Title: Masquerade
Pairings: TMR/FemHP, DM/LL, HG/BZ, SB/OC, RL/NT, NL/DG, dubious TN/OC, AG/OC
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the quotes. I also kind of took the quote idea from another story. I don't own the language Druhir. I also don't own the Ancient Language from Eragon nor do I own the language of Quenya from Lord of the Rings. I just need them for my story to work and I don't fancy making up a language. I'm dedicated but not that dedicated.
Most of this language will not be mine and will be taken from various sources. The list goes on and on so I will not list them but as previously stated and now reiterated, the Elvish language is not mine. See…that rhymed.
NOTE: So, this chapter lacks any real physical action, but a lot of mind games and politics. We're taking a break from the Bella/Ariana Horcrux shit show and focusing on some of the outside things like Hydra who are becoming much bigger in the story.
Masquerade
By: Sistersgrimmlover
Chapter XXIV
Nott Manor, Unplottable Location, Great Britain
Sunday the 8th of August 1999
7:37 PM
The bride was beautiful. Bella was unsurprised. Lalita Singh had always been beautiful, though gawkish when she had first met her. Lalita Nott was even more so despite the plastered grimace posed as a smile. She was stunning in her red and gold. Lalita glanced up at Theodore and smiled down at her with that same pained grimace. Bella hummed and looked up at her husband. He seemed unaffected but she knew he saw it too.
"It's necessary," he said out of the corner of his mouth.
Bella hummed. "Necessary for whom?"
"Me."
"You're selfish," Bella said without any venom in her tone.
Tom nodded once. "It benefits everyone. They're permanently tied—to each other and to you, double-fold. Theodore is a Slytherin. He possesses ambition and sees you as his way to power. Lalita won't stray from him. The Indian Minister now provides me with the services promised to me. Minister Singh can now enter the magical textile industry through the Notts' business. We all win."
"Except for them," Bella said quietly. Tom nodded once more.
"We all must make sacrifices," he said coldly before he began to walk forward, Bella still on his arm.
"You are right," Bella conceded. Quietly, she said, "What's done is done."
The queue to congratulating the couple had gone fast and they were up next.
"Lady," Theodore said, warmly.
"Congratulations, my dear friends," Bella said with a cheerful smile.
Lalita nodded, demurely. "Thank you, my…Bella." Her correction was delicate.
"Thank you for coming," Theodore said quietly, not quite looking into Bella's eyes.
Bella leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Lalita's cheek first and then Theodore's. Her lips lingered on Theodore's cheek, and she whispered, "Fix your faces. You both look constipated."
"Yes, my Lady," he breathed and then Bella pulled back.
Neither of them tried to grin. Their smiles were more content and Bella nodded, deciding that that was enough. Bella jerked Tom away and they glided off to their own table. Bella continued towards the table as Tom stopped short before the father of the bride. Bella pulled away from him and frowned and Tom made an aborted gesture that made Bella snort and continue onwards.
"Minister Singh," Tom said quietly.
The man winced and looked at his ally. "Mister Riddle."
"Join me for a drink, sir?" Tom asked, handing over a crystal tumbler and gesturing towards one of the large glass doors leading out onto the grounds of Nott Manor.
Reluctantly, Minister Mayur Singh followed Riddle out to the gardens. His knuckles were white where they clutched the crystal tumbler Riddle had given him. He downed his whiskey quickly, focusing on the burn. It would keep him from the potential unpleasantness the coming conversation could bring him.
"Muffliato," Riddle said, raising his wand.
Mayur knew that Riddle didn't need to cast the spell. It was supposed to be reassurance. It was only foreboding to the Minister of Magical India.
"How are you, sir?" Mayur asked carefully. "Also, congratulations on your nuptials."
"Thank you, Minister Singh. I am well. Though...perplexed," Riddle said in a gentle voice. It was so much more than those years ago. He was so much more. Mayur had been intimidated by Riddle, but he had not seen the threat in every line of his body. This man was venomous.
"Perplexed? How so, Mister Riddle?"
"I find myself in need of gold and forces, and yet, I do not have it. After all, I've written you twice in the past month, and no reply. Must I remind you of the binding contract we have both signed?" Riddle said, lightly.
The man did not push. He had no need to explode in rage. Mayur was already properly terrified into doing his bidding and bound by a magical contract at that.
"No. There's no need. What do you need, Mister Riddle?" Mayur asked sharply.
Riddle gave a snake's smile. "Your unending support."
Theodore brushed a tendril of hair from his wife's face and she barely seemed to notice. She never noticed and Theodore didn't mind that—couldn't possibly mind the love that was there at the corner of her eyes as she looked at the red-haired beauty. Linda spun with her dance partner across the floor, giggling, but she looked at Lalita, just as much as her counterpart returned the gaze.
Theodore spun his wife out and in and she jerked, laughing quietly.
"Theodore…I thought you couldn't dance," Lalita teased.
"I can't," he teased back. He looked over at where Daphne stood, beautiful in her gown. Her cornsilk hair was slicked back, spilling over her bare back like a waterfall. Her silver robes were just daring enough, conservative and covering everything except for her neck and her back—so Daphne. She winked at him and he winked back. "I'm going to dance with Daphne. Are you okay with that?"
"Don't get too drunk and lose your virginity to her again," Lalita cackled quietly. Theodore rolled his eyes even as he flushed and left his new wife. He went towards Daphne. He grabbed Neville's hand in a tight grip and Neville squeezed back, grinning.
"May I have this dance, Miss Greengrass?" Theodore asked, teasingly.
