Chapter 33

All This Beauty is Killing Me

Briallan had managed to captivate the inhabitants of Elvenpath ever since the minute she Apparated into the house's sitting room, supporting a very disheveled and pale Fiddler with one arm.

They had all been shocked at their sudden appearance and at Fiddler's tale, but everything was quickly forgotten in lights of beautiful hair and charming face smiling seductively to all the males in the room in turn.

Fred and George lurked around her all day long, smiling like dunces everytime they got a kind word from her; Harry and Ron had turned into Briallan's unconditional slaves, much to Hermione and Ginny's displeasure, and even Moody was oblivious to the fact that Briallan was a former Death Eater, for he treated her as she was a fallen angel. Only Lupin seemed impervious to Briallan's charms, hence Tonks being the only female who didn't actively hate her. Molly found her unnerving; Ginny and Hermione were always plotting new and interesting ways of murdering her…

And Fiddler was deeply regretting whatever kindness of her heart had made her take Briallan in.

Severus had evolved from sheer shock to suspicious enthrallment, and Briallan, outrageously blatant in her admiration for him, seemed sewed by the robes to her… could Severus still be considered her brother-in-darkness? Fiddler wondered everytime she saw them. And even though she tried to see the funny side, she was failing. Dismally.

She had pressed all cords within her reach to get maternity incapacity so she could stay at home and keep a watchful eye on her dazzled husband and her dazzling protégée, and so far her paranoid mind was at ease, as apparently there was nothing to worry about.

But she couldn't help the lump that constricted her chest everytime she saw Briallan, and then pictured her own pregnant, waddling, stretch-marked, pale image. The resulting comparison wasn't favorable for Fiddler.

But she wasn't as fool as to make recriminations out loud of things that right now were nothing but the obvious result of her lack of self-esteem and her lifetime certainty that she was easily disposable and unworthy of love.

So she remained tensely silent at meals, watching with gritted teeth Briallan's endless chatter about all of Severus' virtues, hearing them talk about old acquaintances, magical plants and weird potions when they gathered in the library, Fiddler wanting more than life to lean her head on Severus' shoulder, but never finding the nerve to do it, knowing it would make him uncomfortable…

She wouldn't say a word when Briallan begged her to steal Severus 'just for a bit, Fiddler, please?', while she napped, so he wouldn't get bored and Briallan would have some company for her evening strolls… Despite of the fact that Fred, George, Moody, Harry, Ron, and even Arthur had proven more than willing to serve as her lapdogs, Fiddler thought bitterly.

But, nay.

 Briallan Ludlow had only eyes for Severus, and for Severus alone.

Fiddler was beginning to find her sadly narrated anecdotes annoying instead of heart-breaking, unearthing she had the growing suspicion that Briallan would tell all about what her parents and Wynn had done to her just to get people to pity her, despite of the fact she claimed she needed no pity at all. But there was Severus, who didn't want pity either, and he wasn't around broadcasting what he had gone through.

Somehow, Briallan had seen fit to inform them of Wynn's actions towards Severus and Lucas, something Fiddler had never ever dreamt of as she thought it was Severus's matter to tell, and had witnessed with horrified ears as Briallan made a full account of that tragic night as if they were discussing Ginny's dress or Tonks' hair.

Harry had left the dining table in such a hurry that had scalded Ron with the soup plate he tumbled over him. Hermione had stared both at Briallan and Severus in her very own dissecting way and said nothing, but she'd patted Fiddler's shoulder comfortingly before she left in search for Harry, closely followed by a really outraged Ginny.

No one had said a word, and Briallan was miffed at her tactic's failure, but she thought she solved matters by asking Severus to accompany her for a walk, leaving Fiddler sitting there, stranded with the mess Briallan's declarations had left. She felt she ought to comfort her husband, but after a minute she thought bitterly he already had something to do that for her.

Ever since, the atmosphere had been more than just a little tense. No one seemed to dare to look at Severus in the eye, and Harry was feeling more guilty than ever. Fiddler talked to him trying to making him see that it hadn't been his fault, technically, but nothing could take the thought away from Harry that he'd been the indirect cause of another boy's death.

"I asked Dumbledore, once", he said, numbly. "What made him think Snape had really stopped supporting Voldemort… And he answered… that it was a matter between Snape and himself… I didn't know… I… — I should apologize", he decided suddenly, and was startled when he heard everyone else's wails of denial.

"No!", exclaimed Ron.

"Are you crazy?", Ginny said.

