Exordium: Freedom
"Summer is such a lovely time, isn't it?" WARNINGS: DARK! Angst, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts, LGBT OC. Don't like, don't read.
Eleventh Reading: (R) High Priestess
8-8
The reversed High Priestess calls on you to be still and direct your attention inward to listen to your voice and wisdom. You may be swayed by other people's opinions or swept up in their drama when what you really need to do is focus on what is right for you. It is time to get quiet and withdraw yourself from the external world to observe what your inner guidance is sharing with you now.
Ask yourself: Do I struggle to trust my intuition fully? Perhaps you doubt yourself or feel silly or guilty for listening to your intuition, and as a result, you deny your ability to tune in and receive this potent information. You may also keep your intuitive capabilities hidden from others, fearful of their judgements or opinions. If this resonates, know that your intuition is your superpower, here to guide you and help you. Have faith in the Universe and allow yourself to be in flow with its energies. Surrender and let go.
Think of the High Priestess as the calm centre inside of you that is untouched by your external world and trust that she is always there when you need her. Whenever you worry that things are just getting too crazy, find a quiet space and meditate so you can hear her voice. If you stop thinking or fretting about your issue and instead clear the way for your intuition to speak to you, the answer will follow.
Finally, the secretive nature of the High Priestess may suggest gossip and hidden agendas. Others may be keeping information from you or talking about you behind your back and sharing mistruths. Rather than making assumptions or diving into the depths of paranoia, have an open and honest conversation to surface and address these secrets.
8-8
[The rabbit hole]
I hum as we go through our things. Papa's already at Wolfsden, setting up whatever enchantments he desires and having his people construct the place to his exact specifications. So that mostly means I'm left with little to do other than daydream and wonder how my new home will look. Especially since Jerome and Malik are there with papa—they'll keep him safe for me.
"Clara, you mentioned music?" I ask, idly going through my books to see which ones I'd rather keep in Wolfsden.
"The piano. And singing. Mostly singing." I nod liking the sound of that. And she has been teaching Justine and Allison to sing so we can entertain papa during supper.
"Could we get a harp as well?" Emma asks. "And maybe a few singing frogs?" We could at least look into it. "And Miss Sarah? Could you please convince mum to have another baby? She's been super nervous about that for years now."
I blink.
"Emma." Zada glares at her daughter. "Please ignore her, Sarah. She's been bugging me for a little brother for years. They both have."
Ah. "Well. Do you want another baby?" I pick up an old photo album, paging through it idly. Pictures of me and Ginny and Luna, running about our faces all lit up.
"I'm not sure." I smile closing the book and setting it atop my nightstand. That's definitely going to Wolfsden. And we'll need a camera to capture new memories.
"Would you like to explain what makes you uncertain?" I ask, going through my stack of magical theory booklets, stacking them beside my photo album.
"It makes me nervous." Zada wraps her arms around her middle. "Wondering if I raise them right. Wondering if anything they do wrong is somehow my fault."
"Mum, really. You're the best." Emma and Romilda hug their mum, who's a bit teary just now. Curious, I slip into her mind and tease apart her reasonings. While what she says makes sense, even to her, she fears she'd never raise a son right. Hmm. Good a reason as any, if you ask me. I slip out of her mind, but she invites me deeper.
Deeper, into her private time with her husband. The talk they had just before coming to me, to be specific. Jerome tells her that Lord Scribe's daughter would protect them. That she'd never let Lestrange harm any of them.
"How would you know? You've just met her!"
"Woman, pack your things and dress to impress. We join them for dinner."
I ease out of her. Papa slipped Jerome and Malik a drop of his blood, did he. Sneaky, but par for the course when it comes to me. He wants me to have two Aurors under my command, after all.
"Hey, Sarah?" I look to Air, who's packing all my clothes into my briefcase for me. "What're the rules on dating and all that? I mean. Am I allowed to marry? Expected to? Do you choose my spouse?"
"You may choose your spouse. You may choose if you want to marry or not. And I'm not getting into telling you if you're into boys, girls, both, or neither. But you need to discuss it with me before starting a relationship. There might be all sorts of tangles to contend with, and I really don't want to definitively say who's allowed or not."
"So, I'm allowed to like girls?" Air asks. A wonderful topic while you're handling my knickers, thanks.
"Yes, Air. You're allowed to like girls. As long as you don't fall in love with me, that is. I'm straight as a nail, so I want to marry a man."
"Makes sense." Air carefully stacks my knickers into my briefcase for me, even as her mind nudges mine. Curious what she's looking for, I invite her in. She peeks into my morning ritual, with Clara gazing up at me, lust in her eyes as she tends to my needs. "What if I fall in love with you, but let you marry whichever man you desire?" Why is Air's breathing getting ragged?
"Is that really a life you can be happy with?" Justine comes bearing tea and a little basket of blood cherries. I sip my tea, grateful for the distraction just now. Especially with Air getting a hot and bothered imagining what it'd be like to kiss me down there.
"I'm yours either way." Air grabs my bras and carefully packs them away. "But you'll let me fall in love with whomever I please?"
"As long as no harm comes from it." I pop a cherry into my mouth, moaning with the gorgeous taste of it.
"Sarah?" Justine looks over to one side. Agitha is just getting changed, traipsing around in her her knickers. She looks completely different to the girls I've seen naked before. I mean, similar, but different. Her hips are more pronounced, her bum shapelier. I'm used to Clara—flat bum and narrow hips, with perky breasts.
Agitha turns to me, questions in her eyes. "Did you want to see?" She grabs the hips of her knickers, clearly offering to take them off.
"Not just now," I say. Sure I'm curious, but really I'd rather she didn't traipse about in the buff, in case someone storms in for some reason or other. "You have a gorgeous figure."
"Malik seems to think so." Agitha turns back around, stepping into a pair of faded jeans and slipping into a sports bra and a simple top. "Would you mind if I get pregnant soon? Malik and I were worried we couldn't afford another baby, but I doubt that'll be a problem now."
