I said in on the chair before the desk and with my eyes closed, I enjoyed every moment of running through my long honey-coloured hair with a thick boar bristle brush. Hand up, brush to the end. Hand up, brush to the end. It was so liberating. I tried to take as many sensations in as I could: the soft tugging at my scalp as I brushed my hair, the November sun on my face, the soft and sturdy feel of the chair under me.
It was all real. None of this was a dream.
Because that's exactly what I first thought of when I woke up in the exact room where they had shoved me the day before to get ready for the party. I thought it was all just a dream. I thought my senses have already succumbed to the lack of stimulus and discomfort my body was in every day, I thought that my old musty cot and that wet rabbithole of a cell finally won over me.
So I pinched the skin at the ridge of my hand. I pinched as hard as I could. The pain remained, but the dream didn't vanish. Gingerly, I extended my arm above my head to touch the wooden headboard of the bed.
It was real.
Everything was real.
Slowly, and very, very carefully, so that I might not disturb the All Powerful Gods that have granted me such joy and privilege, I sat up on the bed and slid my legs to the left. Feeling curious now, I looked around me.
The room was exactly as it was a day ago when Narcissa shoved me in, and when Severus and I chatted about my father. I still haven't told him the full story. But this could wait.
I was suddenly eager to explore the contents of all the nooks and crannies of my new room. A room which, as I remembered, I have haggled off the Dark Lord. I smiled.
Peeping into the wardrobe, I found a couple of plain long dresses, similar to the one I threw at Narcissa the day before, calling it outrageous. Secretly, I was grateful for them. There were some undergarments, too, and I prayed it wasn't him who chose them for me. But no, he was too powerful for that. Too important. But that was that. No jewellry, no shoes, except for the pair I had worn the day before. They clearly didn't expect me to go out then.
The drawers of the table hid a few sheets of parchment, an inkpot with a simple bird feather, but that was that, too. It was clear that the room had been previously emptied out for me.
I frowned. Why didn't he want me to have any books? He had to be aware of the education I had received at home. So the old "let's not put any funny ideas in her head" of the previous century surely didn't apply. Were books the next item to mooch from him, to bargain over? It was certainly possible. In that case, I was determined to get as many as I could for myself.
And the luxurious bathroom was still there. With some basic toiletries added, again, nothing too fancy. But in my current condition, he knew I would kill for a mere bar of soap. I hastily dressed myself afterwards, so that whenever someone would come to drag me into the cell again, I would at least wear something decently nice.
There was a knock on the door. My hand holding the boar brush stopped middair. I got up carefully and opened the door.
"Lady Elsemere." Draco was nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another and held out a bouquet of pale pink roses. "I have come to… to thank you for the dance."
I took the flowers from him, sizing up his frame carefully. Of course. Pink roses. The typical flowers chosen to express gratitude and admiration. There was simply no way the boy could have known that on his own.
"Tell your mother I said thank you." I said icily. His cheeks went pink.
"How'd you know–"
"Draco, please." I waved my hand and beckoned at him to sit in the chair. "The last time I checked, sixteen year-old boys weren't experts on flower-language."
"Seventeen." He said, his cheeks flushed.
"Whatever." I waved my hand dismissively and seated myself on my bed.
As I folded my hands in my lap, my legs neatly arranged one on top of the other at their ankles, I said: "You seem as if something was troubling you."
"My mother wants me to have 'lessons' with you." He frowned.
I sat up, my back rigid: "What kind of lessons?"
"Etiquette lessons." He sneered, and as I watched his face screw up in a grimace of repulsion, I said plainly: "I can see you're not fond of the idea. Why not tell your mother you don't want to have them?"
"You don't understand." He growled. "That isn't an option."
"You're wrong." I said quietly. "I do understand. More than you think."
He looked up at me questioningly.