"Don't you even think of it!" Hermione admonished, and she was soon lost into one of her well-known lectures about how that wouldn't solve things and it would be worst in the best of cases because Snape was…

But in that very minute Fiddler waddled in and further examination of Snape was put aside, the kids aiming to cheer their utterly depressed adoptive big sister up.

"Oh, come on, Fidd, cheer up", Ron said.

"Yeah, don't let that bitch get to you", added Ginny.

"Ginny!" Harry and Ron exclaimed.

"What?" Hermione jumped in her aid. "Oh, please. Just because you're too damn thick to notice doesn't mean the rest of us haven't seen what she's been doing…"

"Yes… In fact, you know what, Harry?" Ginny said, suddenly inspired. "She's the one who should apologize to Snape, not you. It was her sister who did it. And what does the git do? He hates you and nearly worships her! Talk about men doing stupid things…"

 Fiddler sighed.

"Do you want me to hex her, Fiddler?" Hermione said.

"You really hate her, don't you?" Ron asked resentfully.

"What is it that you see in her?" Fiddler asked, with a very sad voice.

That stung both Ron and Harry, and they blushed furiously, as they stuttered their answer.

"Well… Well… She's… enticing, Fiddler", Harry said. "I can't find another way to describe it. She―"

"Calls out your deepest instincts of male supremacy. She's a fragile, shining rose and you feel the need to protect her, is that it?" Fiddler spat.

Harry's jaw dropped.

"Yes… that's precisely it".

"Oh… That proves Mum right. She'd always tell me to stop acting so sovereign because men didn't like that… Oh, raw reality".

She hunched her shoulders with a defeated expression and sighed.

"Fiddler, don't be that way. Snape is just temporarily dazzled but he'll come around", Ginny said.

Fiddler snorted in a derisive way.

"Sure". She turned to Harry and Ron and challenged: "Would you 'come around', if you were him?"

Both kids remained silent for maybe a little more than it was necessary. Fiddler's smile was heartbreaking when she held out her hands in the universal sign of surrender.

"The Defense rests her case, your Honor", she said.

Fiddler would watch unwaveringly when Briallan patted Severus's arms in what she said was a friendly way, and would do nothing but grind her teeth and curl her hands into fists when she caught Severus staring at her with a rather bemused expression when he thought he was unobserved; she'd only cry alone when the thought occurred to her that in a battle between Briallan the Beautiful and Fiddler the Pregnant Whale, the second rival was the categorical loser.

Sadly enough, Fiddler had realised Briallan had more things in common with Severus than her. True enough, Fiddler was also a witch, but she hadn't been brought up as one, and she wasn't really into their culture. She barely knew anything about Severus' private life and family, and, from where Fiddler stood, the only thing that probably kept Severus by her side was whatever magical bindings Albus had placed on them on their Handfasting, and the babies he'd ended up accepting.

You give yourself no credit, do you?

Come on.

He loves you. It's difficult for him to say it, but he's said it.

Somehow, I am finding that hard to believe right now.

You know you could—

Shut up. I most definitely won't do such thing.

Yes.

Fiddler knew she could browse Severus' mind and find his true feelings, both for her and Briallan, but the truth was she didn't dare to.

She feared to find an answer she wouldn't like.

So she let it go, out of fear and out of pride, swallowing her sadness, sitting regally among her court of cats and dogs, jealously guarded by Triskelion, who, by the way, didn't seem to like Briallan much either.

And Fiddler would smile graciously and let Briallan 'steal' her husband 'just for a bit, please', and would watch them sulkily from her window as they walked slowly arm in arm, around the pool and the gardens, through the archway into the summerhouse.

Whatever they did or talked about in there was something Fiddler didn't allow her mind to go into.

And that was how she spent her days, pretending she didn't see Briallan's blatant harassment and Severus' lack of self-defense (to keep things even), and trying to forget she'd seen such things when he went to her at nights.

Trees have dropped their leaves,
Clouds their waters
All this burden is killing me

Distance is covering your way,
Tears your memory
All this beauty is killing me…

       It was killing Fiddler, indeed.
 

Dumbledore had Apparated to Elvenpath about three weeks after Fiddler's capture, and he seemed delighted at the sight of Fiddler's bulk; he swirled around her happily, murmuring charms and spells in his soft voice, and smiling to himself. He didn't seem surprised by Briallan's presence and, although Hermione and Ginny viciously suggested Fiddler that she should ask Dumbledore to practice some Legilimency with their Blonde Beauty, she stubbornly refused, and spent the rest of the evening trying to save Dumbledore form the amorous attack of her dogs and cats, all of which seemed totally enthralled with the old Wizard.