"Don't mind at all. I'm pleased you're discussing it with me. Be sure you all do so before attempting to get pregnant." They all nod, and I feel Malik and Jerome nodding on their side as well.
There's a knock at the door. Mum walks in with three women I've never met. "There you are, sweetie. Your brothers are already off exploring their new manors. So it's just the girls at home today."
Alright. That doesn't say much, though.
"Prudence has been collecting thralls. Sent home a few for us. Did you want any?"
"Papa said I'm at my limit, but thank you." Mum nods and the women, I assume Japanese women, curtsey and head out.
"You've already ordered them to tend to your needs?" Mum is being a bit much.
"No. But I've only one morning per day. And really, Clara, is eager enough."
"I'm grateful. I am. But I worry you see them as more than thralls." They are more than thralls. "Your father's hand at work, no doubt." Justine takes my teacup and sets it on the coffee table for me, her mind awhirl at the contrast between mum and I. "Naiveté aside. I'll discuss with your father about expanding your allowance. And please, dear. I understand you need a proper support structure in Hogwarts. But consider enthralling more adults? Cashel and Brennan already have a small army of Muggles bringing them their salaries. Some wizards, too."
"I'll bear that in mind." I smile and nod. "But until papa changes his mind, my hands are tied."
"So what did you think of Draco today? Quite the improvement, eh?"
"Of course you were scrying." I hide my knowing smile behind my hand. "Really, mum. I could have any husband I want, and Malfoy is the best on offer?"
"He is. And there'll be no enthralling him. Understood?"
I roll my eyes. Enthralling Lord Malfoy makes far more sense. The heir would be nothing short of a nest egg. "Why him? I can't stand him."
"Because he's influential. Because he's all the connections you'd need. Because he's of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Because he's young enough to mould into a man you could grow to love. And because I'd rather you didn't take after your father in that regard."
I roll my eyes again. What's wrong with waiting a century or two if a Scribe lives, on average, eight-hundred years?
"No, Sarah, I'd rather you didn't take your photo album to your manor. I want you to spend as much time here as possible."
"Mum. Relax. I'll be here all summer, but I just want my most precious things in Wolfsden."
Mum sighs and walks over Zada, flipping up her house dress to expose her curves and rather simple knickers and bare lower back. "Yes, excellent hips for easy childbirth. You've ordered her to breed?"
"No. Nor do I intend to. Please stop treating them this way, it casts you in a poor light." Mum rolls her eyes.
"Definitely your father's hand at work. You at least intend to make proper use of those two?" She nods to Justine, who's just coming back with the basket of blood cherries, no doubt to ease my already considerable irritation.
"Is something bothering you?" I ask, draping an arm around my redhead to keep her right here with me. Justine hugs me and buries her face in the nape of my neck, hating how mum treats her.
Mum sighs. "I'm fine, dear. Just irritable and my handmaidens are helping Gemima's thralls with Château d'Oreile. Really. Is it so horrid in this sleepy little town that none of my children wish to…"
Mum covers her mouth, tears cascading down. She rushes over to me and wraps me in her arms, peppering me with kisses.
"It's a strategic decision," I say, hugging her. Funny, she treats Justine as a thing, but doesn't mind squashing her between us. "It allows us safehouses scattered about the continent. Or even the globe, in Pru's case. So no matter where the tides take us, House Scribe will prosper."
"You're just a baby. My baby. And you've already a home, right here. With me."
"And I love it here. I asked papa for somewhere I can keep people safe. So that I can still be here, but not turn my room into a bomb shelter, so to speak."
"Really?" Mum pulls back, not hiding her tearstained face at all. "You don't think I'm an unbearable shrew? Even after trying to wed you to Draco?"
"If there's an unbearable shrew, it's him. You're my mum, and I love you. Even if we don't always see eye to eye." Mum hugs me and kisses me and pets Justine like a cruppy, a yawn escaping out of nowhere. "And you should take a nap, mum. Baby's got you tired."
Mum yawns again, nodding. "I think I will. I love you, baby." She kisses my brow and heads out.
You will all regard any order my mum gives you as suggestions. Only I give you orders. I get nothing but nods. Zada, Agitha. You're both relieved from aiding her. Malik will ask papa, when he has a quiet moment, about getting mama more handmaidens. And I would hear any complaints you have about how you're treated. I will not tolerate you being treated as lesser, understood?
8-8
[Business plans, of a sort]
The dining table overflows with conversation. Gemima and her friend keep gushing over mum, banishing anything that even remotely seems to negatively affect her from the table. Cashel keeps whispering things, no doubt meant for his people, while Brennan is far more interested in the new girls Pru sent our way—if I didn't know any better, I'd think her face is flushed because he's doing naughty things to her.
But I mostly focus on papa, and how he doesn't seem very hungry.
"Is it not seasoned well?" I ask, laying my hand on his.
"It's delicious, princess." I nod. He's his favoured wine, and everything seems alright, near as I can tell.
"Ronan. Could we discuss Sarah taking more thralls, please? I worry she doesn't have a steady income."
Like a switch is hit, papa lights up, his eyes smiling. "Oh?"
"None of them work. And five of them attend Hogwarts. Even with their savings, it would barely get her passed her education. Please, Ronan. Just five thralls?"
"Very well. I'll arrange it. But I get to choose whom."
"Will it get you to eat?" I ask about the one thing that bothers me. Papa cuts his veal, digging in with gusto. I smile and nod. "Then I'm fine with it."
"I'll arrange it. And I'll need you to come to the Ministry tomorrow. We need to buy you a few extra homes." I narrow my eyes, but smile and shrug it off. "I'll have a list of instructions you're to give this group. And you're to ensure they follow it to the letter, understood?"
"We can discuss details later, papa. You need to eat."
