A/N: Love to reviewers and Countess Black
I've always thought one of the themes of this story is 'who is a parent?' There was pretty awesome parenting going on here. And some that definitely isn't-I'm with Sose on this one.
Also, I borrowed a phrase from a review. Special thanks to A. Deca for providing the inspiration.
Finally, ten house points to WetOtterSoks for correctly identifying the quote in chapter 27, which is indeed from 'The Simpsons'.
The day the ministers arrive, Sose downed the contents of the phial and was slightly surprised for a moment to feel a small hand fit into hers. She turned, setting the phial down, and found Yana looking up at her, frowning anxiously. She was getting taller, and her face was changing, becoming more like an adult's.
'Nene, are you sad?'
'Sad? No. No, I'm all right.'
Yana was hugging her, suddenly. Sose sat down and eased the girl into her lap. Her bones creaked protest-she was taking three phials of heavy-duty bone strengtheners a day, and whilst it did help, her body was far from pain-free, even now.
Yana snuggled back against her, dressed up in her best clothes, blonde hair shining. She was very excited about helping host the Ministers-five total, and their retinues, who would be staying with them.
'Are you sad, Yana?'
Yana considered, frowning a little. 'Not if there isn't going to be more poison. Is there going to be more, do you think?'
'No. No more poison, Yana.'
'How do you know?'
'The elves'll watch for us. And the others-Scabior and Paavo and Enver.'
'Oh. Didn't they watch before?'
'They did. Some people are sneaky.'
Yana nodded. 'Stefan Borev was sneaky like that.'
Sose nodded. That was the man who'd tried to blind her son. Yana snuggled against her, playing with her apron a little.
'That's why he died. He was sneaky and bad. He came when Aunt Zhivka was sick. He smelt funny and Viktor was angry with him.'
'It must have been hard for your family.'
Yana was still playing with her apron. ' It was scary that Aunt Zhivka didn't come back for a long time. Then she did. We brought flowers, and climbed in bed with her. She was asleep because a bad man hurt her brain.'
Sose's anxiety wasn't exactly improved by this line of conversation, but she loved Yana, and would have liked to have known poor Zhivka. She herself, having a son not much younger than Viktor, sympathised with how it must have been to need to leave him. Still, surely Zhivka would want Sose to reassure her niece, and it was the least she could do.
'She must have been glad you came to see her.'
'Viktor said that, too. It wasn't scary. She was asleep, was all. Rada is asleep because that bad man hurt her brain. Will she die like Aunt Zhivka?'
Sose rubbed her back. 'I don't know, Yana. It's not up to us.'
'Did the bad man who hurt my aunt hurt Rada?'
'No. This one was different.'
'Oh.' Yana looked up at her with complete trust. 'But this one can't hurt us anymore, either?'
'No.'
'He died like Stefan did.'
'That's right.'
Yana nodded and rested her head on Sose's shoulder. 'We're going to have a good time, Nene, with these people. Viktor says they want to be our friends, just like Toma and Svetlana and Zenobia. Everyone is going to be nice and we'll have fun.'
'Yes.'
'If they're nasty, we'll tell Viktor and then they'll have to go talk to him. Or my Papa will scold them. All right?'
Sose smiled a little. 'I know. Everything is all right.'
Anu came in and announced the carriages had been sighted. Yana leapt up and joined him. Sose, scared to death, went with her small family, reminding herself that anyone who was unkind could expect a scolding from the Lord Protector of Bulgaria.
Hours later, she was starting to relax. Everyone had been perfectly polite to her, Anu was delighted to see Ismaili, who was Viktor's liaison with Tirana, and Ismaili's parents were very nice too. The Vatas had also come, so they'd all got to know one another a little.
The Estonians, Turks and Egyptians were also staying there. Normally Sose would have nearly unable to move, but she felt safe enough with the others. Vaike never left her side, nor Yana, and Sirius-Salazar was always close enough that should she cry out someone would be there.