Molly did her very best with Dinner, and as they were doing the honors to a wonderful lamb with mint sauce, Dumbledore said:

"I have an announcement to make".

Everyone's eyes turned to look at him.

Fiddler hadn't been eating much lately, blaming it on the pressure of the babies on her stomach, so she merely pushed her almost intact plate away and drank a very long sip of chilled water.

"The magical restraint was set only by means of stealth and discretion", Dumbledore was saying. "We wanted to keep our new Headquarters as safe as possible and we managed it for almost eleven months. But our secrecy is useless now, as it is my magic ban. Henceforth, you are allowed to live as wizards again."

The younger members of the Order clapped and cheered enthusiastically.

They finished their meal with lifted spirits, except for Fiddler, to whom the ban's lifting didn't mean a thing, and, ironically enough, for Severus, whose wand had been snapped and not yet replaced.

They accepted Molly's suggestion of having coffee and tea in the library, and Albus smiled at the magically stock-still portrait of Wallace McGonagall, being his second magical act of the day to lift the charm placed upon it so it could move again.

"And it was about ruddy time, too!" he exclaimed. "I was getting numb already… Albus! My dear old friend! How ARE you?! It has been a while… How is Min?"

"Wally", Albus acknowledged. "Minerva is fine… Just her same old self, I am afraid".

Wallace McGonagall chortled heartily.

"Well, things wouldn't be the same at Hogwarts if she wasn't that way, I daresay. But, Albus, what is this place?"

"Ah! This is Elvenpath, your daughter's house".

Wallace's jaw dropped. His eyes wandered around the room until he found those which greenish-blue color matched his own and he stuttered:

"Deirdre?"

Fiddler stepped forward smiling openly for the first time in weeks.

"No, um— Dad. Fiddler".

"Fiddler?!" Wallace seemed outraged. He looked at both sides of his canvas and shook his head. "Oh, I am sure drat William Greene had something to do with it…", he added, pointing at Mr. Greene's portrait.

"No… It was Mother, actually".

"Mother? Ah, you mean Moira…" his finger pointed the canvas at his left. "Well, to me, you'll always be Deirdre." He eyed her critically and added: "That's a nice belly you've got there… Happily married, I expect?" he added, sternly.

Fiddler laughed.

"Yeah… Dad, meet your son-in-law, Severus Snape".

Wallace's jaw dropped again. His eyes darted from him to Briallan and he only said:

"Ah".

Fiddler looked at her father's portrait and suddenly decided a nice chat with the canvas would be in order. She was astonished when she didn't find the idea ridiculous.

The atmosphere had tensed a bit, and Dumbledore saw fit to cheer things up a bit.

"I brought some presents with me", he said, merrily.

He fumbled with an apparently hidden pocket in his layers of robes and produced three wands made of what it looked like a very dark, tough kind of wood.

"Harry", he called. "I give you a new wand. It is well known that yours and Lord Voldemort's will not fight against each other, hence I hope this one shall prove to be most efficacious… in the Final Battle".

"Er— Thank you, sir", Harry took the wand and examined it carefully. He had grown attached to his own wand, but he knew Dumbledore was right. And this new one looked mighty indeed, made of what it seemed like Hornbeam, a little longer and heavier than his own.

"Severus", Dumbledore continued, holding out the second wand. "A replacement for your wand. I hope you shall find it of your liking".

Severus gave a curt nod and took the wand. On a closer look, his was made of chestnut, and Briallan took it from his hands without asking for permission. Fiddler shot her a murderous look, but Briallan pretended not to have noticed.

"It is indeed a powerful wand", she declared, although no one had asked.

"That would be the intention", Hermione said, loud enough for Briallan to hear.

"Fiddler?" Dumbledore spoke before things got worst. "This one is for you".

"Oh… Thanks, Albus but… Apparently I am not made for wands", she said as she tried to ignore Briallan's smug look.

"You will find that this one was specially made for you", Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

Fiddler took her new wand hesitantly. It was made of rowan, and it was somewhat slender and easy to handle. She swayed it gently to get a better look and the kettle levitated into the air without her saying a word.

"Oh, it works!" she said gleefully. She moved the wand again and the kettle landed gracefully back on the table. "Did you see that?" she asked, as thrilled as a child, all her sadness momentarily forgotten at as if levitating a kettle qualified her to defeat Voldemort. "What's in it?" she asked.

