Author Note: Thanks to the usual suspects for reading and reviewing. You know who you are :) Elza in response to your question... you will have to wait and see ;) Either way, though, they are her adopted parents and I think they had a right to know.
Well, here is the next chapter. Originally this and the next were going to be one chapter but this way just works better :) I imagine that the way I've handled this chapter and next week's chapter won't please everyone, but I like how it came out anyway so I just ran with it. Hey, what can I say, I had fun!
Anyway, hope this chapter finds you all well. Happy reading and the next chapter will be up next friday as usual :)
Chapter 29 – December, Part 1
As November turned into December, anxieties began to build regarding the Christmas event that Tamara was required to attend. Tamara's thoughts were a constant whirl, moving between the event itself and the impending shopping trip. There was no way of knowing who would be sent to accompany her, and she had no desire to spend even a short amount of time with one of the burly thuggish Death Eaters who were at Voldemort's command. Once, Snape had asked Voldemort whether he would be required to accompany her, as a way of hinting at Tamara's concern. This was met only with the response that Voldemort was perfectly content with the arrangement that he had made and that he was satisfied that Tamara's needs would be perfectly well catered to. Of course, this did little to ease Tamara's worries.
Tamara's nervousness wasn't eased, either, by Snape's efforts to prepare her for dealing with whichever Death Eater that would accompany her on the shopping trip and of course the Christmas event itself. Snape would bark random questions at her regarding Death Eater custom, or else bombard her with legilimency when she least expected it in an attempt to help her strengthen her occlumency skills and to encourage her to expect the unexpected. While Tamara's occlumency skills were now significantly improved, Snape's frequent attempts to keep her on her toes were beginning to frustrate her.
"Honestly, you're as bad as Mad-Eye Moody!" She said to him on one occasion, referring to her fourth year teacher.
"I'm trying to make sure that you're ready." He irritatedly replied. "You cannot take this lightly. You are in a precarious position with the Dark Lord and if anyone suspects foul-play on our part then you will be as good as dead. I promised to protect you Tamara." His coal-black eyes blazed and glittered.
Tamara wanted to retort that of course she wasn't taking it lightly, and didn't he know how scared she was? But at present, all that registered was his vow to protect her and suddenly she found herself jumping into his lap and wrapping her legs around his waist as she kissed him fiercely.
Snape hadn't expected this reaction. Suddenly flustered, he stared at her with confusion. "I love you, but I doubt I will ever fully understand women." He told her. Tamara responded with a grin and from then on she didn't complain about his surprise attempts to provoke her occlumency defences.
In addition to this, they also continued on with the defence lessons that they had briefly embarked on at Hogwarts, meaning that it was now not unusual for Elizabeth to find them engaged in mock duals in the lounge room. Now it was nothing unexpected and she was more than happy to leave them to it, but the first time she had stumbled across them her reactions had been a mixture of fear that Tamara and Snape were arguing and that it had become violent, and to a lesser degree that her living room would be destroyed by the spells that were flying about the room. Once they had explained what they were doing and that they had cast a barrier charm on the room before starting so that their spells wouldn't hit the furniture, however, Elizabeth calmed down considerably and had left them to their own devices. At times she even stood to watch from the safety of the doorway as she hadn't seen much magic at work before and found it utterly fascinating.
When finally December was half gone, Tamara had begun to panic a little more that the month's appointed events were now so much nearer, and more so that she still didn't know which day to expect it all to begin. The day in question, however, turned out to be one of the two assigned study days that she was to spend with her mentor a week and Mr Beadle noticed at once how preoccupied she seemed to be. When her potion turned into a coagulated mess, she sighed in frustration.
"Miss Edgecombe, is everything alright? You are an uncommonly gifted potion-maker and this is well below your usual standard. In fact, you've been struggling all day. I'm concerned." Mr Beadle said, placing his hands on his hips in a McGonagall-like gesture.
