Disclaimer: See Chapter One

Updated Sunday 4th September 2005

Beta'd by 3-Legged Dog

Chapter 03: Secrets

Contrary to what she had thought, all her uncle had required of her in the formulation of his research into an antidote was a sample of her blood. When she had expressed concern about her ongoing commitment to then supply her blood as an integral ingredient to the potion, he had assured her of his ability to synthesise the antibody – if indeed any were present in her blood – and reproduce it for himself. Though such methods were not generally ideal for potions that required blood or bodily tissue as a defining ingredient, this situation, as he explained to his niece, was different in that blood did not inherently form the foundation of any perceived antidote - it was just certain perceived qualities in her blood that he was hoping to isolate.

With her uncle subsequently absorbed in analysing his data and annotating his research, Estella was, for the most part, left to her own devices. Though she was fully competent with potions and could probably have assisted the man in some way, she found that it was something that no longer brought her any joy. On some level, she suspected it was because of the memories she had of Lucius Malfoy force-feeding her the dark potions, that she no longer had a nose for certain ingredients. As if he had drawn that same conclusion, her uncle did not press her to accompany her in the lab, or object when she submitted a desire to spend her time in the library.

Though Madame Pince was away on holiday, Estella encountered no difficulty in navigating her way around the library in her search for a book on Phoenixes. Both her godfather and mother had been entirely helpful in teaching her handy charms to assist with research. What summoning and locating spells she hadn't learnt from her mother in the past, she was fast becoming acquainted with in her mother's diary entries.

After having glossed over the tome over Christmas break, Estella did not study the journal at length until Harry had arrived a few weeks previously. Being such an avid reader, she'd canvassed the text within a few days, but the information contained therein was still struggling for purchase in her mind. She had so many questions, but knew she had no recourse for answers. There were certain things, she was sure, that Harry had a right to know, but given her source, it was not her place to disclose what she knew.

Yet.

There was, after all, a right time for everything, and for now she was resolved to learning more about Phoenixes. No sooner had she heaved a dusty tome from a top shelf, however, was she interrupted by an insistent tapping against the window.

It was an owl.

Instantly curious as to why the owl did not retreat to the Owlery to wait until the scheduled delivery times, Estella opened the window and let the owl in. Though she did not recognise the owl, she knew that if her uncle was locked in his lab and the owl bore urgent news for him, it would have due cause to seek her out in his stead. To her surprise, however, the letter was not only addressed to her, but it was sealed with the Malfoy crest.

Having had it instilled in her from a very young age, Estella knew not to accept any unsolicited mail without taking the proper precautions. Taking out her wand and casting some of the first charms she had ever learnt, Estella did not touch the innocent looking envelope until she was satisfied that it both held no hidden hexes or spells, nor was from any of the elder members of the Malfoy family. Magically detaching it from the owl's leg and opening the thick, fine grade parchment with a flick of her wand, Estella let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding; her eyes confirmed the sight of Draco's distinctive hand.

Reading through the letter once, then again for good measure, Estella leant back in her chair in consideration. As opinionated as Draco's words were in regards to his father's actions, the attentive Ravenclaw could not overrule the possibility that Draco was acting now as an instrument of his father. The boy's devotion to his father and sense of familial duty was never denied. The young Slytherin so much as admitted his disdain at the motives driving the Malfoy head to do what he did, though he did not seem to disapprove of Lucius' means.

'My Father is ruled by his pride.' Draco wrote. 'I regret that it is his one flaw. To be so readily baited by one's weakness is utterly deplorable; and it is unfortunate that you drew his ire.'

The letter went on to reiterate what Draco had said to her after Christmas – about understanding her duty to ally herself with her father's beliefs and not holding her personally accountable – and added his well wishes for her recovery.

'My Father shared with me his memories of your defiance. I believe his intent was to serve as a warning to ensure my allegiance. Having seen what happened to you, I can now appreciate why you did not return to classes upon your return. It is also my wish that this letter finds you well.'

Despite its sincerity, Estella could not help but feel that perhaps Lucius was coercing Draco to ply her for information about her condition. She decided then and there to be deliberately vague in any response… and she would respond, she resolved, as it would be extremely rude not to at least to acknowledge the correspondence.

Reading through the last line of the letter, Estella had to bite back a smirk.

'Loathed though I am to admit it, I find I have developed a new found appreciation for Scar Head. The Dark Lord acted rashly when he cast the Killing Curse at you, and had Potter not done what he did, I think the Dark Lord would have come to regret denying himself the potential benefit that your service could one day still bring.'

