A/N- I'm back! Yes, I know it's been something like two or three weeks since my last chapter, but I've been up to a lot, including moving home for the near future and starting a new job. I've also had a bit of writer's block on Chapter 17, but I'm through that now and have gotten a lot done in the last four or five days with the help of Endora, my dear, appreciated beta! *hugs Endora* I have a huge section from Sev in this chapter for everyone, plus some action later! I'm sorry if some of you thought last chapter was a bit boring, this one will be much better. Massive thanks to all my reviewers… You know who you are! All I ask is your feedback after you've read the chapter. And now, without further ado…
Bonds of Pain
Chapter 16
In which there is romance (*wink*), snogging, and dancing, among other things.
~Is thirty-five too old to be having awkward thoughts about someone you've know most of your life?~ Severus asked himself. In just a few visits with Wen, his feelings—and, embarrassingly, his dreams—had changed. She was still his old friend, classmate, and confidante, but he frequently found himself tripping over words and, even worse, his own body when she was around. When he noticed her in his thoughts—distressingly frequently—he could feel something inside him make a disturbing flopping motion.
Sure, he'd had the occasional heart-in-throat moment around Arabella in their school years, but this was worse. Cor, was it worse. The petite witch didn't even have to be around to cause his strange reactions; the mere thought of her set his heart racing.
Frustrated by the fact that his musings were getting him nowhere, he left the dungeons. If he couldn't figure out this female problem on his own, maybe a legendary womanizer could help. One disguised at the moment as a certain "lovable" Grim. Thank Merlin it was a weekend.
It took the Potions Master nearly an hour to find the elusive convict. Close to two and a half years on the run had taught Black to hide well. At least he didn't look as scrawny and mangy as he had in the Hospital Wing four months earlier.
"I need to talk to you," Severus growled softly as he passed "Snuffles" in the Charms corridor. "My office, twenty minutes. Please." Merlin, that word hurt. Especially saying it to the man who had nearly gotten him killed—or worse, cursed—so many years ago.
Fortunately, Black merely nodded and disappeared around a corner. Bloody hell, how was he going to pull this off and maintain even a shred of his dignity? It was hard enough to even be civil to the man, let alone ask for advice on women. Black would have a field day. He'd tell his godson, for sure.
Eighteen minutes later, Severus was in his office, mentally berating himself, when a sharp bark announced his visitor. A flick of his wand opened the door, and the Grim slipped in, transforming once the wooden barrier was closed and locked with another spell. No one would be able to barge in unexpectedly, nor could they eavesdrop.
"Black." A nod in the other man's direction, face carefully kept blank of emotion.
"Snape." The greeting was returned with the same studied neutrality. "You wanted to see me?" Severus simply nodded in response and stood, beckoning his school rival to follow him through another door behind his desk.
The lean man smiled wryly when he heard the convict gasp as they entered the parlour of his private quarters. The informal room was decorated in pale green and silver, with blond wood in all the furniture. A fire crackled on the granite hearth and was surrounded by a set of plush green velvet chairs and a matching settee. Seeing the surprised and speculative look on his guest's face, Severus sighed.
"I… did not ask you here on a business matter, Mr. Black, nor on an Order agenda. Would you like tea, biscuits, or scones?" He could have laughed at the childlike look on the former Gryffindor's face.
"They're not dog biscuits, are they?" the man asked. Severus must have looked confused, because he was immediately given an explanation. "Moony will ask me that and then serve me a tray of dog biscuits. He ruddy well thinks it's hilarious." Severus laughed. A short laugh, but still honestly humoured.
"No dog treats in my kitchen. If, however, you want some…" Severus waited for Black's grimace and was well rewarded.
"That's not necessary. Tea, biscuits, and scones would be nice, though. It's been ages since I had a decent cuppa." Shrugging, Severus moved into his kitchen to start a pot as Black moved to look at his extensive private library.
"Milk or sugar?" he called as the tea steeped. Contrary to popular opinion, he took both.
