Malfoy Manor, July 28th 2013
It's her sixteenth birthday but she does not feel like celebrating. Not at all. There will be a small gathering at the Manor tonight, mostly friends from Hogwarts and their parents. She is not sure that Auror Potter is coming. She secretly hopes so, for it has been a week since she sent her little note and no answer has been delivered yet.
These past ten days have been tough on her. The prophecy runs and runs through her mind, and she takes to the skies at night, long after the manor is silent in slumber. She flies about, with no clear sense of where she's going, barely noticing what's below her broomstick. The prophecy mentioned something about falling, and, Merlin, she has felt nothing but the absence of ground beneath her feet. She finds herself daydreaming about Hogwarts, because there she has a secret room all of her own where she can wreak havoc and no one will be the wiser. There she has a ghost she can talk to and not worry about him dying. There, she has people to distract her, instead of having to distract her little cousin from his mother's illness.
But it is also where the Stone is, abandoned on the floor.
It's been ten days, and she still hasn't approached the box. It remains undisturbed, hidden from sight in her rooms. But not quiet. The thing hums now, as if calling her. It sings a low hum whenever she is near. It sings when she returns from flying, and she finds Uncle Lucius sitting quietly by her bed, making sure that she sleeps for at least some hours, casting silencing spells over her bed. Both not daring to cast spells on the strange cube.
But in her sleep live all of her terrors, vivid and haunting, clawing at her mind.
For ten days, her family has surrounded her with care, trying their best to soothe her even if she won't tell them what really happened between her and Euphemia. Three days ago, she tried talking them into taking her back to Rowle House. She failed. She is secretly glad that she did. Secretly glad not to face her would-have-been-tutor and her talk of a greater purpose and a better future. Secretly glad that she does not have to see for herself the rooms that were so clear in the witch's mind, the ones that await her still, fifteen years past the battle. Fifteen years past the chance of a different future, which she does not think better at all.
But there is a prophecy in the way of her happiness, like a sword looming over her, ready to plunge downwards and destroy her world.
For ten days, she has spent her time on a broomstick with Scorpius or in the library, buried in an ever growing pile of books and parchment, managing to lose a quill or two in the mess, determined to keep her mind busy with schoolwork. If she is writing about the uses of dragon scales and dragon blood, her mind won't drift to the prophecy once more. Though at the end, she always finds herself studying omens and prophecies, and ways to protect her mind even when she's inside another. In shielding her mind with great voids, and mazes, and vast seas that reflect nothing but the night sky above them, she finds the surest way to keep her mind clear from the prophecy.
But her mind is a stubborn thing these days.
Lost in it, feeling only the cold scales of her familiar winding about her arms and chest, she spends the early hours of the morning sitting by a tall window, a silhouette against the rising sun, recalling her dreams. Maybe there's an answer in there, amongst the mists that shroud them these days. Not much is clear anymore, except for the terrifyingly vivid dreams where her parents are back from the dead and her family is left bleeding on the floor. Even that one dream from so long ago where she fights herself is enveloped in clouds she cannot disperse. All she can remember is a head bowing in defeat, and the noise of a wand clattering on the floor.
Scorpius is the one to snap her to rights this morning, barging inside like only he will, running towards her, screaming "Happy Birthday" at the top of his lungs, utterly forgotten of his indoor voice and his indoor feet. He is nearly ten, and very vocal about no longer being a little boy, but certain things between them will never change. Guivre scurries off her quickly, disturbed by her cousin but knowing far better than to hiss in complaint.
"I have a gift for you," he tells her, with a smile so wide she wonders if his cheeks hurt, "I think you'll like it. I'm sure of it."
"Well, where is it?" She asks him, with a true smile to her lips.
"Downstairs, in the sunroom. I was told to come fetch you for breakfast," he replies, puffing up and standing straighter.
"Not in our pyjamas, surely…"
"No, that's Christmas, not birthdays, which makes us both late." He is already halfway across her bedroom by the time he finishes his sentence, fighting one of his slippers as he trips over her Kneazle.
Delphini moves to her bathroom to take a quick shower. She comes out wrapped in a pristine white towel, summoning clothes from drawers and closets while she releases her hair from the braid she sleeps in. Vicious is sitting atop her bed, curiously watching over her, while Guivre is back up on the chair by the window. Darkie has given up her quarters altogether, too old to be pestered by fangs and claws, preferring Uncle Lucius' study.
Avoiding black and green for now, she is clad in an ochre dress, free flowing around her long legs, a demure V-line opening up to her shoulders, displaying her delicate collarbones, frail and light looking, as those of a bird. She walks downstairs with no spring to her step. Instead, there's a solemnity to her movements, a certain majesty to her gestures. A habit she has fallen into naturally, a way to pace her body and slow down her mind in doing so. Something she has picked up from Aunt Narcissa, in an effort not to be so much like her Mother.
X
A stubborn knocking on the window interrupts their breakfast. Delphini puts down her toast, sucking the honey off her thumb, picks a strawberry from her bowl, and walks up to the heavy bird perched on the windowsill. She retrieves a package from its claws, offering the strawberry to the owl.
"Another gift then? You would think they could wait for tonight," her Uncle jests, "or is it from Teddy?"
"No, it's not from Teddy," she says, setting the parcel down on the table, by the side of the books and the beautifully ornate wand holster that she received from her family, "it's from Borgin and Burkes."
That drives all five sets of eyebrows up. Old habits die hard, and families of a certain status remain frequent clients of Borgin and Burkes, but no one uses their delivery services anymore.
"There's a note," she says, pulling a small piece of paper from the folds of the parcel, "they didn't dare not sending it, apparently. They were instructed to do so. It sounds a lot like they were compelled to."
Without thinking, her hands are already flying over the parcel, guided by her curiosity, tugging the yarn off and unwrapping the thick brown paper that protects it. There are a case and a letter inside. The case is made of red leather, polished to a jewel-like shine, and there's something about it that makes Delphini feel safe. She shouldn't, not around a leather case sent by a stranger, but her instincts tell her not to fear it, there's a comfort in the colour and her mind is too busy wondering about the origin of such a gift to make the connection.
