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Binding Ties
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With a sigh
You turn
away
With a deepening heart
No words to say
You will
find
That the world has changed forever
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If she had bothered to picture it at all, Orla would certainly not have imagined her future dinner table to look as it currently did, all set with silver, china and linen, the candles lit and, Bast glancing at her now and then fondly, over their warm glow, and her sister in law still glaring. It was an evening in early March, and the younger Lestrange couple was hosting a small family dinner. Having Bellatrix Lestrange sending her calculated looks from across her dining room, while Rabastan, Rodolphus and Theodore were deep in conversation and Luna was still green around the gills next to her, Orla almost felt amused.
Almost.
"I trust you've heard of the Grand Gala the Dark Lord is throwing next month," Bellatrix said to no one in particular, when the men's conversation died down, "For the celebration of a year of His great Rule…?"
"Yes dear sister, who hasn't?" Bast replied with an indulgent smirk, which succeeded in making his sister-in-law glare back,
"I was only wondering if you planned on attending," She glanced at Theodore, "Young Nott and his…wife…as well."
"As if we would be foolish enough not to," Rabastan scoffed over his wine. Theodore simply nodded his agreement,
"All of the faithful were commanded to attend," He replied quietly. Luna buried her face in her water goblet…no elven wine for her, for obvious reasons. Actually, it was then that Luna noticed that Bellatrix seemed to be refraining from the alcohol as well. The older woman noticed her eyeing the water, and smirked slightly. Oh, how Luna was looking forward to traveling back to London with this woman, not to mention spending a week celebrating with Death Eaters while suffering through morning sickness. Clearly, just what she needed.
Orla, on the other hand, was becoming far more sure of herself in Bellatrix's presence, mostly due to Luna's instruction. The key to surviving her glare was to play the part of the submissive, agreeable trophy wife, as opposed to the intimidated young muggleborn. Still, tonight Bellatrix seemed to be in a rare, pleased form, a fact that was lost on no one.
As desert appeared on the table, Oubliette began to cry from the next room. Setting her utensils aside, Orla stood quickly, "I'll take care of her," She murmured, glancing at Luna and then leaving the room, as Bast watched her go. Luna looked at Theodore once, before following her. The two girls were getting very good at non-verbal communication. And as Bellatrix began loudly pointing out the fact that the pair was likely plotting to kill their husbands while they slept, Luna slipped from the dining room and across the hall, to the first floor nursery.
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"What is it?" Luna asked softly, as Orla rocked the slightly fussy baby back and forth in the dim light. The younger girl bit her lip, shaking her head,
"I'm probably overreacting," She whispered back, pointing her wand at a bottle that was sitting on a nearby changing table, to warm it, "But notice that Bellatrix looks like an overly pleased feline lately?" Luna nodded, and Orla winced, "She's pregnant."
"No!" Luna had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. Or gasping, "But doesn't she abhor all things domestic?" The very thought of Bellatrix caring for a child almost made Luna want to vomit. The woman was the cruelest human being alive! Even the way the Death Eater's eyes would rest on Oubliette, or Luna's own midsection, her eyes flashing and…well, evil…it made Luna go a bit cold. But there was Orla, nodding,
"Apparently," She went on, picking up the bottle and giving it to the baby girl, "She realized that if she did not get on making a kid, when she and Rodolphus die, their money goes to me and Rabastan, little Oubby here, and whoever else we decided to create. And you know how she dislikes being shown up by me in any way…the spineless child-bride…"
"Well that explains that," Luna shuddered, "Still…"
"I know," Orla swallowed, holding her baby closer, "At least this will probably keep her off of my case for a while."
"Hopefully," Luna wrapped her arms around herself, looking down at the baby. It was about the time for more of them to be born, pureblooded Death Eater offspring, and for the first time she realized that not all of them would have homes as good as her and Orla's children would. She still felt ill…though, that might have been due to her current physical situation. Luna shook her head, "So you are going to London with us?"
"As far as I know," Orla said distantly, feeding the deeply thankful baby, "Quentin will stay here…Oubliette will come along," She smiled, "Bright side, we get to make baby-sized ball-gowns…"
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It had been a week since Bill and Stephen returned to Hogwarts, and they were still plotting how to return to England, where the followers of Voldemort were most thickly concentrated. Their strategy was still not quite stable when they decided to start going and see what happened. Such seemed to be working for Bill Weasley thus far.
