoy."
"My lack of participation is something I've learned to live with," Severus replied, rising, "Thank you for being such a gracious host. I will see you at the competition."
Rosier rose and shook Severus' hand.
"It was my pleasure, Severus. I will see you Friday," Rosier replied, "It should prove an exciting night."
"Indeed," Severus agreed, departing.
Panting heavily, Voltaire fell to the bed, exhausted and covered in sweat as Bellatrix shuddered next to him, lying face down, her bottom still in the air. Her back had several long scratches from Voltaire's nails and her buttocks were crimson from his beating.
The young wizard lay next to her, waiting for his heart to slow. Bella turned her face toward him and smiled, her gray eyes cloudy with pleasure.
"You are as strong as your father, and you are still young," she said to him softly, "You please me, Voltaire."
The wizard's red eyes open and he looked at his aunt with his crimson eyes. His face snarled up.
"I am stronger than my father!" he hissed at her angrily.
"Yes…yes, Voltaire…you are," Bella said soothingly.
"And you should be more concerned about pleasing me," he said darkly, "I am the Dark Lord, not you."
"Yes, Voltaire. Of course I want to please you. I do, don't I?" Bella asked him softly.
"Yesssss," he replied, "I like doing you, aunt Bella."
"Then we are good for each other," the witch replied, "We will always be good for each other."
Since drinking the elixir, Voltaire had become more volatile and demanding…more like Voldemort. After shagging Bellatrix the first few times and dominating her…he had more confidence, even demanding sex now.
He was more powerful as well, destroying boulders with an almost careless flick of his wand. He had also blown all of his "opponents" to bits that Bella provided for dueling practice. In addition, four house elves had been killed since his transformation, just because Voltaire felt like killing them. He no longer spoke to Bellatrix with the deference he used to. There were no "pleases" or "thank yous" in his vocabulary any longer. He was now her Lord as well.
Voltaire studied his aunt, his eyes looking at her bruised and battered body and he smirked at his handiwork. His father had nothing on him and he still had much to learn about brutalizing women. Bella promised him he would have any woman he wanted as long as he kept her first.
Voltaire nodded at this, but felt he didn't have to keep anyone first. Not Bella…not anyone. But he was shrewd enough not to share his thoughts. His aunt was important now. She wouldn't always be.
"When will I go to my Death Eaters?" he demanded, "I am tired of waiting. I am ready to assume my throne," he snapped at the witch, who had rolled to her back, showing bitten breasts and belly.
"They are having the first competition Friday," Bella replied, "I think it best we wait to strike until they have the final two. You will kill them both and claim the throne."
"What about the others?" he hissed, his forked tongue flicking out.
Bella looked at him, her gray eyes narrowed now.
"The others? Are you afraid, Voltaire?" she asked, baiting him.
Voltaire stiffened when she asked him that, then suddenly slapped Bella hard in the mouth.
"I am not afraid! Of anyone! You forget yourself aunt Bella!" he screamed at her, rolling on top of her and straddling her belly, wrapping his hands around her throat and tightening his grip.
Bella grasped his wrists as she felt her air supply being cut off.
Voltaire choked her until she turned blue, then let go, panting angrily. Bella gasped, her heart pounding at his rage. He was beautiful…so much like his father, so cruel, so violent. She felt herself getting wet again as he frowned down at her, his crimson eyes glowing angrily.
"I'm…I'm sorry, Voltaire," she rasped, "The others will be too stunned to challenge you. You look so much like your father. And if any dares to try to attack you, he or she will be cut down by me."
"And Volaria?" he asked, his eyes still hard.
"After you assume the throne, we will find her…and kill her as well," Bella assured him.
Voltaire stared down at his aunt, relaxing somewhat. But she had angered him and had to pay. His organ began to writhe and he shifted forward, sitting on her breasts.
"You know what to do now, aunt Bella," he lisped, "Please me."
"Yes, my Lord," she replied, obediently opening her mouth.
He was so much like his father.
Severus apparated back to his rooms at Hogwarts and sighed with relief as he looked around his familiar bedroom. He pulled out his wand and immediately divestoed his clothing. Naked, he strode into the bathroom, turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it, then entered, standing under the stream, his head lowered, letting the water wash over his hair, face and body as if it could cleanse him of all the blood he felt immersed in.
