As any of us, I have not constructed any of J.K. Rowling's characters, only interpreted them.

Chapter Two

"When the Tournament requires wit let me know," Severus quipped before wandlessly letting himself out of Dumbledore's office, aching down the winding stairs from the constant travel. Tri-Wizard Tournament planning compounding start-of-term meetings and the rebirth of the Order. Smirking as he realized any colleague could find his Grimmauld Place apartment used for appearance, not knowing the scourgified record of his actual residency. Out at Diagon or Knockturn Alley restocking supplies, gathering intel on Death Eaters.

He thought of the rising Phoenixes as he flew home, the ignorance and arrogance of predicting a madman's moves. Dumbledore, McGonnagell, Flitwick, Sinetra (who was about as taciturn as Severus), Bill and Charlie relaying information to their parents until the remaining gingers returned to classes, Alastor Moody never leaving an eye—whether magical or biological off Snape (or Snape's forearm), Shacklebock speaking of his covert operation on members of the Ministry (and Lucius, to his friend's chagrin). Surprisingly, for all the grief he inflicted on her grandson, Severus respected the woman his Boggart was defeated by…the actual Augusta Longbottom, who did not hide behind a veneer of old age instead raging about revenge on her son and daughter-in-law's behalf. Understanding the grief Albus put upon Aberforth to hold meetings upstairs his pub without charge.

Night, day, it did not matter to Dumbledore when meetings were held…nor the matter of Seraphine or Edgar. Dwindling time that Severus could spend with them at their annual retreat to the beach, or cooking for his daughter, or attempting to forge a relationship with his ever-glooming son. Viewing the cottage as a mirage for sleep, a few hours' rest, before summoned by a madman he had entrusted his love.

Seraphine clung to her father as he returned from Hogwarts or Hogsmeade, attempting to ease the fatigue with her miniscule Potions' talent, her Nifflers Solo and Calrise, even bringing a giant slug grub from the gardens. Upturning his lips Severus snickered at the attempt to heal a broken soul, seeing his late wife in his daughter's effervescent innocence, and helping nature.

"You know, there's an American car with your name," he muttered, the black and white pieces between them slowly moving across the board.

"Seraphine?"

"Heh, English translation, and full name" he said, forecasting that Seraphine would castle, putting himself in check.

"Oh, good, whilst I play my white knight you are as melancholic as those pieces," Lucius mewed, nodding his head for the young girl to leave.

"Non."

"Non?" the blond whispered, slanted eyes on the child.

"Non, my father is exhausted, ill, from all he is going through! I can help, I can get backers from Beauxbatons, I can attend the Tournament and still finish my coursework!" the sun-cloaked figure rallied, her peasant blouse and bedazzled shorts in stark contrast to the man wearing an acromantula silk shirt, fire crab emerald cufflinks, and dragon-hide boots.

"Hmm, all right, how about a quid pro quo; you can attempt to aid in defeating the Dark Lord and in exchange you will hear every detail of rapes and torture. Is that suitable to your liking?"

"Vous etes degoutant," she muttered before slamming the door.

"Did you really?" Severus pondered, stupefying the pieces that were aching to check the black king.

"Yes, that girl is far too young to involve herself in such matters," Lucius explained, but looking more towards the door than his brother's eyes.

"What do I owe the displeasure?" Severus drawled, aching to a strait posture.

"Heh, the displeasure's all mine when you act petulant. Alas, what do you know of one Bertha Jerkins?" the blonde snickered, his foot on the door.

"Not a snitch. If I were to guess, Ministry official?"

"Yes, and one whom hasn't returned from vacation."

"And we are to ponder…" Severus cued, knowing his friend's habits. One being the elusiveness of statements to his great annoyance.

"Well, if it interests…she worked for the Department of Magical Games and Sports…not the best looker 'get on with it, brother' but a busybody who would talk ad nauseum…silly thing, really, made betting a lot easier and whom to look out for 'if you do not drone on, Lucius…' Ah, well it would be such a loss if say her…knowledge…on the World Cup, the Tri-Wizard Tournament were to fall into the wrong hands," the man drawled, examining his fingernails.

Snape almost laughed at the implication. Of all the persons, in all the Wizarding World…it would be ludicrous to think of the misfortune. "So, you believe Voldemort recruited, or murdered, a woman with foresight on the two biggest Wizarding sporting events of a century?"

"Hmmm, yes, I believe that's the implication," he said, finally transfiguring the chair vacated into a chaise, crossing his legs, Severus observing a slight twitch to the man's boots.

"Let us speculate the thought valid; our Death Marks becoming more apparent, the Dark Mark at the World Cup. The rally you so quickly fled," Severus sniped, thinking of all that could go wrong at Hogwarts this year.

