Sorry, this chapter is all plot, no lemons. But I've got a lot I have to get to. Next chapter, is Draco and Ixchel's ceremony. Very different from my usual style, at least I think so. A bit off the vanilla track, at least.
Hope everyone in the States had a Happy Thanksgiving. My ear problem is getting better, so hopefully I will be able to update sooner.
And I promise….Sirius will come back soon….but plot must take place first!
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"So, you are staying here then? You should be safe." Severus sat on the floor, surrounded by reams of parchment, books and even an animated codex of the Itza. He looked up at the young man standing before him, and felt a flash of tremendous pride that such a fine specimen was his son. Draco had always been intelligent, as well as devious. He only wished he would be able to see what Draco would make of his new life here, a life away from Death Eaters and the burden of being a Malfoy. The mate of a priestess of the moon, who would have thought?
"No. I'm going back. And she's coming with me. It's part of the binding." Cool gray eyes, still filled with a seething anger, said without words that he would brook no argument.
"He'll kill you. They'll kill her." They won't want you, Draco. You're not as empty as they are.
"Not if I kill him first." Severus blinked. "Did you think I would go back to join the Death Eaters?" Draco sneered. "Do you really think I am that stupid? I'd like nothing better than to be rid of this," he thrust forward the Dark Mark, naked upon his left arm. "To be rid of all of it. But I can't depend on Potter and his simpering sidekicks to do anything right by themselves. If I ever want any peace, I'd better do something to help."
Severus pursed his lips. "He'd want you to be safe, Draco. He wouldn't want you to risk for life just because you made a mistake in judgment. You didn't kill him."
"No, you did, you killed Dumbledore! And that concubine that calls herself my mother made you do it, in order to protect me." Draco began to pace, kicking aside the carefully organized piles of notes that little the shade in front of the hut. He stopped abruptly, looking out toward the forest. "You had to be bound to it. Bound by an Unbreakable Vow. To save your reputation, not to help your own son."
Severus dropped his head, unable to answer. His own pain ate as his heart, the pain of watching his child, and its mother, suffer over the course of years at the hands of Lucius Malfoy.
Draco's voice had not lost any of its dreadful coldness, and Severus peered at him through a curtain of dark hair as Draco pulled no punches. "And you are still bound. If I die, you will die. Is that why you fled the Dark Lord, to save your own skin? Is that why you want me to stay? To ensure your own safety? I assure you, I'll capture lovely Auntie Bellatrix and get the damn thing undone as soon as possible. I'm sure Bella could do with some of her own taste of Crucio? Then you can go back to your precious master and claim all the credit you desire. You will have finally completed your domination of Lucius Malfoy."
"Don't do that Draco. Don't make the same mistakes I have. Don't live your life for revenge. Not against your fath…against me, or Lucius, or anyone else."
Draco whirled around. "So you don't deny it? That you only care for your own skin?"
"Mine. And yours. And your mother's. I have no great wish to die."
"Not even for Dumbledore?"
"He knew about the Vow, Draco. He wanted me to protect you. He knew he would not survive a Second War with the Dark Lord."
"So you say." Draco shut his eyes, unwilling to think.
"He cared about all of us, Draco. More than we deserved." Severus heard the pain in his own whisper. "Don't waste that on some silly attempt to get back at Lucius. Don't let him have succeeded in making you as coldheartedly ruthless as…"
"As you?" The fire returned to Draco's eyes.
Severus paused. There was no winning this battle now. "I am going back to England, to try and help with the defeat of the Dark Lord. I have something that Potter and his gang will need if he hopes to be successful."
Draco laughed. "You'll have quite a hard time convincing them not to kill you on sight! You'll be hexed six ways from Sunday."
Severus arched an eyebrow. "I could say the same for you, my son."
"Don't call me that. I don't need you. I have no father."
Teeth clenched, Severus turned his attention back to his copious notes. He had a lot of work to do before he journey back to England. "Then you won't find if a former professor tags along on your trip back to England with your girlfriend."
"My wife."
"It isn't exactly the same here, Draco. She's a priestess. She can't stay with you."
"I know." He stalked off. And paused. "You will leave my mother here. She wouldn't…she shouldn't have to face my…Lucius again."
"I have every intention of assuring that personally."
"Get in line, old man. Get in line."
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"He looks exhausted." Ginny said.
The Order of the Phoenix members stood around, wands still drawn, staring at the exotic bird who looked around the kitchen with an air of tired amusement.
Ron, his brow furrowed, filled the silence."You think it could have been Snape in the Floo? You think it's a bam, on a timer charm or something?"