Tamara barely had time to give a vague reply about "family troubles" when suddenly the door to the room opened and a little old man peeked out and gestured to Tamara who recognised the man at once as the disguise that Snape had used when they had journeyed to the remote parts of Scotland to find Dumbledore's secret hidden island. She excused herself from an exasperated Mr Beadle and hurried out of the room.
Once alone, the disguised Snape addressed her. "The Dark Lord is calling for you. We have to go now." He told her in a hushed and scratchy voice.
"Can't it wait?" Tamara replied, unable to help but think about her disastrous day of study and how she could redeem herself.
"No-one tells the Dark Lord to wait." The disguised Snape hissed back at her.
"Alright, just give me a minute." She said, and hurried back into the room. "Mr Beadle, there's a family emergency. May I be excused for today?" She asked when standing before her mentor once more.
Mr Beadle pressed his fingers to his temple before responding. "I suppose it is the last week of term, and I suppose you could benefit from a break. You've been working hard. Yes, you may go. Just mind that your standards are back to normal next time I see you."
Tamara thanked him and collected her things before dashing from the room. Within minutes, Snape disapparated and they reappeared in a large room that Tamara didn't recognise. The decorations were ornate, tapestries covered the walls and the room featured several fireplaces along with a large table at the centre that was big enough for a considerably large group of people. At present, the room was empty and Snape had taken a tiny vial of potion from his pocket and had transformed back into himself before she had finished taking in her surroundings.
Snape grabbed her elbow and hastily began to usher her towards the seat beside the position at the head of the table, whispering as he did so. "Your chaperone is to be Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's Mother." He told her, hurriedly. "I do not have many moments to prepare you about her, but I will say that she is a lady of decorum and I do not believe that you will come to any harm in her company. Be careful with what you say to her and remember what I taught you concerning occlumency." With that, he stood back smartly and strode out of the room.
Tamara took the brief moment she had alone to collect herself and placed her cauldron and school bag on the table in front her, rearranging the books that she had so hurriedly stuffed inside it before she had left the Ministry. She turned her attention back to the cauldron that sat beside her bag. It still contained the thick gloop that should have been a dreamless sleep potion. She prodded it uncertainly with her wand, and it responded with an unceremonious burp. "Evanesco" she intoned, jabbing her wand at it again. In an instant, the gloop had disappeared, leaving behind a completely clean and empty cauldron.
She sat back in her chair, casting her gaze about the empty room again. When nobody came for her, she sighed and reached for her bag again, fumbling for her copy of Grimble's Guide to Transfiguration – Grade Seven and her notebook and a self-inking quill. Her intention had been to work on her latest piece of transfiguration work to kill the time, but her nerves prevented her from concentrating properly and she ended up abandoning the notebook and quill and casting them onto the table, choosing to flip idly through the pages of the book instead, though she didn't really process much of what was written on the pages.
Just as she was trying to order her thoughts enough to memorise the key rules associated with human transfiguration, the door to the room burst open. Voldemort strode purposefully toward her, followed by a tall and expressionless blonde-haired woman whose posture looked the picture of etiquette, and whose clothes looked both elegant and expensive. Tamara guessed that this must be Narcissa Malfoy. Placing her transfiguration book on the table, she rose to her feet and clasped her hands in front of her, holding her head high and saying nothing until she was addressed.
"You are improving." Voldemort remarked, referring to the manner with which she had risen to her feet. "And what is this?" He asked, gesturing to her pile of school things.
"Study." She replied, unable to think of what else to say. "I've been taking a Ministry-run correspondence course so that I could finish my education." There didn't seem to be any point in lying. Even if he had known about her regular meetings at the Ministry of Magic with Mr Beadle, and even if he hadn't ordered his minions not to harm her, the Ministry would likely not be an ideal place for Voldemort to wage an open attack and he would likely not want to risk another appearance there after the incident that had taken place almost two years ago. That had been the blunder that had finally revealed to the wizarding world that he had indeed returned. No, if she were to come to any harm at his hands it would be at a place that gave Voldemort the advantage; somewhere like this...