"He's dreaming." Estella exclaimed to the empty room, casting aside her books and fumbling for some parchment to write a reply. Draco's candour at dispelling the Dark Lord's actions as 'rash' had her curious. Such judgement of a tyrant like Voldemort would be seen as treasonous to the loyal, so either Draco was spectacularly arrogant and stupid to think that the rules did not apply to him, or he trusted her with his personal reflection. Narcissa, from what her uncle had told her, had a reputation for lacking discretion around her closest family and friends. It was a matter of some private speculation between Severus and Lucius that the loose-lipped woman's biological father had likely been in Hufflepuff.

Being raised by a Slytherin had its merits. Estella could see right through Draco's sincerity and identify the boy's undertones of self-preservation. Of all his potential suitors, Estella knew that she was the only one he could stand; and if her uncle's revelation that Lucius had only wanted to control her, not necessarily kill her had any meaning, then the Malfoy patriarch had not written off the value of her bloodlines either. That Draco was outright contrite and blasphemous in daring to question Voldemort's actions, could very well be a ploy to establish a false sense of trust.

On the other hand, Estella suspected that, like her, Draco had been raised in an equally isolating environment and could simply be reaching out to the one person he identified with most. Though her uncle had delayed their meeting for as long as possible, Estella couldn't help but get the feeling that Narcissa – if not Lucius as well – had conditioned their son from a young age to not only accept her as his equal, but acknowledge their compatibility. Whilst Severus' preparation had bordered more on warning her against taking the family at face value, it did not stop her from sympathising with the precocious, but lonely, boy. For while it was true that she did not like his spoiled attitude and constant preoccupation with class and superiority, it had not taken her long to recognise these traits as projective masks to cover for a hidden insecurity. It could also be said, therefore, that he was simply confiding in her.

If anyone asked Estella how she felt about the albino-haired Slytherin, she'd honestly tell them that he was an arrogant, self-important, nasty piece of work, but she'd never admit to hating him. Draco Malfoy was, after all, the only young person she met growing up who not only was unaffected by her uncle's imposing presence, but he didn't ever treat her as inferior or tease her for having no parents. No matter the pretences she had to employ when around him, no matter how he treated others… his acceptance of her at a time when no one else would even look at her without seeing what her father supposedly did or what her uncle was like, ensured the young Slytherin due consideration. Save treating Draco the same way as her uncle looked at Harry, she knew she owed it to the blonde to keep objective.

Penning the owner of the waiting owl a quick, and suitably ambiguous reply – for Estella was loath to lie outright – Estella charmed the letter with a privacy charm (to ensure only Draco could read it) and attached it to the compliant owl's leg. Draco had quite evidently expected her to reply, else he would not have instructed the owl to await a response, and she didn't even want to think of what would happen to her owl if it tried to get through the wards around the Malfoy Manor. Whilst there were many repellent charms to prevent mail reaching recipients in a heavily warded property, she wouldn't put it past a dark wizard like Lucius Malfoy, to resort to equally dark methods to stop mail from finding him.

Harboured by an idea as she watched the graceful bird fly away, she packed up her books and made her way out of the library. One of the benefits of visiting her uncle at the school was her ability to do magic during the holidays. With Harry's birthday coming up and the realisation that her father would more than likely amply provide the boy with everything money could buy, Estella was resolved to find him a gift that was distinctly more… unique.

Since her family's home in London was in the middle of a Muggle neighbourhood, Estella was safe in the knowledge that Harry would not miss his broomstick for a few days. She had, of course, replaced it on his wall with her own broom. So long as her father didn't get any bright ideas about flying in Muggle London or Harry didn't feel compelled to polish it, she would be able to switch the brooms back without anyone even knowing she'd borrowed Harry's.

The plan was, invariably, to use the knowledge Benson Ollerton had indirectly bestowed upon her to improve upon the aerodynamics and strengths of the already state-of-the-art broomstick Harry had been given just over a year previously. She'd already spent much of her time whilst back at the school, unencumbered in her room as she worked; but now the question as to whether or not the broom was now functional, begged to be answered.

In theory, Estella knew what the charms she had added to the broom ought to do, but the fear that the broom company had imbued their product with an undetectable anti-tampering fail safe was a very real threat. She was also unsure how the broom would react with the additional magic upon it because, unlike the older brooms she had upgraded for her father and godfather over Christmas, the Firebolt was already of a singularly complex design; she didn't know how much more magic a broom could take without becoming volatile.