"Good. I want you to take Ms Honda as well." A Japanese woman in her early twenties walks over, naked as she pleases and her eyes glossed over, clearly under the Imperius Curse. "She lost her wand, so you'll need to get it replaced. And she'll be your new café employee in Hogsmeade."
Honda comes to me, bows with her palms on her thighs, and kneels beside me, cocking her head back and opening her mouth, clearly ready for my blood. I've got such a screwed up family.
Still, I prick my index finger open, and drip three little drops of my life essence onto her awaiting tongue. My arm wraps around her, holding her to support her through the worst of it, even as I lick my finger closed. It takes almost five minutes before the poor dear stops shaking.
"So what shop am I opening?" I ask, curious.
"A café. She'll cook traditional Japanese foods, along with some sweets and the like. So she'll need at least one employee under her. So you'll take her sister as well." Another woman walks over. Almost identical to Honda—but then, they are sisters. "And you'll need to properly bind them. They're meant to keep you updated, and therefore keep me updated."
I nod and bite Honda's finger, drinking but a few drops of her blood. "Is there a market for Japanese food in Hogsmeade?"
"I'll do a proper reading at the weekend. But you'll already have your diner purchased, and we can buy them all the things they'll need over the coming weeks."
"That's fine. But you needn't worry about shopping. I can take Malik and Jerome with me to get it done, can't I?"
Papa kisses my brow. "Quite true, princess." He relaxes considerably. "And you'll have the Honda sisters as well. Gangsters, the both of them. So be sure to take them to the blacksmith in Diagon Alley. They'll need some weapons." Ah, that's why he wants them in Hogsmeade. To keep close to me.
Honda collapses against me, her eyes go from cloudy, to all black. She'll need a moment. The other Honda sister comes to me, bows, and kneels. I bite my finger and drip my blood onto her tongue.
"So, papa." I grab the second Honda sister, holding her close. "How's supper?" Papa smiles, his eyes warm and welcoming.
"It's delicious, as always." I smile, patient, waiting. He takes another bite of his peas and carrots, scooping some pasta up with it. A little chunk of veal soon follows. Much better. The second Honda sister stops quivering, so I bite her finger just as the first sister's mind slams open to me.
A bar fight plays out—the last thing she remembers. Pru is there, just sipping a beer, I assume, at the bar. Until wands are pulled out. Pru whips out her own wand and casts Imperius on the lot of them—twenty-seven in all, mostly men. Who knows what happened to the others.
"What's your name" I ask. Honda sister one pulls back, she tries to say something crude, but her bind forbids it.
"Honda Itsuko." She looks at her sister, still clearly under the influence. "She's Reina. Where are we?"
"You're in my employ." Reina slams into her sister, convulsing as her eyes glow black.
More screaming, only this time from Brennan. Or more accurately, from the woman bouncing on his lap. He's having sex at the table? Really? "Sis. You can have this one, too. I'm done with her."
I narrow my eyes, look to papa and cock an eyebrow. Reina's mind slams open, showing me the same bar fight, if from a different angle. Only this time, I also see scenes of their upbringing, their father training them—I assume he's explaining things in Japanese, but I can't make heads or tails of it.
That is, until I see the father laid on his back, with Itsuko's head bobbing up and down over his crotch. Reina can't see what she's doing, but the look on the father's face is of bliss—she can't be older than me in that memory.
I look to the girl walking around the table with white stuff pouring down her leg. Her eyes are cloudy just the same. "Who is she to you?" I ask.
"Shikida Keiko. She belonged to those bastards." Sounds like they didn't get along. Well, they will now. "Did you want me to clean her up?" Itsuko asks. She jerks back, confused why she's asking that.
"Yes." Itsuko doesn't hesitate, licking the white stuff off Keiko's leg, following the flow all the way up to the source and thoroughly licking her clean. Life can be so strange.
8-8
[More of the same, really]
Two burly men stand before me, having just apparated into the dining room. Tall and pale, with black hair and even darker eyes. Behind them are two woman, short and petite. Behind them are their boys, four each. I cock an eyebrow at papa, wondering just what is going on here.
"In a moment, princess." Papa takes out his wand, and snaps his fingers. A sole woman appears. Tall, lanky, utterly unremarkable. Papa points his wand and a green fire erupts from within her, turning her to ash on the spot. I blink.
"And you just killed her, because…?"
"She had a curse placed on her, meant to kill the person that tries to drink her blood." Ah. Either her or me. Yeah, that explains so much about papa creating blood cherries so we don't have to run that risk. "Now. These are the Dubois brothers, Luc and Leon. Their wives, and their sons. You'll bind each of them. They'll move onto your farm in Godric's Hollow, and open your butcher shop." That works. "A full binding won't be needed. Not yet."
Papa waves his wand and the lot of them drop to their knees. The boys are all younger than me, by at least three years. Hmm. Well, it can't be helped. Papa wants this done. I bite my finger and drip three drops onto each of their tongues. The youngest one, he's barely old enough to walk. But he opens his mouth just the same.
"Here are their orders." Papa hands me a roll of parchment, tied with silver string. "I'll have my people deliver their livestock over the coming days." Papa presses a kiss to my crown, cupping my cheeks as he tells me he loves me one more time. He vanishes into the floo network, no doubt focuses on handling the next crisis at work.
I open the parchment, reading what my people need to do. The wives are to take shifts at the butcher's shop, leaving the men to do the actual butchering while the boys mind the home and do the chores around the farm.
No, I don't like that very much. The two men finally come to. "Stand and present your wands." They don't hesitate, standing at attention for me like good little soldiers. I thought so. The wives are slower to react, but they present their wands just the same. "Here are your orders." I relay papa's orders with one crucial difference.
"You ladies will alternate. One will work the butcher shop, while the other minds the home. The next day, you switch. The one who's at home will organize the boys. They'll need to do chores around the house, and help the men with the animals. But they'll also need to learn the basics. Maths, reading and writing, magical theory, and simple spells. I'll send someone by with some brooms for you, and you'll have a letter prepared for them with things you need and why you need it. Understood?"