"Both, please," was the reply. Amazing. One thing they had in common, and neither had yet made a snide remark. Even better, they were both being polite. Pulling a large tray from the cupboard, the Potions Master placed on it full tea service for two, a plate of chocolate biscuits, and a basket full of fresh raspberry scones, courtesy of the house-elves. He made sure the milk and teapot were unlikely to spill before lifting the tray and venturing back into his parlour.
~Mother of Merlin, he's managed not to damage anything.~ In contrast to his fears, his one-time nemesis was perusing his collection almost eagerly. "Find anything that interests you?" The other man's head whipped around, panic briefly showing on his face before he relaxed. Maybe two and a half years running, on top of twelve in Azkaban—dreadful, horrible, hellish Azkaban—was too much.
"Well, I am surprised you have a copy of Subtle Hexes. You do realise I helped write it, along with Prongs" –the clear tenor hitched on the nickname—"and Moony?" Severus harrumphed.
"I found out about Wormtail too late, unfortunately. I never knew who the informant was, not until we met to go there." By there, he meant Godric's Hollow. The flash of pain on the other visage told hi that his guest saw his meaning. "I couldn't find Albus in time to prevent Fudge from… well, you know. When I saw that amusing note about him being a test subject, I had to have it. I hate the cowardly bastard…" He scowled into nothingness, half hoping the rat would keel over at that moment.
"Aye," growled the man sitting across from him. Black had nearly disappeared in one of the deep wing chairs. Severus began to serve the tea in hopes of calming himself. A few minutes passed in relative silence.
"Look, Sn—Severus. I want to apologize for the Whomping Willow incident that time. Remus and James raised Cain for weeks after, and it was far worse than anything Dumbledore could have done. When we met a year and a half ago, I was bitter and not myself, especially with the Dementors so near. Even at the end of last term, I was so worried about Harry…" Yes, the boy had been in terrible condition. Of course his godfather had been worried. "This is the first time since that I've had a chance to talk to you with my ruddy head on straight and nothing messing with it, and I want to say I'm sorry."
Well surprise, surprise. Black had not only used his given name, but he had apologized as well. He had never expected this. Severus sipped at his tea for a moment before coming to his own decision.
"Bl—Sirius, I'm not quite sure how to say this." He paused and took a deep breath. " If you are willing, then I, too, will let bygones be bygones. After all, if Draco and Harry can come to peace, so can we." He offered his right hand to the ex-convict and was surprised by the warm handshake he received in return.
"Maybe we could actually be friends. Eventually." Sirius had a wry smile on his face. Where did that cynicism come from? Azkaban?
"Maybe. Er… about wanting to talk to you… You were rumoured to be quite the ladies' man in school." The other man had the grace to blush.
"Well, not really, but I do have a tendency to know what they like and how to get into their good books." ~Oh ho. This could be even more useful than I thought.~ "Interested in someone?"
"Eh… I think so." Dear Merlin, this would be so embarrassing. "Do you remember Wen Altair? Slytherin in our year, short with brown hair?" The Animagus nodded, grinning as if he'd just eaten a stone of chocolate.
"Yes, a certain someone reminded me of her just this week. Why do you say you think so?" Damn him. He looked even more gleeful, if that was possible. The man knew something. He should have been a Slytherin.
"Uh, well…" Severus stuttered. "My stomach seems to flop constantly when I'm around her, I trip over everything, and nothing comes out of my mouth quite right. Just thinking of her sends my heart into palpitations." He could feel his face burning. Sirius, on the other hand, was grinning like the cat who'd been in the cream.
"You have it bad." Severus' next question must have shown in his eyes. "Yes, it is possible to fall in love at this age. The ladies, however, often do so earlier. From what I recall seeing at school and what Ara tells me, Ms. Altair is quite interested in you. Perhaps she would enjoy being invited to dinner at a nice restaurant.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For a change, Harry was by himself, walking along the Charms corridor to Remus Lupin's quarters. He knew his godfather was being housed nearby as well, but today he wanted to see Remus, not Sirius. In fact, he was after information on lycanthropy for Professor Figg's class. She was working the fifth years mercilessly to make up for the faulty teachings of Lockhart and Crouch..