He stood there so long, the water began to cool, then he roused himself, grabbing his washcloth and soap before the shower went completely cold. He bathed, rinsed and exited the stall, grabbing a towel and drying off. Wrapping another towel around his waist, he opened his medicinal store, took out a bottle of replenishing potion and drank a bit down. He put the bottle back, brushed his teeth and exited the bathroom.
Now his thoughts turned to Hermione. He wasn't sure if he should reveal he was back yet, though he was sure Albus knew he was. The wizard didn't know where they stood really, although Hermione had given herself to him before he left. It was a peace offering, but as of yet…no treaty had been made. He wondered how far she'd gotten with her project. Where there Voldemort-like pixies drifting about in her labs? And the young Riddle witch…he wondered if Hermione kept a tight rein on her. She better have.
Severus looked at the clock hanging on his bedroom wall. It was after ten. Hermione was most likely in her rooms babysitting Volaria. He frowned slightly. He could use some physical contact and emotional comfort from the witch. But more than likely she wouldn't leave Volaria alone…and he knew instinctively Hermione wouldn't let him into her bedroom with the girl there.
Severus sighed, removed his towel and climbed into bed, sliding under the sheets. He would see Hermione in the morning. His tool protested this decision.
"There's nothing else for it," the Potions Master breathed, closing his eyes.
The wizard was more exhausted than he thought. He fell instantly asleep.
Hermione was indeed in her rooms, watching as Volaria climbed into bed, smiling.
"Professor Flitwick says I know the basics just fine and we'll be able to start working on spells at our next session," the young witch gushed, "I'm so excited!"
Hermione smiled at the young witch. She had started lessons with Professor Flitwick who tested her and gave her some additional study work. He found the witch very bright and enthusiastic. And he had absolute conniptions about Volaria's wand.
"Amazing," he breathed as he caressed it, "Two phoenix feathers! What a powerful, powerful wand. Beautiful crafting as well. You, my dear, must be quite gifted to have such a wand. We are going to bring your gifts out of you…never fear."
Volaria had been overjoyed. True, Professor Flitwick was the smallest person she had ever seen, and at first she stared at him constantly…but the wizard showed her that he was big on knowledge and quite powerful himself. He'd be able to help her.
"That's wonderful, Volaria," Hermione said, "I want you to rest up and be ready for him tomorrow. All right?"
"Volaria nodded, snuggling down into her bed. She felt she would never sleep again.
Suddenly the flames in the floo turned green.
"Miss Granger?" Albus' voice called out.
"Yes, I'm here, Headmaster," Hermione answered him. Volaria sat up.
"I just wanted to let you know Severus has returned," the old wizard said. He was sitting in his office, his blue eyes twinkling brightly.
"He has?" Hermione said surprised, "How long has he been back?"
"I believe he arrived around an hour and a half ago," the wizard replied.
"Thank you for telling me, sir," Hermione said, her brow furrowed.
"You're very welcome, Miss Granger. Good night. And good night Miss Ruddle," the Headmaster said.
Volaria smiled.
"Good night, Headmaster," she piped, laying back down and drawing the covers over herself. She looked at Hermione, who wore a rather perplexed expression.
"What's wrong?" Volaria asked the witch.
Hermione blinked at her as if she just realized Volaria was in the same room with her.
"Nothing," Hermione said shortly.
Volaria knew better than that, but said nothing.
Hermione was wondering why Severus didn't let her know he was back himself. Normally when he returned from a mission, he sought her out immediately, needing intimacy. But tonight he returned without saying anything. Was he still angry with her?
She had been busy while he was gone, but she still thought about him, wondering if he were safe, if he was able to deal with what was going on around him, and when he would return. Now he had returned and said nothing.
She looked at Volaria, then something clicked.
He probably didn't come to her because the young witch was here.
Hermione hesitated then said, "Volaria, are you afraid to stay here by yourself tonight? I…I have something I need to do…I…I…need to check on something…" she began.
"You mean Professor Snape?" the witch asked her.
"Ah…yes. And I don't know when I'll be back or if I'll be back," Hermione admitted, looking nervous. She didn't know if Volaria understood these things. But Volaria did.
"I'll be fine. I'm used to sleeping by myself," she said.
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked her.
"Positive," Volaria replied, "I'm a big witch, Hermione. I don't need a babysitter. I can spend the night in your rooms without you."
Hermione gave her an appreciative smile.
"Thank you, Volaria," she said, hurrying into her bedroom to slip her robes over her nightgown and grabbing her wand. She exited her bedroom and paused, looking at Volaria.