Daphne laughed and took his hand from Neville and nodded. "Just try and keep up, darling," she called and she dragged him onto the dance floor. They fell into a waltz, a comfortable pattern that they had acquired when they were just children, learning traditional dances in lessons together.
"Your wife is stunning. She's almost more beautiful than me," Daphne said.
Theodore snorted. "Aren't you generous?"
"Aren't I?"
"I find myself constantly surrounded by beautiful women—you, our Ladies, the twins, Fay, Lalita…Linda," Theodore said, his gaze following the voluptuous redhead. She winked at him from where she was flirting with two men, Lalita leaning into her side, their fingers entwined.
Theodore spun Daphne so that she could see what had grabbed his attention and he knew she got it when she gasped quietly.
"They're in love," Daphne whispered, mournfully.
"They are," Theodore said quietly. Daphne could barely discern the emotions in his voice—loss, regret, sadness, and a spark of triumph. "Neither of them have said anything to me."
"Do you really expect them to? Lalita knows her duty, and she has always completed it. She has never swayed from it. She won't ever betray you, Theodore. You must know that," Daphne said, her weak attempts to reassure the other man rolling off his back. He shrugged, a resigned look to him though the triumph did not dissipate.
"I know. Of course I know that. Lalita is an honourable woman. But, she is also a woman in love. I would not begrudge her of that. She would never ask me to stay away from someone I loved," Theodore said softly, his voice barely a whisper in Daphne's ear and Daphne stiffened as she looked up at him. Theodore suddenly dipped her, and Daphne fell back into the illusion of the pureblood heiress, her expression cold.
When she was pulled up against, she spat quickly from between clenched teeth, "You would let them..."
"It's not a question of 'letting' them. I can't command Lalita to do anything. We're partners. I am not her master. It's a matter of her asking if we could all be in a relationship," Theodore said.
Daphne reared back, a pleased look on her face. "Polyamory?"
"In a word," Theodore admitted. "I am...open to negotiations. But, they must approach me. I won't let them take the coward's way out. Lalita's a Gryffindor. She should act like it."
Daphne laughed quietly. "She's afraid of hurting you. She may love Linda but she cares a great deal for you and you care a great deal for her. Your bond with Lalita is stronger than nearly anything else in the world. You know that. I know that. She knows that too."
"Perhaps," Theodore said. "And perhaps that's why I want her to be happy."
Daphne looked at this beautiful man—this man that could've been her husband if she hadn't fallen so deeply in love with Neville Longbottom. This man adored the woman he was married to, in a far deeper way than romantic though there were streaks of that too. This man, Theodore, only wanted Lalita to be happy, so selfless and wonderful. He was not his father's son and it warmed Daphne's heart to think about.
"But...don't push her too far. You don't want her becoming the same shy girl she was when we met her," Daphne warned gently and Theodore snorted.
"She could never. Too much has changed."
Theodore felt a tap on his shoulder and he spun around to see Lalita. She was smiling at him, her arm linked with Linda's and they were giggling about something.
"May I have my husband back now?" Lalita asked and Daphne snorted.
"Of course," she released him, holding her hands up in surrender. Lalita laughed and jerked Theodore forward. She pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips that he returned before linking his arm with hers.
"How are you doing?" Theodore asked quietly.
Lalita shrugged and sighed. "All right, I suppose. I'm ready for it to be over."
"That desperate for a good fucking?" Theodore snorted in her ear and Lalita looked at him, utterly scandalized. He laughed long and hard as she began to throw tiny little punches against his rib cage, accompanied by whispered threats.
"How...juvenile."
The newlyweds stopped their teasing immediately and Theodore went ashen as he looked at the threatening sneer that curled his father's lips. He was embarrassed by them. He wouldn't say it, nor would he show it by a look around but it was there in the twitch of his eyebrows. Theodore had learned to read his father well to avoid punches to the face.
"I apologize for our actions. We didn't mean to embarrass the family," Theodore said quickly. He swallowed hard and pulled Lalita harder into his side than necessary. "My wife is just playful."
Lalita glowered at him but Theodore didn't respond. He was a Slytherin—not brave like his wife. Lalita would have courage in the face of Alexandra, courage that Theodore didn't possess.
Alexandre hummed as he ran his eyes down Lalita's figure, both a leer and a disgusted grimace.
"She's pretty enough, I'll give you that, boy, but unsatisfactory. You've gone and gotten yourself married to a little Mudblood-loving blood traitor," Alexandre said, sounding almost amused by the turn out and Theodore barely concealed his wince as Lalita looked at her father-in-law with narrowed eyes.
"I'm aware of Lalita's career, Father. It will benefit us in the long run. Bring less suspicion to our family," Theodore said quietly and he did wince when his father wrapped claw-like fingers around his bicep and squeezed hard enough to bruise.
"That was not a decision for you to make alone, boy. Now, go. I'd like to talk to my daughter-in-law. Alone."
Theodore jerked from his father's grasp, his lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced at Lalita, but she hadn't flinched. Linda's fingers were wrapped around her wand hand, stopping her from cursing his father. Theodore wasn't even sure if he wanted Linda holding Lalita back. He glanced at Daphne and almost flushed in shame. Bella and Daphne, both, were watching him. He swallowed hard, nodding, and crossed the room to them, pushing his shame beneath his dignity.
"You leave, too, Miss Moon," Alexandre said.
"I'm not going anywhere, Lord Nott. Forgive me, but, I'm the only reason you're not dead right now. So, I think I'll stay here," Linda said cheerfully. Alexandre lifted a cruel eyebrow and hummed. He nodded his consent before turning his gaze back onto Lalita.
