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Interludes
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Winter's end,
Promises of a long-lost
friend
Speaks to me of comfort
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But I fear
I have nothing to give
I have so much to lose…
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It was finally silent on the train. Luna was seated by the window of her compartment, sewing a sleeve on one of her Masquerade gowns while her wand directed the tulle to sew itself to the hem by her feet. Dressed in her long navy travel robes and looking properly bored, she fit in well with the crowd on the train. Everything Voldemort and his followers did was theatrical and extravagant those days, and the trip from London out to Devonshire was no exception. It was as if the party had already begun, the players wandering the train in finery and pomp.
When they had arrived in London the day before, things had been…chaotic, to say the least. Diagon and Knockturn were filled with Death Eaters and Loyalist higher-ups, all scowling at each other, shopping for dress robes or meeting for tea. Orla and Luna had gotten minimal shopping in, before returning to their hotel gratefully. The madness had continued on the train, Bellatrix and Narcissa getting into a row right outside of their compartment when they first got moving. Eventually things had died down though, once the weariness set in. Presently, Luna found herself smirking, as she sewed.
"And what is so amusing?" Theodore asked at her side, where he'd been reading. He spoke in a soft voice just above a whisper, mindful of the sleeping pair across from them. Rabastan was asleep sitting up, head resting on the plush seat, while Orla was curled up beside him, her head on his arm. Near their feet, Oubliette was napping in her bunting. Luna shook her head, tucking hair back behind her ear, jostling the fish-shaped charm there,
"Everything," She replied softly, not looking up from her sewing, "The very fact that we are taking a train out to Devonshire, to a collection of elaborate cottages, each of which will have its own floo, with which we can all get BACK to London to finish our shopping, as we still have well over a week before the festivities. And never mind the fact that most everyone present can apparate…"
"Ah, but see here my dear Ravenclaw, where would the ceremony be in that?" Theodore noted wryly, eyes settling on her busy profile, framed by the overcast, green countryside through the glass, "Frivolities might not be your cup of tea, but you certainly should appreciate the Mad Tea-Party feel of things."
"Highly mad," Luna murmured, just as another figure stopped outside of their compartment, his silhouette distorted by the textured glass. Still, Luna knew him all too well. He rapped on the door once, before sliding it open and taking one step within. Theodore looked from Luna back down at his book, not hiding the smirk on his face,
"Father," He greeted civilly, while still looking down. Aeneas Nott glanced about, taking in the silent company,
"Theodore," The tall, thin man replied, pale blue eyes passing over Rabastan and his family, "What a…cozy little gathering you have in here."
"I find it suitable," Theodore nodded, still not looking up. Aeneas gave him a small frown, before his eyes settled on Luna, who was intently studying her sewing. The older man smirked at her discomfort, knowing he bore a remarkable resemblance to her husband, with a bit more age and a bit more grey in the sandy hair,
"So it would seem, girl, that you've proven yourself more useful than I first anticipated," He told her with a delicate charm, and Luna shivered. It was different between them now, since Theodore had woken her up from a long, numb sleep within the old man's halls. Now she was fully aware of the way he leered at her. She fully remembered the way her father had looked when Aeneas Nott had tortured him to death on her sitting room floor, "It has pleased me to know that I will have…grandchildren."
Theodore looked up then, his face impassive while his eyes flashed slightly, "And how are my sisters these days?" He asked quietly, and his father's attention abruptly shifted back to him,
"Calista is quite well," Aeneas stood a bit straighter, smoothing the front of his black robes, "Though I must say, MacDougal is putting up with her headstrong side far more than I had hoped. And Colette has managed to keep herself unwed."
"Such is her choice," Theodore nodded and looked back to his book, smiling to himself even as his father narrowed his eyes in slight annoyance,
"Oh do encourage her," He grumbled, "The world for the taking, and no children to take it. Oh!" He looked up again, smiling, "That reminds me. Upon very good counsel," Meaning Voldemort's, Luna fancied, "I have decided to take a second bride, at long last," At this, Theodore looked up sharply again, "The Chambers had one daughter still unmarried, and as such, I took them up on their offer. They should be at the gathering…"
"Media?" Luna looked up, swallowing. Aeneas smiled somewhat scathingly,
"Why yes, one of your old dorm mates, wasn't she?" He moved to go, "I will see you two later, children," And on that note, he left. Luna bit her lip, looking back down at her sewing. Theodore was entirely silent for the rest of the trip.