"A bomb Ron, not a bam." Hermione bit her lip, thinking furiously. "I seriously doubt Professor…Snape would have chosen to impersonate Neville, of all people, in order to deceive us."
Harry snorted. "I wouldn't put anything past the Greasy Git. The man was a triple agent. He would stoop to any lengths."
Ginny stepped forward, and prodded at the small brown box with her wand. Mrs. Weasley let out an outraged, "Ginevra Weasley! Stop that, we don't know if it's cursed."
"I'm just trying to get a look at the note, Mum!" Ginny squinted at it from three feet away. Harry gripped her hand tightly, trying to pull her back to shield her with his body.
"I-V and then G-I-A-N-N-I." Ginny stepped back, and both her mother and Harry breathed a little easier. "No address, nothing."
"Somebody can't spell." Tonks piped up, almost cheerful, despite the tension.
Harry rolled his eyes. "When the bloody hell will Neville…."
There was a commotion on the stairs, and Neville and Luna crashed into the room, looking extremely out of breath, and extremely disheveled, with most of their buttons done up completely wrong.
"That didn't take long Luna!" Ginny laughed out loud. Luna smiled serenely, and Neville blushed scarlet.
Tonks looked at Hermione. "Potion?"
Hermione nodded. "Potion."
Ron and even Harry managed a small guffaw at that. Remus merely cracked a smile.
Harry recovered quickly though. "What was that all about then, Neville? Do you know this blasted bird came from Snape?"
Eyes rounded in shock, both Neville and Luna shook their heads. Neville, still panting for breath, "No…it was just we had…"
"A vision." Luna finished.
Silence.
"Exactly." Neville added. "It would be a very bad idea to destroy that package."
"Is it a bomb or something? Will it explode?"
"No, it's something important. Something that will help us." Neville seemed utterly certain.
"Have you taken leave of your senses! It's from Snape!" Ron exploded.
"The man who killed Albus Dumbledore." Harry stated quietly. A pain almost audible flashed through the room.
Remus spoke, a thoughtful look upon his face. "Are you sure this was a vision? Not some planted spell, or a false message of some kind."
"No, it's real." Luna sighed. "I've been seeing little flashes of things that I shouldn't see, things happening far away or in the near future. Ever since fifth year, but particularly strong in the last few months. I thought it might be a whellump infection, or that thing Muggles have…degu va…"
"Déjà vu." Nodded Harry, eager for her to continue.
"But after…" she blushed, a very uncharacteristic action on Luna's part. "Well, this was the strongest I've ever had. And Neville saw it too."
"Whatever that potion was…it worked."
Ginny turned to Harry, "I believe them, Harry. The Lovegoods have seers in the line, not recently, but if Trelawney can see things sometimes…"
Hermione spoke then, the others hadn't noticed how quiet she'd been, lost deep in thought. "I-V Gianni. It's 'For Nagini'. I'm certain of it."
The group jumped back as a cloud of ink jumped up from the tag on the package, taking form just above the box. The bird looked alarmed, and Remus aimed a wand carefully, severing the tie that bound the bird to the box. The bird hopping backward, and flew out through the bird, crying words that sounded suspiciously like a language, but something far from English.
The cloud took shape, and Harry drew in a harsh breath in response at the sight of a black and white image of his enemy.
"Greetings Miss Granger. I assume it is you, for I doubt that the dunderheads you associate yourself with could have figure out even this simple riddle. Still, I must complement you on either your stupidity at not having proper wards in place to detect my presence, or your wisdom in not blasting this package into smithereens without ascertaining if the contents would not take well to such treatment."
"Shut up, you slimy traitor…" Harry burst out.
"Hush. It's a recording of some kind, it can't respond." Hermione said, watching the image intently.
"This box contains a vial of poison. But it is not an attempt on your lives, though I'm sure Potter will not believe anything to the contrary. Suffice it to say, that I am just as likely to die from the actions of the Dark Lord as any of you, and I call him my enemy. You would hardly call me your friend, but I am the enemy of your enemy, and I am acquainted with some of his weaknesses. Albus…"
A flash of emotion entered the sneering face, but fled before it could be identified.
"Albus told me of many things…"
"He trusted you, you…" Harry could not stop himself, despite the glares from the rest of the group.
"…including some of his suspicions regarding the reason that the Dark Lord can not be completely killed. I do not know how many pieces exist, but one must exist in his pet, which he never lets out of his sight. If that is so, then you will need this to overcome the problems spoken of on page three hundred and seventy seven of the book that Potter appropriated so fortuitously last year. As far as approaching the victim, that I'm afraid is your problem. Adieu."
The image vanished, and chaos erupted.
"I don't trust a word of it." Ron stated categorically.