"You've many marks against you already, Miss Lalita, and you're only newly a Nott. You...disappoint me," Alexandre said sharply.
Lalilta's expression twitched but she did not draw her wand. She bit her tongue. "What is it about me that displeases you, my Lord?"
Alexandre looked her up and down, taking in her traditional wedding garb, the way she carried herself, the softness around her eyes.
"You were a Gryffindor. You work in the Muggle Liaison office. You are friends with Bella Potter. Only three of the many, many reasons why my son is too good for you," Alexandre said sharply, every word intended to cut deeper in the last. He didn't let his discomfort show when Lalita did not react to his words, keeping the tiny smile on her face.
"You son is too good for me?" Lalita asked.
"Too good?" Linda echoed and a sharp laugh ripped from her throat. "With the way you talk to him, no one would ever know you thought that way."
"Be silent. This doesn't involve you, Miss Moon," Alexandre snarled.
Linda sneered. "Oh, yes, it does. Lalita's my best friend. Her wellbeing, emotional and physical, is my business. It very much involves me."
Alexandre sneered and took a step towards Linda. Lalita slid between them and looked at the man with a dangerous glint to her eyes.
"I wouldn't, my Lord."
"Wouldn't what?" Alexandre spat. "You live in my household now. You have my last name attached you. I will do as I please in my own home."
"You will not treat me like I'm trash when I am married to your son," Lalita returned evenly.
Alexandre hummed. "I will treat you like what you are. And you will follow my rules as Head of House Nott. You will quit your silly job. You will stop associating with silly people—like Bella Potter and your friend. Or you will suffer consequences."
Alexandre looked at Linda with utter disdain.
Lalita's eyes narrowed. "You will not threaten me or Linda. Do not pretend that you aren't getting as much out of this marriage as me and my father. Do not act as if you're above this transaction, sir, because you're not. Yes, I am a Gryffindor. I am brave and courageous, and I will stand up to you because I do not fear you, sir. I faced much worse than the lacks of you and your little Death Eater friends that look at me as if I'm trash. I do work in the Muggle Liaison office. And I'm good at my job. And I am friends with Bella Potter, the most powerful—magically, politically, financially—witch in this world. I do not deny that. But, I will not let you treat me like I'm—"
Alexandre bared his teeth and cut her off with a growl.
"Know well, you little paki whore—"
"I'm not from Pakistan. I'm a proud Indian woman, Lord Nott," Lalita said, spitting out his title like poison.
"Know well," he repeated, "You are expendable."
Linda hissed at him. "Lay a hand on her, and I'll end you. They'd find pieces of you for years."
Alexandre paused at the vehement poison spewing from between Linda's teeth. And then, he threw back his head and let out a laugh, deep from his belly. Theodore looked up, worried in his eyes, and Alexandre cast him a warning glance before he turned towards the two young women again, small chuckles emerging from his throat.
"I'm not surprised that my useless son has married a little immigrant dyke. An idiot just like his damn mother," Alexandre said.
Lalita took a step forward, and growled. "Watch. Your. Mouth."
"Excuse me?" Alexandre chuckled, rearing back and staring at her in astonishment.
Lalita bared her teeth. "Nott, I was trained by Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am not afraid of blood on my hands, and if you think I am, you are sadly mistaken. Lord Nott, I am an immigrant. I am brown. And I may have a taste for vagina, but you will not call me these things like they're insults. Because, I find that Theodore would make a nice Lord Nott. Have a good evening, sir."
She turned from him but he grabbed her wrist, yanking her back roughly. She tottered in her heels for just a moment. Lalita winced as his grip became crushing, and she was reminded that though she was well-trained, Alexandre was much bigger than her and could break her skinny frame in two with his bare hands.
"Know well, girl, that you are expendable," he said again. "As long as your womb is empty, your role as my son's wife can be eliminated. And even after, don't think your future is so secure. What happens in this house, stays in this house, and the tragic death of a young woman in a home childbirth, a woman as skinny as you, will not be so questioned, will it?"
Lalita shuddered at the threat but she did not grace it with an answer. Satisfied with her reaction, Alexandre smiled pleasantly and released her wrist, walking off. Purple bloomed against her dark skin and Linda lifted her wrist, examining it gingerly.
"Are you all right?" she whispered.
Lalita bit her lower lip. She resisted the urge to cry and snarled softly, "I will not live in terror. That man will not get away his threats."
Linda smirked. "No. He won't."
"Are you alright?"
Anthony hummed, looking up from the same glass of champagne that he had had since Daphne had made a toast to the couple in the beginning of the reception. Neville and Michael sat down on either side of him, staring at him as if he had something on his face. Anthony ran a hand over face just to make sure, but came up with nothing.
"What do you want? I'm fine," Anthony snapped and Michael and Neville exchanged a knowing look that made Anthony want to deck both of them in the face.
"You're clearly not fine," Neville said earnestly.
Michael nodded. "Really, not fine. Is this about your break up with Parvati?"
The three men turned to the twin sisters where they sat not too far away, whispering to each other—probably in Hindi. Anthony's eyes lingered on the beauty before turning to his friends, a hard look in his eyes.
"No. It's not about Parvati," he said sharply. Even as he said the words, he could feel Michael and Neville dissecting his lies. It wasn't about her, Anthony told himself. He didn't still dream about her laugh and her smile and the way her body felt against his. He didn't replace her dark hair in his dreams with pink streaked platinum.
"Okay," Michael said slowly. "Then what is this about?"