She picks up the letter first, turning it over with her long fingers, trying to discern where it might come from. There is nothing written on the envelope. Wondering if Euphemia would do something so brazen, her thumb catches a corner and there's a brief but acute pain as she cuts her finger. The blood stains the corner, though only for a second, before it's absorbed. On the front of the envelope, there are now words that she has seen before. In an elegant hand and in a deeply black ink, that shines in the light with greenish undertones, like the feathers of the augurey.
"To my daughter and heiress, Delphini"
The writing on the envelope is all too familiar. Lord Voldemort's. She drops the letter and sets her hands on the table, too flustered to even consider sitting down. There are all sorts of wild scenarios running through her mind, each deadlier than the last.
Her Father's eyes. Those eyes were of that deep bright red that covers the case, and she found comfort in it. She still finds comfort in him, despite all that she stands to lose. She takes a moment to collect herself, pushing both case and letter away from her on the table, almost barking an order at Narkey to take it all to her rooms. Her family is stunned into silence.
"Little bird, do you want us to warn Auror Potter? He can come and check the case for you." Her Aunt is right beside her, with a caring hand on her back. They both know none of the Malfoys would dare approach the thing, nor would she let them.
"No, don't worry, it's fine. It feels familiar, like the door and the veil," and the box she thinks, but dares not say, "I'm sure there's nothing wrong with it. I just don't want to open it now, not yet."
Her Aunt nods in agreement, tucking a stray curl back behind her ear, caressing her cheek as she goes.
"Well, there's a party to prepare for. Would you like to make sure everything is to your liking outside?"
Delphini smiles openly, a rare thing these days. She adores Aunt Cissa's way of making things right effortlessly. She dares wish for some of that natural diplomacy herself, right before she remembers that she is not a prim and proper flower. She's an omen, a dark one.
X
Her family's last gift to her is a beautiful gown. It is deeply blue, shimmering in the light, like the high seas under starlight. It clings to her shape from her shoulders to her waist, far more form fitting than anything she has been allowed to use before. The skirt billows beautifully, waving with the slenderest of movements, dragging a short tail behind her, muffling the click of her heels. Sensible dancing shoes that shine black with her steps, playing hide and seek under the waves of blue, a small gem on the straps that hold them to her ankles.
Delphini stands before the mirror, making sure everything is as it should. She keeps turning to examine her back. Her hair is slightly up and pulled to the side, over her right shoulder, so that the intricate lacy design of the back of the gown is exposed. It also exposes the top of her back, to the lower end of her shoulder blades. There is no trace of the burns she saw in Euphemia's mind but for two slim parallel lines, very faint against her skin, midway between her shoulders and her spine. Aunt Narcissa helped her wash while her hands were healing and she never mentioned them, so maybe no one can see the faint little scars against her pale skin.
She decides to wear lace gloves to hide her hands, which have healed enough to forsake the dressings, but are still riddled with pale and pink and reddish lines. For safe measure, she uses her oldest gift to conceal them and watches as her magic works over the maimed skin, hiding all the slashes and crusts without actually healing any of them. She can use her magic to hide away her true skin, maybe she can use it to hide from her fate as well.
She cannot use her magic to push aside the sight of a letter and a red leather case, though, or that of a box hidden in blue velvet, but she can use her mind to build walls around them. Just for tonight, she will lock those thoughts away, behind mazes surrounded by vast seas of nothingness.
In the golden light of Malfoy Manor gardens, she celebrates another birthday, surrounded by friends and family, wondering if it will be the last. Teddy senses her unease, having a far better knowledge of her soul than either of them admits. He is the one to suggest some sort of shenanigan to brighten up her spirits. She laughs, telling him that they can't go fly about on furniture in her home, but Sigmund is quick to point out that they could fly about on brooms, and from that to an impromptu Quidditch match in the dark using the old brooms stacked away in a closet is but the time to spread the word.
By the time the match is over, her hairdo is starting to fall apart, with random curls dropping to her shoulders here and there, but she feels light. Light as she has not felt in a long while, laughing while she picks twigs out of Teddy's hair and listens to Freya complain about the snagged threads in her silken skirts.
Uncle Lucius toasts to her, with that proud smile so rarely seen. The small crowd raises their glasses and calls her name, and Delphini forgets to worry. She allows herself the liberty to live in the moment and throw her cares to the wind. With promises of good behaviour and plenty of impish winks, her friends are left behind, to depart later through the Floo Network, while the adults retreat. Her family goes inside, giving the youth the run of the gardens, and there's dancing, and laughing, and chasing peacocks for the sake of it. Someone says that they should watch the sunrise, because it's not a proper party if they don't stay up to ungodly hours, and they do. Sitting and sprawling on the lawn, bare feet on the grass, with glasses and tumblers of beverages that they are not quite allowed yet, they watch the sun rise over the horizon. Waking up those that have fallen asleep, they walk inside, failing miserably in their mission to be quiet about it, disappearing in the green flames, while Delphini makes sure that everyone pronounces their addresses correctly, lest they end up in a stranger's living room.
She carries her shoes with one hand, holding her skirt slightly up with the other, while she sprints upstairs, rushing to her rooms. She throws herself onto the bed, not caring one bit that she is still dressed, or that her shoes are on the covers, or that her wand has clearly rolled off the mattress, or that her hair is still riddled with pins. She hugs her pillow, lets Guivre slither around her body for warmth, and falls asleep to the whoosh of the veil closing over her.
X
She wakes up well past noon on the following day. The first thing she sees is the red leather case on her bedside table. She takes a second to ponder her decision, then kneels on the covers and reaches for it. The veil opens to make way and closes promptly once she pulls the case close. She summons her wand from the floor, and proceeds to inspect her birthday gift.