"A most powerful substance, full of Ancient Earth Magic, my dear", Dumbledore said. "A hair from your head".

Briallan's mouth fell open.

"What?" she wailed.

No one answered.

"But… Albus, I don't shed hair…" Fiddler objected. "I've never had… Except for— Oh."

"That is right", Dumbledore said. "Except for that time at your Handfasting Night. Severus gathered those three precious hairs and gave them to me. One is in your wand, and the other two are in Severus' and Harry's."

"And what makes Fiddler's hair so special?" Briallan insisted with her I-wouldn't-break-a-plate smile.

Some derisive snickers were heard from the sofa in which Ginny and Hermione sat.

"The fact", Fiddler said, getting to her feet with all the dignity her pregnant belly allowed, "that I am a Banshee, Briallan. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I am going to bed."

And she left, not asking Severus if he'd join her or not.

Despite all her Pureblood bluff, Briallan had taken quite a liking for Muggle customs. She had discarded her swishy robes and had adopted Tonks' funky style, probably because she was the only one willing to advise her regarding make-up, outfits and demeanors. Now that they were free to use magic, Tonks would change her appearance by the second, and Briallan, apparently, was eager to follow her example.

They were sort of used to the pair's eccentricities, but the big surprise came when Briallan showed up at the breakfast table wearing shabby jeans and a pink T-shirt, her long blonde curls replaced by a waist-length, sleek, jet-black mane of hair that strongly resembled… someone else's.

"Well, I've always liked Fiddler's hair", she explained evenly as everyone stared at her.

"Dirty liar", muttered Ginny.

"Copycat", echoed Hermione.

Fiddler only raised her eyebrows derisively and tried to force down her mouthful of food.

"Oh, and I didn't Charm it", Briallan said cheerfully. "Tonks helped me to dye it".

Again, Fiddler's brow went up. Hermione and Ginny snorted. Not even Briallan's usual court of male admirers seemed to like her makeover. The underlying but very palpable thought was that she was getting things out of hand.

"Well? Do you like it? Severus?" she insisted as no one answered.

"It looks all right", he said curtly, but there was something in his eyes not even Fiddler could fathom.

She spent the day in her bedroom, with her feet up and trying to breathe. The babies were moving inside of her as calisthenics champs and her back muscles where screaming in pain. But that wasn't the main reason why she'd chosen to isolate herself from the rest of the house.

It was what her father's portrait had told her.

She wiped away her tears of anger, of hurt pride… of overwhelming sadness… And willed herself to be asleep, to stop thinking, to drift away…

But she couldn't.

You lost, Fiddler. Accept it and let him go.

Like Hell I will. She won't have him; over my dead body she'll have him—

She's Wynn's sister, you twit, don't tempt your luck.

She even dyed her hair to look like me! How can she? Is she mad?

She just wants to get him, don't get too flattered.

Oh, shut up. Not in the mood really. I have a bloody Dumb Blonde trying to snatch my husband away under my very nose.

And you'll give her the pleasure? Show some backbone, will you? And do STOP crying. Greenes don't cry.

I am not a biological Greene.

You KNOW my point. And I am sure if you ask Dad downstairs, he'll tell you McGonagalls don't cry either. In fact, you should get the Hell UP, go the Hell downstairs and tell her to bugger the Hell off! This is YOUR house, Fiddler, your GOD DAMNED house; and she won't insult you in it!

No… No, she won't. You're right.

Fiddler left her bed, hastily enough for a thirty-weeks-pregnant woman who was carrying twins, and went downstairs striding like a General towards a very anticipated execution. She was halfway the main hall when she realised she hadn't the slightest idea of where they could be.

She went to the library, but her father informed her they were not there. Of course they weren't. Ever since Wallace McGonagall had regained the power of speaking, Severus and Briallan had become suddenly allergic to the library, Fiddler thought scathingly.

She then directed her steps to the music room, and was startled to find Triskelion scratching the door frantically, howling and growling with all of his might, running back and forth thumping himself against the wood.

"Oi, Trisks, what's wrong?" Fiddler asked, concerned.

 The dog seemed in the verge of lunacy. She picked him up and reached for the doorknob, pushing the door open and freezing to the spot as she took in the sight before her flabbergasted eyes.

There, next to the piano, by the windowpane, were Briallan and Severus, in each other's arms… and they were kissing.