8-8
[Lessons continue]
"The trick, Ms Scribe, is to know what you transfigure your subject into." I blink, staring at the miniature dragon staring at me. It looks absolutely perfect. Down to the finest detail, even the fire it breathes looks real. Odd, it was a goblet a moment ago. "Skin, bone structure, organs, muscles, tendons, blood vessels. Every detail. To truly transfigure a living thing, you need to know how all of it works."
I nod.
"You'll need to read up on dragon biology, physiology, and pathology. They've a book on it in Flourish and Blotts. Or you can look for it in the Hogwarts' library." I nod again. The dragon reverts back into a goblet. "Well, that's today's lesson. You'll practice your footwork for next time. And you'll need a better bracer, Ms Scribe. Leather does you no favours. Perhaps silver? A simple bracelet would do wonders, once you've learned to transfigure it into more useful objects."
"A ring?"
"It might work. But the less material you start with, the more skill and energy you'll need to successfully transfigure it. I'd recommend something with more bulk." I nod. Little point in arguing with her, really. She's proven a thousand times over that she knows what she's talking about. "And Ms Mason. My compliments. That was an excellent dragon." Can't argue there. It was perfect!
"Professor McGonagall." We curtsey, bowing and tilting our head respectfully. Professor McGonagall responds in kind, and walks over to the floo fireplace, exploding in neon green flame to Hogwarts. It'd be so much easier to just do that instead of taking the Hogwarts Express. Really. Eight hours, sitting in a bloody train?
Either way, I usher the girls out of the sitting room, out into the garden, where Zada awaits for our flying lessons. I mount my Firebolt, amused that this one has my signature carved into the handle. Of course, Romilda, Justine, and Allison are on much slower brooms—to make sure they don't go crazy and get themselves killed. But we've their Firebolts on reserve.
8-8
[Shifting dynamic]
Air pushes me down, my back on my bed, with the door locked and the curtains drawn. All my ladies are here, surrounding me. Including the three newcomers. Justine lies to one side of me, leaning in and kissing me full on the lips. Romilda pulls me from Justine's lips and right to hers. But I can still feel Jerome's and Malik's gaze on me.
Air pushes my knees apart, her touch so gentle it I could easily deny her. She reaches up my skirt, pushing the fabric up and out of her way. Her thumbs slip up the hips of my knickers, holding them, ready to pull them out of her way. But she waits.
A knock at the door. Mum walks in. I roll my eyes, knowing full well it was locked. "Sarah. The Malfoys arrive in less than ten minutes. Why aren't you dressed?"
Because it's after eight and I like being in bed by this time.
"Really, Sarah. I need you to be presentable, and this is far from presentable."
Zada and Agitha pick out a nice, casual dress for me. They help get me dressed, spritz me with some perfume, and help me into my Mary Janes.
I check my reflection in the mirror, finding an annoyed frown staring back, and follow mum out, knowing she means for me to not bring my clique with me, down into the sitting room. The huff of the floo fireplace, and Mr Malfoy enters our manor. Lord Malfoy is quick to join us.
That's what I need. A house-elf for the Dubois, and another for the Honda sisters…uh, yes. All three of them.
I curtsey, titling and bowing my head. "Lord Malfoy. Mr Malfoy." A final huff. "Madam Malfoy." We get the overly polite greetings out of the way, though mum and Madam Malfoy are quite happy with a more intimate one.
We sit around the fireplace, burning even in the middle of summer. A huff at the floo fireplace again. Papa's home. I rush over to him, and take him by the elbow, leading him to the dining table. Tizzy is quick to bring his late supper, kept warm just for him. And my ladies make their way down to join us. Singing starts us as soon as they enter, setting papa utterly at ease, even with current company.
"It's alright, papa. You relax and eat. Mum and I will entertain the Malfoys in your stead." I press a dry kiss to papa's brow.
"Please stay." Papa all but begs, his eyes desperate to have me to himself. No matter how rude, I haven't the heart to deny him. I raise a finger, pleading for him to be patient for but a moment, as I walk over to our guests.
"Do forgive me." I curtsey, bowing and tilting my head. "Papa's had a most trying day, and he desires my company over supper."
"I can't say I'm surprised," Lord Malfoy says, eyes lit up with delight. "Nothing to forgive, Sarah. Tending to one's father is every child's duty and privilege." I curtsey again, head right back over to papa, and whip out my wand to pop cork from the bottle of wine. Setting my wand right back into my leather bracer, for safekeeping, I grab the bottle and carefully pour papa's glass half full.
"I see why Ronan favours her," Madam Malfoy says. I take my seat, slipping my hand into papa's as he charms his silverware to cut his pork for him.
"It's been like this as long as I can remember. He even forbids the servants from preparing any of his meals while she's home, just so she'll have to," mum tattles. "So Draco. Best of luck convincing my husband you're good enough for her. You'll need it."
Papa smiles just for me. That special smile that shows me how grateful he is to have me here, especially after the day he's had. "Eat. I'm not going anywhere just now."
8-8
[Wolfsden Manor]
Papa offers me the back of his hand, to escort me as any gentleman should. "Ms Scribe. Care to join an old man for a leisurely jaunt?"
"I would be delighted, My Lord." I curtsey, my face lit up and taken over by a beaming grin. I lay my hand on his, and he apparates us. My bedroom explodes into open skies, the ocean covering the landscape as far as the eye can see. We seem to be on a tower.
"Welcome. To Wolfsden Manor," papa murmurs into my ear. He scoops me up and walks us around the wraparound balcony, as he motions to the enormous cylindrical manor just ahead, with three courtyards enclosing it. "The entire peninsula is yours, all the way back to the battlements over there." He points, but I can't even see what he means, either that small or, far more likely, that far away.