Her Father made sure that she would get this case for her sixteenth birthday, and he did not trust the Malfoys with it. There are too many questions running through her mind. Did he know, in those final days, that they would not raise her to his expectations? Did he know that Euphemia would never get her hands on his daughter? Did he think that his plans could go wrong? Why didn't he leave this in the Lestrange vault like he had left the necklace? Would Potter have kept this case from staying, but not the other? There is only one way to answer them, and she decides to face it, taking a large breath.
The lock is the same. Two snakes intertwined that move as she touches them with both thumbs. Again, the box is charmed to open with her touch, and the sort of magic involved makes her skin crawl. Magic is supposed to die with the wizard that casted it. How on earth all these things that surround her kept their jinxes and curses and charms when her parents have been dead for over fifteen years never ceases to amaze her. It never fails to also be one of her most daunting thoughts, because if their magic lingered in these small things, then there may be something much worse still waiting somewhere.
Inside the case lies a beautiful hair comb, with half a dozen long teeth. It is a delicate, intricate work of goblin spun silver and onyx and precious gems. From a distance, it will look like a perfectly innocent embellishment, one that looks to be made of flowing tiny ribbons somehow committed to sit still atop a neat bun or at the root of a wide braid, with gems wedged in between. Up close, so close that one would have to breathe on her neck to see it, there are some two dozen serpents, some sculpted in silver, others in onyx. Wedged in between them lie small emeralds, shining in a proud, deep green, like that of her eyes. The gems are not randomly placed though. Delphini would recognize their disposition anywhere.
The Pleaides. All nine stars. The seven sisters and their parents. For each an emerald, except for her namesake. Celaeno was not given an emerald but an eerily dark diamond, slightly larger than the other gems, that shines in a greenish hue when turned to the light. And it is not encased in serpents like the others; instead it sits at the union at two small wings of onyx.
The wings of the Augurey supporting the Dark One of the Pleiades.
The meaning behind it is clear. Her Father's expectations of her are too. Now that she knows Lord Voldemort to be her true sire, the significance of being named after the one of the seven sisters is not lost on her.
His mother was Merope, the lost Pleiad. His daughter is Celaeno, the dark Pleiad.
There is another part to this gift. One that she must open now. She summons the letter wandlessly, observing it fly under the veil and then to her outreached palm.
The writing is uneven. Sometimes the composed lettering of the envelope, others almost a frantic scribble. Lord Voldemort last words to her, or so she hopes, reveal something of his nature, show just how unhinged he had become in the days before the Battle.
'You were named after the keeper of the oracle and after the darkest of Pleiades… you have a purpose… you shall become a great witch, Delphini, and you will rule by my side, once you've fulfilled the prophecy… I will guide you down your path to greatness, for it leads to mine as well…'
She skims over the page, hoping against all hope that there's more to this letter than a strange manifesto of her Father's movement, more than an appeal to fulfil the prophecy and bring him back. He promises her greatness, time and time again, giving her instructions to the place 'where it all started', where his true plans for her lie.
Apparently, her Father was desperate enough to have a contingency plan of sorts. Whatever she needs to bring him back is under the floorboards of his mother's house. She thinks it an odd place to hide something so valuable, especially after one of his Horcruxes was stolen from it, but then Gaunt Shack is yet another connection between Merope and her, and the Heir of Slytherin must have an undoubtable connection to the Gaunt family.
She reads the letter again, taking her time now, letting her fingers caress the ink as she goes. Her heart comes to a halt at the very end.
'I do not know what you've come to know of me these past years, but know that my magic has taken things from me, though much less than what it has given me. Your Mother will surely train you to her best abilities, as I'll do once you're ready, but know this, my child: you were born a purpose, a means to an end, but you have proven to be far more than my augurey, far more than the dragon that keeps my future. You will be my best warrior, you will be my glory, you will be my right hand, but you are my daughter. I was robbed of many feelings, but you will always be cherished by me. Your Mother hinted at it, but you alone make me remember my humanity.'
There's no more after that, no signature, as if the Dark Lord could not force himself to sign the piece of paper where he had confessed to his greatest weakness. But the feeling is there, pressed into paper along with the ink.
And yes, the letter is filled with instructions to bring about a never ending rule of the Dark Lord Voldemort, but those last words reassure Delphini. There was more to her parents than what the wraiths showed her. There is more to her than a prophesised creature, just like Aunt Narcissa had said.
Guivre raises his head over her arm, asking questions about the letter, but is interrupted by a slight tap on the window. Delphini gets out of bed to open it and retrieve a note from an owl's foot. An answer to her request, and albeit it is not what she expected, it makes her breathing a little easier; it removes some of the weight of the world from her shoulders. She lets her mind wonder if maybe, just maybe, she will one day be allowed to have a completely honest conversation with her family. Maybe all she has to do is ask.
And maybe all she has to do to avoid her fate is keep away from Gaunt Shack.
X
N.12 Grimmauld Place, August 3rd 2013
"You could talk to me Delphini, you know that."
"But then you're not family, are you? What do I need your side of things for? It's all over the newspapers and in all the books, I don't need you! I need the other side. The things that happened in the Manor, the things only my family knows."
Harry sighs, letting his shoulders down, conceding this one. Delphini has been in his house for no more than ten minutes now. She spared two to greet his family and then focused all her attention on him. He is just starting to regret agreeing to hold this meeting, agreeing to act as a mediator of sorts.
"Well, Hermione must be nearly here. I guess we'll see."
He chooses to wait in silence, and she does not press him to conversation. She is a witch on a mission, and reaching her goal does not depend on him. Standing by the window with her hands clasped behind her back, she faces the small walled off garden where his children play, and he can't keep from feeling eerily disturbed at the sight, or from scratching his scar.
He forces himself to think of her as a sixteen-year-old witch, and a perfectly innocent one, despite her uncanny abilities. He forces himself to see past her blood, to see her, to see the beautiful creature clad in a dark green dress, wearing her hair loose down her back and falling over her shoulders, but keeping it off her face with a wide hair comb of intricate detail that he fails to recognize. He gulps, as he thinks that he would be hard pressed to find anyone so fitting of the Heir of Slytherin.