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The daylight was lasting longer in Deception Bay. The snow was slowly leaving in slushy messes, though no one was hopefully enough to think that the last of the winter storms had passed. Still, the residents of the small village by the Bay were already starting in on spring adjustments…or they were supposed to be, anyway. Justin and Sally had gone out to knock the ice off of the eaves, but that had just dissolved into a snowball fight, which had dissolved into snogging in a snow bank.
"Glad to see we're being productive," Megan said brightly, as Wayne picked up a discarded shovel and poked Justin's boot as they passed. Justin and Sally sat up quickly, Sally brushing snow out of her long brown hair,
"Give us a break; we've been inside for months," Justin laughed, as Zach pelted him upside the head with a slush-ball, "Hey!"
"Hand slipped," Zach said innocently, taking up the other shovel and going to help Megan and Wayne finish knocking down the ice from the roof. Of course, this too turned out to be futile, as soon there was yet another snow battle in progress.
Watching from the house, Hestia shook her head, tucking reddish brown hair out of her eyes, "They amaze me," She murmured, observing the epic battle of flying snow and slush. At the table behind her, Sturgis was rereading the letter from Bill that had been sent from Michael's flat, "Rightly they should be dead of boredom by now," Hestia sighed, "How long are we going to do this, Sturgis?"
"Well if this is any clue," He set aside the letter, which was little more than a description of their well-being, well-hexed to the two of them, "Returning to civilization would not be doing them any favors…"
"I know, but…" Hestia trailed off. Sturgis watched her for a moment, before standing up and crossing over to stand behind her, resting his hand on her shoulders,
"Megan is the only one of them with an acceptable bloodline, Hes," He reminded her softly. They'd had this conversation before, many times, ever since Severus had told Hestia what he had. Theoretically yes, they could swear themselves over…and the only ones who would be allowed to live would be her and her family. But now, Hestia seemed to be thinking things over from a different angle.
"But we do have Michael Corner…" She shook her head, "I don't even know where my head is going, Sturgis. But I do know that this just isn't fair to them…"
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Those who'd been among Voldemort's ranks before his victory were all to spend the following weeks in Devonshire, situated in a very old, gated community of 18th Century summer estates and cottages. Once upon a time, it had been a muggle neighborhood for old blue blood. Now it was a holiday retreat for a collection of murderers, at the generosity of Lord Voldemort.
The snow was gone from all but the most shadowed of places, the rolling hills and scattered woods were soggy and green underfoot. Stepping out of the Thestral-drawn carriage that had borne them hence from the train station that afternoon, Luna took a deep breath of the fresh, earthy, English spring air, shutting her eyes. For a moment, all was as it had been a year and another life ago. She was on the banks of the Otter River again outside of her house, while her father started turning the earth in the vegetable garden. Upon opening her eyes of course, Luna remembered where she was, and let out a small sigh. Still, the large stone cottage before her was very pleasant, with the hint of flower vines clinging to its walls. Smiling just slightly, she went inside.
It wasn't exactly a warm evening by any means, but that awoken, alive scent of broken winter was still on the air. As such, Luna had the antique (and rather neglected) bedroom windows all open to the soft breeze. It was doing wonders for her physical health, as she'd been rather ill and aching for most of the trip. Now, having finished putting away her clothes in the large, sparsely furnished room, Luna paced in her bare feet across the hardwood floors, swinging her arms back and forth and wondering where Theodore was as she enjoyed the fresh, cool air.
He returned in a rather stormy flourish of black robes and heavy footsteps, entering the room rather abruptly. Luna stopped her pacing to greet him, her normally pale face looking for once a healthy color. He did not seem to see her at first though, distracted as he seemed to be. Stopping in front of him, Luna frowned, "What is wrong?"