Anthony frowned, shaking himself. His tongue licked the air.
"Something...feels different. Something feels different and it's making me nervous," Anthony admitted and Neville leaned forward, a frown on his face.
"Is it Bella? Is she growing stronger again?" Neville asked.
Anthony shrugged. "I don't know. I just know...okay, Muffliato," Anthony said, flicking his wand as discreetly as he could. He looked around and saw that no one had even seemed to notice, his spell covered by the swelling orchestra. "The Veil is thinning. Michael has seen it. It's thinning as if it's about to rip and whatever is on the other side and going to come out. And there's this...source of magic, drawing it. And I think it's Bella, but it's something else too. It's...it's all over Bella sometimes, but it's not her magic. And it's all over Tom and Astoria and Daphne and even me, sometimes. But, it's not us. Something dark and light is warring and it's trying to escape. And I don't know what it is."
Neville turned ashen as he stared at the man and then he looked at Michael.
"Did you know this?" Neville asked softly.
Michael frowned. "I didn't...I haven't sensed it as strongly as Anthony, but I've noticed the Veil thinning, I guess. I don't work in the Death Chamber. I've been studying the Brain Room."
"You have to tell Bella about this if it's disturbing you this much," Neville commanded with a frowned.
Anthony and Michael exchanged looks before nodding. Quietly, Anthony whispered, "I promise."
"There are a lot of Death Eaters here," Parvati murmured in Hindi.
Padma looked at her sister, unimpressed with her stating the obvious. "Of course. Alexandre Nott is not quiet about his support of the Dark Lord and the Dark Master. Almost everyone here is associated with the Dark in some way. If they aren't Death Eaters, they're Neutral."
They got looks for the Hindi but they were experts in ignoring people by then. Padma and Parvati Patil had not escaped prejudice though they talked little of it. Stares were common. At least they weren't being verbally harassed. Those moments came few and far between but when they occurred, it was already fury-inciting and made the bile rise in their throats.
"If it came down to a fight, do you think we would win?" Parvati asked.
There was silence.
"Statistically? Maybe 60-40 in their favour. We have Bella, yes. But, she would be embroiled in a battle with Voldemort. I'm sure that Bellatrix and Rodolphus are around. Narcissa and Lucius are here. They're formidable. Draco and Blaise would keep them occupied. We're left with the rest of them and Hermione isn't here. Maybe, we'd win. Maybe," Padma repeated. She grew less sure every time she said it and she hummed, picking at the salad. She wished for kulfi, an Indian ice cream that had always served her well as her comfort food.
"If we had to fight, we would slaughter everyone."
The two young women looked up at their harsh gazes gentled as they looked into Blaise's golden eyes. He offered them a gentle smile as he sat next to them and held out his hands. Both of them took a hand and squeezed before releasing him.
"If they knew what we did to Yaxley, they'd murder us," Padma murmured.
Blaise hummed. "No one will ever know what you did to Yaxley. It will remain between all of us forever. I fixed him."
"And now he's dead," Parvati reminded him, and she wrapped her arms around herself, remembering the night Bella had summoned them and asked them to torture a man to the brink of insanity. At the time, they had not questioned her request—never had thought to question it, really. Now, she wasn't so sure if she could do it again. "Torturing him was...I couldn't sleep for a week afterwards. I just remember the tattered edges of his mind. How we thoughtlessly trampled through them, tearing his shields apart with little care."
Blaise hummed. "I put him back together."
"And now he's dead," Padma whispered, repeated. She turned to look away when she felt Blaise's large hand on her cheek. She looked at him with a frown, her bottom lip poking out. He pressed his thumb against it, and moved to smooth out her frown lines.
"Bachcha, not everything we do will be nice or kind. We must do what we must in this war," Blaise explained and Padma nodded, slowly, though Parvati frowned at him, shaking her head.
"Must we? Even if we damn our souls in doing so?" Parvati spat and she knew that Blaise wouldn't be angry with her for rebelling, for talking back. If he had been anything like Draco, perhaps he would, but Blaise, Padma, and Parvati had a deep understanding coming from how deeply rooted they were in each other's minds.
"You regret it. I know you do. I feel it. That saves your soul where mine is eternally damned, because if I were you, I could never regret it. Ever. I will never forget what I did to Rabastan. You do. Now, Padma, my sweet, dance with your friend," Blaise said and he held his hand out. Padma took it, allowing herself to be led out onto the dance floor. She gave a weak smile to Parvati, but she was distracted by something, frowning down at the table cloth.
"Why me and not Parvati? She is the one that fears for our souls. You should reassure her," Padma said quietly.
Blaise spun her out and then in. He grasped her hand tightly in his own and leaned in until his lips hovered just above the shell of her ear.
"You are stronger than she, Padma Patil. She could not hear what I had to say," Blaise explained softly and Padma felt a chill run up her spine, spreading under her skin and penetrating down to the marrow of her bones. Frowning, she leaned closer.
"What must you say, Teacher?" Padma asked.
"You will be asked to lead soon enough, dear Padma. You must be ready when you are asked. Do you understand me?" Blaise asked.
"What about Daphne? Or Neville?"
"No. It will be you. It can only be you. Don't fuck this up. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Teacher."
"Hello to you," Bella said, sidling up to the bar. She slid into a seat and Fay looked over at her with that serious, gentle smile. Bella couldn't help but smile back. Bella took a long sip of her wine, and hummed as she swished it in her mouth. She swallowed with a grin. "How are you?"
"I'm...doing well," Fay said after only a moment of hesitation. "How are you?"