X
Delphini raises her green eyes from the windowsill to her reflection on the windowpane, then to the reflection of the witch that has just arrived, precisely on time. She turns to face her, hiding her hair comb from view. Potter may not have noticed the details, but Granger might. She has decided to use it as a challenge today, as a measure of the other witch's ability to observe.
She wonders about what it was, exactly, that her mother did to Granger. The witch before her is tense, never fails to be whenever they cross paths. As tense as the strings on a violin, and Delphini quickly decides to try and play her as such. She knows what the ghost of her Mother is still capable of, so why not? Hermione has a soft spot, the tender place in the dragon's belly, and she will use it. She will stab her with fear; hurt her with terror, make her feel exactly like she feels when talking to her family these days.
She purposefully throws her hair off her shoulders. Not the demure, collected gesture of every day. No, something much more careless, tousling her neat curls well off her back before they land again. The effect is immediate and evident. Hermione shivers before they even have the chance to exchange greetings.
Harry invites them both to take a seat, making sure to sit on the armchair between the two sofas, which face each other across the carpet. With the battle lines clearly drew and Harry playing referee, Delphini launches her attack before he can offer them tea.
"What exactly were your intentions towards my family the day you demanded an Unbreakable Vow from them?"
Hermione is clearly jarred by the question. This is an angle she did not anticipate. Delphini secretly rejoices. She cannot access their thoughts; both have raised tight barriers around their minds, both keenly aware of the extent of her powers.
"My intentions towards your family? None other than being sure that you wouldn't be raised with some skewed view of the world. In order to let them keep you," she replies, taking her time and measuring her words, "we couldn't let them raise you to be a Dark Lady of some kind."
The exchange grows tense from then on, moving towards muddy ground with every question and each reply. Delphini carries on; touching the bird skull at her neck with her long fingers, relishing in the control it provides her. Fixated on it, Hermione as failed to notice her hair piece, even as she walks back to stand at the window and is followed by her. They are going nowhere, it seems, but Delphini now knows exactly how to push her opponent over the edge.
X
"You didn't want my family to raise me to be a dark witch, they didn't. Mission accomplished. The Vow is no longer needed. Why can't you lift it?"
Delphini has taken to pacing the length of the room, just in front of the windows, looking like a caged feral creature, equally alluring in her movement and in the way the light catches her profile and then doesn't and then does once more as she passes the squares of light on the floor. Hermione has to shake her head to regain her focus and answer her.
"Delphini, I cannot remove the Unbreakable Vow. It is simply not possible. The Vow will die with those bound to it or take their lives should it be broken. There is no other way."
"I used to be able to talk about my Mother with my family but now I can't, can I? No, of course not, because you cursed them! I might be having a perfectly innocent conversation and say something that somehow refers to my Father and if they happen to answer me... well, that's one Malfoy down and wouldn't the Ministry love that?"
She is all scorn and anger now. Kept in the dark for too long, this star is just as willing to burn bright, fierce and fast as her Mother once was. She is out for a fight, quite simply. The steady crescendo of barriers has been piling up for too long and it will come crashing down if she is not stopped. Now.
"It was the right thing to do. It was our only plan. We couldn't risk-"
"The right thing to do? Because you couldn't risk it? How is it right to deprive me of my ancestry, of having a family I can talk to? Do you know what else was planned? Leaving your friend to be raised by a bunch of Muggles that did not care for him, because your side couldn't risk him being found by my Father's allies. Leaving me to be raised by a witch you wouldn't even think of, that happens to be bat crazy! Yes, that was planned for me. And my family stopped it! My family made sure I had a happy childhood and that I got to go to Hogwarts like everyone else! Instead of becoming a Dark Lady of some kind!"
Hermione is truly speechless now. She thought she knew what she was doing that day, but she was blindsided. Delphini is right here, standing across her, too restless to stop moving, revealing all sort of angles to this problem she never considered. But at the light of what she did know, she was right that day. It was the right thing to do, they couldn't risk it, they still can't.
"Dumbledore knew exactly what he was doing when he left Harry with the Dursleys, Delphini, and so-"
"Right, because it served him well, no doubt! Starved and mistreated for years."
"He defeated Lord Voldemort because of it, Delphini!"
"What if what you did that day keeps me from defeating him myself?"
She doesn't wait to hear her reply. Delphini spins on the balls of her feet and proceeds to storm outside. Harry has the presence of mind to chase after her, but all he gets is an angry retort about taking the Knight Bus home.
Hermione is left behind, silently trying to figure out the meaning of all this. Delphini fears that she may have to defeat Lord Voldemort, despite him being dead for over a decade. Hermione fears that the girl may turn out to be something far worse than a Horcrux. They most certainly cannot risk it.
X
Delphini walks down the street taking long strides, listening to her shoes tap an angry fast rhythm on the sidewalk. She has said too much. She has said far too much with a simple question and if anyone happens to be smart enough to figure out so much out of so little, it's Hermione. All she can do now is hope. Hope that the question reflects enough of her intentions. Hope that if Hermione does figure this one out, she will deem her worthy of a chance and not a menace to society.
She takes a hard left, turning into a small park amongst the identical looking houses, all spick and span, in their ordinary brick walls, and ordinary white frame windows, and typical bay windows that look out to small gardens in the back. Hidden from view, she delves into her left side pocket, feeling around for the button. She holds it tight in her palm and murmurs "Domus".
She is sucked into a new dimension where time is slow and place is non-existent, and she whirls in it for a moment, before finding herself just outside the gates of Malfoy Manor. Home. A house by no means ordinary, in its stately composure, in its lavish gardens, with the white peacocks walking around at leisure, slowly, as if showing off their feathers devoid of colour that shimmer in the shy sunlight of the day. She uses her hand to push the great dark door atop the steps, needing the comfort of touching.