Barty would be her shadow as well, later on. He needed to be kept away from the Ministers, so he was spending his days with Lyudmilla's father, who liked company, and his nights in the castle as a chaperone. Sose had made some sweets as thanks for Lyudmilla's father and then spent three days in an agony of doubt. Had she overstepped her bounds? Had she been too forward?
Nothing had happened aside from the fellow's thanks, so it was probably all right. Sose was certainly fond of Barty, but he could be a bit overwhelming from time to time. She rose, looking at Yana, who was lying on her belly on the bearskin rug, drawing a picture.
'Yana? I'd like some fresh air.'
'Should I come?'
Sose shook her head no. 'It's almost bedtime. Vaike will come in soon, all right?'
'Be careful, Nene.' Yana went back to his picture, narrating her art to Goose, who snuffled appreciatively. He wasn't smart, but no one could say Goose wasn't supportive.
The night air was warm and sweet, caressing her skin. Sirius-Salazar trotted a distance away, sometimes stopping to greet a wolf or sniff something. Sose didn't mind waiting. It was comforting to her that he seemed willing to respect her fear. She followed Sirius-Salazar out a side door and onto a battlement, thinking of nothing in particular.
She didn't hear him approach. She saw Sirius-Salazar tense and then there he was, clearing his throat a shade awkwardly. 'Madam Tamm?'
She took a step back, fear flooding her mouth. Sirius-Salazar growled deep in his belly.
'Please, I just want to talk to you. Please.'
She nodded slowly. 'You stay there.'
'I will. I, er, wanted to tell you how sorry I am.'
His eyes were very dark, almost black, and extremely familiar to her. She'd looked into ones just like them every day for years. She flashed on her son's birth, and seeing him open his eyes, eyes just like the ones on the man standing across from her.
'Oh.'
'He's a good boy. Your son.'
'Yes.'
'I regret-if things were different-I'm married now. We have children too.'
'Oh.'
'Pojani was nice to him?'
'He was. Nice to him.' Her heart was hammering but she knew he couldn't hurt her, not here. She had a wand. She wasn't fifteen.
'I'm glad to see you're doing well.'
'Thank you.'
'If there's anything I might do-'
'No.'
He took a step closer and Sirius-Salazar growled sharply, fur rising. He started to crouch, as though he meant to spring. The man took a step back, whitening. Sose touched the animagus's back to tell him not to jump.
'You gave him Durmstrang.'
'If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to talk to hi-'
'You stay away from my son!' Her wand was in her hand and she was pointing it at someone for the first time, not in practice or play but in serious threat. He took another step back.
'I didn't mean to upset-'
'You made your choices.'
'I'm his fa-'
'No.'
The man nodded. He bowed, one eye on the tense dog near Sose's leg, and then departed. She sat down, shaking, heedless of her clothes. Sirius-Salazar sat a distance away, sitting so he wasn't quite looking at her.
Sose watched as the man who had fathered Anu-but not Anu's father-vanished into the night. She closed her eyes, breathing hard, and then opened them again.
'Don't tell Anu. Please.'
Sirius-Salazar bowed and then sat, back to her, and together they looked at the stars.
The next day, another pair of companions was stealing a quiet moment of their own. Draco bent his head, gently suckling at Vaike's lower lip. She sighed and her hand gently caressed his face as they broke apart. Her eyes, damp with pleasure, gazed at him. Then she straightened his tunic and said 'Is the French Minister half the bastard they say he is?'
'Worse. He was outright rude to us during the Cup.'
'Hermione's said he's a snob.'
'That's accurate. And he thinks he's smarter than the rest of us.'
Vaike shoved her own robes, which had been slightly mussed, back into position. 'I daresay this week will teach him a little respect.'
Draco sat on a bench. He had an absolutely raging erection, but fortunately he'd had the foresight to charm his trousers so it didn't show. She sat down next to him and nestled into his shoulder, sighing softly.
'Everything is set from your end?'
'When I left Castle Borev, the Egyptians were playing music for everyone and serving mint tea. I think it's a start.'