"Are you sure you'll be all right?" she asked the witch once more.
Volaria gave her a little exasperated scowl.
"I'll be fine, I promise," she said, then yawned.
"All right. I may be back," Hermione said, walking to the door, exiting and putting up a ward sealing Volaria in.
"I doubt that," Volaria said to herself, yawning once more and rolling over.
She was quite bright for thirteen.
Hermione walked quickly down to the Potions office, unwarded the door, entered then replaced the ward. Severus had added her signature so she would have no problems entering his domain. Other than Hermione, only Albus could gain entrance, since he was Headmaster. And Filch if there was an emergency that threatened the well-being of the castle itself. Wards would drop for the caretaker automatically in that case, no matter how powerful. It was part of Hogwarts' magic.
Hermione opened the private entrance and entered Severus' rooms quietly, the wall sliding back down. The study was completely dark. The wizard had not even lit the fire when he returned. Maybe he was overtired and went straight to bed. It wasn't like him, but still that's what could have happened.
Hermione tiptoed through the darkness toward the wizard's bedroom, relying on her knowledge of the study's layout to keep from bumping into anything. She didn't want to light her wand. If the wizard was indeed asleep, she would let him rest. So far it looked as if he was. A dim glow came from his bedroom, the door slightly cracked.
Hermione approached it, and slowly pushed it open. She started to enter the room when she was suddenly grabbed roughly and pinned against the wall, two powerful hands grasping her upper arms.
"Light," a silken voice said.
The torches grew brighter and Hermione found herself staring into the narrowed eyes of the Potions Master. A very naked Potions Master. Severus released her arms.
"Hermione, you should know better than to creep around my rooms," the wizard chastised her, "What if I had struck first? Why didn't you use your wand? I couldn't see who was in my study."
The Potions Master had awakened when he heard the wall go up, got out of bed and looked into the study. When he saw no light he ducked back to catch whoever was in his rooms. It could have been anyone, possibly seeking to filch one of his beloved books, thinking he was still away.
"I…I didn't want to disturb you if you were sleeping," the witch said, her eyes glistening. It was so good to see him, even if he were angry.
Severus smirked at her.
"If you didn't want to disturb me, witch, you would have waited until morning to come and see me," he said to the witch, releasing her arms and staring down at her.
Hermione couldn't say anything to this statement, so addressed something else.
"I just wanted to see if you were all right," she murmured.
"Oh. So you were doing a bed check," the wizard said.
"Yes," Hermione replied, "A bed check. To see if you were in one piece."
Severus eyed her.
"There is only one problem with that," he said, suddenly sweeping Hermione into his arms and striding with her over to his four-poster. He tossed her in and climbed in behind her.
"In order to check a bed, Hermione, you need to be close," he purred.
A rather disheveled Hermione returned to her rooms shortly before 6 am. Volaria was sound asleep as the witch walked past her with a rather gap-legged gait. Damn, she was tired and sore. Severus didn't have any purple potion in his medicinal stores or his potions stores. He had to brew more. Unfortunately, Hermione didn't find this out until after the fact and had to deal with the aftermath of her "bed check" on her own. Luckily, she did have a bottle or two in her own bathroom. She wasted no time opening her cabinet, grabbing both bottles and drinking them down one after the other. Her inner aches eased and she let out a sigh of relief. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was all tangled and she had shadows under her eyes.
She couldn't blame Severus for that however. She was already in that condition when she came to his rooms, but the wizard was so glad to see her he didn't care about that. He just wanted her. She was the most beautiful woman in the world at that moment, wild hair, shadows and everything. He did comment that she needed to eat a bit more after their first round. He could feel her ribs as he gripped and twisted her about. Severus liked Hermione a bit rounded. She wasn't fat…just thick. Healthy, not frail. She always lost weight when she worked on something important to her, and without Severus shoving food at her for the past week, she really hadn't been eating well or regularly.
Well, he was back now and no doubt would make sure she took care of herself.
Hermione stripped down and got into the shower. Severus tried to convince her to shower with him, but she had enough. The man was insatiable. She was lucky to escape walking as well as she did. But Hermione was certain of one thing as she soaped her body…the Potions Master had missed her terribly.
And he had.
After breakfast, Severus reported to Albus and told him all the details about the competition, skimming over the revels. They both knew what went on there, but Albus was glad to know there weren't many victims this go 'round.
