Author's note:
Hello, everyone! I would just like to say thanks for following Danica's story. I know I go through long periods without updating but it's always the lack of inspiration that kicks my butt. However, I've got the entire story mapped out. So I won't be leaving anyone hanging for long. Reviews would be greatly appreciated! Thank you again for all the support.
Love always, Rayne.
Danica was bundled up in a large, engulfing coat that the Dark Lord insisted she wear when saying her goodbyes to Draco. It had snowed heavily the night before, leaving the grounds of the Malfoy Manor covered in blankets of white and the fires inside roaring at all hours. Only one path had been made by the Death Eaters to reach the house, their waterlogged boots still strewn by the door. Laughter and the clinking glasses of Firewhiskey could still be heard as the cousins trudged up the front lawn, Draco's luggage in tow.
Their breath was rising in mists before them as they stood before the black gate, Draco leaning against his standing trunk. A sweep of cold air brushed by them and Danica shivered, her nose already red from the icy weather. Draco reached up and unraveled his Slytherin scarf from around his neck, draping it over her thin shoulders.
"I wish there was a spell that would make you eat while I'm not here. Merlin knows no one else will bother shoving food down your throat like I do." He tried to sound harsh, making sure she caught the point that she needs to stop skipping so many meals. But he couldn't bring himself to use a tone stronger than that of a half-hearted warning.
She gave a quiet laugh, looking back at the Manor for a fleeting glance before returning her gaze to Draco's pale face. She thought she saw movement in one of the windows and the wisps of smoky black robes.
"This place is gonna be so empty without you, Draco," Danica said in a hushed tone. He nodded his agreement and took a look at his watch, the hour for him to head off to King's Cross Station getting nearer. He didn't want to leave either. Not with all the madmen running loose through the house at all hours of the night. And especially not with all the harm that Danica has been enduring. It made him sick to his stomach thinking about how he won't be there to clean her up after another beating from the Dark Lord.
A surge of hatred—one that he felt often—boiled in the center of his belly and crawled up to his throat, his temperature spiking. He looked at the bruise healing on the side of her face, reaching up two frosty fingers to stroke the yellowish skin. She closed her gray eyes, the ones not unlike his, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. For a long time Danica worried herself about keeping her cousin alive. Now, he was going to be the one staying up at night to wonder if she was truly okay. The end of the school year never seemed so far away.
"Be strong, okay? I'll be back before you know it." He flashed a smirk, making her lips twitch upward in what was could be taken as a smile. Her jaw still gave a cry of discomfort when she tried to do more than that.
"Draco, don't forget about your-"
"Mission, I know. I'm working on it." He ran an anxious hand through his platinum blonde hair and took one last look at his watch. "I need to get going."
She looked down at the snow covered ground before throwing her arms around him in a crushing hug. He responded by holding onto her tightly, as if trying to give some of his strength into her very skin. They stayed like that for a few long moments, relishing in the safe feeling of family—the one thing he never truly knew.
"Get off, Danica. You're going to ruin my designer robes with your snot." He gave a forced smile as he held her away at arm's length. She laughed, a beautiful sound to his ears compared to her screaming.
"Bye, Draco," she said, watching him bend to collect his things.
"Goodbye, Danica. I'll write soon."
With that he gave her one last brief glance and continued through the black gate, not looking back because he didn't want to see her face crumble. So she watched his retreating back until the last possible moment when he turned on the spot and Dissaparated.
His absence was like a siren in those next few seconds.
"Danica!"
The shout brought her back from Draco's departure. And instantly, her expression slipped into business mode, her eyes vacating and her mouth hardening into a line. She turned and shook the shaggy hair from her eyes and saw that Fenir was poking his head out of the door, his teeth nearly bared.
"What?" she asked harshly, restraining a growl from inside her throat. Her insides always ached when he was around, her natural instincts calling for a submission to an Alpha. But she would never bow to such a monstrosity.
"The Dark Lord wants to speak with you." His voice reminded her of rust, metallic and rough.
"Be a good lap dog and tell him I'll be up shortly," she retorted, her temper suddenly flaring at the very sight of him. He gave a menacing growl and slammed the door shut, on direct orders, like everyone else, to not touch her or disrespect her in any way. Because she has the authority to give out punishment.