"What on earth is that man talking about, Ron? Harry?" Mrs. Weasley gave a furious glare at her youngest son and his best friend.
Tonks crouched close to the table, approaching the box with the tip of her wand, as though testing for any proximity wards.
"Careful, love." Remus warned.
Tonks shook her head. "Nothing. There's nothing else remotely enchanted about it now that it's given its message."
"I'll open it." Harry stated unequivocally.
"Harry…" Ginny warned in a concerned tone.
"I won't have anyone else hurt…but I expect you to be there with a shield charm." Ginny nodded resolutely. "Every one else, back off."
Mrs. Weasley made a grunt of protest, but Remus and the others did as they were told, though Ron and Hermione clutched their wands tightly.
Harry prodded at the package with his wand, and then gingerly picked it up. Unwrapping it, he found a sturdy wooden box. Lifting the lid rapidly, tension evident in his features, revealed a single vial of yellow, viscous liquid. There was no bang, no possession, nothing except a simple phrase written on a scrap of parchment.
Nothing is ever as simple as it seems.
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Wormtail, the man who had once been Peter Pettigrew, the rat who had once been Scabbers, crouched at the trapdoor beneath the floor of the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, listening to the voices above him. Pallid and listless, the sad excuse for a man, much less a wizard, wore rags that hung from his skinny frame, where sacks of loose skin drooped around his jowls and midsection. He had once been plump, both as a man and a rat, but now he was starved, both physically and mentally, driven mad by countless rounds of regret and anger. His nose twitched as he listened to the longed-for dressing down of the owner of the house.
The cold, inhuman tone of the Dark Lord echoed softly through the cracks in the door and into in the darkness of the cavern below. "Lucius, I am not surprised at your ineptitude at this task, given your performance in the Department of Mysteries, but I would have thought that finding your wife, much less your only son, would have filled you with a bit more drive."
Lucius, whispered, his voice devoid of the anger he certainly felt and took out frequently on Wormtail since he had been "given" to Malfoy senior. "Forgive me, my Lord. I do not mean to disappoint. But Snape is a cunning man."
"Do not mention that name to me!" The fierce fury that filled the icy voice left no doubt as to the Dark Lord's next actions.
"Crucio!"
Proud Lucius Malfoy whimpered with the pain that filled him, and Wormtail made a grimace, feeling a bit of justice to have entered his bleak world. Still, after a few minutes, and time to allow for the recovery of his faculties, Lucius whispered, his tone properly cowed, "I will find them, my Lord. They are not in England, but I will find them."
"You will, Lucius. For I doubt that miserable half-blood will stay away for much longer. He thrives too much on intrigue. However, I have another task for you at the moment."
The Dark Lord went on to detail a plan for a Dementor attack in the heart of London, one which would demonstrate His considerable power without a shadow of a doubt. Wormtail left his post, shuffling down the spiral staircase to the chamber which had contained generations worth of Dark Arts treasurers before Arthur Weasley had made his latest successful raid. Lucius had only been allowed by the Dark Lord to return recently, and took out his considerable anger at the loss of his families' possession, his wife and his daughter with frequent attacks of violent anger. Wormtail bore the resulting scars.
It was not fair. It was not right. But nothing about the Dark Lord was fair, or right. Wormtail had sacrificed his hand, had sacrificed everything, had lived for a dozen years as an animal, had almost single-handedly made it possible for His return to corporeal existence. He should be the trusted confidant, the man with influence and power, the man to lead a mission. Not Snape, who had fled at the moment of triumph, leaving a puzzled and angered Dark Lord, who was afraid at the meaning of his defection. And not Lucius, who was too proud and too cowardly to be an effective leader. But Peter would not be powerful, would not be influential. He would never be.
Faces haunted him, making it impossible for him to sleep. Trapped, cornered in a dark room, Remus Lupin stared with dangerous eyes, Sirius lunged, with a violence born of twelve years worth of righteous anger, and James…no…Harry, Harry looked on, and ordered them to stop. James' son, who had more right to despise him than anyone alive, James' son had saved him.
And he had repaid him with nothing but violence.
And he had earned nothing from it.
He had no reason to live, and he was scared to die. Why had he even been placed in Gryffindor? Lost, pathetic little rat that he was. He had betrayed everything and everyone who had ever been good to him, because he wanted power. Because he was scared to earn it.
The memory of the one thing he ever had and had lost irrevocably haunted him most. The love of his friends.
He did not mind when the other slaves of the Dark Lord called him Wormtail. Demeaning him, making him less than a man, calling him a rat. For an instant, just an instant, he could remember being part of a pack. Being a Marauder.
He could remember feeling loved.
And that was the most painful memory of all.