"Soon it will all be over, Severus," the Headmaster said, "Now has there been any word on Bellatrix or Voltaire?"
Severus shook his head.
"No Headmaster, but knowing Bellatrix, she is aware the competition has started. I believe she plans to wait until the challengers are mostly defeated, then will appear before the winner is chosen, attempt to dispatch them and place Voltaire on the throne. It is the most expedient way to accomplish the matter, and a way to be sure those who covet the throne enough to fight for it are dead," the wizard said.
Albus nodded.
"So the Order must be ready to move on the day of the final competition between the two strongest Death Eaters," the old wizard said.
"Yes sir…but only if Bellatrix and Voltaire present themselves. Otherwise we will have to wait," Severus replied, "The competition will be settled in approximately three weeks. Friday will eliminate half of the opponents, next Friday the remaining Death Eaters will face off until only two remain standing, then the following Friday those two will face off to see who is the strongest. The winner will take the elixir and the loser will be kept as back up in case the first dies. Hopefully we will have them before that occurs," Severus said.
Albus nodded.
"I think then it is time to make you a port key destination, Severus, since the time is growing close and we do not know when Bella will appear. All members of the Order will be put on notice and required to appear when they are needed. We have been training for this for several weeks and Kingsley believes they are ready. Hopefully the element of surprise will be on our side," Albus said.
The Order had an ingenious weapon created by Fred and George Weasley. Apparently the twins were wizards at creating gadgets good for things other than jokes. They created an item called a "Track-a-Port" specifically for the Order. Even the Ministry didn't have it. The Track-a-port cast a spell on a living individual rather than an object, then could be used like a port key to transport the user to the individual, circumventing any wards. Once Severus was designated a "destination" several track-a-ports could be keyed to him. This way, Order members could appear instantly when contacted.
The method of contact would be very simple. Hermione had come up with it as a student. It appeared to be a coin but could be used to summon others. In this case, it was modified. When Hermione created it, it was used to summon members of an illegal Defense Against the Dark Arts club, providing the date and time to meet. The Order's version was much simpler. It would warm in the pocket when invoked, then the members would know to use the track-a-ports within ten seconds of invocation. It took quite a bit of practice to pull this off. The Order members were a lot like America's "Minute Men" of history. All Severus needed to do was let them know by the coin when Bellatrix and Voltaire appeared and the attack would begin.
"I will focus on Bellatrix when the time comes, Headmaster," Severus said meaningfully.
Albus' eyes darkened. He would have to try to restrain and capture Voltaire, hopefully without killing the boy.
"And I will do my best to take Voltaire without too much injury," the Headmaster said.
Snape was doubtful that could be done. No doubt the boy was full of himself, just like his father and would rather die than be overcome. But he didn't say anything to discourage the Headmaster. Albus hated taking lives for any reason, though he had been forced to do just that over the years. But each time there had been no other way. He had even offered Grindelwald mercy, but the dark wizard would not give in. So Albus destroyed him, yet there was no victory in his eyes. Neither was there celebration on the part of the wizard when he heard that Voldemort was dead, though he made no attempt to stifle anyone else's joy. Life was just precious to the old wizard, and any life cut short was a life mourned.
Albus was such a Gryffindor.
The old wizard looked at Severus sadly.
"On another note, Severus, Draco has lost someone quite dear to him in your absence. A young woman named Malina Pascal. She died tragically in a magic carpet accident. The witch was very close to him and he is in mourning," the Headmaster said.
Severus didn't say anything, but felt for Draco. Malina must have been the witch he was secretly seeing. He said she was angry about his disappearances and he often had to go looking for her when he returned because she would hide. The Potions Master was of the opinion that this was the couple's foreplay, the way Draco's eyes glittered when he said he had to hunt for her then seduce her back to his manor, if not outright carry her off. He seemed happy he had her however. The Potions Master understood how he felt. It was good to have a loving witch to come home to after their missions.
Severus couldn't imagine how he would feel if anything ever happened to Hermione. It would seem as if the sun went out. He'd be thrown into darkness, a deeper darkness than he had ever experienced before…because now he knew what it was to love. Without it, his despair would most likely take him over.
He sat there in silence for several more moments, then asked, "Where is Draco now?"
"Most likely at his manor," Albus replied, "He buried her on the grounds. I have no doubt he is spending every possible moment at her graveside."
"I see," Severus said shortly.
He wondered if Draco would be in any condition to attend the competition tomorrow night. The Potions Master was counting on him being there in case anything happened. Severus rose.