October was drawing to a close as the Gryffindors finished the creatures portion of the material for their Defence OWL. Werewolves and vampires were the last, and Professor Figg had mentioned that Professor Snape could be near a breakthrough in his research towards a cure for the former condition. When she had assigned a three-foot essay on one of the two Cursed Creatures (as she termed them instead of Dark Creatures), Harry had known that Remus would be a perfect source.
Harry's essay, of course, would cast Cursed Creatures in a much more positive light than normal superstition and stereotypes—wizarding and Muggle alike—usually portrayed. Remus had said before that he would rather die than inflict his curse upon another, and the man was most definitely not a murderer. At least when it was someone other than "that rat," as Pettigrew had been dubbed.
Thinking of the Marauders reminded Harry that he had not seen Snuffles in a while. True, the man had a life of his own, but Harry hoped he wasn't off snogging Professor Figg in a broom closet somewhere. The mental image made him shudder.
"Remus?" he called, knocking on the werewolf's door. No answer. "Are you in?" Still nothing. Harry cautiously opened the door. Maybe Lavender was right. She had said before he left the common room that it might not be a good time to visit the former professor.
"Uncle Remy?" The pet name he used seemed familiar, as if he'd used it for the man before. He rounded the corner between the entry and the parlour of the suite and nearly ran from what he saw.
"Bloody hell! My eyes, my eyes!!!" Covering said eyes, Harry tried in vain to purge the visual from his short-term memory. Rita Skeeter on Remus' lap, both of them involved in a very thorough make-out session. Eurgh.
"Harry?!"
"Mr. Potter?!" The voices sounded chagrined, and Harry risked peeking through his fingers. Remus was now by himself on the settee, and Draco's aunt was in a nearby chair. Both were blushing.
"I don't believe this. First I have to watch out for Sirius and Professor Figg doing that sort of thing, and now I'll have to have a weather eye on you two as well. I ought to tell Draco." The reporter's eyes went wide, and Remus blushed harder. They looked thoroughly embarrassed that he had walked in on them, and Harry chuckled. "So how's your article about my godfather coming, Ms. Skeeter?" What fun. He would be able to rib them about this for weeks, maybe even months.
"Well, I was speaking with Remus about it, but we got a trifle distracted." Pink tinged the woman's cheeks again, and Harry grinned more widely. "Has Dumbledore announced his Halloween ball to the student body yet?"
"Oh God, not another ruddy ball," Harry moaned. Last year had been plenty for him when it came to formal dances. He'd have to get Draco to teach him how to dance so he didn't look like an idiot again.
~Draco, has anyone mentioned a ball to you?~ he asked, bespeaking his blond friend.
{There have been a few rumours about one on Halloween, yes. Why?}
~Your aunt just asked me if Dumbledore had announced it yet. I'm afraid Ron and I will need dancing lessons.~
{Merlin. Why couldn't the barmy old coot have said something earlier?} The slightly older boy sounded dismayed. {It's awfully difficult to teach ballroom dancing to complete novices in a week and a half.} Harry sighed and raked a hand through his unruly mane.
~Thanks, mate. You can do it. I may go and give him a piece of my mind.~ He mock-glared at the two adults in the room. "At least you've given us some warning now. Draco needs it so he can hold dance classes. It's good that next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend, because I know my dress robes are too small for me to wear again." The dark-haired boy frowned at the werewolf. "I was going to ask you some questions for the essay Professor Figg assigned us, but I'll come back later since you're busy." Turning, he left the room and headed for the library. Sure, the books there would be bigoted, but they still contained gems of valid information.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"No, Ron, it's one, two, three, not one, two, three." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose before taking Lavender in his arms again to demonstrate a proper waltz. "Watch my feet. Once you have the beat properly, it shouldn't be too hard." He flicked his wand to start the music again. The honey-haired girl he held could weigh no more than a feather, she was so light on her feet.