"Do you think I was born with this?" I swept my arm around myself. "Do you think I'm some kind of social super-goddess by nature? I was once where you are now, Draco. My mother was set on teaching me, and saying no wasn't an option."
"So you learned it." He said dryly. "So?"
"Sometimes we assume parents have an absolute authority over us. That we are their possession, somehow, and must always act the way they want us to. But there's always leeway, Draco. For me, the leeway was the fact that it was to be my father who would actually be teaching me. I can tell you that apart from learning about dessert forks and formal greetings, I learned much, much more. So the boring stuff blended into the mix somehow." I grinned at him, and his eyes lit up.
"Do you have any news about Potter?" He asked suddenly.
"Potter?" My brow furrowed in confusion. "Why me, out of all people?"
"I just thought–" Draco shrugged his shoulders. "I just thought that you being friends with Snape and also being his wife–"
"Almost wife–" I growled.
"Whatever – I thought you would have known something. Anything." He said helplessly.
And then it dawned on me. Why he was willing to come when his mother sent him with those stupid flowers. Why he stayed in this room when I motioned for him to.
"Draco…" My breath hitched. Very, very gently, I placed my hand at his forearm. He didn't shake it off.
"Don't look at me as though I was dying." He spat at me. "I can't help the way I feel, okay?! And I figured… since Severus tells you his secrets, I might as well do, too. It's just as he said, it's not like you're gonna tell anyone."
He must have seen us at the party. Maybe even in my cell. I made a mental note to tell Severus the young boy had been eavesdropping.
"Nobody's gonna believe you." He said, his voice more pained now, and I was sure he was trying to convince himself of it, too.
"You're nothing." He whispered, his voice broken, his face contorted into a pained expression. And I wasn't sure whether he was talking about me, or about himself. Both options seemed equally plausible.
"Am I really?" I said gently, and lifted his chin up to look into my eyes. I flicked my left hand, as if I were throwing away a silk handkerchief, and there appeared a picture of a vase with sunflowers above my headboard. Draco's eyes widened in shock. I stood up, and flicked my right hand, as if I were shooing a stupid fly, and the covers of the bed changed from green to dark red.
"Am I really?" I repeated with a more daring tone, flicking my hand again, and the furniture suddenly changed, from simple wood to elaborate gilded Art Nouveau style. Oblivious to what his body was doing, Draco scooted away from me. Clapping my hands together, a wild flame erupted out of the fireplace.
"You can do magic." He whispered. "You could do it all this time–"
Spreading my hands wide in the final gesture, all the embellishments disappeared.
"Yes, I can." I turned back at him, and gave him a warm smile, hanging my arms limply by my body – I wanted to make him feel safe.
"And Snape knew." It wasn't even a question.
"Yes."
"Why didn't he say anything?"
"You mean, why he didn't snitch on me? We are people with principles, Draco. I haven't done anything with it to anyone, have I?"
"Why stay here?" He motioned with his hand, gobsmacked. "Why not escape?"
"What good would do it to me?" I asked him. "I would be captured, tortured way more than I already was (Draco flinched) and treated far worse. Why spoil the luck? Besides," I added softly, "both my parents are dead. I have nothing to go back to."
This striked a nerve inside him.
"I want to do magic the same way as you. Without a wand."
"I was trained in this since I was four, Draco."
"I still want to learn."
"I didn't say no." I gave him a smile. "But don't hold your hopes too high."
"How can you be sure…" It was clear he wanted to get this question out. "How can you be sure I won't misuse it? That I won't use it for bad things? To harm people?"
"I cannot." I said. "Only you can answer that honestly, Draco."
But I already knew one thing: When Albus died, my father was the only outsider to speak to his portrait at Hogwarts. What they spoke about he never told me, because he never had the chance to, but one thing was clear: Although the young Malfoy boy had first captured and disarmed the old Headmaster, he never had it in him to actually kill him.
"But I must teach you at least some Occlumency with that." I said, my face getting more stern. "No one – and I mean, no one – can know what we will be doing at these – what were they called? Etiquette lessons."