Draco nodded. 'A lot of them will be scared not to join, I think.'
'Probably. Once they see them, that will sway some of the others. Pavel's got them ready?'
Draco had seen them, all in matching tunics, ranks of them stretched as far as the eye could see, moving in precise lockstep. It was terrifying, those thousands of blank faces, those endless dark eyes that gave nothing.
'Yes. He's told me something, Vaike. He found them.'
'The wolves?'
'The ones who are alive. A lot of them aren't.'
'Where are they?'
Draco took her hand. 'Most of that band went to ground in the Sinimaed Hills. The ones that didn't crossed in Russia. We might never be able to get them back, but there's no reason we couldn't go after the ones in Estonia.'
'Assuming the Minister agrees.' Her mouth quirked a little. Draco suspected the Kasks had won this particular victory with something other than pure diplomacy and heartily approved of it.
'You think he will?'
'I think he will. The papers at home are talking about it in glowing terms.'
Draco pressed his face gently into her neck, smelling a little talc. 'They ought to. It's going to be brilliant.'
Vaike reached up and gently smoothed his hair. 'Drago?'
'Hmmm?'
'When we go after them, do you want to come?'
He opened his eyes. 'Wouldn't miss it.'
'Good.' She sounded contented, like a cat. They were quiet a few minutes more, and then, on silent agreement, rose to go fight today's battles.
On the whole, Draco preferred the sorts of fights that meant hexes and fire. It wasn't as safe, to be sure, but at least it wasn't this stifling, hypocritical farce. With Vaike on his arm, he was making the rounds after Hermione and Viktor, bowing, kissing the cheeks of ladies and watching as well-groomed men old enough to his father, or grandfather, kissed Vaike and complimented her. Draco smiled quite a bit but said little. The last few years had taught him to keep his own counsel, and so he bided, waiting, watching, ready to do his bit.
He smelt Morreau before he saw him. The men was as aggressively cologned and pomaded as before, wearing pin-striped robes and a red silk cravat that set Draco's teeth on edge for no real reason. He bowed, smiling a little.
'Mr. Malfoy.'
'Minister Morreau.'
Draco was glad Vaike had gone to help Alise with a problem in the kitchens. He didn't want his slick git anywhere near his girl, thank you. He smiled a little, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Grandfather, please...
'The Traitorsbane. That's what they call you now, isn't it?'
'Not to my face, typically.'
'No? It's quite a name for a fellow your age.'
'I suppose so.' Draco wanted to hiss between his teeth at the man. There was something antagonistic in his manner, something that Draco couldn't quite name that nevertheless made him want to spit.
'These Slavs, quite an...imaginative people. Something almost Homeric about it. Bronze age.'
Draco's hands were clenching. 'If my lord cousin is the new Achilles, then I for one would rather be at his side than in his path.'
'Achilles? I thought it was Alexander.'
'Alexander was part of the Hellenic age, not the Bronze age.'
This seemed to amuse, rather than offend, Morreau. 'I see you've been well-taught, Mr. Malfoy. Tell me, did your sojourn in December cause you any undue strain in resuming your schoolwork?'
'Practical experience is the best teacher.'
'Is that what you told the parents of the ones less fortunate than yourself?'
Draco's chest was tight, his throat choked with rage, his mouth like cotton, his back wet with perspiration. He could feel his knees shaking with rage, his nails drawing blood on his palms.
'I told them truth.'
'What truth would that be? Did the little story about the new Achilles-excuse me, Alexander-comfort them in their grief?'
'The accounts of their children's courage did that.'
'How nice to know their children died bravely. Except, of course, that they died.'
Draco's world was spinning. He was dizzy, stomach a tight little walnut inside him. He took a deep breath and made himself shove forward.
'Would you denigrate their sacrifice?'
'Would you justify it?'
Draco dropped his voice. 'If you need ask that, it would a waste of my time to reply. Good day, Minister.'