~Harry, I need to be swatted again. I'm waxing poetic about dancing with Lav.~ The shortening of the girl's name had caught quickly, and there were few who used her full name anymore.
Harry chuckled at his comment, and Draco felt himself redden. Damn him. Famous Potter was matchmaking. Of course, it wasn't as if Draco didn't like Lav. On the contrary, he liked her very much. He simply wasn't sure she liked him back.
"You see, my largest step is always on the first beat of the measure. The other two steps are smaller and can be used to avoid other couples on the dance floor." Since this was the first dance lesson of many for Harry, Ron, and Ginny, Draco was explaining the basics. Of course, having two talented and trained assistants helping simplified things a bit. Hermione and Lav could partner the other two boys when Draco taught Ginny to follow.
Two hours later, the Dream Team left their empty classroom, footsore and somewhat tired of waltzes.
"I never thought I'd be so sick of classical music," Ginny groaned. Draco was willing to admit to himself that she was the most apt student of the trio, learning to interpret his movements quickly.
Harry and Ron simply moaned and limped in the general direction of Gryffindor Tower. They had eventually figured things out despite their lack of rhythm. Harry was surprisingly nimble, but, then again, he wasn't the House Seeker for nothing.
Suddenly Lav stumbled next to him. Draco turned and caught her by the shoulders. The slender girl had her hands clamped to her temples and her eyes squeezed shut.
"Lav, what's wrong? How can I help?" Draco felt worry from Harry's end of their bond but ignored his friend for the moment.
"Parchment… write what I say," Lavender grated. Hermione, ever studious, pulled a small Muggle notebook and an odd Muggle quill from a pocket. Lavender went stiff, her voice strangely deep and masculine.
"Dreamers fight against the dark,
Six are wary of the mark.
All will fight, but five have fought,
Old for their years, innocence lost.
One changes and two reveals,
Three rages while four heals,
Five with knowledge for the fight,
And six who lives to shine the Light.
Saviours these, courageous all.
Cherish them, lest they fall."
As Lavender finished speaking, she slumped bonelessly into Draco's embrace. He carefully slipped and arm under her knees and lifted her. She really was that light, it wasn't just the fact that she was graceful.
"Did you get it all, 'Mione?" Ron asked. The brown-haired girl nodded as she capped the Muggle quill.
"That was quite similar to the prediction Trelawney had during my final in third year," Harry mused aloud. "We should tell Dumbledore. Now." The others nodded in agreement, and they all about-faced and headed for the gargoyle. To everyone's surprise, "Starburst" was no longer the password.
"Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans." No response.
"Canary Cremes."
"Sugar Quill."
"Ton-Tongue Toffee." The gargoyle jumped aside to reveal the moving stairs.
"Figures he'd use one of Gred and Forge's trick sweets," Ron muttered as the stairs carried them to the headmaster's door. The door was opened as soon as Harry knocked.
"Ah, the Dream Team." Uncle Sev was visiting Dumbledore? "Well, don't stand there gawking at me, come in. Did something happen to Miss Brown?" Draco nodded as he slipped in sideways, being careful not to bump Lav on the door jamb. He carefully settled the girl in one of the headmaster's armchairs before crouching beside it to steady her.
"She gave a prophecy, we think," Ginny said, her eyes firmly on the old wizard behind the desk. "Harry commented that it sounded a bit like one Professor Trelawney gave during his third year final." Dumbledore nodded sagely and looked at Hermione.
"Did you write down what she said?" he inquired. The girl nodded and held out her notebook, still open to the lines she had copied. The wizened man took the pad and read, humming thoughtfully under his breath.
"It was a man's voice," Draco offered from his kneeling position. The headmaster nodded and fingered his beard. The Potions Master read over his mentor's shoulder, soon quirking an eyebrow and eyeing the unconscious blonde in a considering fashion.
"Interesting," the older man rumbled. "Have you deciphered any of it yet?" Hermione, of course, straightened, immediately in recital mode.