"At least you show initiative." Voldemort lazily replied. "This is Narcissa Malfoy. She is to be your chaperone and will offer you the benefit of her advice in choosing an appropriate outfit for the Christmas event. You know what I expect of you. You will leave your things here. I won't have you walking around looking like a pack horse."
Tamara nodded, swallowing the biting retort that she wanted so desperately to say, and stepped forward to take hold of Narcissa's outstretched hand. As soon has their hands connected, Narcissa disapparated. The room disappeared and with a jolt they reappeared in a cosy lane filled with mingling people. The lane looked like something out of Country Living magazine and was filled with stylish boutiques and cafes.
"Let me take a look at you." Narcissa said, reaching for Tamara's shoulder and turning her so that they were facing. The tall blonde woman regarded her for a moment before turning her around again and ushering her into one of the boutiques. Tamara couldn't help but gaze in wonderment at the racks of exquisite gowns. One was embroidered with what looked like fairy wings and another looked like liquid gold. Tamara couldn't help but gaze at the gold gown, stupidly, completely entranced by it. Immediately she was reminded of the Potions Conference that she had attended the previous year with Snape. In the foyer of the hotel that had hosted the conference was a fountain that looked as though it had been pouring liquid gold instead of water. Snape had sneered at it and labelled it as a cheap charm. Tamara held back a grin and gently reached out to softly stroke the material, expecting it to feel like any other dress would feel and confirm what Snape would say, that it was merely a cheap charm. To her surprise, it was like nothing she had ever felt before and she knew that there were no words to describe such a touch.
"You have expensive taste." Came Narcissa's voice from over her shoulder. Tamara pulled her hand back from the dress and turned to face her chaperone. "It's genuine you know, and one of a kind. Everything here is. Personally, I would have advised you to choose a black evening dress for the event, but now that I think about it..." Narcissa let her words trail off. She took the dress off the rack and held it against Tamara, thoughtfully examining her appearance. The dress was shapely and figure-hugging. From the waist it fell to the ground and featured a split up the left leg. The split wasn't high enough to be considered inappropriate for a formal event, but it was just high enough to be elegant and becoming. The neckline was scooped and the gown featured long sleeves that sat just below the shoulder and ended in a point at the wrist. All in all the dress was simply stunning.
After a moment of gazing at her reflection in the mirror, the spell of such a wondrous gown finally fell away. "I could never afford it." Tamara confessed, a hint of deep disappointment in her voice. To her surprise, Narcissa threw her head back and laughed.
"My dear girl! You are the Dark Lord's daughter. As his daughter you are not only his representative, but an extension of the Dark Lord himself. You represent his power and all that he professes to offer to those who give him their loyalty. Anything you choose today, you shall have." Narcissa told her.
Tamara gaped at her in shock at the thought that this dress could be hers if she so chose. But as she entertained fantasies about stepping into a crowded room wearing the exquisite gold gown that she was so taken with, Narcissa's words also reminded her of the reality of her place in Voldemort's life. To Voldemort, she seemed to be nothing more than an accessory to compliment him. Not only this but the statement that she could, in essence, have anything she chose thanks to Voldemort made her feel more than a little like a spoiled brat whose Father cared little for her and preferred to shower her with expensive trinkets and entrust her care to chaperones rather than attend to her himself. The situation reminded her starkly of just who she was dealing with, and she couldn't help but wonder if there were any ulterior motives to Voldemort's choice to embrace her, for all intents and purposes, as his daughter rather than remain locked in battle with her as an enemy. Of course, Tamara still regarded him as her enemy, and she knew she had to remember the reason why she was going along with this charade; so she could find out enough information about Voldemort and his plans to be able to destroy him. It was a sobering realisation and with regret she turned away from the gold dress, asking Narcissa if they could look in some of the other boutiques before she made up her mind.
"Please yourself." Narcissa replied, and ushered Tamara out of the shop. Together, they traipsed through the rest of the boutiques in the little lane. Nothing caught Tamara's fancy as much as the gold dress had. She was examining a showy black cocktail dress when Narcissa said "don't even think about it". The dress was incredibly short, had very thin straps, a revealing v-neck and the midriff was bare. Tamara couldn't help but visualise the look on Snape's face if he saw her in it and grinned to herself but put the dress back on its rack.