Papa apparates us down to the base of the tower, and turns motioning up at it. It's not a tower at all. It's a pagoda, like we have at Scribe Manor. I can't wait to explore what's inside.
He sets me down, or tries to. I'm too busy hugging and peppering him with kisses and thanks. Too amused to be bothered, he walks us over to the front courtyard, opening the wrought iron gate.
"The land here is quite averse to farming, so you'll need to grow everything indoors. But no need to fret. Your pagoda's cellars are outfitted with everything you'll need." I'm too busy hugging the life out of him to decode what that even means.
A door swings open, the world filling with the gentle plucking of harp strings. The foyer isn't too out there. Just a place to hang our coats, if with my vanishing cabinet and a floo fireplace, complete with a large urn of floo powder. "It's already connected, though for some odd reason, it's hidden in the Ministry's archive so well, none will ever find it." Papa carefully sets me on my feet, once again offering his hand to escort me.
Through the door, and into the main hall. It's huge, a perfect circle, though not as large as the manor itself. Pastel pink walls with a vaulted ceiling, enchanted to look like the star-spangled night sky, with three fireplaces about the place, none lit, and dragon pelts laid out before them to retain the heat. Couches and armchairs made of lacquered and gilded red oak and cushioned with pea green leathers crowd around tree matching coffee tables, eagerly awaiting whichever guests I might entertain. Beside the armchairs are red oak side tables, each housing a reading lamp. And there are three doors—the one we've just entered through, one to the right, where Tizzy's just entering through, and one to the left.
"To the dining area, the kitchens, and the cellars below," papa points to the right, "and to the rest of the manor. You've six storeys above, three below ground. An expansive library, with study. Three large classrooms, fully furnished. Three additional sitting rooms, and a personal solar. Three training halls, outfitted with every advantage imaginable. A music studio, with a selection of instruments for your convenience and pleasure. Thirty-three guest rooms, each with en suite lavatory, bathroom, and fireplace. Three master bedrooms, also with en suite lavatory, bathroom, and fireplace. The cellars are purely for storage, though. Mostly food stores."
I hug papa, so choked up I can barely speak.
"I've also taken the liberty of arranging a proper electrician and plumber to install all you'll need. Including a proper water boiler, purification and filtration system and tanks, so water will never be a problem. And I've asked Zada and Agitha to see to your greenhouses in the pagoda."
"I love it." Tears well up, showing just how overwhelmed I am; in a good way.
"Ah, but we're not done yet. Come." Papa offers his hand again, and escorts me outside. "The grounds are unplottable, with all the appropriate enchantments, including anti-Muggle, anti-scrying, anti-theft. Anti-everything, really. Save one." We walk to the fountain in the middle of the courtyard that I didn't notice before. A three-tiered fountain, with a bronze gryphon statue.
"Wizarding folk can still apparate onto the grounds. Therefore." Papa whips his wand around, its tip glowing bright and golden. Wandtip taps my crown. "A proper Fidelius Charm, with you as the sole Secret Keeper. None will even know this place exists without you telling them, and they can never reveal it."
Attention all. Wolfsden Manor is ready. Should you ever find yourself in danger, you may apparate here with your spouse and children.
I beam, tugging papa's arm for him to lean in. "Have you heard about Wolfsden Manor, down in Tinworth? It's quite lovely this time of year." Papa chuckles, scooping me up again and kissing my brow. "If you've ever the need, you're always welcome here. Even if it's just to catch your breath. Alright?"
Papa croaks out that he loves me, holding me tight.
8-8
[The Trio, out for trouble]
"Ginny!" I barrel into her, finding her just as eager to hold me as I her. She gushes about her holiday, about loving it in Cairo and the endless sands reminding her so much of Shell Cottage. The Leaky Cauldron is too public a space to tell her about Wolfsden, so I don't dare.
Luna, Ginny, and I make our way through to Diagon Alley, arm in arm, already pestering Ginny about her newly announced engagement and congratulating her on landing so fine a wizard. We make our way down to the ice cream parlour and order something sweet, continually chattering as we wait to be served. Of course, Malik and Jerome are with us—for some odd reason, papa didn't have need of them, today of all days.
We make ourselves comfortable, talking about everything under the sun. Theorizing about what this term will bring, my Japanese café in Hogsmeade and its modest reception, Luna's holiday in the Andes with her papa.
"Did ya 'ear?" a woman by the counter asks in a hushed tone, her fear more than obvious. "Lestrange's been spotted in Cork. Four murders, they say, the lot of them Muggleborns." Malik relays the information to my people, to be on their guard.
But we get right back to our conversation. The door opens with a tinkling bell. The Blacks walk in with Harry. Carrie's quick to join us, so we update her on everything we've been talking about, and I invite the three of them over for supper, with their families, of course. "And Carrie. Do bring the Grangers with you."
8-8
[Dining with friends]
I open the front door. "Uncle Sirius!" I fly at him, wrapping my arms around his waist. There's some polite chit-chat, before I invite them in. "Oh no. Don't take off your coat just yet. Come."
I guide them up to my bedroom, inviting them in. Clara offers me three amulets, prepared just for tonight. Uncle Sirius, Aunt Danielle, Harry go in first, and I shut the door. Tizzy apparates beside me with the amulets. Mr and Mrs Granger, and Mia go next. Tizzy apparates beside me again, with the amulets. "Come along." I open the vanishing cabinet door, and Carrie, the Blane twins, and I pile in. Clara closes the door for us, and Zada opens it again.
"Lord and Madam Black. Mr and Mrs Granger." Zada curtseys, welcoming us into my foyer. She takes their coats, and the amulets they'll no longer need, while I close the vanishing cabinet. Clara opens it, coming with Professor Lupin, who hands the amulet and his coat to Zada.
"Welcome to Wolfsden Manor," I say, inviting them into the main hall. The Weasleys are already quite at home, with Uncle Arthur entertaining Mr Lovegood, and the brothers Weasley loudly complaining about the distinct lack of a Quidditch pitch to practice.