Bella hummed. "I've never liked weddings. I didn't even like my own."
"Why not?" Fay asked, curiously.
"It's a show for other people. Weddings aren't for the people getting married. It's for the people watching, hoping that they'll fail," Bella said with a dark look on her face as she looked at the dancing swirl of Dark witches and wizards. She could pick out Death Eaters and they thought they were being so smooth, pretending they weren't watching her every move.
"That's sad," Fay said quietly.
"Isn't it?" Bella smiled. She took another sip of her wine. "I miss my sister."
"Hermione?"
"Always. But, no. Luna. I miss her. I feel very alone," Bella hummed.
Fay reached along the bar and touched Bella's hand briefly before letting her hand fall into her lap again. She stared down at the dust-free wood of the counter.
"You are never alone. You have me," Fay said.
Bella smiled. "I do."
They sat in companionable silence, filled with the bustling of the other wedding guests, dancing to the beautiful orchestra, strings swelling and horns bleating. Fay turned to look at Bella again.
"What do you believe in, Bella?"
Bella looked at her in surprise. "Is it childish to say...goodness?"
"I don't think so," Fay said immediately.
"I feel like it's childish to say because I am not good. I am not good. I have done terrible things in the name of goodness and it seems like a contradiction. I believe in goodness and Light and magick and power and liberty."
"I do too," Fay concurred.
Bella smiled.
"Hey, you want some? I've been hogging it all," Bella said with a sheepish smile, offering her wine glass.
Fay held up her hand, rejecting the red alcohol. "No thank you. Can't drink it."
"Why?" Bella frowned.
Fay's lips curled into a wider smile. "I'm pregnant."
Bella froze and stared at her for a long time. And then she grinned, whooping obnoxiously and wrapping her arms around Fay. Fay hugged her back, cackling into her ear. Bella pulled back.
"Are you fucking with me?" she demanded. "How far along are you?"
"No, I'm not fucking with you. And I'm about six weeks. Found out three weeks ago. The morning with the thing with Ariana," Fay said gently.
"Who's the father?" Bella demanded.
Fay's smile didn't falter. "Doesn't matter."
Bella frowned. "Is he in the picture? Do you need me to beat someone up? Does he know?"
"He's in the picture. You don't need to beat anyone up and you're the first person I've told."
"Really? The first one?" Bella asked, her eyes so gentle and Fay nodded, her smile widening into a pleased grin.
"I wasn't sure…I was going to terminate the pregnancy. I decided against it. For now," Fay explained and she looked down at her glass of water. "And then…you were here and I thought, why not?"
Bella leaned forward, excited. "Are you going to tell the father?"
Fay hummed. "I suppose I will. Eventually. He deserves to know."
"If you had aborted the child would you have told him?" Bella asked.
"Yes. He would've been upset but I would've told him," Fay said simply.
"Bella?"
Fay and Bella looked up sharply. Tom's eyes remained on Bella's face and he offered his hand to her. He bowed his head and Fay watched Bella's smile spread across her face. Bella looked over at Fay and the other woman gestured lazily to her Lady's husband.
"Go dance, my Lady. I will always wait for you," Fay said, and she thought her promise ran too deep for Bella to hear just yet. Bella grinned and winked at her, taking her husband's hand.
They moved to the dance floor, and weren't they a pair?
The two of them—the Light Lady and the Dark Lord—were the epitome of grace and beauty. They were both of dark hair and paleness, but where Tom Riddle—Voldemort—was the luminous beauty of the moon, Bella Potter—Nikolai—was the quiet silvery gleam of an eclipse, a sun waiting to peek out from behind the moon that obscured it's shine. Soon, Fay thought. Soon, the moon would shift and Bella would be the sun.
"What are you doing, brooding by the bar, all alone?" Fay was jarred from her thoughts. She looked over at Daphne. Daphne did not smile. She sat down. "Firewhiskey, please."
The bottle was placed before along with a tray of shotglasses. Daphne poured her first shot and took it. She promptly took a second.
"What's wrong?" Fay asked, labouring and tired already.
"Neville is going to propose to me," Daphne said.
Fay frowned. "And you are upset."
"No shit," Daphne snarled. The woman paused, and relaxed her grimace. She seemed to realize that Fay meant no harm. She did not apologize. Fay had not expected her to.
"Why are you upset?" Fay asked instead.
Daphne was silent for a long time. She poured another shot, her third, and meant to take it. She lifted it to her lips, close enough for even the smell of the whiskey to burn her nostril hairs before she set it back down and fully turned to Fay.
"My parents are the perfect image of monogamy and marriage. At least they are to me…were…but, I am learning otherwise. There is something wrong," Daphne explained and Fay nodded.
Fay hummed. "Parents fight, you know."
"I know but, I had always thought my marriage would be political like my parents' or Theo and Lalita's. It's how things are done in the pureblood culture. At least high society pureblood culture. It's not happy but it's necessary. It's what I thought I would have. It's what I had known. But, then…Neville. And I love him. But, the only marriage I know that is for love is that and they are in opposing sides of war. Even dancing, they are at war, and I would not want war in my bedroom," Daphne said softly, gesturing towards the Dark Lord and the Light Lady.
Fay wondered how she had not seen the war in their shoulders and the sharp elbows. She had been so preoccupied with the beauty. War was beautiful, Fay decided, then.
"You could say no," Fay suggested, sipping her water.
Daphne jerked back, as if the idea had physically slapped her. "No, I really couldn't."