Anu must have seen the confrontation, because he ducked out right behind Draco, holding Sirius-Salazar's leash. Anu let him go and the dog trotted after as the younger lad went back into the reception room. Draco took up the leash and led his cousin to a deserted room, sinking into a chair just as his legs went loose.
Sirius changed back and warded the door. 'Kiddo, what's wrong?'
Draco shook his head. 'Fuck fuck fuck!'
Kreacher abruptly appeared above them, holding a phial of calming draught. Draco downed it with hands shaking so hard the potion was slopping. Kreacher silently vanished the stains.
'What did he say, Draco?'
'He was mocking Viktor and then he started asking me about what happened in December.' Draco repeated the conversation, and Sirius's eyes widened.
'He actually said that?'
'I'm going to break his fucking jaw for this.'
'No, kid. You're going to calm down, and then we're going to put the screws to that bastard.'
'You don't understand-'
Sirius laughed bitterly. 'No? I went to Azkaban because I went off half-cocked. From the bottom of my heart, kiddo, I'm telling you not to do this. I swear we'll get him, all right? But not like this.'
Draco nodded. The massive influx of adrenaline was making him tired and trembly all over. 'Sorry. Sorry.'
'Don't be. He was trying to set you off. You did just the right thing.'
'I should go back. We should, I mean.'
'They've got it for right now. Aside from Morreau, how are you doing?'
That was a complicated question. Draco put his head in his hands for a moment. Father had given him a bottle of his cologne before he left, and Draco could smell the warm, comforting scent of it on himself.
'It's hard.'
'I'm sure.'
'You know, I just keep thinking...it wasn't suppose to be like this. It was supposed to be good.'
Sirius made a low sound that was almost a laugh and almost a groan. 'Tell me about it.'
Draco was tempted to ask, but he could sense this was painful, and that he was not the only one who hurt at the thought. So instead he waited a moment, for whatever ill shadow had passed over his cousin's mind, and said casually 'It was kind of you to offer to go with Anu.'
'He's a good kid. This thing with Slughorn makes me want to puke.'
Draco snorted, startled by his vulgarity, but not too. 'Me, too. He's absolutely creepy, even without...'
'I'll bet he is. You've spoken to him about it? Anu?'
Draco had. 'Twice. And Uncle Penko as well, just to be sure. He understands what he's up against. And the Skeeter woman will be here for some of it. She's not respectable, but she wouldn't let a child get hurt, I don't think.'
'Nor I. And she's a damned sight more respectable than half those people in the reception room.'
'She's Traver's mistress.'
'So?'
Draco blinked. It seemed obvious to him that nice women didn't do that. 'Sirius?'
'Kiddo, half of what caused this whole problem-and I don't mean you-is that kind of thinking. It's ridiculous to think that someone like that Skeeter woman is worse than someone like Alecto Carrow because Rita and Travers swive from time to time.'
'I didn't say worse.'
'No, you didn't. Which of them is a better person, from what you can see?'
'It's not that I think that Alecto's a good person, Sirius.'
'I know. It's just something to think about, is all.'
Draco wasn't exactly clear on where this had come from. 'I didn't mean to offend you.'
'You didn't, kid. It's just-this is fucked up.'
'This thing with Slughorn, you mean.'
'All of it. Our society set this situation up and now we get to clean the mess. I'll help you-all of you-to my dying breath, but I'm angry as hell any of us are in this position.'
Draco exhaled. 'So am I, sometimes.'
'I'll bet you are. Are you feeling all right otherwise? I know you weren't feeling well last month.'
'I talked to Father about it. He said it was normal to be upset sometimes.'
'It is, kiddo. Doesn't mean you have to suffer alone, does it?'
'Is there some manual a person gets at seventeen?' Draco frowned a little, prompting Sirius to snort appreciatively.
'I'd tell you but then I'd have to Obliviate you.'
Draco smiled but felt his mind drifting to more serious matters. 'When I was little, Father used to tell me stories about things. The first war. He always made it sound...fun. And clean. Like there were good people and bad people, and it was easy to tell them apart. I thought I was a bad son because my first battle didn't feel like that.'