"My mother has already been giving me Occlumency lessons." He admitted, his ears red.
"Well, keep doing that. You'll need them."
"May tell her that you'll be teaching me?"
"As far as your mother, and everyone else, is concerned, I'll teach you only about good manners, Draco." My face got stern again. "Is that understood?"
"Yes Ma'am."
"And bring me some books from the library next time you come." I hissed.
"Why don't you fetch them yourself?" He asked, more curious than offended at me making him my porter.
"Because, contrary to what your Dark Lord promised me last night, the door is still warded." I hissed, anger stirring in my light blue eyes. "And I despise men who go back on their word."
"Tell me when you get any word about Potter."
"And you about Severus."
At that moment, we felt like companions in love. But I was sure that my feelings toward the Potions Master were nothing but friendly comraderie. It felt good to be around him, he kind of reminded me of my father. He intrigued me, and I wanted to know more about him. I made a mental note to ask Draco next time he would come.
-oOo-
Another knock on the door.
Well, it couldn't be Draco now. Who else? Narcissa? My hand froze in midair. Has the boy blabbed? Shite.
"I'm here with the potions that you asked me to brew." Said Severus pointedly and held up two slim vials. I was sure there was someone at the hallway. I motioned for him to come inside.
"Fake potions, of course?" I asked pointedly.
"Real potions, just regular ones." He gave me a rare smile. "I can't thank you enough, Helena."
"Don't mention it." I said and patted the mattress beside myself. "Have a seat. Oh, by the way, little Draco has been eavesdropping on us." Severus frowned at me. I quickly added: "Don't worry, I think he only heard you calling me unimportant, not your bitching about that snake."
Severus exhaled slowly: "That's only for the best. He would go running straight to his daddy, that little snitch."
"Don't you think you should give him more credit than that?" I asked, my eyebrow arched up. "What if he's been harbouring a grave secret all the time until now?"
"Yes, and I am the Queen of England." Severus sneered.
I paused. Should I tell him about Draco's secret? After all, it wasn't mine to say, so I settled for a compromise. "He's been secretly in love with someone whom he's not supposed to be in love with."
And then, for a fraction of a second, I thought I saw a different expression on his face. A second's glimpse of an alarmed man. Someone, who, I too realised, had perhaps a similar secret to hid.
But it wasn't my place to pry. So I settled more comfortably on my side of the bed and said: "His mother wants me to teach him good manners."
Severus snorted: "And he's all thrilled about it, I imagine."
"He actually is," I gave a soft smile, "especially since he's discovered I can use magic without a wand."
His expression abruptly changed from slightly amused to gravely pale: "This will cost you your neck, Helena."
"I don't care." I snapped at him. "I'm already done for. Let the boy have a chance to survive, will you, Severus?"
"What surprises me all the time," there was the sensuous purr of his voice again, "why such an exquisite woman as yourself can say such vile things? How can you give up so easily? Don't you have a bit of self respect?"
"Maybe I don't." I murmured and curled up, my arms hugging my chest. "I don't see the point of doing anything anymore, except teach Draco. That's my chance to pass some of my father's legacy on."
His left arm softly found its way around my back: "Don't say things like that."
"It's true. I've got nothing left." I said. "My parents are dead–"
"–lot's of other people's parents are–"
"I've signed off the house and all my money–"
"What?!" The arm disappeared. "Please tell me you're joking."
"I haven't told you yet?" I said, surprised. "That was another part of my father's plan. Right before you got me, I signed the document with my very own hand."
His voice was cold: "So another thing you did to piss us off."
"More or less."
"Have you any idea of what you did?!" His voice was shaking, he was livid. I looked into his face: his mouth was but a mere slit, so hard were his lips pressed together, and his dark eyes had their piercing stare again. A gaze that would send the weaker individuals packing.