Short of letting anyone in on her intended surprise, she realised with stark clarity that she was the only one who could fly the broom; both because she had the most knowledge on what it as now supposed to do and because the only other person within a physical vicinity that she could ask was her uncle. The thought of him assisting her with a birthday gift for Harry was unfathomable. Harry's Firebolt would surely end up in the fire faster than one could say 'Quidditch'.

"Well, it may be something you already have in principle, Harry," Estella grumbled as she mounted the broom in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch. "But you'd better bloody well appreciate the gesture!"

Kicking off nervously, Estella began her first ever unsupervised flight, and in short, she was absolutely terrified. Taking an analytical approach, however, Estella was able to methodically run through the list of amendments she needed to test in her mind, and set her fears aside. Years of assisting her uncle brew potions that required a high level of structured discipline and mental focus, ensured that she was able to occlude the fear from her mind and concentrate on the task at hand. So focused on her goal was she, that it didn't even register in her conscious thought that she had actually begun to enjoy herself – deliberately testing each function exhaustively so as to stay up there longer than necessary.

Being the only child on the school premises, the presence of her form zipping across the Quidditch Pitch and beyond as she whooped and screamed with mixed emotions was bound to draw some attention. McGonagall and Dumbledore, she surmised, must have seen her from their respective office windows and come running. She knew she'd terrified poor Hagrid when she whistled past him at a low altitude as he worked on the Strawberry fields.

Before she could even contemplate where he'd come from, a rather ticked off Severus Snape was airborne and flying towards her. His school-issued Cleansweep, however, was old and no match for Harry's modified Firebolt. When, to her surprise, her uncle fired an 'Impedimenta' at her broom, intent on slowing her down, she was pleased to note that the repellent shield charm she'd layered into the broom's defences absorbed the minor jinx without effect. Throwing a smirk over her shoulder and taking in her uncle's look of shock, Estella sped up and gained altitude, intent on testing out the anti-gravity failsafe. Ironically, it was a charm her uncle had taught her to spell her Potions equipment with, to save them from smashing, if they fell off the table. In theory, the same charm applied to a broom would prevent it from crashing into the earth, automatically pulling the rider up from their collision course a safe distance from impact.

Given Harry's propensity for pulling off the Wronksi Feint, it was important that this added charm to his broom didn't pull the flier up too soon, thus disabling the ability to pull off the feint. Because she did not have much faith in her own ability to pull up in time otherwise, it was, incidentally, a theory she was least willing to test. With Dumbledore watching from the sidelines, however, and the memory of how he had saved Harry from grave injury following his fall in his third year, she knew she would be safe no matter the broom's effect.

When the broom negated all attempts of its grounded audience to slow it down as it hurtled towards the earth at a seemingly out-of-control pace, only to swiftly pull up inches from the ground and continue along a horizontal path in a dizzying barrel roll, Estella didn't know what was more surprising: that the anti-gravity charm had worked, or the fact that the attempts of one of the most powerful wizards alive to stop the broom had failed. That is, assuming he actually tried

The broom eventually unwinding from its horizontal spiral and coming to a rest on the grassy knoll at the far end of the Pitch, Estella rolled off her broom and flopped out on the grass, content to watch the world continue to spin around her, lest she succumb to motion sickness. It did not occur to her, at the time, that this position was, to the approaching adults, eerily similar in location to how she had returned from Voldemort's clutches – a memory, if her uncle's reaction was anything to go by, was still too raw.

"What were you thinking?" Her uncle, having been on a broom, reached her first and didn't hesitate to pull her into a sitting position and shake her by the shoulders angrily. "You foolish, stupid child!"

Dizzy with disorientation and her mind intoxicated by the adrenalin rushing through her veins, Estella brushed off her uncle's tone and smirked. "I just made the world's best broom better and you're calling me stupid? That's rich."

Giving a double take at his niece's uncharacteristic display of arrogance, Severus blanched and recoiled in disgust. "Arrogance!" he snapped, spittle landing on his chin as he spiralled into embittered memories. "Your father's influence is apparent."

"Oh leave her alone, Severus," the clearly impressed voice of Albus Dumbledore cut in from behind, both he and the Deputy Headmistress joining them on the knoll. "That was quite an impressive show you put on there, Estella. Do try to warn us next time."