Danica gave a longing look at the spot Draco had just vanished from and gave a heavy sigh.
This was going to be a very long couple of months.
"Harry, don't touch it!" Hermione hissed when his fingers outstretched for the top cover of the book thrown at his head only minutes before. He was reminded briefly about a certain ghost lounging in a toilet.
"Hermione, I don't think it's going to explode anytime soon," he muttered, not really looking at her. Remus and Harry's dream was right. The pages seemed to reek of evil, of foul Dark Magic that made Mrs. Weasley fret about having it in her kitchen.
Everyone crowded around the table to get a look at it. Fred was in the process of poking it with a fork to see if it did anything. Lupin was pacing back and forth in a corner of the room, rubbing his hand along his jaw as he thought. Arthur sent another urgent message to Dumbledore and he Floo'd back to say that he would be arriving soon.
"Well, it's not like we can read it, mate. I've never seen that language before in my life," said Ron, eyeing the closeness of Hermione to the wretched thing. Suddenly Lupin took the seat beside Hermione and stared at the book for so long one might think he was trying to open it up with his mind.
"We're not going to get anything done if we just stand around looking at it," said Harry as he watched all eyes trail along the cover.
"You're right, Harry. Hermione, please move back." Lupin watched as she retreated to stand beside Harry, a circle forming around Remus and the lone book on the table, the blood stains more prominent under the bright light of the ceiling.
He drew his wand out and pointed it at the book. For a moment the entire room stopped breathing as he swung his wand to the right in a wave, making gently open in an arc. Everyone had to keep themselves from cringing away when the pages lay there, exposed. But nothing happened. No curses or hexes flew out, no boggarts. It remained still as if holding its very own breath.
"I was rather hoping it would explode," Fred said, disappointment clear on the downward tug of his lips.
At that moment they heard the familiar sound of Apparation. Arthur hurried to open the door to greet Dumbledore, his deep purple robes rustling against the threshold. His eyes twinkled at Harry for only a second, the piercing blue deep in thought, before turning to Lupin who remained where he was, wand still pointing at the object of his dream.
"I'll take it from here, Remus."
Lupin lowered his wand and watched as Dumbledore, with a sweep of his robes, sat down at the table. His long fingers reached for the book and pulled it closer, half moon spectacles sinking lower on his crooked nose so he could read the title. Hermione gave him a puzzled look.
"Sir, I've never seen a language like that before. Can you read it?" she asked, watching Lupin as he resumed his pacing of the kitchen floor.
"I speak fluent Southern Athabaskan," he replied with the sliver of a smile.
"He speaks Azkaban," George whispered to his twin.
"No, Mr. Weasley. Athabaskan. It's an old Native American language, belonging to the Apaches." Everyone stood there, not quite sure how to respond to that.
"What does it say, Albus?" Molly's quiet voice said from beside her husband. She was clutching at his sleeve absently. Dumbledore cleared his throat and said,
"The Vulture's Spellbook."
Hermione felt a shiver slide down her spine. And she didn't know whether it was just her but at that moment, the sound of hungry birds echoed inside her head, menacing and unforgiving.
"Harry, if you please." Dumbledore motioned Harry forward. He took tentative steps, preparing himself for the horrors inside those pages that he only saw in his dreams. His muscles were tight, fingers brushing against his wand. "Find the page, Harry."
He wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to go on feeling alone. Because even now, making no physical contact, Harry could feel the tug of what he sought coming from somewhere in the middle. It was lingering, waiting to be discovered. Like a rattlesnake that sensed its prey had ignored its warning. It was waiting to strike.
Harry flipped open the cover. He could feel Lupin's eyes raking the front page, searching for what had invaded their dreams. Trying not to look too long, or feel the stains across the paper, Harry skimmed his fingers along the sections quickly. He only gave himself enough time to look in the corner for the picture that seemed burned into his memory. Just thinking about it sent his stomach in a twist.
"Farther ahead," encouraged Remus when Harry stopped at a spell that seemed to sever all the limbs from a person's body. They would be awake for it.
Harry nodded and continued, the thick middle of the book approaching faster. The tug was there, stronger, pulling Harry's hands forward until he noticed that he wasn't commanding them to move. Dumbledore must have noticed too because he leaned in, his warm breath stirring the hair on his student's arm. Remus came and sat beside Harry, watching and waiting. He could feel it too.