"As soon as he finds out about this, you are dead." The last word was uttered with so much spite. "This could have been the last thing making you valuable to him, keeping you alive–"
"I didn't want him to stain my family's heirloom with his abhorrent deeds." I said, holding my chin high.
He stared at me as if he saw me for the first time: "You don't get it, do you?! This isn't a polo party, Helena. This isn't a game. Right now, you are this close to being killed. He mustn't find out about this. Perhaps you could take your signature back. Who did you sign it off to?"
"Does the name 'Remus Lupin' ring a bell?"
-oOo-
"It was your idea, wasn't it." It wasn't even a question. Severus Snape barged into the Headmaster's office, his face pale, his stride fierce – he felt so, so angry. So angry with the old man whose painting now hung above the ornate chair.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Severus, but it probably was." Said Dumbledore, amused. "Pray, tell me, which idea in particular do you have in mind?"
"You told Eogwyn Elsemere to instruct his daughter to sign off her wealth–"
"Lord Elsemere, Severus." Dumbledore reprimanded him gently.
"I don't bloody care. You told Elsemere to tell Helena to get rid of everything she had in a fleeting hope to– do what exactly?"
"Eogwyn wanted to do everything he could to put Lord Voldemort off any intentions to marry her."
"So making her a disposable piece of furniture seemed like a good idea?! Do you know what he's going to do when he finds out? He'll kill her, Albus! He's been slipping for some months. Two years ago, he might have let her go, because he wouldn't see her as useful anymore, but now…" Snape rubbed at the root of his nose, exasperated.
"Bad news indeed." Albus nodded solemnly. "She mustn't die, Severus. That is vital."
"Why, do you have some secret piece of information that I don't know and that you haven't told me yet?" This was intended to be a mockery. Much bigger was Snape's horror when the old Headmaster nodded.
"There's… another part of the prophecy. A part I haven't told you yet."
"Oh, go to hell." Snape breathed out and reached into a side cabinet for his favourite bottle.
"Do you want to hear it or not?"
"Out with it, I have been sleeping too soundly these past years." Snape grimaced in disgust, but Albus wouldn't be discouraged.
"…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies… And in his darkest hour, aid will come to him from a Queen and a Foe… the Dark Lord's final breath will be sealed by the hands of Gryffindor's heir." Albus said.
"Well, then all is clear, isn't it?" Snape mocked him. "The Foe is clearly me – the Gryffindor heir is Potter – but who's the Queen? Surely it's not the Muggle Queen of England?"
Albus chuckled: "An interesting idea, wouldn't you say? But no, I am actually quite certain that the Queen is Helena. Figuratively, of course. But she's the closest thing our world has to a queen, wouldn't you say?"
"So, she cannot die?"
"No, and she must be successfully married off to Voldemort to fulfill the prophecy."
"Why?"
"Because she's only a princess now. She must become the queen – the married matriarch. You must play the devil's advocate, Severus. You must convince Tom that moving into Alladale must be postponed after his grand victory over Harry – which he will undoubtedly believe will happen."
"Moving where?"
"Alladale, the Elsemere's estate."
A new flame of anger was sparked within him: "Why Lupin, Dumbledore?! Out of all people, why him?!"
"You won't let that petty grudge go, will you?" Albus sighed, but nevertheless, he answered: "Because Remus was the only one willing to take on that much responsibility. You see, if it ever got discovered that he had the legal ownership over Alladale, Voldemort would leave no stone unturned to find him, and also, find any means to wrench it out of Remus' hands. Agreeing to such a thing makes you a huge target. We are lucky Remus agreed to do us the favour."
"Well, it's hard to say no to free money and property, isn't it, Dumbledore, especially when you're poor–"
Dumbledore stopped his outburst with his raised hand: "Eogwyn made it clear that the transfer was to be only temporary. Whenever Helena asks for it, it will be fully returned to her. But she must ask Remus personally, and the request must be made entirely out of her free will."