"It's freezing in here," He mumbled, making his way past her and toward the window, "Why are these open?" He asked, his voice harsh. Luna opened her mouth to answer, as he slammed it down roughly, "You'll be sick."
"I…I just wanted a bit of fresh air in here," She replied in a small voice, her eyes fixed on the back of his shoulders as they moved up and down with his breathing. When she had spoken, however, his breath seemed to slowly become even again, as he stared out over the countryside dotted with lighted houses. Luna crossed her arms across herself, making herself small, "…Where were you?"
"With my father," Theodore replied in a low, bothered tone, his fingernails digging into the windowsill just slightly, "He wanted me to…meet my future step-mother," He hissed, pushing away from the window and turning around, looming over her with set jaw and stormy glare. Luna took one small step backwards, and at that, Theodore paused, his eyes seeming to soften. He gave one short, mirthless smile, shaking his head, "I despise the man, Luna," He whispered, "I would see him dead if I could, without evoking our Lord's anger."
Luna let out a long breath, shutting her eyes. He was not angry at her or at the windows. She took a few steps toward him, reaching out and touching his arm with a light, delicately white hand, "I know," She replied softly, thinking of the poor girl who would be pawned off to her father-in-law. Theodore grabbed her wrists, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers, his eyes boring into hers as if he were trying to force their thoughts to meld,
"I took you away from him," He whispered roughly, and Luna had to shut her eyes, "And now he thinks he will somehow own again what's inside of you. I swear Luna, as much as I will help it he won't see his grandchildren," Pulling her even closer, he let out a long breath, "Calista swore the same…it was all we could do to keep standing there, in that room…" Calming, he pulled back slightly, loosening his iron grip on her wrists, "…the windows?"
"I told you," She whispered back, eyes on the floor, "Fresh air…it is good for me…the three of us…"
"You'll freeze," Theodore murmured, backing her slowly against one of the bed posts, moving a hand to her waist and dragging his lips across her neck. Luna sighed, rolling her head back and shutting her eyes. She'd grown accustomed to this by then. If he needed an outlet for his aggression, Luna would always comply. Splaying a hand against her ever so slightly rounded belly, he tilted his head, whispering in her ear, "I refuse to let anything else have you,"
Luna was unable to keep the thought from crossing her mind, that she had indeed almost left him, for all of five seconds. Instead she gently pulled her wrists from his grasp, and slipped her arms around his waist.
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Meanwhile, that night in London in a flat outside of Diagon Alley, things were far less refined. Boredom had set in, as well as listlessness and general bohemian-esque behavior, which manifested itself in sleeping on floors and living on very little food and quite a lot of tea. Stephen was sitting on his makeshift bed of blankets and looted pillows, reading that day's Daily Prophet for the sixth time. He had read the paper every day since they'd arrived, and was still trying to comprehend that yes, updated Death lists, auctions of fine muggle furniture and buildings for rent that had finally been cleaned of blood and spell scoring had become the norm.
Michael had come home from work and promptly fallen asleep. He'd been working extra long hours at The Ministry, as many of the higher-ups were away for Voldemort's weeks of revelry. While his guests found moments during which all was light-hearted, considering, Michael was always nervous and twitching, glancing out the windows and over his shoulder wherever he went and exhausting himself in the process. When he'd come home that night, he'd seen Alicia sitting in the window, dressed in tank top and pj-bottoms, painting her toenails. Michael had stopped short on the way to his room, staring at the bottle of bright turquoise nail polish for a moment,
"That's new," He said tensely, and Alicia blinked,
"Yes…?"
"You went looting?" He took a deep breath, "I told you, let me do the looting, there are…PEOPLE down there…"
"You never pick up the girly things!" Alicia protested, "And I think I can take care of myself around…PEOPLE. I fend off leering Quidditch players daily," Throwing up his hands; Michael had left the room and gone to crash in his corner, pulling the curtains that divided the section from the rest of the room. Alicia just shook her head. From his spot nearby on the floor, Bill looked up from the book he was reading (or not reading, as his thoughts kept wandering to the days to come),
"Isn't it a serious crime to touch someone else's wife?" He asked quietly. Alicia gave a short, mirthless laugh, sticking out her foot to inspect her toes,
"Yeah," She smirked, scooting off of the windowsill to sit next to him on the floor, "And the poorer you are, the less illegal it gets. Still, Mikey IS moving up in the Ministry, so it's getting better."