Once they had left the shop, Narcissa rounded on Tamara. "We've been in every shop and boutique, and we've examined every dress on offer. Really, you're almost as choosy as I am."
This took Tamara by surprise. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't considered the lack of etiquette in dragging her chaperone into every shop in the lane. "Oh, I..." She began, but her words trailed off when Narcissa cut in.
"Nothing quite compares to the gold dress, does it?" She said, reading Tamara's expression. "Perhaps you can enlightenment me. If you were so taken with it, why not simply buy it and avoid this charade?"
Tamara blushed. Though Narcissa's words seemed harsh, her tone was even. It was hard to know how trustworthy she was. Draco's mother did not seem unkind, but any emotion she might have felt seemed to be very closely guarded. Somehow, though, Tamara felt at ease in her presence. It seemed comforting to have a motherly figure to turn to amongst the dark arts and the death eaters.
"I suppose I'm not used to this sort of expense. I just thought that the gold dress would be... you know, too fancy." Tamara confessed, trying not to stumble over her words in her embarrassment. Narcissa, however, looked back at her with a sympathetic expression.
"I assure you that the extravagance of that dress will be a perfect display of your Father's wealth and power. I think it is an excellent choice. He will be pleased." Narcissa told her with a wry smile. Tamara wasn't sure whether she liked this but with her chaperone's encouragement, they returned to the first boutique they had visited and Tamara immediately headed toward the gold dress.
"May I be of assistance?" A little man asked, hurrying up to them. He was dressed impeccably in expensive looking dress robes and Tamara guessed that he was the shop keeper. Narcissa reached into her handbag, pulled out a small roll of parchment and handed it to him. The shop keeper unrolled the parchment and after reading what was written there he put it in his pocket and gave a low bow. Immediately, he took the gold dress that Narcissa was now gesturing to. They followed him to the counter and watched as he delicately wrapped the dress in tissue paper and placed it carefully in a box. The shop keeper then tapped the box with his wand and spoke an incantation that Tamara faintly recognised. It was a reinforcement spell to stop the dress from becoming damaged in the box in transit.
After another lengthy amount of time had passed, and with the shop keeper's assistance, Tamara had chosen a pair of shoes to match the dress; a pair of stilettos that were simple in design but which exactly matched the dress's golden hue. As Tamara wasn't used to stilettos, she knew she'd have to spend a considerable amount of time practising walking in them when she got home. The two women thanked the shop assistant who bowed to them again as they turned to leave, Tamara now laden with two boxes that contained her dress and shoes for the event, and wondering why they hadn't been required to hand over a single galleon for the purchases.
A few minutes later, Tamara and Narcissa were seated at a table on the veranda of one of the cafes. A waitress placed a steaming pot of tea between them and gave them each a delicate tea cup. Tamara raised her wand and pointed it at the teapot, magically directing it to pour tea into both of the cups before allowing it to settle on the table once more. Narcissa watched this humble display of magic with amusement.
"An elegant little charm." Narcissa mused. "My son lacks the finesse for it. He flourishes his wand too much." She seemed to be speaking to herself more than Tamara.
"Why didn't we have to pay for the dress?" Tamara suddenly found herself asking, interrupting Narcissa's train of thought.
"Of course it was paid for, but my dear we don't all carry that sort of money around with us." With that, she passed Tamara a piece of parchment not unlike the one she had given to the shop keeper. The parchment bore the stamp of a goblin she didn't recognise and declared authorisation for a sum of galleons to be moved from one bank vault to another. The dark mark had been printed at the bottom of the parchment, evidently being used as a signature. Tamara understood at once. It was the wizard version of what a muggle cheque. It seemed strange to think of Voldemort as wealthy. With the sort of power that he abused on a daily basis, money didn't seem like something that would be important. Now that she thought about it, though, she realised how useful it would be to someone like Voldemort and how easily he could probably acquire it. She gave the parchment back to Narcissa and sipped at her tea, thinking of something to say to generate some sort of conversation.