"You really could," Fay said solemnly. "You're young. You're nineteen. There's no rush to be engaged or married or anything, really. We were only just children, weren't we?"
Daphne looked at her for a long time and then she slid away the last shot and placed her chin on interlaced fingers. She peered at Fay for a long time, but her comrade stared back at her, unflinching and unafraid.
"You're right," Daphne said grudgingly.
Fay shrugged.
Astoria looked at the two. They were beautiful, the perfect Pureblood couple. Alois and Gwendoline Greengrass were Neutral but were beautiful and perfect enough that they were invited to nearly Dark-only affair. Gilded in Galleons, Gwendoline's hand rested limply in Alois. They stared in opposite directions, having empty conversations about stocks and the economy and the 'damned Mudbloods' taking over as her father liked to talk about it all the time, constantly shooting glances at Astoria.
It made Astoria sick.
It was so false that Astoria doubted that her parents had ever been in love before.
She felt a presence behind her but she didn't have to twist and look to know that it was her sister. Alois' glower was announcement enough.
"What are you looking at?" Daphne whispered in her ear, bending over to press a kiss to her forehead. Alois made a hissing noise of disapproval that the sisters ignored.
"Our parents. They're a mess," Astoria said in Welsh.
Daphne snorted. "Don't say that too loud or they'll hear," she whispered.
"Oh, I want them to. I want them to know. You know they are," Astoria said darkly.
Daphne looked down at her in surprise. "They are. But, Astoria..." she said warningly. "Behave. I'm going to go find Neville."
"It's fine. I'm used to people leaving," Astoria said dismissively. She gave a winning smile, as if she were joking. She hoped it was enough and she had to hide her glee when it proved to be enough. Just enough for Daphne to believe the 'joke' and to nod.
"Okay..." Daphne said gently as she walked away.
Astoria turned back to continue observing her parents.
There was something wrong. Her father...her mother...something was wrong. Something had never been right. They had never married for love, and Astoria hadn't convinced herself they had. But, they were hiding something.
Astoria wanted to know what.
Blaise coughed hard, attempting to clear his throat. Draco cast him a side glance of confusion.
"Are you okay?" Draco asked quietly. Blaise nodded once even as he coughed again into the crook of his elbow. Draco cast him a weird glance.
Blaise looked down at the corner of his sleeve and saw a dark blot that he knew was not saliva. Standing abruptly, he drew the attention of Lucius and Narcissa. Narcissa had that look of motherly concern that Blaise had never been comfortable with. It had increased after he had saved Lucius and he glanced at the man where he gripped the table tightly with his gloved hand. Even Lucius looked concerned.
"I'm fine. I'm fine. Excuse me," Blaise said as he broke into another coughing fit. The Malfoys all shared worrying glances that made Blaise back up. Draco went to stand. "No, Draco. I can go to the restroom on my own, thanks. I don't need you to hold my hand."
Draco rolled his eyes but Blaise could still see the worry.
Blaise walked swiftly the ballroom, his breaths wracked with aching coughs that rattled his chest. As he escaped into the hallway, he ducked into one of hte many alcoves. His back to the wall, he slid down, coughing. He fumbled with his robes, searching for a tiny vial before he gave another wet cough right into his hand. He stared at the dark blood and groaned. He pulled forth the vial, another concoction that he had been playing with.
"Got to get this right," he whispered as he opened the vial, smearing his blood on the glass. Downing the potion, he felt his chest burn and then loosen.
He could breathe again.
For now.
Daphne squirmed as Neville led her outside into the garden. She stared down at where their hands were linked. His other hand was dipped into the pocket of his robes. Daphne could imagine what was wrapped in his fingers—a little box with a ring inside. It was probably the perfect ring, a ring she would love. A rose gold band with a princess cut diamond that would shine from down the street. It was probably his mother's engagement ring, the diamonds cut differently. Neville was sentimental like that. Even though he had his own wand, he still carried his father's with him.
Yes, her Neville would present her with his mother's ring and she could imagine her reaction as they winded through the few lingering guests that braved the cold. The younger guests. She could see Pansy Parkinson, nosily staring from where she was leaning by the wall with a gaggle of homeschooled Pureblood girls—the girls raised not to do anything with themselves but get married, and Daphne was not one of those girls.
Gods, she could imagine her reaction—Who are you with your 'marry me'? How could you ruin it all?
Yes, Daphne knew herself. She would say all of the wrong things. Daphne sighed, wishing that her sister was there to pull her away from the mess, but Astoria was hidden away with her parents, probably trying to mediate their marriage. Daphne's life was going to come apart because she was afraid, and she could admit that she was being a coward.
Daphne was not a Gryffindor. Not like her Neville. Daphne had once thought that being a Pureblood heiress was all that she would ever need until Bella had helped her realize that she was meant for something more.
Bella had helped her see that she was astonishing. And she had an astonishing life that she was meant to lead, with Neville by her side. It was a life that she had never thought she could have, but she had to find it. She almost had it. Daphne could feel it—a life of passion where she was astonishing.
"Daphne?" Neville asked quietly when they were finally alone.
Daphne turned to look at him, trembling. "Yes?" she whispered.
"I love you," he blurted out, and he flushed suddenly. Daphne's lips curled into a smile against her will. Her beautiful, bumbling Neville could still be embarrassed. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Without you, I wouldn't have realized my potential. I wouldn't have become the man that I am. I owe everything to you."
Daphne stared at him, nodding. It was coming. Daphne could admit to herself that she wanted something that she could not find with Neville. She needed to find it on her own. She needed something...