Once inside, she takes a large breath, trying to force out all of the air from beyond these walls, soaking her lungs in the familiar scent of home. The minute traces of perfumes she has known for so long that she has no memory of when she first smelled them. Steading herself, she drops her light summer cloak on a low bench and walks briskly towards the stairs. There is one person she can talk to.
X
Malfoy Manor, August 5th 2013
Astoria wonders where she might find Draco at this time of the day, pondering which way to turn just outside their private quarters. The pitter-patter of Nala's nails on the wooden floor is her first clue, the happy waving of the little stump of a tail and the apple core emerging from its mouth tell her which way to go.
She finds her husband in the library, leaning on the high windows that face the lawn. He chuckles as a frustrated scream comes inside, carried by the summer breeze. Scorpius and Delphini must be outside then, messing around on broomsticks.
Moving silently, she stands behind him, examining his back and his arms and studying the best way to slide her arms around his chest without disturbing him. When she does, Draco takes a large breath in as Astoria cuddles against his shoulder, setting her hands to rest over his heart. He takes hold of one of her wrists and manoeuvres her hand to his lips, which leave the lightest of kisses on her palm. Then he sets her hand back where it was and it's her turn to take a lungful of air. She keeps trying not to think of how much longer she has to feel his heartbeat. She keeps failing, too. She has taken to sleeping on his chest and to falling asleep counting not sheep but her dragon's heartbeats. She holds on tighter for a second.
She knows he is smiling now, because she is up and about all on her own. He always has the dumbest, silliest smile on his lips when she manages to sneak up on him. Sneaking up means she can breathe properly and move freely. She never allows him to comment on it, though, because he hopes. He hopes far too much and she knows all too well what disappointment looks like in his ice blue eyes. She knows exactly which shade of blue shattered hope looks like in his gaze. And maybe, just maybe, she can keep him from being so very disappointed in the end if she keeps him from hoping. Maybe, just maybe, she can keep his hope from growing and keep her dragon whole enough so that he can help Scorpius after she is gone.
Her fate is set in stone. But she is not here for them today. She is here for her, for Delphini, whose fate is yet undetermined.
"She needs you, Draco. She needs your help," she says, very softly.
"What happened? She is fine."
"She is as fine as you used to be. You taught her that, too. How to stuff it all inside and put on a display for the benefit of others," she says, almost whispering into his shoulder blade, feeling his tension build there, "and she is better at it than you ever were. I know you can see her outside, making sure Scorpius is happy, but she is broken inside, has been for a while, and you have to go to her."
He extricates one of his arms from her embrace, moving it over her head so that he can bring her forward, so that he can face her. He holds her against him, close, so very close, but she doesn't feel it anymore, so she moves her hands from his back to the centre of his chest once more.
"What do you know that I don't"? He asks, kissing her forehead and then each of her cheeks.
"She went to Hermione. Hush now," she orders, placing a couple of fingers over his mouth, "let me speak. She tried talking to me, after the prophecy, but I don't have answers for her. You shielded me from what was happening here and I don't know any of the things she wants to know about her parents. So she tried reaching out for Hermione, but it didn't work."
"By that do you mean it didn't go her way, or that there's a mess of some sort to clean up?"
"Hush, Draco, let me finish! As if Delphie would leave a mess behind," she adds, rolling her eyes, "She tried to have the Vow removed. Hermione said it can't be, and she doesn't believe her, so she is in a dark, tough place right now. She has hundreds of questions and I don't have any answers. I know you can't give her the answers she wants, but you can talk to her. And you can tell me enough about her parents so that I can answer her sometimes."
Soothe her, she thinks, soothe her before she bursts in frustration, my dragon.
He smiles that proud smile he has picked up from his father, though he makes more use of it than Lucius, and then takes her face in his slender hands to tilt it up to him and dive in her warm brown eyes.
"I love you," he says, right before kissing her. It's not light, but it is tender, slow and purposeful, "and I don't know what I would do without you."
"You two are birds of a feather sometimes," she tells him, averting the sorrowful matter they do not dare mention, "now go to her. Send Scorpius to me, I'll keep him busy."
X
Delphini is joyfully teasing Scorpius by manipulating the Snitch in the air. Were she a normal witch and Draco would wonder how on earth she could have such perfect control of something deeply charmed to have a will of its own. But she is nothing if not extraordinary, so he simply takes comfort from the fact that at least she needs her wand to do it, which means she can't cheat at Quidditch. Yet.
"Scorpius, come down. Your Mother needs you inside."
"What for?"
"Don't question your Mother, boy. Go." It's an order, of that there is no doubt, but he takes the edge off with a wink and a caress over his silvery hair as his son approaches him.
"You just want to conspire over my birthday with Delphie!"
"Maybe we do," Delphini says, taking Draco's cue, "are you saying you don't want a birthday present?"
They both stand there, watching Scorpius run across the lawn, silently hoping for a world where he never becomes an orphan.
"You'd think a Slytherin would be better at lying," she jibes with a wry smile on her lips.
She looks happy, she does, but Draco can see the shadow in the green, how whatever sorrows that she carries now have darkened the emerald green, how the weight of what it is that she now knows about herself and her parents has dulled the spark in her eyes. He laughs, determined to start this on a light note.
"Here, I brought you something to eat," he says, tossing her an apple, "since I'll be keeping you here until dinner and we can't Conjure food."
"You are?" She is carefully avoiding his eyes, as if he were the skilled Legillimens out of the two. Instead, she studies the apple. It is the reddest apple Draco could find in the house, shiny in the summer sun, its colour made vibrant by the contrast against the pale skin of Delphini's hands. She turns it in her hands, looking for the best place to sink her teeth into. It's all very familiar somehow, and he realizes then that she has picked it up from him.
"I am keeping you until dinner because you need to talk to someone. You haven't really been yourself since you went to Euphemia's."
"I can't speak of it with you," she tells him, huffing and tugging her braid over her shoulder, "that's why I went to Toria."
He lets the silence be, cueing her with his eyes, while waiting for her to swallow another bite of the apple.