"I've been pestering Sarah to set one up. But she's never been into the sport." Angelina's eyes show how at peace she is as she smiles at me.
"We know," Fred and George say in unison. Somehow we lucked out, and managed to get Bill and Charlie as well. It's hard to get the lot of them in one place these days.
"Did you hear? Uncle Sirius got us Firebolts," Fred says, eyes lit up with all the mischief he can get up to on that kind of broom.
"Lord Scribe, as well." Speaking of, papa and mum walk in, with my siblings close on their heels, all dressed in their finest. Lucky me, mum can't invite the Malfoys here.
"We're all here, then." Papa bows, poised and somehow playful all the same. "Shall we? Dinner will be served shortly."
The dining hall isn't quite as spectacular as the grand hall, but it's filled with a single, long table, with padded thrones so everyone can get comfortable. Ginny, Carrie, Luna, and I gather together, per the norm, leaving 'the grown-ups' over to one side so they can converse without our constant prattle. Of course, the Blane twins are nearby, should Carrie need them. Lucivera's beside Ginny, murmuring things to her I don't care to make out. And Air, of course, is beside me, already pestering me about the Quidditch pitch.
"Oh. Before I forget." I excuse myself and walk over to Auntie Molly. A single house-elf comes to me without prompting, in a handsome orange suit. "Auntie. With Lestrange on the loose, I'll not take chances with you, the Grangers, or Aunt Danielle. This is Drump. He'll tend to the six of you, and show you to your rooms when you're ready to retire. You'll stay here until we can all agree it's safe. I insist."
"Sarah, that's…" Auntie Molly and Uncle Arthur share a look—though she's in tears, his eyes shine with pride.
"You may apparate. I've two owls in the aerie, should you have mail. And you may use the floo network as needed. Drump will gather anything you need, and you'll have full access to the manor and the grounds. And yes, Mr Lovegood and Professor Lupin are more than welcome to stay, should they desire it."
Auntie Molly's arms are around me before I notice her moving.
"I can't even begin to tell you how much this means to us," Uncle Sirius says, but I'm rather busy being squished.
8-8
[Differences]
My master bathroom tub fills, a dozen faucets pour a rainbow of coloured waters into the large basin as Justine and Romilda help me out of my clothes. Fully nude, I plop onto a little wooden stool beside Ginny, and Agitha carefully washes me from head to toe, just as the Blane twins with Carrie. Leaving only Luna to wash herself—I look to Clara, who rushes over to offer the blonde a hand.
"It's so weird," Ginny says. Lucivera takes her hand, carefully scrubbing off the dead skin from her knuckles. "I'm still not used to having someone bathe me."
"As future Madam Potter," Carrie leans her head back, letting the twins rinse out the shampoo, "it's to be expected."
"Is Lucy getting re-sorted?" Luna asks.
"If only." Ginny looks worried. "I've been begging dad and Mr Black. But they've never even heard of someone getting sorted a second time."
"She can always stay with us," Carrie reminds her. Ginny and Lucivera smile, clearly comforted by that. "I'm sure Sarah and Ariel won't mind."
"Not at all," Air says, beaming through the suds. The ladies are all in here with us, of course, scrubbing down so we can enjoy a soak in the tub, with Malik and Jerome standing guard outside the door, just in case.
"You girls are lucky," Luna says, leaning her head back so Clara can wash out the shampoo. "My dormmates are prudes. So they won't even admit to masturbating," Ginny and Carrie share a look, "let alone allowing lovers in our room."
Ms Black and Ms Weasley stare at nothing in particular, pretending they didn't hear a word even with their cheeks aflame and eyes wide.
"Why are you shy about it?" I ask, confused. "It's just part of being a witch." Agitha pats my bum and helps me to stand, so she can wash the last bits. Her hand gets into all of Air's favourite places, making sure I'm nice and clean—and Air is all too happy to visually confirm her mum didn't miss a single spot.
"In my case, I just like it." Air gives me a knowing smile.
"You're into girls?" Ginny asks, clamping her knees together for some reason.
"Very. Lucy isn't giving you the polishing you need?"
"She refuses," Lucivera says, rolling her eyes. "As she's yet to have her menarche, I've no grounds to press."
"There's no rush," I say. Agitha pats my bum again, letting me know I'm all ready for a nice, relaxing soak. "But if you're nervous, there's really no need. Mum's walks in on Air and Clara tending to me often enough."
"No need? We're talking about letting someone see my…" Ginny flushes redder than her hair.
"We're all naked. We all see it," I intone, cocking an eyebrow. "Or is it that you'd rather your first be with someone you trust?"
Ginny blinks as she processes what this is really about. While she's figuring that out, Zada and Agitha help me into the tub. I'm not sure why I need help, given the non-slip charms and that it's not that deep, but I stopped trying to understand weeks ago.
8-8
[The things I do for you…]
"So you'd really do it?" Ginny's being a bit much.
"I have done it." Justine smiles, nestling herself between my thighs, her head on my tummy.
"You have?"
"Only once. Romilda is faster than she looks." So that's why Justine is cuddling with me just now, hoping to be first pick should I say I'm in the mood.
"So you'd do it again?"
"I practiced on Allison for months." I had a feeling those two were eager to get their chance.
"And you're into boys?"
"We are," Allison says as she snuggles up to my side and kisses me full on the lips, letting Ginny see what's really going on here. "Ariel is the only one that's into girls. So she's been the most eager to please Sarah." I nod, agreeing.
"And you enjoy it?" Ginny asks. She turns to me, propping her head up on her hand.
"I do." I kiss Allison again, enjoying the taste of her lips. "The way I see it. The more I practice with them, the better lovers we'll be when we get married. And Agitha assures me the more we do it, the less painful our first time will be, so I'm definitely grateful for that."