"Tomorrow," Bill told Stephen that night, giving him a brotherly smack upside the head, as he passed the bonfire the younger boy and Morag were sitting by, "Get good and ready for various forms of doom and gloom."
"So soon?" Stephen yawned, "Has George decided if he's coming along or not?"
"That's where I'm going right now," Bill thumbed over at the cave, walking backwards toward it, "If Katie doesn't kill me first." He turned and slipped through the makeshift door to the cave, leaving the two to the quiet crackling of the warm fire, sending sparks flying up into the black night sky under the trees. Leaning back on his elbows in the dry, cleared forest dirt with his feet stretched out toward the flames, Stephen looked over at Morag, who sat next to him with her arms wrapped around her knees, face lit in the orange glow.
"Didn't we used to talk about having a big bonfire our last night of school?" He asked distantly, and Morag smirked,
"Yup," She replied, just as quietly, tilting her head and resting it on her knee, so that she was looking at him, "We were going to have it the night before we left in fact, when they couldn't do anything to us."
"School tradition, really," Stephen nodded, "That or a midnight swim in the lake,"
"Ugh, too cold, even in June," Morag scrunched up her nose, "A fire would have been far better," She looked back at the bonfire, shivering a bit, "Too bad we never got to do that…"
"Yeah…too bad," Stephen said softly, also looking back at the fire for a bit. The two of them were both lost in their own thoughts for a moment, of how their graduation might have gone, or of how crazy their seventh year night could have gotten. And of course, they recalled what had stopped it all from happening. Sucking in a breath, Stephen looked back over at her, smirking again, "Remember that time I pushed you into the lake seventh year?"
"Hey!" Morag laughed, turning her head, "I pushed you in, and you just pulled me along!"
"I beg to differ Miss," Stephen scoffed, "There was definite pushing on MY part involved,"
"Well regardless, we were both sodden through," Morag snorted, remembering that day all too well. Not only had it been an epic water fight, it had…well, also been the day she had all but admitted to having feelings for him, in her typically bad way, "We didn't really talk as much as we used to after that, did we?"
Stephen blinked, looking at the fire and then back at her, "Well you're a whole lot better at talking now," He joked, grinning rather ruefully, "And no, we didn't."
"Oh let's face it, I had issues then," Morag laughed, though her tone was a bit more serious, "Things just seemed so awful then, what with finding out my mum was dead and my dad was marrying a…" She shook her head, that choppy blonde hair (which was a bit shorter than Stephen remembered) falling in her eyes, "Funny how your attitude changes after…" She bit her lip, "Well, anyway. Yeah, first I thought you and Luna had something going, and that made me jealous. Not because I liked you at that point, but because you were my best friend and nobody else got to have you," She grinned, "Blimey, I was more typically seventeen than I would admit."
"Clearly," Stephen smirked, though now his eyes were watching her closely, "You thought Luna and I had something going?"
"Well! You talked all the bloody time," Morag poked him, but he shook his head,
"We…could have…maybe. We were good friends," He said seriously, "But I didn't see her all summer after sixth year, and when I finally did…"
"She was with Ernie," Morag nodded, sighing, "Those two had a rough lot…"
Stephen just nodded. He couldn't talk about them, Luna had turned out to be like his sister and now she was…well. He shook his head, "So," He said softly, "If we had been a bit smarter and not so…typically seventeen…do you think anything would have happened?"
Morag snorted again, though a grin tugged at her lips. She rested her head on her knees again, looking at him, "Maybe," She allowed, grinning, "Though really, I was insufferable and you were so obnoxiously noble."
"You…! I was!" Stephen paused, shrugging, "Yeah, you were pretty insufferable." Morag laughed, slapping him upside the head, "Ow! Why does everyone insist on abusing me tonight?" He sighed.
"You're very abuse-able," Morag informed him, now sitting back and mirroring his position on the ground, "I think we could have had…something," She smiled, "We could have been the bickering couple of Ravenclaw."