"And then I wrote to Mrs. Granger because I needed to see her about this nonsensical vow. But all she has to say is that there's nothing to be done. She figured out how to destroy Horcruxes, but this is beyond her reach apparently. So I can't talk to you, or anyone else for that matter, and I have a suspicious looking box to open, and somehow hope that I don't bring about the end of the world by doing it, because apparently that's the reason I was born!"
She takes a furious bite then, the crunch of the pulp giving way sounding loud, removing a veritable chunk of the yellowish flesh, and chewing as if the apple were at fault for it all.
Draco takes out his wand, Summoning a light blanket, which he spreads over the grass. He sits down, patting the space beside him. She crumbles in the most composed way he has ever seen anyone crumble, letting her legs give under her weight, a sort of falling that looks like dancing, her skirts billowing around her, scrunching up where they lie against him, a perfect façade worthy of being painted by the masters while hiding a deeply injured core. She holds herself straight and apart, but only for a second, quickly collapsing towards him, burrowing into his embrace.
"It will be alright, Delphie, it will," he consoles her while she silently sobs, careful to avoid calling her little bird or sweet star of darkness. He has seen her flinch, ever so slightly, when his parents use the customary endearments, and even if she does not voice it, there's hurt there. An unfathomable amount of it.
"You know, I used to think you would just blow the vow away with your magic someday, like you did with the spells we put on you to keep snakes away."
That brings her head up to look at him. She is curious now, and this is something he can tell her about.
"There was a spell to keep snakes away from me?"
"When you were very little. You were a precocious hisser, to put it mildly, and we couldn't risk your Parseltongue being exposed. But you somehow outgrew it, I'm not sure when. What I do know is that you went to France and came back with a strange pet."
She chuckles, turning her eyes to his.
"But if you knew I was a Parseltongue, what was the matter in the first place? It's not like there were plenty of social gatherings happening at the time."
"You'd say that, but then you've never seen a nine month old baby hiss at a very large snake and be utterly convinced that the thing was following your orders."
She laughs openly at that. This is dangerous ground that they're moving on, but he'll risk it if there's a way to make her better in it.
"It was mostly my fault, you see. When you were two, or something thereabout, I brought you a little pet snake as a gift. I was almost disinherited and disembowelled on the spot when Mother found us. So I worked with Granger on a spell that would keep snakes away from you."
Suddenly, Delphini sits a little straighter, all attention focused on something else than his words. When she speaks again, there's a taint of sadness to her voice.
"I must have rid myself of it the day I killed Wabby… I couldn't talk to snakes before that, and snakes wouldn't approach me like they did after."
"You didn't kill Wabby, Delphie, it was-"
"I didn't know what I was doing, but it was my magic and Wabby died. I did do it. I didn't mean it, but I did do it. But then the vow isn't a spell cast on me. I don't think it can be removed like that."
"Well, we could go look for a Muggle and wind you up…"
"Draco! That's wrong!" She is adamant but giggling.
"What? It used to be a thing, you know? Hunting Muggles for the fun of it. I'm pretty sure there's a trophy or two in the attic. I'm just making sure your moral compass is sound."
"It is; thank you for your concern. What's wrong with you?"
"Your Mother would have jumped at the chance to do it."
"I'm not my Mother!" She pushes her body off, away from him, on the verge of tears, clearly furious at the insinuation. This is where he needs her to be if he is to make her see.
"My point exactly. You're also not your-"
"STOP! Don't you dare! You can't." She is up and ready to leave, but he reaches for her hand before she can move further away.
"Delphini, we spent years doing this. You asked questions and we answered, and sometimes we meant Rodolphus and others we didn't. We kept it vague. No one died. No one will. You can talk to us."
"Stop, please."
And on that very second Draco hates himself for being the cause to her tears, for making her retreat from him, for making her plead for respite.
"Stop that, Draco, please," she begs of him, "I won't stand here and watch you do this. I won't trade any of you for them, so please stop." The half restrained sobs come forward then, sounding like a whimper at first, and they travel straight to Draco's heart.
He is up with both his arms around her in absolutely no time. She trembles, apparently pushed to the very brim of what she can take. One more push and he'll have the answer he needs. He has a certain suspicion about Unbreakable Vows.
"How did Rodolphus tell you, that day in Azkaban?"
She raises her head from under his chin and he realizes that it won't be long before she has to crouch to fit there.
"He didn't tell me," she says quickly, shaking her head, "I looked into his mind. He barely said anything."
"There you go then. He was under a similar vow and he is still alive. Look into my mind, look into everyone's."
"No, you're family! I could never do that."
"Delphini, you were spared a far worse fate. Had that Battle ended differently and we wouldn't be standing here, not like this. There wouldn't be a Malfoy left on earth. Your Father caused enough suffering and I won't have you put through this anymore."
She jolts back the moment he mentions Lord Voldemort. Her expression is one of pure terror, the quintessential fear, and she has a stream of tears running down her cheeks. She stands there, an arm's length away, staring, clearly expecting him to die on the spot in some form of unnameable torture.
But nothing happens.
"You-you… didn't. You can't," she mumbles, covering her mouth. And then she is completely lost to tears. Draco is fairly sure that she can't even see him. When she falls to her knees, he is right by her side. She is far too big now, but he finds a way to cradle her as he did when she was little, keeping his mouth next to her ear and one hand on her curls, steadying her head through the crying.
"The Vow forbade us from telling you, Delphini, and no one did. You found out on your own, you found a way around it, and no one died. You lifted the Vow with your magic. You can talk to us, little bird, you don't have to hide from us. Lord Voldemort couldn't kill us then, and he cannot kill us now. Nor can Granger."
She allows her crying all the leash that she has been holding. They will not speak another word until Narkey comes looking for them because it's time for dinner. Draco keeps her in his embrace all afternoon, like he held her that first night, way past the numbness in his legs, way past the sobs in her throat, way past her tears have dried.