"I believe I will go to the Manor and pay my respects, Headmaster," the wizard said.
Albus nodded.
"Yes, I think Draco needs company…a sympathetic ear. He has become a bit of a loner these past few years, and because of his status, he can't openly talk about his feelings for a witch who was a muggle-born," Albus said, "But you…you can understand Severus."
The Potions Master nodded soberly. Yes, he did understand.
He bid the Headmaster goodbye and used the floo to return to his rooms. He walked over to his liquor cabinet, selected an unopened bottle of Ogden's, then with his wand wrapped it in parchment with a green and silver bow.
He then apparated to Malfoy Manor to pay a visit to Draco.
Severus arrived at the manor with a crack of thunder, walked up the stairs and knocked on the heavy doors. He waited.
"Excuse me, sir," a voice squeaked behind him.
Severus turned to see a house elf bobbing before the stairs.
The Master is in the rose garden. Follows me, please," the elf said.
Severus walked back down the stairs and followed the elf around the manor. He saw Draco sitting on a bench, looking down at a fresh grave. A few early roses surrounded the area. He strode over. Draco looked up at him with reddened eyes.
"Hello Professor," he said shortly.
"Hello Draco," Severus replied, looking at the headstone and reading the words. The Love of My Life. He looked back at Draco who had returned to staring at the mound of earth.
"I heard what happened, Draco. You have my sympathy," the Potions Master said.
Draco didn't answer him. How could the Professor have sympathy? He didn't know what it was like to have someone like Malina then to lose her.
"May I join you?" Severus asked him.
Draco slid over and Severus sat down next to him.
After a minute or two of silence, Severus spoke.
"I understand she was a muggle-born," the Potions Master said.
Draco looked at him with a scowl.
"Yes. Yes, she was a muggle-born," the blonde wizard replied as if daring the Potions Master to say anything untoward about that.
"Amazing women, muggle-borns," the Professor said.
Draco blinked at the Potions Master.
"And how would you know, Professor?" the wizard asked him, frowning.
Severus looked Draco in his eyes.
"Because, Draco…I am involved with a muggle-born witch myself," he said, "And I too have to keep it a secret for the time being."
Draco looked at Severus in amazement.
"But…but…I thought," the young wizard said, his gray eyes flicking down to the Potions Master's loins for a moment.
Severus smirked.
"I'm afraid rumors of my impotency have been greatly exaggerated," he said quietly.
Draco smiled slightly at this. He assumed like the rest of the Death Eaters that Severus really was impotent. Then he sobered.
"Who is the witch you are involved with Professor?" Draco asked him, curious now. For the first time since Malina's death he was interested in something other than his loss.
Severus looked at him for a moment, then sighed.
"Hermione Granger," he said shortly.
Draco sat up straight…his eyes wide. He couldn't have heard what he thought he did.
"Hermione who?" the blonde wizard asked.
"Granger. Hermione Granger," Severus replied, his nostrils flared a little at having to repeat himself.
Draco stared at him.
"Granger? How in the world did you get involved with her? You hated her. She was such a show-off know it all!" Draco said incredulously.
Severus looked at him.
"If you really want to know, Draco…we can go inside, open this bottle of firewhiskey and exchange stories about acquiring our witches," the Potions Master said, "Providing that what we say stays between us. I'd like to know how you met Miss Pascal as well."
Draco looked at Severus, then at Malina's grave, then at Severus again. He'd like to talk about Malina. And Granger? Oh, he'd LOVE to hear how this came about. He stood up.
"All right, Professor, but you tell your story first," he said to the wizard.
Severus rose. He had never talked about Hermione to anyone. He might need this as much as Draco did.
"Done," he said.
Together Draco and Severus headed for the Manor, the flowers on Malina's grave bowing lightly in the breeze as if seeing them off.
Perhaps they were.
Severus imbibed two large firewhiskeys before he began to speak, Draco staring at him, his gray eyes full of interest. Professor Snape was involved with Hermione Granger, the most irritating muggle-born on the face of the planet as far as Draco was concerned. How could this have possibly happened? Snape was the most Slytherin-like Slytherin he had ever known outside of his father. Actually, more so than his father. Lucius would play up to people so they never really knew his ways, but Snape had always acted the snarky bastard, straightforward, sarcastic, vindictive, not caring who liked or disliked him. How had he attached himself to Hermione Granger?