"And I want to ask you—"
Daphne hissed out in pain, grabbing at her wrist. The agony spread up her arm as the tattoo on her wrist lit up beneath band of leather. She shook, the pain raging over her. Daphne spun around and her eyes narrowed. She glanced up and saw Bella standing in the window pane, staring down with a blank face.
"Is she calling you?" Neville asked, and Gods, he wasn't even mad. He just looked concerned for her.
Daphne didn't deserve this man, she thought. Daphne nodded.
"Yeah. It feels...urgent. I'm sorry, my love," Daphne said quietly.
Neville shrugged with a relaxed smile. "It's fine. Just go."
Daphne nodded and she took off, carrying her skirts with her as she skidded past Pansy Parkinson and her laughter. Pushing through the guests, she ignored the stares. She didn't turn back. Daphne refused to look back because if she did, she wouldn't be able to say that she was sure, and Neville was not a choice she could make lightly. Neville didn't deserve the brokenness that Greengrasses promised. Neville deserved everything.
Daphne would make herself whole before she took him.
She skidded into the empty ballroom on the third floor and stared at Bella's back.
The woman turned around, raising an eyebrow.
"He was going to ask me to marry him! Can you believe it? We don't...we're so young! What is this bullshit about marriage?" Daphne said breathlessly as she paced the room. Bella stared at her, attempting to hide her snorts of amusement. Daphne spun on her, eyes narrowed. "What are you laughing at?"
"Well, I'm married. Theo and Lalita are married. I think he's realized he'd like to marry you too. Really, Daphne, it's not that bad. There are some logical things. Like tax breaks," Bella laughed and Daphne chucked a napkin at her. Bella laughed harder as it hit her in the chest and floated gently to the ground.
"I can't...what's wrong with how we are now? We're perfect now! Kicking ass! I'm about to start my apprenticeship with Slughorn and he's doing amazing with his greenhouse, growing all the ingredients I need. He's thinking about starting his own apothecary!" Daphne ranted and as she paced, Bella's smile drifted away as she was brought back to what she had summoned Daphne for.
"About that apprenticeship," she began.
Daphne didn't seem to hear her. "Why is he trying to ruin us? Look at what marriage did to my parents! And you...you and Tom are constantly at war and you like it that way. I couldn't have it that way. I couldn't be constantly fighting my partner. I don't want us to be my parents," Daphne whispered and Bella grabbed her hands, frowning at her.
Daphne finally looked at her.
"Then, say no," Bella said softly. "Or run away until you know what to do."
"Those aren't healthy choices. Those are your choices. You don't make healthy choices. I can't run away from him," Daphne said sharply and Bella didn't flinch at the barbs. She knew they were true. Bella wasn't the healthiest of human beings.
"Then, what if I send you away?" Bella asked quietly.
"What?"
"Do you speak Japanese fluently?" Bella lifted Daphne's hands to her lips and pressed a kiss to them.
Daphne nodded. "Yes."
"Do you have your katana?" Bella asked.
Daphne nodded again. "Always."
"Then, go. I need you to go and find me allies. Take this. I need you there. You already have ties with the community. You have a sensei there. He is well respected. Go," Bella commanded and Daphne nodded, frowning. She took the satchel and looked inside at the rolls of parchment and atop it was a knife.
"What is all this?" Daphne whispered.
"The knife...is mine. It is your Portkey there. The password is 'Charity.' On each ribbon is a name. Find the person, deliver the parchment roll. They would be powerful allies, Daphne. So, you're not running away. You're...being sent away," Bella said quietly.
She could see the fear in Daphne's eyes.
Daphne swallowed hard and realized—here she'd go. There was no turning back. Her great adventure was about to start. She had plans to learn and shine as brightly as the sun by herself. She would be fearless, surrendering modesty and grace. Daphne would not disappear without a trace like her mother had. She would shout and start a riot. Daphne was anything but quiet.
She would be astonishing. Astonishing.
Daphne staggered back and nodded quickly. She gave a small smile to her best friend. "Thank you, Bella," she whispered. "Charity."
And then she was gone in a swirl of silk and magic. Bella stared at her where she had been. She glanced out the window again to stare at the three Indian girls dancing in the reception area, giggling and gossiping. They looked young again and Bella envied that. She reached for her ouroboros necklace and grabbed it, focusing it on summoning.
She could feel him move immediately. She could feel him jog up the stairs, following the burning to where she waited for him in an empty room. He knocked on the door.
"Come in," she rasped.
"Bella?" Anthony asked. He paused when he saw her. She stared out of the long windows over the outside reception area. He stared over her window and saw Parvati, Padma, and Lalita all standing down there gossiping to each other, probably in Hindi.
"I need something from you, Anthony," Bella said softly.
Anthony frowned. Bella rarely asked for something from him.
"What is it?" Anthony asked.
Bella pressed her fingers to window pane and still did not look at him. She just stared at the trio and stroked over the spot as if she could touch them. Anthony admired this woman. She was stunning, strangely so, and he nearly choked over the taste of her magic. It embodied her, on her like a second skin, sinking below those two layers and flowing through her veins. Every time she exhaled, magic flowed out of her. She was a cesspool of raw magic, not yet entirely Light, but no longer a forced Darkness of their childhood.
"Anthony, have you ever loved someone so much that you would do anything for them?" Bella asked.
"Like kill for them?" Anthony asked curiously, a frown crossing his face.
Bella shook her head slowly. "Die for them. Have you ever loved someone so much that you would unmake yourself for them to continue on?" Bella asked.
"No. Not yet," Anthony said.
Bella turned to look at him. "I have."