"More epic water battles and throwing of personal items at each other across the common room," Stephen snorted, looking over to see her laughing as well, "Followed by the obligatory makeup snogs in public areas."
"Oh we would have been unforgettable!" Morag declared, laughing, though a bit of color was creeping into her face, "Alas, what could have been," She trailed off, looking once again toward the fire. Stephen followed suit, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, reaching up and running a hand through his longish hair somewhat nervously. Morag sighed, "Stephen, why are you following Bill Weasley to England?"
"Why?" Stephen blinked, at the expected yet still abrupt subject change. He shrugged, hair falling in front of his face again, "He wants to try and get his sister, and he needs help."
"But why risk killing yourself for someone else's sister?" Morag asked more pointedly, turning to her side and resting on her elbow, looking at him, "Why YOU?"
Stephen was quiet for a few moments, eyes fixed on his worn and tattered trainers as he contemplated her question, "I guess," He replied, slowly, "Because I can't just stay in hiding. I need to do something, Morag," He looked over at her, "I couldn't do anything for Luna, or for Orla, and after I'd probably killed hundreds of people…"
"That wasn't your fault…"
"I still did it," Stephen said sharply, and then sighed, "All of us that survived probably only have so long before…" He shook his head, huffing, "I don't want to die knowing that the most I ever did with my life was to kill muggles and muggle-borns."
"Bullocks," Morag whispered, though she smirked a bit, "You're still obnoxiously noble. And here I thought you'd changed, Stephen Cornfoot."
"Sorry to disappoint," He whispered back, looking at her again. She gave a small laugh, reaching up to wipe her eyes. Merlin, he was likely going to die if he went back to England. She bit her lip,
"Promise me you won't get yourself killed?"
"I'll try not to,"
"You won't," Morag whispered firmly, looking him in the eye…those gorgeous blue eyes that had once had every girl in Hogwarts falling all over themselves, while their owner had been completely oblivious. And Morag had been overly possessive, of a boy she never thought she'd ever have, or want to have. He reached over, flicking a bit of her uneven blonde hair from her eyes, before leaning over, and touching his lips to hers.
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The following morning, Bill, Stephen, and George all left the grounds of Hogwarts. Morag and Katie looked oddly resigned, while Seamus and Neville protested their being left behind. Bill had assured them that Hagrid and Firenze needed their help more.
Having had to survive on the run and on his own for a few months after Voldemort's Victory, George knew a bit more about the state of things in Wizarding Britain. He led them through the melting snow and budding grasses to Hogsmeade, which was completely deserted. Bill and Stephen looked on in sorrowing awe, while George was un-phased, even enjoying the rising scent of spring, which lifted into the air above the ruined village.
The Three Broomsticks was nothing more than a pile of rubble, as was most of that part of the settlement. The buildings that were still standing were only just. The steady wind blew creaking boards and tattered old signs or flags in the deserted calm. George stopped outside of the old boarded up Zonko's shop, sighing. He looked back at Bill, who was inspecting the remains of Honeyduke's, "You say you made it through the floo from Alberta just fine?"
"Perfectly fine," His older brother nodded, looking back at him. Stephen kicked at some of the charred, rotting boards left over from the sweet shop. Word had it that Lavender Brown had managed to run as far as that shop before she was killed, the hex setting fire to the place…
"Well I'm willing to bet that means they've quit monitoring the floo system," George said brightly, opening the door and motioning them inside the dusty, messy shop, "We'll floo to Ottery St. Catchpole,"
"Why so far from London?" Stephen asked quietly as he entered, as if in respect for any ghosts that might be lurking. Bill looked as if he wanted to ask the same question. George laughed,
"Oh right, yeah, that's a smart move," He scoffed, leading them toward the back, where the old fireplace still lingered, "I know this is a suicide mission lads, but we'd at least like to put in a good effort, for Ginny-love," He pulled out his wand, to start a fire in the unused floo, "We floo straight into London, we'll have the very best chance at instant death. Nah, we're flooing home, and then we'll send out an owl to our good friend Michael…"
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Author's Notes: Loff. Next chapter: Michael, Alicia, and possibly a train ride and 99 Red Balloons...