X
Malfoy Manor, August 7th 2013
Delphini is happily mingling this afternoon, enjoying the sun on her skin, exposed by a daring open back summer dress, just this side of too formal. She wears her hair comb again. She has decided to own her ancestry. If she does, no one can use it to hurt her, or her family.
She is talking to Daphne, who these days answers by Mrs. Zabini and is very proud of the little one-year-old of dark skin in her arms, when she overhears a conversation between Uncle Lucius and a snobbish looking wizard, amidst a larger group. The matter at hand is the results each of their children obtained in their OWLs.
The wizard, the father of a Hufflepuff in her year, if she's not wrong, is bragging about his son's grades, looking incredibly conceited, and utterly convinced that is son is some sort of genius. Uncle Lucius turns to her, almost smiling, and asks how many Os she got in her OWLs with that deep velvety voice that oozes superiority.
"I got Os in all of my subjects, Uncle," she replies, looking straight into the wizard's eyes, "that's eleven subjects, to be clear, I took three electives." Her smug smile is only bested by her Uncle's. This is their turf, and they will not be outdone, outshined or outsmarted, in any way.
"Even at Muggle Studies?" Asks a clearly horrified elderly witch with skin that looks like parchment, standing on the other side of Uncle Lucius.
"Even at Muggle Studies. You don't have to write them an ode," she elaborates with her best smile carefully poised on her lips, "just that they have found interesting ways to make up for their lack of magical ability, without pointing out that particular flaw."
With a final smug smirk from Uncle Lucius, the bragging about the grades of sons and daughters comes to an end, and the conversation quickly finds another theme. Delphini turns to Daphne once more, who chuckles. High society is always fun when someone is being taught a lesson with class, and Daphne is quite skilled at it. Delphini carries on talking, noticing how very alike the two sisters look, even if Astoria is all softness where Daphne provides only sharp edges.
After all the singing is done, and the presents opened, and the children are starting to give into the torpor that follows any decent playdate, the conversation slowly starts to die down. What refuses to follow suit are the rumours about Astoria and Scorpius. The rumours about how she ruined her health by traveling back in time to conceive a child with the Dark Lord. The rumours about how the Malfoys came to hold the trump card and keep close to power once more. They're not mentioned, not even in the forgotten corners were old witches seem naturally inclined to congregate and gossip about anyone and anything. They're not even whispered, but they are alive in their minds. Despite the fact that Scorpius is the spitting image of Draco. Despite the fact that Astoria is up and about, carrying her nephew and doting over him, looking happy and laughing without coughing once, not at all burdened by her supposedly ruined health, the rumours live on. Delphini can hear it all.
And not all of them think of the rumours as horrifying. Most people seem to consider Scorpius some sort of freak, but think of him as innocent, a victim of his family's ambition, but some think of him as a light to congregate to in the future. When he is older, they think, and more powerful, they will unite around him, like they did before, and have the rightful order of the world re-established, with Muggle-borns, Mudbloods they call them, in their place, at the bottom, and not heading Ministry Departments. Delphini is horrified as she investigates further into everyone's mind, finding that although the façade has changed, these people have not. Their prejudice has not died, and this elaborate theory that surrounds Astoria and Scorpius may turn out to be far more dangerous than she ever imagined.
X
Diagon Alley, August 16th 2013
"Teddy! Over here!"
Delphini's clear voice catches her cousin's attention despite the raucous crowd in the bookshop.
She is her usual effortlessly poised self, leaning on a bookshelf with an arm full of books, perfectly wild yet tamed curls spilling over her embroidered short-sleeved white shirt, tucked at the waist under a silk sash from which her maroon skirt flows down.
He is his usual just-on-this-side-of-messy self, wearing jeans and a loose t-shirt, not a care in the world about the fact that his socks do not match.
"Hi! Shopping for supplies for next year?" He reaches her mid-question, negotiating a path through over excited eleven-year-olds gathered round first year course books.
"Pretty much," she replies, with the coy smile of someone about to buy at least three more books than those necessary, "and you?"
"Same. But I came with the Potters," he answers, "James is going to Hogwarts this year, too." He winks, running his fingers through his shock-of-a-blue hair in a manner she has seen Auror Potter do many times over.
She smiles openly, acknowledging without words that he is without his Grandmother. It means they can spend time together, without worries. The fact that she'll have to put with obnoxious mini-Potter for an entire school year is already forgotten.
Harry comes round a bookshelf, laughing at something a little ginger girl is telling him. Their eyes meet, under the stares of pretty much every soul in the shop. They nod at each other, a simple yet meaningful greeting.
Delphini and Teddy end up finishing their shopping minus the Potters. They replenish their potions stocks, then get fitted for new robes while discussing the Quidditch gear they both need from Brooms and Bristles. Instead of ice cream at Florean's though, Teddy challenges her to a walk the park nearby.
They end up sitting down on the grass, talking the hours away, staring right back at wizards and witches passing by when their eyes linger for a tad too long. A nice stack of packages wrapped in brown paper by Teddy's side, because he forgot to bring his expanded rug sack. No parcel at all by Delphini's side, because what didn't fit into her handbag is being sent straight to Malfoy Manor.
"Teddy, don't you ever wish your parents were still alive?"
"Sometimes, I do. It was worse when I was little. I mean, I have my Grandma, and Harry and the others... I have you," and at that he smiles in earnest, "but, yes. I guess I do."
"How do you cope? With the wishing, you know, what do you do when it gets overwhelming?"
"I go to them. I talk to them for a little while and things get better."
"What!? How do you... Teddy, how do you talk to them? Can you see them?"
"See them? What are you talking about? I visit their graves, Delphie, how else am I supposed to talk to them? It's not like I can Floo them across the Veil!" He guffaws, but stops the second she frowns. Her perfectly arched eyebrows close in around her eyes and his rise on his forehead.
"You don't do that? Don't you visit your Mother's grave? I know you went to Azkaban once, you told me... Delphini, you've managed to get inside Azkaban as a visitor, are you telling me that visiting your Mother's grave never occurred to you? Is it the Malfoys? Because if they won't take you, I'll get my godfather to take us both!"