"Huh." Ginny furrows her brow, processing it best she can. My girls shuffle about my master bedroom, getting ready for bed. Of course, they all made sure I'm in my oversized shirt before they bother with getting dressed, so they're all just walking about half dressed for some reason—not that Malik and Jerome mind seeing all the naked flesh.
Agitha seems content walking around completely naked, and keeps throwing steamy glances to Malik—he only has eyes for her. Jerome on the other hand, seems more interested in Angelina and Clara, though even Justine gets a few zealous glances. As long as he doesn't touched them without my express permission, and they don't mind him looking, he's fine.
Zada isn't pleased with how his eyes wander, even while she herself is completely naked. Oh dear. Hmm.
"Zada?" She comes, sitting beside me and taking my hand into hers to show I have her full attention. "Jerome is lucky to have married you."
Zada smiles, worn and teary. She worries her husband's heart strays. He likely wants a son, but she fears giving him one. Hmm. Well, this could be interesting.
"I'm serious." She crosses her legs at the knees and flicks back her hair. Emotional as she is, her ears yearn for compliments. "You're intelligent. Strong. And most definitely stunning."
Zada smiles, tucking her shoulders back. Her pert breasts are all the more obvious, with a noticeable sag to them.
"But you're also a devoted mother. An attentive teacher. A diligent worker." Mrs Vane holds her hand to her heart, giving me a teary smile. "And I am lucky to have you."
Zada lays my hand on her thigh and leans in, cupping my cheek and kissing my brow. "Thank you, My Lady." She pulls back, biting her lip nervously, even as her gaze flickers back and forth, as if seeking something, some kind of sign from me. She leans in again, her hand pressing into the mattress beside me, her minty breath warm on my face, her lips claiming mine. The next thing I know, her hand cups mine firmly against her breast as she playfully nibbles on my lower lip.
"My Lady. I would." Zada pulls back, but only barely, and her hand massages mine against her breast to show what she wants. "Please. Let me stay with you tonight."
I nod, smiling for her. The warmth in her chest sweeps through the group, plastering a goofy smile on everyone's face. "You may tend to me tonight. If Justine could wake me in the morning?"
"Of course, Sarah." Justine hugs me, beaming. She knows she's to tend to me in the morning. "Could I spend the night? It would make it easier for me?"
"Hmm." I nod, liking her logic. "And Agitha? How's. Things going?"
"I'm pregnant." Agitha gives her husband a sultry look. "Someone can't get enough of me."
As it should be. "Malik. We've nothing planned tomorrow. Please take the whole day for your wife." Instead of answering, her drapes an arm around his beloved, and holds her close to him, right where she wants to be.
"Sarah? What are you…?" Ginny's gaze is transfixed on Zada's cupped breast. Well, I don't mind naming the beast, if for no reason other than showing Jerome what he's messing up.
"I plan on making love to Zada. Over and over and over." Jerome's jealousy of another having their way with his wife, mixes with pride that his wife is allowed to please me, then tinged with confusion as he tries to process how aroused that makes him.
"Hey, Sarah? Mind if I have Emma and Romilda tonight?" Air asks, grinning at my plan.
"If they're willing?" Romilda rushes into Air's arms, already kissing her neck. She seems eager—as always. Emma, however, is hesitant.
"It's alright," Air soothes. "You're allowed to say no. And nothing bad will happen. It's about what you want." Emma looks to me, cautious but curious.
"As she says. Nothing bad happens if you say no. So what do you want?" Emma perks up and joins her sister in Air's arms. More than happy with the situation, Air escorts the Vane sisters down the hall, to her room. As if that's some signal, most everyone filters out of my room, leaving Allison, Justine, and Zada with me.
8-8
[Am I…?]
Waves crash against the rocks far below. Air smells of the ocean, as it ought to, of course. Seagulls cry in the distance, circling round as if chasing a school of fish. Sky is overcast, per the norm. Our two weeks of summer are long over. September fast approaches. A new term, a new chance.
But a chance for what?
Last term, I was allowed to breathe at last. I doffed the lie that was 'Sean', and finally came to life. This term, it feels like all I bring with me are trappings of an up and coming Dark Lady. I've spent the last days making Jerome jealous, kissing his wife as I please right where he can see, asking Air to show his wife and daughters how to please me as she does.
Yet here I sit, on coarse dirt at the tip of my peninsula surrounded by naught but wild grass and ocean, with Jerome standing watch behind me. And I feel nothing from him other than desire to guard and serve me.
I hug my knees to my chest, riddled with guilt.
The crunching of dirt behind me, grass bent against an approaching intruder. "There you are." Zada. Of course. And yet, she sits beside me, and tugs me into her one-armed embrace, kissing my crown and temple and brow. "I'm glad I've got you two together. I wish to discuss something."
I show nothing of the malaise within, not wanting to make this worse.
"Sarah. Would it be alright if I get pregnant?" I peer over my knee at her, finding only a soft smile and warm gaze. "But I don't want Jerome to be the father, narcissist that he is. Perhaps your brothers could help me?"
I slip into his mind, teasing apart the truth of the matter. Jerome fumes, all but frothing at the mouth. Over and over, Jerome comes home in a foul mood and starts an argument. Scribe had complimented Johnson and not me. There was a lovely little number that was upset with the notion of being 'the other woman' and turned down my advances. Women are mine to conquer, and men can only stand in awe of my prowess.
Drunken trysts from witches at the Leaky Cauldron, or more commonly muggle pubs where women are far more receptive to his wiles. He'd never obliviate the women, though he casts charms to prevent pregnancy. This was about the thrill of the hunt, the rush he feels when women fall all over themselves to bed him. Even with the mistresses he keeps, paid for out of his inheritance. Seven women, in fact. Three witches, four muggles, all with at least two of his children. And when he's extracted the last drops of whatever he needs from them, he keeps them much as he keeps Zada—on a short leash, under his heel, and properly cowed.
And I felt bad for doing this to him? The tosser.