"And yet your mind whirls as mine," Lucius acknowledge. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll take my leave for chivalrous action."

"'The fairest flowers o th' season/are our carnations," Lucius recited, transfiguring the sewn ones for real on her blouse.

"And streaked gillyvors/which some call nature's bastards," she continued, the carnations flaking down in flames.

"Persistent perversion protects," he retorted, scolding the young woman's temper.

"Play?"

"My own heart, if deemed to have one," he chided.

"Cruelty cloaks caring."

He snorted, laying full stop on the accioed bench. "Yes, you are turning into a bright woman, both in temper and thought. Yet, you are still a child, regardless of liberties."

"My father and Lupin take care of me! Why can I not take care of them? Lupin is dreading the day Dumbledore wants him to converse with the werewolves! I hear him and Tom arguing all night over whether to leave Britain! And Papa…Papa is running ragged all about doing this that and everything else! It is as if he's a House Elf to everybody's dwelling, and he'll turn dizzy and diseased!" the sun-soaked one wailed, the power of fire emblazoning her further.

"Hmmm, well if Lupin is to take leave, I suppose you can just stay at the Manor. Perhaps with the mares," he snorted, seeing flames puff out the girl's nostrils. "Well, at least you know not throw fire to those that feed you. Learn to meditate, will you…babe?" he chuckled, the door to a platinum McLaren F1 Le Man silently opening and starting.

Neither noticed the raven-haired man gazing down from his indoor perch, smiling at a long-ago conversation.

"Now, I gather Lupin, nor I will have to come back and send you texts and supplies?" Severus threatened, hauling his daughter's chest into the trunk.

"Non, Papa!" Seraphine cried, cradling Solo and Carise to her chest.

"And I do not need to reiterate that these little guys are best served with Tom and I?" Lupin laughed, holding out a pocket watch to lure the thieving creatures.

"S'il te plait? S't plait Papa?" the young girl pleaded, her hair and hat charmed to lilac, butterfly hairclips enchanted to sparkle and flutter.

"Let the wolf herd other beasts," Severus chuckled. "Plus, you'll be flying Galaxie."

"And do not forget you'll have enough to care for: Galaxie, Sweet Tooth, Sugarberry," Tom chuckled, putting his arms around Lupin, resting his head on his lover's shoulder while kissing his cheek.

"Yes, and for some reason I feel you'll have more pets by the end of term…?" Lupin chuckled in between kissing Tom's nose.

"Peut-etre?" the girl chimed, carrying the last basket of her Puffskein, squeezing into the sedan, Severus' eyebrows raised with a smirk.

"Well, I would say thank you, but that is far too little," Severus sighed, casting a Muffliato on the vehicle.

"Always, Sev," the lovers proclaimed.

"So, any idea who will compete for Beauxbatons?"

"Fleur Delacour."

"He-he, try to set the car on fire, see how that goes," Severus sniggered, the hands of his daughter aglow.

"She's annoying Papa, she only talks to "popular" boys, and brags about her grades, and…and she is part Veela and she flips her hair…all…the…time!" Seraphine bemoaned, her fists simmering fireballs as Sweet Tooth and Sugarberry the puffskeins tucked underneath Severus' feet.

"Cherchez la femme," Severus chortled, eyeing his daughter as they drove through the Chunnel.

"Lucius! What the deuce are you doing here?" Severus proclaimed, blond halo illuminating against an all-black wardrobe in the rain-fallen night.

"Age line. Age line and the…did that thing drive or jounce along the Chunnel?" Lucius smirked, lighting a cigar.

"Yes, well…move along, Seraphine," Severus whispered, banishing all in the boot and back seat to their penthouse at Hotel de Ginestou. "As to you wanting, the answer is non, brother."

"Ah, come now, surely you wouldn't mind brewing a potion to beat a pious, precious, prat?"

"Hmmm, self-reflective tonight?" Severus quipped, bogarting the cigar.

"Hardy ha-ha. Come now, Draco would have something over Potter, you would have something over that bumbling buffoon, and I…well, I wouldn't mind adding some pride to the Malfoy name," Lucius crooned.

"Perhaps you should be proud of your son, not what you want of him," Severus noted, reflecting on Edgar's unannounced apparation to Beauxbatons prior to his own departure with Seraphine. "As it is, I have no plans to die before attempting to instruct the intricacies of antivenoms."

"Figure old Mad-Eye will poison half the school before breakfast over?" Lucius chuckled, stumbling towards the elevator.

"Perhaps, perhaps somebody else…" Severus mused; thoughts of a certain reptile killed only two years prior.