"No, Teddy, it's not my family. They never kept me from going to her. It's just... it never came up."
"Never came up? That's not normal."
"Because you and I are the epitome of normalcy... We talk about my Mother all the time, she feels close to me in that way. But no, I don't know where they buried her."
She quickly changes the topic, then, but her mind dwells on the matter still. Teddy seems to forget about it quite easily, especially once he looks at his watch and practically jumps three feet in the air. He is late, and she waves him off at the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron.
X
Tonks House, August 16th 2013
Teddy comes home just in time for dinner. Andromeda is cooking and the smell of roasted potatoes fills the house. He shakes the cinder off his blue hair as he walks into the kitchen, a huge smile plastered on his face.
Andromeda loves seeing him like this. Happy, with a silly grin and a spring to his step.
"Sorry, Grandma, I forgot to watch the time."
He always does. He leaves for lunch at the Potters and ends up at the Burrow with the Weasleys, having to do everything but pry Molly's hands off him so that he can come home for dinner with her. He always has dinner with her. Sometimes, she knows, he spends time with Delphini. He is much more familiar with the inside of Malfoy Manor than he lets on, but that is something he does not share with her. He knows it is hurtful for her, so he doesn't bring it up.
But sometimes he forgets. Sometimes, he is so happy he can't help but share why.
"I spent the afternoon with Delphie. She was out shopping as well and I stumbled upon her at the bookshop. James was too excited to be around, anyway, so we just did our shopping together, instead."
Teddy doesn't even notice the words coming out of his mouth. Not until he hears the sound of dishes crashing on the floor. The plates Andromeda was levitating just a second ago are allowed down long before they could reach the table. And that never, ever, happens.
"Sorry, Gran," he is livid, "I didn't mean to upset you." Teddy looks to her, utterly lost.
Andromeda never lets herself falter like this, not when he can see her. She keeps it together, no matter what, whenever Teddy is around. She saves her tears and her sobs for the long nights when he is away at Hogwarts.
She can't cry in the summers, so she has been using her nights for planning, to no avail. She manages to force her tears down on most nights. And when she doesn't, she can almost feel them boil and simmer on her cheeks with the heat of her anger. She has been all rage and wrath ever since that day on the platform, but she has been strict about keeping it to herself.
This is her way in. This is her path to revenge, now made clear before her. She will use Teddy's tie to Delphini to pull her closer, just this once. Just close enough to strike, just close enough to slay the green eyed creature that haunts her nights. Just this once, her tie to Teddy will not make her bleed at the mention of the girl. No, her tie to Teddy will be secure, for she will cut the girl away.
It won't be fair on Teddy, but then life never is. It won't be right to use him to get to her, but it is better for him. Not fair, but for the greater good.
X
Malfoy Manor, August 20th 2013
Narcissa holds a letter from her sister in her hands. Not her dead sister. Her mind would be somewhat more amenable to that concept though, of a letter from beyond the Veil. No. Narcissa holds a letter from the sister she was made to treat and think of as dead for the past forty years.
Her lungs seem to have just as hard of a task coping. Struggling and pulling at the inside of her ribs as Narcissa moves through the house, from the sitting room to the sunroom downstairs. Her heart sounds like a galloping horse in her ears, feels like a war drum in her chest.
Making sure that she is alone, she takes a seat on her favourite upholstered wooden bench. All warm wood and burgundy softness, looking out to the gardens beyond the French doors and the wide glass-panelled windows. This was the place where she liked to talk to Bella, before Azkaban, when she arrived with her blood up and her heart racing, exuding magic. The sunroom seemed to settle her, as much as settling Bellatrix was possible. Maybe it will settle her this time, she thinks as she stares at the letter on her lap.
With the crack of the wax and the first few lines, all hope is gone. There will be no settling after this.
Safety is not real. It is an illusion people allow themselves in order to survive, in order to live and not crumble to the fear of what the future might yet bring. A dainty illusion that her sister's handwriting has just shattered.
Andromeda has written to her, for the first time since 1972. And she writes of how much she would like to entertain Delphini for dinner at her house. For no good reason, out of the blue and making absolutely no sense whatsoever. They had plenty of occasions to meet and introduce their children properly, but Andromeda always steered clear of them.
They are Blacks, as much as they've changed their last names. They are Blacks, as much as Andromeda would wish to deny it.
They are Blacks, and dinner invitations are never just that.
Author's Notes: So this one is reaaaally long, because I wanted it to end right there. Also, apologies to the people I pm'ed promising a chapter in five days. I got slightly off course with forum works plus I completely forgot about my grandmother's birthday this past weekend, so yes, I'm a terrible person in both fronts.
A quick statement on my beliefs about Lord Voldemort's ability to love: I don't think he could feel the fluffy, joyful ideal of love, but I do think him capable of a dark and twisted form of it, hence why I ship Bellamort. Do I think he would have been a tender and caring father? Not really, but more on that in what lies ahead for this fic.
That said, and don't take me wrong, I can see how many people have been reading this fic, and I'm not getting as many reviews as I'd like to, so if you are reading, just let me know what you think. You don't have to write me an essay, or a comprehensive review of the chapter, just a quick "I like this" or "I think you could do better in this" or "I'd like more of this" or some other little something like that. Your reviews make my day, and fuel my writing.
My plea for help with ideas still stands. Beware of spoilers from here on: I've got some great input by a couple of you (due credit to all will be on the chapters' notes), but the Triwizard Tournament does have three tasks, and conundrums and stuff, and brainstorming with my readers is always fun and really helpful. I'm looking for crowd pleasing tasks, if that helps. Just pm me, or drop me your suggestions on the comments. It will be during Delphini's sixth year, so she won't be of age yet, but she will be deeply involved in it, and it leads to a lot of important things in this fic. Basically, I've got stuff planned around the tasks, in between the tasks, but not the actual tasks… genius way of getting writer's block, I know.