"It's a group of six, and five of them have been in danger or fought the Dark before. One has made a drastic change, perhaps in attitude or opinion, or even alignment in the fight. The second has been hiding something, maybe an ability. The third has a fierce temper, and the fourth might have healing skills, perhaps even magical ones. The fifth is surely someone who knows a great deal, and the sixth is some sort of symbol for the Light, or even why the side of the Light has the courage to fight at all. The group has, of course, been involved in matters older people would balk at. The final couplet is a warning about their welfare and the potential that they might fail if they are not cared for." Dumbledore smiled as Draco's godfather scowled, and Hermione positively beamed.
"Very good, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. Have any of you given thought to who the six Dreamers might be?" They all shook their heads. The blue eyes twinkled behind the half-moon spectacles, and Draco shivered. The old man could be decidedly creepy.
~He knows something we don't, mate.~ Draco glanced at his green-eyed friend to see the other's brow furrowed.
{He knows something important, I think. And he's enjoying watching us squirm as we try to figure it out.} The Seeker scowled at the headmaster, who flinched before copying the ten lines and giving the notebook back to Hermione.
"I need to speak to Harry and Draco alone for a few minutes. If you would please return to Gryffindor Tower, I will send them up when we have finished. In the meantime, feel free to work on that prophecy." Dumbledore lifted a hand to indicate the door. Ron gently lifted Lavender from her seat as Draco watched anxiously. The girl didn't stir, and the four students were followed out the door by his Uncle Sev, who closed the door quietly behind him.
"Harry, after the incident with Professor Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone in your first year, I told you there were things about your family I would tell you when you were older. Draco, I'm sure your mother had promised to inform you of the lineage you bear from her side of the family. I believe now is the time for both of you to receive the knowledge that has been held in trust for you so long." Draco looked at his black-haired friend before nodding. Harry, too, gestured for the headmaster to continue.
The elderly wizard stood and lifted from a shelf the silver sword Draco had noticed before he was resorted. "Harry, I once told you that only a true Gryffindor could cause the Sorting Hat to give them this blade. I meant it in the most literal sense. Your father's family descended from Godric himself. Your mother, however, wasn't a true Muggle-born witch. Her grandfather was an orphaned Squib and the last known descendant of Merlin until your grandmother was born. Voldemort found out the truth of your ancestry and assumed that your father was the source of both bloodlines, and therefore he believed that Lily did not have to die. In truth, it was partially the power she inherited from Merlin's line that saved your life that night." Draco could sense Harry's shock and looked at his friend. The other boy was white as a sheet.
"Draco, I take it you know which House your mother was in during her years under my tutelage?" The blond looked at the bearded man in bewilderment.
"Well, actually, no." He had always assumed she had been in Slytherin, but she'd spoken very well of Ravenclaw and of the Snake House seldom. The headmaster sighed.
"Lucius, no doubt. I should have done something to prevent that match. Alas, the past is past, and there is nothing I can do about it. Narcissa was in Ravenclaw, and one of the best students in decades. Many of her relatives were also in that House. Due to several factors, you are the last living member of that line with control of your mental facilities, as it were. As with Harry, Voldemort murdered much of your family, save those he thought he could control. Your uncle Gilderoy was corrupted by his abilities with memory charms and his overweening pride, and your mother was wed to a member of his Inner Circle. They alone were spared from the purge." As the old wizard spoke, Draco caught a strange look from Harry.
{Lockhart was your uncle? I feel sorry for you.} Draco merely rolled his eyes.
"Unfortunately, all of Hufflepuff's descendants were slaughtered. To the smallest child, they remained staunchly loyal to the Light, as befits such a noble House. You two gentlemen, guided by Miss Brown's visions—which are real, as she is the most reliable Seer in generations—and backed by your 'Dream Team,' could be a great asset in this war." The elderly wizard folded his hands. "Any questions?"
Like Dumbles said, any questions?
Review with them and/or suggestions, comments, et cetera!
Beth Weasley