Estella nodded dumbly, not quite sure how to take the twinkle in the calculating Headmaster's eye.

The long walk back to the castle was, therefore, somewhat amusing for Estella as she watched the conflicting emotions pass over each adult's face. While her uncle was almost shaking with the exertion of keeping his baser instincts in check, the conversely older – and therefore wiser – Headmaster was openly encouraging of her accomplishment and equally goading of her uncle's aversion.

"Don't worry about your uncle, Estella," Dumbledore leaned down slightly and whispered in her ear in a voice that was still able to carry the distance between all four of them. "He is most likely feeling sour by the threat your addition to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team next year will have on his Slytherins."

Beside them, McGonagall chuckled warmly, surprising Estella with her congeniality. For years she'd been so accustomed to the woman going to deliberate lengths to not develop an attachment. That her father had been one of her favoured Transfiguration students and subsequently thought to have betrayed the Potters – and the Wizarding World – weighed heavily on the sternly woman's perceptions of her; so it was conversely difficult to associate the woman with being anything more than stern and unforgiving with her. The one thing that was blatantly apparent in the wake of recent revelations, was that the older woman's deeply-seeded sense of Gryffindor morality had the witch just about falling over herself in her rush to repent.

Having a better understanding of Gryffindors than one would think a Ravenclaw raised predominantly by a Slytherin would, Estella knew instinctively that the woman's overtures were genuine and sincere. After overhearing her father's irate Floo call with the Headmaster the day he'd discovered how horrible the Dursleys were to Harry, Estella was surprised to learn that McGonagall had been keen to take Harry in herself. Knowing that, she couldn't help but think how her formative years would have been like if, like the woman's continued reverence for James and Lily, McGonagall's opinion towards her father had not been changed. As much as she couldn't deny how curious she was to have a caring, grandmotherly sort in her life, Estella knew that no matter what her Transfiguration Professor did in future, the opportunity to forge that kind of bond had passed them by. The sad look in the said woman's eyes, therefore, was likely a sign that she too was aware of this fact.

"Your father and godfather both would be thrilled to see you flying so fearlessly." The old woman informed her, a sad tinge of regret lacing her voice. "Terrified for your safety, yes, but proud."

"With all due respect, Professor," Estella turned to the woman, noting how she flinched slightly at the title. "I was terrified."

The added tightness of the woman's jaw confirmed for Estella that the Gryffindor Head was plagued by her regrets and was inwardly lamenting over what could have been. Touched though she was by the gesture, Estella felt no need to dwell on the issue – she'd never envisioned being anything less than at loggerheads with this woman, so the mere instance that they were able to have a civil conversation exceeded all of her expectations.

"Why on earth did you do it then?" Her uncle's snappish voice drew her from her thoughts and she blinked at him in confusion.

"I did what I had to do." She said carefully. "Much like how you would subject yourself to an untested potion to note its effects."

"That's different." he snapped. "I operate in a controlled environment! I am insulted that you would even think to compare my valid research with your folly!"

"If there is no comparison to be made," Estella glared at her uncle, a smug tone in her voice. "Then it is ironic that the anti-gravity charm I was testing was one you taught me to use in the Potions Lab!"

Giving his chuckling colleagues a withering look, Severus accosted his niece in a defensive tone. "I do not tolerate wand play in my classroom." he reiterated a firmly established fact in front of his peers, with the intent to misdirect them into believing he could never have taught her the charm in question.

"Yes, but we weren't in your classroom, now were we?" Estella reminded her uncle, a challenging lilt to her voice. "I was eight and we were in your private lab. You taught me that charm to prevent breakages as I was learning the potions least effected by indirect magic."

"Perhaps," her uncle hissed, his dark eyes flashing dangerously at her as he stared at her in repulsion, "in the interests of your health you will be best served to return to London momentarily."

At that, the defeated Potions Master stormed off, all long strides and dark robes, leaving a stunned pair of Gryffindors and bemused Ravenclaw in his stead.

"Oh come on," Estella shook her head at her companion's agape jaws. "He didn't mean that."

"How can you be so sure?" Professor McGonagall asked of her dryly.

"He's my uncle. I've lived with him most of my life." Estella informed the disbelieving woman, incredulous at her continued ability to take people for face value no matter her own past mistakes. "You can't actually believe he'd be capable of hurting me."