"There! Stop!" Remus exclaimed, his hand catching the page Harry was about to flip. As if being released from bonds, Harry's pulled back his hands. He rubbed his wrists as if he had just been shackled. Getting up, he went over to the sink and washed his hands. The stench of Dark Magic was covering his skin.
Dumbledore slid the book closer to him. The entire room leaned toward the silver haired man as if he had become gravity itself in the last few moments. Hermione was peeking over Remus' shoulder, her eyes seeing for the first time what he had tried to block out. The perfect baby seemed to be staring at Hermione with an evil look in its eyes. She exhaled.
Several long moments passed as Dumbledore read through the chosen page. Harry watched from his spot at the sink, leaning his back against it. Every second that passed seemed to make the piercing blue of Dumbledore's eyes grow brighter. They soon looked like two orbs of icy blue flames. Dread was filling the air, unknown tension coiling inside the kitchen until it made Mrs. Weasley plop down into a chair, Arthur's hand tightly in held in hers.
Just as Remus was about to ask what it said, aware of the awful taste in his mouth that the silence left, Dumbledore looked up and met the man's gaze. Lupin could no longer find any words. His feet were cemented to the ground and the sharp beating of his heart made his chest hurt. Something lingered in Dumbledore's face, something that made his gut clench and his instincts scream.
The faintest hint of fear was written in Dumbledore's eyes.
"It all makes sense, Remus…" he whispered, the tone of a genius discovery staining his voice.
"What does?" When Albus did not answer and instead looked back down at the page he asked again, "What makes sense?"
"Molly, please tell the children to go upstairs."
With flustering hands and a sharp whip of her tongue when they began to protest, Mrs. Weasley herded the young wizards out the door. George and Fred remained since they no longer qualified as children.
"Please, boys. You will know soon enough." That was all that Dumbledore said. But it was enough to send the twins away, their heads bowed and voices grumbling. With the flick of his wand the door locked and silenced the room from the outside. Remus still hadn't taken his eyes off of Dumbledore's face.
"Do you see that symbol at the bottom of the page?" he asked. Remus looked and nodded, a ripple of understanding passing through him.
"The Dark Mark. So we know that this has something to do with Voldemort."
Dumbledore watched Remus for a long time, making him shift a little in his chair. He looked like he was weighing his options, his disadvantages and advantages at what he was going to say next. Remus' heart gave another painful pump.
"It has everything to do with Voldemort."
"Well, that's a given because after all, this is his war-"
"He's going to make an heir, Remus. He's going to raise the next Prime Minister of his new world order."
The silence that followed could make one believe that world had stopped moving, that all sound had turned off like a light switch. Because they all stared at Dumbledore, their mouths open with confusion so strong it stumped their voices into stillness.
"Are you sure? Albus, this is…unlike Voldemort. He doesn't want to share power, he doesn't want…a family. That goes against everything we know about him, everything that has made him the prevailing leader we know him to be. It's an outrage that-" Lupin was on a roll, the words rampaging from his mouth like a stampede of denial. He couldn't stop himself. It was wrong, all wrong. Dumbledore had to be mistaken.
"I think you already know the reason why this worries me so much." His blue eyes twinkled. Suddenly Remus understood why Dumbledore had been watching him earlier. He wasn't studying him. He was testing the waters, figuring out how long it would take before Remus put the pieces together.
It was for this reason that Lupin tried to prove Dumbledore was wrong. Because he did know. And the thought sent bile up the back of his throat.
" Danica is going to provide that heir."
Remus blinked four times. He excused himself, careful not to run into Mrs. Weasley who looked like she was about to faint. Before Albus could even call him back Remus Apparated to the tall hillside looking down at the Burrow. Only the blinking lights of the kitchen and the kid's room gave Remus the knowledge that it was still there, waiting for him to calmly walk in to sit down and discuss the matter at hand.
But right now he tilted his head back and yelled into the night air, hollered until his throat burned and his stomach pushed the remains of his meal up his esophagus. Remus doubled over, hands on his knees, and vomited. His stomach was cleaned out in a matter of moments.
If only something as simple as retching would purge his mind of Dumbledore's words.