"I don't know how it happened, Draco," the Potions Master began, his eyes taking on an unfocused quality, "I've always prided myself on knowing my own motivations. Yet, my desire for Hermione crept up on me and consumed me like a ravenous dragon."
Draco said nothing. He had wanted Malina from the moment he saw her, though his ultimate goal was to bed the witch, not to love her. That had crept up on him as well. But it seemed strange that the Potions Master could be caught unaware the way he did. He was never a man given to wild passion. He seemed to consider and plan every action.
"Two years after she graduated and went on to university, I found out to my displeasure that Albus had made arrangements for her to be my Potions assistant in order to garner credit for her degree. Since I am an employee of Hogwarts and subject to Albus' outrageous whims, I had to accept her. I didn't make it easy. Her initial assignments were terrible. I assigned her to collect the bloodiest, most unsavory ingredients from living creatures, sure she would refuse. To my surprise, she did all I asked stoically, without complaint as she dissected the animals, which could not be spelled because it was important their parts be collected while alive. I also gave her insignificant grunt work, such as cleaning cauldrons, cataloging the many ingredients I had, though I already had them meticulously listed and inventoried. I even had her collect thestral manure. Not one complaint…not one word of refusal. She was dedicated, and I came to respect her dedication," the wizard admitted, pouring himself another firewhiskey.
"She was like no other witch I'd ever known," the wizard said, "Maybe she was just determined not to let me get to her…that Gryffindor stubbornness coming to the fore. Eventually I let her work with me, gave her more brewing assignments. She was careful, meticulous. If she wasn't sure about something, she would ask me despite knowing I would be dismissive and, I admit cruel…acting as if she were an idiot for doing the proper thing. Still she didn't cut and run…she took my worst and continued. How could I not respect her for that, Draco?"
Draco shook his head.
"I don't know, Professor," he said, his eyes urging the wizard to continue.
Severus took another sip of his drink, then continued.
"Hermione was the first person, male or female besides Albus that could deal with me, accept me the way I was. It took a while for that to settle in. But I still didn't know how deeply that affected me, Draco. How much…how much I appreciated her understanding…her acceptance," the pale wizard said, shaking his head, "It is easy to see in retrospect, but at the time of its occurrence, I had no idea the witch was working her way under my skin."
Draco finished his own drink, then poured another. He also topped off the Professor's drink, wanting him to continue opening up. He had never seen this side of the wizard and felt rather honored that he was sharing something so personal with him.
"But…but it was when she accidentally added a wrong ingredient to her cauldron after I had been particularly sharp with her, that how I felt towards the witch came to a head. The only reason she didn't ask me what to do was because how cruelly I spoke to her after she asked an earlier question. It is clear now she decided to chance she was right…which she wasn't. But luckily I saw her error and pulled her away from the cauldron before it blew. I have no doubt it would have killed her," Severus said, his eyes hard.
Draco watched as the Professor's expression changed. It became rather soft, vulnerable. Something he wasn't used to seeing. Severus took a long sip of his firewhiskey, his black eyes meeting Draco.
"I had her in my embrace, close…tight. I could feel her trembling as I railed at her about being so stupid, so irresponsible, telling her she could have lost her life. And suddenly the thought of the witch losing her life…no longer being here hit me…and…and…" the wizard's voice faltered.
"And?" Draco encouraged.
Severus looked at him, his eyes darker than usual.
"And I kissed her. I lowered my head and locked my lips to her mouth and it was as if an inferno washed over me. It was shocking, but compelling and she didn't resist me. She kissed me back, but as I think of it…her kiss was not practiced, but I was the aggressor, so I took control, pulling her closer, drowning in the feel and scent of her. The next thing I knew, my robes were spread on the lab floor and the witch beneath me. I took her, Draco, full of a lust I had never known before. I've been aroused before and had my share of willing witches…but this…but this was something different, something I could not stop. I had to have her. Can you understand that?" the wizard asked him.
Draco remembered returning from a month of revels and taking Malina for the first time. He was driven. He needed her more than he needed to take his next breath, and she gave herself to him, feeling his need.
"Yes. Yes I can," Draco said softly.
Severus sighed and held out his glass to Draco, who refilled it. The Potions Master took another sip, rasping slightly, then continuing, seeming to speak to himself rather than Draco.
"I…I…I didn't know," he said softly, "Or I didn't want to know…"
"What, Professor…what didn't you know?" Draco asked him.