When she eventually did speak, she found herself surprised at her own choice of words. "How do you handle being one of the few women in my Father's employ?" She asked. She hadn't intended to open the conversation this way, but somehow her innermost concern had leapt to the forefront.
Narcissa regarded her, carefully, before answering. "The Dark Lord favours those who possess a strong attitude. My sister, for instance, is ruthless and loyal to the last. She has earned herself an admirable position in his inner circle because of it. I am as unlike her as it is possible to be. The battlefield has never been my place and so I must do my duty and give unquestionable support to my husband and son in their endeavours. It is not my place to do otherwise." Though Narcissa's words were matter-of-fact, there was a sadness about her features and Tamara knew immediately, as only another woman could, that Narcissa was afraid for her family and perhaps inwardly desired nothing more than a safe and happy life for them away from the dangers of the Dark Lord's work. "How about you?" Narcissa asked, changing the subject. "You have more in common with the Dark Lord than any of us. You share his blood. My sister would be envious of you."
Tamara took a moment to consider her thoughts and chose her words carefully. "It's overwhelming." She admitted. "Sometimes I feel as though I could never live up to the expectations everyone has of me."
Tamara's words were meant to be cryptic, but Narcissa gazed back at her with understanding. "My son has said the very same thing on many occasions. You both carry so much for ones so young. And yet, you have accomplished the tasks that have been given to you and you remain strong and intact."
Her chaperone's words echoed in her mind as she continued to sip at her tea. The conversation dwindled into silence as Narcissa regarded the preoccupied Tamara with curiosity.
Tamara and Narcissa reappeared in the room with the big table where Tamara had left her school things before embarking on the shopping trip. Voldemort was seated at the other end of the table beside a death eater that she didn't recognise. They were deep in conversation, speaking in hushed tones. Tamara couldn't make out what was being said, but Voldemort's voice held an unmistakeable element of frustration. As soon as he saw Tamara, he rose to his feet.
"Your outing went well?" He asked, addressing Narcissa.
"Yes my Lord. I think you will be pleased with your daughter's selection." The stately blonde told him.
"Show me." Voldemort commanded, unceremoniously.
Tamara forced a smile. "You'll find out soon enough." She told him, impishly. He did not look amused. Immediately, she felt the tendrils of his mind pressing against hers and she responded by employing the mental blocks of occlumency.
"Do not toy with me, Tamara. Would you rather that I torture Narcissa with the cruciatus curse until she reveals your choice of outfit to me?" He spoke in a low and dangerous whisper.
Tamara's smile vanished and suddenly her fantasy of appearing before the crowded throng in the golden dress, stunning even Voldemort with her choice of outfit, had disappeared. Wordlessly, she held out the box that contained the dress. "I'm sorry, Father. I rather hoped that I could surprise you with it." She explained, quietly.
"I care little for surprises." He told her, his attention now on the box as he removed the lid with his wand and cast it to one side. Still using his wand, the dress rose from the box and hung in the air above the table. It glittered, gloriously, but somehow it didn't look quite so beautiful hanging limply in front of Voldemort.
A look of surprise, however, crossed Voldemort's face. "You chose this yourself, did you?" She nodded, suddenly afraid that he would punish her for making an inappropriate choice or spending too much. Voldemort, however, didn't seem to be displeased. He lowered his wand and the dress sank back into the box once more. Wordlessly, he directed the box forward with his wand and it sailed across the table back to Tamara.
"Is it an adequate choice, Father?" She asked, nervously.
"Adequate? Do not contain your standards at mere adequate my daughter. Your choice of outfit is exceptional. I expect your attitude to be befitting of it from now on. Do you understand me?" Voldemort's words were strong, though the anger had disappeared from his voice now. Tamara nodded, holding her head up high though inwardly she was more perplexed than she cared to admit.