"Estella is right, Minerva." Albus Dumbledore smiled at his colleague reassuringly. "Severus may be a difficult person to understand at the best of times, but I trust him implicitly and have no more reason to question the safety of his niece in his care anymore than I ever did in the past."

"I know, Albus." Minerva sighed, smiling weakly at Estella by way of a belated apology for years of not caring how the feared Potions Master's social skills affected his niece. "It's just that it unnerves me how cold he can be some times. I don't know how the students don't just run out of his classroom screaming…"

"An Impenetrable Charm on the classroom door." Estella said simply, sniggering when she caught both teachers by surprise. "I'm joking! Honestly, you Gryffindors are far too trusting."

"Yes, well even so, young lady," Albus smiled appreciatively at Estella's coup. "I don't think you will disagree with me in saying that your uncle could use some 'alone' time to cool down. Perhaps you should detour past my office and join Minerva and myself for a spot of afternoon tea on your way back to your quarters. Minerva, is that arrangement agreeable with you?"

"Of course, Albus." Minerva responded all too quickly, and Estella's mind was inexplicably filled with the image of a cat leaping to protect one of it's litter from a predator. "I'm sure there's a story or two we could impart on you child, that will serve a reminder to your father should he ever decide to react harshly to the news of what you accomplished today."

"I think I'm pretty safe against retribution from my Dad," Estella said, smirking. "Had he seen it for himself he might have been a bit like my uncle back there… I won't say no to some ammo over tea though."

"Ammo?" Albus questioned, his tongue rolling over the unfamiliar slang like it was a newly discovered sweet.

"Ammunition." Estella clarified. "You know… the dirt? Evidence to 'remind' Dad of his past misdoings should he ever catch me doing anything remotely similar?"

"Ah, very well then." said Albus, seemingly disappointed that Estella hadn't been talking about a sweet.

"But don't for one minute think that we would condone such behaviour from you during term." Minerva reminded her, "I needn't tell you of the record your father and James Potter set for serving the most detentions in a year… although at the rate the Weasley twins are going…"

"That's OK, Professor." Estella assured the woman. "I do not plan on getting detentions."

'Getting caught, more like.' she sniggered inwardly.

"Oh, well, good." The Gryffindor Head of House nodded approvingly. "You strike a good balance between both your parents in that regard. Be mindful to remind your uncle of that when you see him next…"

Estella looked closely at the unassuming Professor and was taken aback slightly by the knowing look in her cat-like eyes. Not for the first time, Estella found she had underestimated both the Transfiguration teacher's humour and perceptiveness; it occurred to her just how much the woman must have willingly let her father and his friends get away with in the name of 'harmless fun'.

"Are you certain, Professor, that it's Gryffindor you should be head of?" Estella peered at the woman closely, seeing her in a slightly different, more humanising, light.


The 'detour' Estella took en route to her uncle's dungeon quarters did little to dissipate her uncle's anger. Despite her Transfiguration teacher's earlier misgivings about how damaging subjecting such a small child to the man's temper could be, Estella knew better than to take her uncle's ire personally. If anything, the extent of his anger was a direct reflection of his concern for her safety.

"How dare you disrespect me and make a mockery of me in front of my colleagues?" Severus hissed at her as she walked in the door. Estella halted in her tracks.

"What?" she was confused. Just because she had indirectly facilitated the other teacher's in fuelling their comments, didn't mean she condoned it. Telling him as much, she shook her head at his almost comical contempt and rolled her eyes. "With all due respect, get over yourself, Uncle Sev! I was only speaking the truth, and you know it, so lighten up!"

Severus' jaw twitched agitatedly, but Estella could see him working at controlling his breathing and calming himself down. Though he was often cold and unreasonable with his students, he habitually drew the line with his niece. "Very well." he conceded, inwardly marvelling at his niece's tenacity. "However there is still the matter of your foolish disregard for-"

"-for what, Uncle Sev? Mmmm?" Estella cut in. "Before you continue I suggest you make note of the fact that it was not against any rules for me to go fly within the school grounds."

"Those rules apply to students who have completed the necessary year of lessons." said Severus, becoming all too aware that he was about to be out-Slytherined yet again. "A flier of your inexperience would not have been allowed to fly unsupervised-"

"I'm afraid that's open to interpretation, Uncle." said Estella. "The rule in 'Hogwarts: A History' specifically states that students in second year and above are permitted to fly unaccompanied-"

"-with the assumption that they've completed a year of flying lessons!" he interrupted weakly.