"I took her passionately Draco. I was…I was full of desire. She cried out when I entered her…I was used to that, many witches responded the same way if I were driven. But there was a sharpness to her cry that I didn't register at first and…and she didn't try to push me away or protest. She took me, crying out and gasping and I thought it was normal…considering the differences in our size and my strength. But there was something in her eyes that made me slow…made me….look. It was then I saw the blood and realized I had taken her virginity," the wizard said with a quaver in his voice as he remembered his horror at having treated Hermione in such a way.
Draco stared at him a moment, then said, "Gods, Professor. You didn't know she was a virgin?"
"No. No I didn't," he said, "I had taken something precious from her in a fit of lust. Yes, she could have said something…but it had to all be so overwhelming for the witch. There was no doubt in my mind that she had wanted me. It was not an act of rape, but an act of passion…one she accepted. I slowed then, and gave her the attention and gentleness she deserved. I believe I made it good for the witch once I realized my error," Severus said.
"What happened afterwards?" Draco asked him.
Severus drew in a deep breath.
"It was awkward. I apologized to her for taking her in such a manner and scourgified her, feeling completely out of sorts as she rearranged her clothing. Then she said to me, 'I was going to lose my virginity one day, Professor. I'm just glad it was spontaneous and with someone I truly respect and admire,' then she left. In the days that followed she acted as if nothing had happened between us, and I did my best to act the same way…unfortunately treating her even more atrociously than before, as if to prove I was unaffected. But I was affected. I had never taken a witch's virginity before and as I said, I had never known a witch like Hermione. For more than a week I denied my desire for the witch, telling myself it was a tryst like any other tryst. But it wasn't, Draco. I don't believe Hermione would have let anyone do to her what I did to her in the way I did it. She felt something for me. She wasn't an air headed bit of fluff that flipped her heels into the air for every randy wizard that had a compliment for her, but an intelligent, dedicated young witch who was going to make her mark in the world. And she gave me my space. I found…I found I didn't want it."
Draco could understand this…but said nothing as the wizard poured out his soul to him. It was good therapy. He wasn't the only one affected by intimacy with a special witch. It soothed him as he listened to the Potions Master.
"After a rather conflicted week of thinking constantly about Hermione, I finally confessed to her that I wanted her, but I didn't know if I could be what she wanted. She looked at me and said, 'I believe I can be what you want, Professor. You just don't know it yet. We can find out together.' Then she proceeded to give me a list of 'rules.' The cheeky little wench. But I was willing to try to follow them in order to have her for a lover. I am still trying to meet them…although I've never regretted taking the risk. She is still as infuriating as she was in Hogwarts, but there is much more to her that I can appreciate now. She also has a terrible temper that she has no problem showing. I appreciate that, since I never wanted to be involved with a witch who was little more than a doormat. She may be a Gryffindor, but she has strength, fire and is as vindictive as she is brilliant. She takes no guff, Draco…and that…that endears her to me."
The wizard fell silent.
Draco nodded.
"Malina didn't take much guff either, Professor. She hexed me on more than one occasion for trying to take advantage of her. She could be a hellcat when she wanted. And I loved it," the wizard said.
Severus took another drink and looked at Draco speculatively.
"I think we are quite alike in our tastes, Draco. Both of us were quite lucky in finding women that suited us," he said, his voice slightly slurred.
"Yes. Yes, Professor," Draco responded, also feeling the effects of the firewhiskey, "Now let me tell you about Malina."
The two wizards talked far into the evening, sharing memories, laughs and some regrets concerning their witches.
"At least you told Malina you loved her," Severus said thickly, "I haven't told Hermione that directly yet, though I am sure she knows."
"They always know," Draco said drunkenly, "Malina had me by the short hairs the first time I saw her. She was beautiful…beautiful."
Draco fell silent.
Severus looked at him.
"And you will always be blessed, Draco, having known that beauty…having experienced her love. That love will be with you always," the wizard said.
Severus would never have voiced such a sentiment if he wasn't drunk. But it didn't mean he didn't believe it, because he did. He felt himself a better man because of Hermione's love. No doubt Draco had benefited from Malina the same way.
Draco thought about the song she left, a comforting warmth washing over him. It could be the firewhiskey, but he believed it something more. In fact, he knew it was something more.
"Yes. Yes it will," he agreed.
A/N: Thanks for reading. I had a couple of homemade wine coolers. I hope this talk between the wizards translates as well as I think it does. Lol. Thanks for reading.