"Well, Elsemere clearly didn't leave anything to chance, did he?" Severus said wryly.
"I don't know about whether he did or not, Severus, but Remus was also the only person we were certain would give all the wealth back to Helena should she ever ask for it – Eogwyn and I were both certain she will leave Remus with a big tip when all the business is over. And, coincidentally, so it happened that he was also a part of the Order, so, the plan had full confidentiality."
"Show me one person on our side in whose life you didn't meddle, Albus." It was a low, snarky growl. "Can you, by any chance, enlighten me about how can I possibly keep Helena alive? As far as I know, the Dark Lord will soon request for the ceremony to be done, a part of which is a full statement of the other person's property and possessions. When her page shows blank, what do you suggest I do, Albus?!"
"You can easily forge the document, Severus. No one, apart from us, knows that Alladale and the Elsemere's bank account isn't theirs anymore. You'll produce a new parchment which will state all the things as they were before."
"And what happens if he tries to access the site and will be denied entry by the magical wards of the property?"
"He won't move his seat there, Severus. Not in the middle of taking over the Ministry, the school, and not before winning over Harry. Our minds can be at rest for some time – Voldemort only needs to know it's his, not actually physically access it – not yet."
"I'm growing tired of this scheming, Albus." Came another low growl from the ornate chair behind the Headmaster's table.
-oOo-
"Here for another Occlumency lesson, are we?" I smiled at Draco who had knocked on my door a few seconds ago and was now standing in the doorway, the brassy knob in his hand.
"No, he wants to see you. I'm to fetch you."
"Is it good or bad?" My smile froze on my lips, and I put down the book I was reading.
"Hard to say." He shrugged his shoulders and held the door open for me.
"True." I nodded. "Any word about Severus? He hasn't showed up for several weeks now."
"Nothing at all." Draco said. "You?"
I knew he meant Potter. But how could I know anything at all? I shook my head.
"My darling Helena." A cold greeting got all the hairs on my arms and legs standing. I remembered my end of the bargain.
"Lord." I said, and made a deep curtsy.
"I'm getting tired of you just idly sitting there, being of no use to me." Voldemort said lazily.
"I could go scrub some floors if it made you feel better." I shrugged my shoulders and watched him through my lashes. Voldemort gave a wide amused grin. Standing next to the dais as always, Bellatrix scowled at me.
"Ah, the joys of domestic life." Voldemort breathed out. "We will find a good use for you soon enough, my darling. In fact, I intend to Bond you to me tomorrow. So get yourself pampered for me."
My stomach began to turn.
"B-But we can't possibly do the ceremony tomorrow!" I exclaimed, alarmed. "You can't get the Magistrate on such short notice!"
Gosh, I sound like my mother.
"What Magistrate?" Voldemort clicked his fingers, annoyed. A few Death Eaters hurriedly exited the room, like the rats fleeing from a sinking ship.
"You need an appointed Magistrate to perform the Bonding. No one else has the power to do it. Unless you want a conventional marriage instead? That can be performed right now, if you wish." I smiled slyly. I knew he bloody well didn't.
"No!" He hissed. The few remaining rats scurried away. "I intend to Bond you to me so that no other magical force can take you away, so Bonding it shall be."
"You know that I must agree of my own free will." I said, emphasizing that last words.
"I don't care if you agree because you want to or not." He barked at me and considered the conversation over. I sighed, exasperated.
"The Book of Bindings will not accept the union if I don't." I explained as patiently as I could. This man was really getting on my nerves. Hello? Learn the bloody rules before you take over the world, anyone?
"I am prepared to bargain." He said, grinning at me.
"Will you unward the door for me?" I suggested.
"On what account?"
"I didn't have to tell you about the Magistrate, or about the Book of Bindings at all." I drawled slyly. "How silly of me to have done that, actually."
One annoyed click of his fingers was all I needed and one annoyed click of his fingers was what I got.