"Your husband?" Anthony asked.
Bella laughed harshly. "No. This love...this love is unconditional. This is the type of love where if she's not there, I feel like there's a hole in my heart. The type of love where I don't mind that she gets sick at the sight of me. The kind of love where if I had to tear myself to shreds, I would."
Anthony stared at her and the oddly vulnerable look on her face. He realized that he was staring with his mouth open and he looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. "No," he said. "I've never loved anyone that way."
"I do," Bella said. She grabbed his hands, that penetrating stare grabbing him again. "I can't trust anyone with her. I...I think it's you. Only you."
"With who?" Anthony asked.
"Ariana. Ariana Goode. Protect her. Swear to me that you will," Bella insisted. She trembled as she looked down at their joined hands before she looked at him again. "Protect her. Even from me. Protect her, Anthony. Please."
"What does she mean to you?" Anthony asked in shock. "She's just a girl. She's nothing."
"She is everything," Bella whispered. She leaned in, staring at him. "That girl...she means something. She means everything. She's important. Swear that you'll protect her. Be her friend. Be her partner. Be her protector. Her champion, because the gods know I can't be."
Anthony frowned. "Does she really...really mean this much to you?"
"Not just to me. The cause. She made me see. Helped me see that I am not Darkness. She is important. She's entwined in this story. I've failed her once and she's doomed to that already. But, after that, I need you to protect her. Can you do that?" Bella asked and Anthony took a step back, dropping this woman's hands.
His Lady was asking him to protect a girl that meant nothing to him but a headache. A pretty girl, though she was, she was also young and foolish, and tried too hard to prove something. She was like Bella in a lot of ways, if he thought about it. Anthony swallowed hard as he saw the desperation in her eyes.
"This love sounds like the love a mother," Anthony said instead.
Bella smiled weakly. "She calls me Godmother because she's never had a mother before. Not a real one."
Anthony nodded.
"I swear."
The Vane Chateau, Unplottable Location, Great Britain
Sunday the 8th of August 1999
11:54 PM
She was naked beneath the long-tattered red cloak that was draped across her body. As she moved, it rippled, exposing parts of her—a tanned limb here, a long calf there. With big black bird eyes and dark curls framing an oval face, she was a stunning creature.
Romilda Vane was the most perfect, cruellest deception.
War wrapped in a shroud of beauty.
Godiva and Cyneburga watched their beauty of a sister approach the altar, covered in their own robes and furs. Though it was midsummer, it was frigid in the temple below the Vane Chateau. Still pure, they wore furs and robes of white laced with red. They were warm though they were bare beneath the layers. Romilda turned her gaze from her beautiful sisters and looked to where her father and mother stood at the round stone altar that once had served as a table. Romilda knelt before the altar and clasped her hands in the semblance of a prayer before she looked up at her parents.
They were strikingly similar in the shapes of their faces, the slope of their cheekbones, the size of their eyes, the plumpness of their lips. They were exactly the same age, down to the day, separated by mere seconds. Ethelinda and Wulfric Vane had shared nearly everything in their lives, even the womb that they had emerged from, together with Ethelinda clutching Wulfric's ankle as they slid free from their mother.
"Today is the day of your Emerging. Are you ready to receive the Mark of the Heir?" Wulfric asked in his deep rumbling voice. It echoed through the cave, distorted and foreboding, but Romilda did not show fear. She told herself that she had nothing to fear. She knew the ritual. She knew to expect pain. Romilda would not cower before the pain.
"I am to receive the Mark," Romilda said and she rose to her feet, dropping her robe to the floor. She felt it pool around her feet and she stepped forward, utterly comfortable in her nakedness. She climbed atop the stone table and fell onto her stomach. She turned her head to look at Ethelinda.
The woman's mask did not crack but for the softening around her eyes.
"Ymlaciwch, annwyl. Mae'n rhaid i bob gael ei marcio," Ethelinda reassured her, and she raised her own hand and in it was a knife. Romilda winced and turned her head to gaze at her beloved sisters.
Godiva and Cyneburga—the two eleven year olds would be going to Hogwarts that year. Romilda was excited for that. She focused on them as her father knelt on the altar beside her and lowered the enormous iron weapon onto the length of her spine and her mother's knife bit into her skin at the nape of her neck.
Romilda heard the whispered Brythonic words. She barely registered the building magic and agony and then—she screamed.
:::
A/N: Um. This is late. Super late. I'm sorry. It just didn't want to be written. So much is packed in here that you might have to go through it twice. That's mostly because it's a lot of set-up, basically. It's entirely set-up for what's going to happen for the rest of the story. See this as a major turning point in the narrative even though it seems really pointless. Things should be picking up from here on out. I have a lot of the next few chapters actually written out though it needs to be edited and probably rewritten. If the chapters aren't written, they are extensively outlined.
I have most of the story outlined at this point. The story has an ending but it'll take a while to get there. In-universe, it should be about 2001, and there will be two more interludes. So, basically, the story is broken up into three parts. So, Part 1 has about 39 major, major plot points to hit, but a lot of those are combined into chapters, so it'll be maybe another 10-15 chapters before I'm done with that, maybe even less. But, yeah, I hope you're all out there, still reading. This is un-beated and I haven't read it over because this chapter nearly gave me an ulcer and I literally can't subject myself to staring at it anymore when I've been writing it for six months at this point.
PLEASE REVIEW!
Next Chapter: Revolutionary Quartet, That Would Be Enough, Freezing Brains, Too Old For You & The RETURN OF HERMIONE (& Someone Else)!