"You know," Bill tilted his head, not quite looking at her, "I've been watching you two for a week," He grinned, "It is officially the strangest relationship I have ever seen."
Alicia somehow found this exceedingly funny. Probably because she'd thought it a million times before, and there'd been little chance to laugh about it, "It is, isn't it?" She giggled, "I don't think I'd spoken to him in my life before the day he found me, save maybe while jeering before a match back in school," Reaching up and running a hand through her wavy hair, she shook her head, "He found me hiding out in my flat, though. Remembered me, for whatever reason. He had one chance to save some poor girl and fix the paperwork, and he decided it was me," She sighed, "We have completely opposing personalities, but the fact that I need him to stay alive, and he needs someone who still has a soul to keep him sane makes things…work."
"Touching," Bill nodded once, resting his head against the wall. His eyes drifted to her small feet, and the brilliant shade of green on her toes. He'd seen the shade before on a human being, though that time it had been atop their head. It was an endearing color, really, "Where did you get that?"
"A small town house, not far from here," Alicia said softy, leaning forward and blowing on the appendages lightly, "It's been sitting empty for months now…there was a young married muggle couple who lived there," She smirked, "Mummy and Daddy paid for it, clearly. The girl had some beautiful things…" Her voice faded a bit. It still hadn't become easy to think about people as long-gone creatures. She took a deep breath, drawing up her shoulders and forcing a smile, "Luckily for my conscience, she was a tall stick insect and none of her clothes fit me,"
"Stick insects are highly overrated," Bill replied, catching her mood. Alicia turned her head, looking at him for a moment or two, trying to remember what the girl he'd married had looked like. Tonks had been very pretty, Alicia recalled, with moppy, mood-ring hair and a healthy build. The last time Alicia had seen her, it had been at Ron Weasley's 18th birthday party. Tonks had been quite pregnant…this was just Alicia's luck, of course. Even after the end of the world, she found herself attracted to the bloke most likely to be bad for her health, with legitimate baggage and well-founded angst. But why break form now? She reached over and upwards, flicking the hair out of his eyes,
"When I cut your hair," She said calmly, as if speaking to a child, "I did not intend for it to cover your face, leaving the pretty Weasley-boy eyes hidden from sight."
"Apologies," Bill smiled, a smile that actually reached his eyes. Alicia couldn't help but grin back,
"See? It's a crime to keep those hidden," She murmured, biting her lip slightly as her hand hovered near his face. His smile faded slowly, and that darkness that had been there for so long began to creep back into his eyes. And it almost made her catch her breath…here was a man who truly did know pain. Actual, gut-wrenching pain that was aware in everything he did…but he was still looking at her.
George dropping a box of tea in the kitchen area startled both of them back to earth, in a moment so like to one of the muggle films Alicia had been so fond of long ago, it made her laugh slightly, shaking her head. Bill mirrored the action, running a hand over his chin, "It's late," He said quietly, smirking at her, "I think I'll crash now…" But he didn't move. He kept looking at her.
"Yeah I…should too," Alicia said, also not moving. But those eyes…she stood up quickly, shaking her feet one at a time to dry the polish, "I'll see you lot in the morning!" And with that, she hurried off to the corner opposite Michael's, pulling back her own makeshift curtain and falling onto her bed.
She would lie awake on that bed for a long time though, watching the dim light of the night sky cast a glow against the white sheet walls of her 'room' and listening to the gentle hum of heavy, sleepy breathing, until it lulled her to sleep…a sleep which only lasted until Stephen started snoring, per usual, and Alicia was forced to try and sleep with a pillow over her head.
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Author's Notes: Took a bit longer, yes. And it is a bit calm, yes. But lots of foreshadowing, oh yes, taste my not-so-cryptic crypticness! Coming soon! Orla and Bast, Severus Snape, and Miss Ginny.