'At Lestrange House?'
'No, the Ministry. The wolves were everywhere, and Viktor grabbed me and dragged me with him. I saw Aunt Zhivka and her head was stoved in on one side. There was a puddle of blood and brains on the floor.'
'I'm sorry, kiddo.'
'I hated it. Scabior had that fucking knife out and he was cutting their throats, and none of it felt good to me. I was a failure as a Death Eater, I thought, because I felt sorry for them.'
'It's all right, Draco.'
'No. Because now I don't. Something changed. When we planned to do that Blagoev, it didn't bother me, knowing what was going to happen.'
'Would it have been different if they'd executed him the normal way, do you think?'
'I suppose not. But it felt a kind of turning point to me.'
'How so?'
Draco spread his hands. 'Because that was something we did. We'd have asked Snape or one of the uncles before. We didn't, this time.'
Sirius had not sat in that meeting. He'd been checking Castle Krum and Castle Borev to be sure that there were no threats lingering. He said nothing, just looked at Draco with calm, unjudging eyes.
'Do you regret it?'
'Blagoev had to die, Sirius. There was no other way.'
'Do you regret it?'
Draco bit his lip a second. 'I'm not sorry he's dead. He almost killed all those kids, and Barty, and Madam Scabior. But I wish we hadn't had to do it. It wasn't like the fighting during the war. It felt...'
'Dirty?'
'Rather, but it was a relief, too. Once it was said.'
'Whose idea was it?'
'All of ours.'
Draco had decided he would never say. They'd all agreed to it, and when he died, when he stood before the his ancestors and recited his sins, he would take part of the blame for it, and if it condemned him to the Great Wastes for a few lifetimes, well, that was that. The time to protest would have been that night.
Sirius tipped his head a little. 'You swore an oath?'
'No. It would be unfair for me to tell tales out of school, is all.'
'All right. I'm not going to push you.'
'I know. I appreciate it.'
Sirius squeezed his shoulder. 'How are the others dealing with it?'
Draco swallowed. 'I worry about Hermione sometimes.'
'Why?'
'You saw her with Blagoev, Sirius.'
'I did.'
'It was like she had-'
'Done this before?'
Sirius had a knack for getting to the heart of things that Draco found comforting. He flashed on the meeting they'd had the night before the thing with Blagoev, all of them sitting about the table. The relief of it, when someone said it aloud, all of them nodding as the plan took form. They understood how it was now, the way their world was.
'Yes.'
Sirius nodded, eyes closed. 'When people say how like your parents you and she are, Draco, they don't necessarily mean physically.'
Draco's eyes widened a little. 'Oh.' He didn't know how he felt about that. He loved Father and Mother dearly, but he wasn't sure how he felt about his own resemblance to Father. Physically, of course, but he couldn't reconcile his own blood-soaked reputation with Father's kindness and affection toward him and everyone else that Draco knew of. Then again, they did call Father the Butcher of Britain.
'Sirius? Do you suppose those stories about my father are true?'
Sirius was quiet. 'Which ones, Draco?'
'Any of them.'
'That's a very complicated question.'
'I have time.'
Sirius pursed his lips briefly. 'This is what I know about it, kiddo...'
Rita Skeeter was almost ready. Almost. She was standing next to Tamm, waiting to change into her bug form. Tamm squared his shoulders and inhaled deeply. 'I'm ready, Madam Skeeter.'
She looked round and then bent her head down. 'May I give you some advice, Mr. Tamm?'
'Please do.'
'If anything should happen, remember to aim for the eyes and knees. Or the groin, if you can. The nose is vulnerable. Use the heel of your hand like this' she mimed a blow 'and then run.'
Tamm considered gravely. 'If I need to. Hopefully I won't. He wouldn't talk then, I think.'
He held out a finger, and Rita changed into her beetle form. He tucked her carefully into a pocket, and then, with Sirius Black as Salazar and a wolf to escort them, went into the lion's den to try and make sense of what had happened sixty years earlier.