"Jerome. After supper, you will explain everything I've just discovered to papa. You will request permission to gather your mistresses," Zada rolls her eyes, unsurprised, "and your children," her brow furrows, she frowns, "and bring them to me. You will also request permission for me to bind them. All of them. Understood?"
8-8
[Of Heavens and Hells]
"Now, Severus. Are you implying I cannot brew so simple a potion, should I feel the need?" My fingers intertwine, lain in my lap as papa verbally spars with Professor Snape and Lord Malfoy, over a potion I'm not sure is needed just now.
"Not at all, Lord Scribe. Merely pointing out that Ms Scribe is clearly in the body she desires, and that this potion will become needed sooner or later. After all. Should her anklet touch the skin of any boy, they'll turn. Will they not?"
"And why would a boy touch my daughter?"
"Perhaps the better question, Lord Scribe, is how would Ms Scribe react if the enchantment wears off?" My eyes widen, fingers white from how tightly I clasp my hands.
"It'll last until at least her majority." Papa waves it off.
"And should she wish to go swimming?" Lord Malfoy is slick, I'll grant him that. "Should a niffler be in her vicinity? Should she desire to wear sandals without socks? Surely, Ronan, you of all people can imagine a situation where it becomes impractical if not outright detrimental.
"Mind you," Lord Malfoy holds up his hands as if to forestall papa's wrath, "I speak to her desires and interests. While it is only logical for her to need the potion before she weds, I currently argue for her comfort and peace of mind. Nothing more."
Papa leans back in the couch, but I'm far more interested in tending to poor Dobby. Went and ironed his hands, he did. I carefully remove the gauze, aching with him each time he twinges in pain. Wand at the ready, I point to the crusted wounds. "Episky." The difference isn't grand, but one wound heals. I point to the next, "Episky." One less wound to trouble this dear little soul. "Episky."
Better to focus on helping the poor soul, than contemplate the contents of this conversation.
"And what would the price of said potion be?" papa asks, wrapping his arm around me, no doubt ready to apparate the second he hears something that bothers him.
"Price?" Professor Snape narrows his eyes. "As you said, you could easily brew it. My stance is one of confusion as to the needless wait."
"Quite right." Lord Malfoy leans back as well, as if the battle of wits has already been won. "Surely none would question Ms Scribe is completely at ease in her skin?"
"Episky." The last wound finally closes, wand slips into my bracer. "Dobby is such a good elf." I press a kiss to his brow, giggling at how he cuddles up to me.
"They say the mark of a good wizard isn't how he treats not his peers, rather those he sees as inferior." I nod, agreeing with papa.
"Are you peacocks done preening your feathers? We're talking about the girl, not your inflated egos," Professor Snape snaps at them. "Now, Lord Scribe. I ask that you consider the dunderheads I regularly teach. All it would take is one anywhere near your daughter who is fool enough to confuse wormwood with ironwood bark, and the fumes void all enchantments in range. And that's as rare as a star on a cloudless night. I don't like the odds, and I won't take responsibility for her more than understandable fury when she kills them outright."
My anklet's enchantment ending? Wearing the body of a…? I shudder at the thought.
"If there's reason to put your daughter in harm's way, I would hear it."
I look to papa, not hiding an iota of the fear in me. He sighs. "Very well, Severus." Papa holds out his hand, and the professor supplies a simple vial with a glowing baby blue liquid. Papa un-stoppers it, sniffs, and waves his wand around it as if to test something. "Good. Sarah. It's your decision." Papa waggles the vial about, spreading the scent of troll piss.
"I assure you, Ms Scribe, vile though it'll taste that potion will ensure you'll never have to worry about changing again." Professor Snape sounds sure of himself. "Even when considering your lifespan."
Never going back to that nightmare.
"Have Jerome and Zada test it." Papa looks to me. I blink.
"Mrs Vane testing it makes sense, but Mr Vane?" Professor Snape looks green around the gills at the notion. "Lord Scribe, one drop and…" The professor's gaze flickers to the guilt writ on Jerome's face. Without wanting to, every misdeed committed against the women in his life plays out in Jerome's mind. Ah, Professor Snape's a Legillimens. "Proceed."
Papa points his wand at the vial and two drops float out. Zada and Jerome each swallow the glowing liquid without hesitation. Only, Jerome grows a head shorter, trading height and broad shoulders for bust and wide hips.
Zada's heart swells with vindication. But Jerome looks supreme conflicted, his mind rejecting his body in the worst way. Add the bloating, the emotional upheaval, and the red stain leaking down his…her trouser leg…?
"It suits you, Jerome," papa says, handing me the vial. It clearly does the job, so I empty it into my mouth and gulp it down quickly.
"Serenity Scribe?" Dobby offers me some tea to wash it down.
"Not yet. The potion needs at least an hour to be fully absorbed." I smile, even as I shiver with disgust from the taste. An hour to never wear a boy's body again—I can live with that. Reaching into my sock, I unclasp my anklet and hand it to Zada. Nothing changes.
Worth it.
8-8
[A woman scorned]
I lay Jerome on my bed, stark naked and spreading her legs for me. Romilda and Emma are more than amused, as are their dozen half-sisters and their mothers ogling at Jerome's comeuppance. But, that isn't what this is about. Papa's punishment has been meted out, and from what Professor Snape says, at with her current age, she'd be lucky if the waning years of Jerome's life are spent male.
So. Since 'he' so enjoyed keeping his women barefoot and pregnant?
Brennan rights his glasses, the action doing little to mask his smug smirk. "So let me get this straight. I'm allowed to use this one?"
"My request is that you take the coming days to ensure she's pregnant. Use her as often as you'd like. As rough as you'd like. And be sure you talk dirty to her."
"Is this a one-time deal?" Brennan grins.
"I can be convinced otherwise?"
8-8
End Eleventh Reading
8-8
A/N: The first signs of darkness. Oh dear. Is anyone still curious why the Malfoys truly want Sarah?
06-MAY-2019. Updating.