"It doesn't say that though, does it?" Estella elaborated, her stormy grey eyes penetrating his shadowed depths like none other. "Like I said, it's open to interpretation. The rules, as they stand, did not paint me as being in the wrong and you know it."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus closed his eyes wearily lest he openly regret encouraging the child's Slytherin traits. The mask slipping ever so slightly, when he reopened his eyes and looked at his niece; the mix of relief, awe, amusement and defeat revealed itself to Estella.

"Indeed," he admitted grudgingly. Then, smirking in satisfaction, he continued. "In any event, it is not my place to discipline you any longer-"

"You won't tell him." Estella was smug, and Severus again was left to question the integrity of the Sorting Hat. "Who do you think he would blame for letting me out of their sight?"

"You're right, as usual." Severus' tone was uncharacteristically flippant. Despite it being used against him, it never took him long to find solace in his niece's Slytherin tendencies. That she displayed such traits at all was a reflection of his influence, after all. "He'd likely find an excuse to hex me, and reward you."

"Then he won't let up about me trying out for the Quidditch team." Estella grimaced. Taking a scientific approach to flying and doing what needs to be done is one thing, but to fly for recreation and sport was something she still wasn't comfortable with. If her residual queasiness and disorientation was anything to go by, her body just wasn't built for the skies.

"I find it hard to believe that you do not have any ambition to even try the sport." Severus peered at her curiously. Superior broom or no, it required a certain disposition to fly like she had that day and yet despite all her book smarts and perceptiveness, she was least aware of that fact. "Both of your parents were equally competent and confident in the air."

Shrugging, Estella tugged at a loose strand of windswept hair. "Just doesn't interest me, is all. If I wanted to be a show off, I would have asked the hat to put me in Gryffindor," she informed him lightly, beaming ecstatically when she saw her uncle's eyes glint with amusement. Looking at him smugly, she went in for the kill: "There are more important matters at hand, than to risk injury indulging in – what is it you called it? – a folly."

The responding snort was about as close to laughter that the poker-faced Slytherin got. "Stop turning my words on me."

"Why?" Estella smirked, "and give up my Slytherin side? Never!"

A ghost of a smile twitched at Severus' lips and he inclined his head in appreciation. Any further conversation, however, was cut off by the flare of the fireplace, the green flames of the Floo ejecting a scroll of parchment towards Severus.

Summoning a book to leave her uncle to his correspondence in peace, Estella curled up on her armchair opposite Severus as he took in the contents of his mail. When she noticed her uncle twitch in his chair, she looked up to see a dark look on his face.

"What's the matter?" she asked, her mind instantly running through the list of worse-case-scenarios in her mind. Had something happened to her father?

"What were you thinking?" he stated softly, a desperate edge to his voice. "Writing to Draco like that?"

"I didn't give anything away." Estella frowned; slightly insulted by the implication that she had done something foolish. "You always said it was better to respond to mail with something rather than ignore it and raise ques-"

"Yes, but the charm, Estella!" her Uncle looked at her imploringly. "You cannot do magic outside of Hogwarts, you foolish girl! Whatever you said to Draco should have been neutral enough to pass Lucius' inspection! Why did you do it?"

"I wanted to make sure only Draco could read it…" Estella said slowly, the cogs in her mind slowly clicking into alignment. "I suspected Lucius would… so I… oh Merlin, I didn't even think that he would… he knows I'm at the school now, doesn't he?"

Severus nodded jerkily.

"Well, can't we just say that I'm here with my Dad?" Estella's voice was rushed and high-pitched. "Or that I risked under-aged magic at home? Or… or… or…"

"They are all valid options, Estella." Severus admitted dismissively. "But don't you see, this is now a test."

"What do you mean, a test?" Estella narrowed her eyes. "A test for what?"

"My loyalty." said Severus gravely, running a hand through his greasy locks in frustration. "Estella, given their assumption that your convalescence requires ongoing care and administration of potions only I can provide, combined with the instance that you have used magic freely, it will now be hard for them to believe anything other than the scenario that you are within unrestricted proximity to me."

"What does that mean though?" Estella's voice was barely above a whisper as she struggled to connect the dots for herself.

"This letter here informs me that…" Severus' voice trailed off. "As a show of my ongoing loyalty to the Dark Lord, I am expected to volunteer the results of your testing within the week."

"But… but… but how could they have known I am… ready…"

"Contacts within the Department of Floo Travel." Severus shook his head in disgust. "Someone present that night must have found your predicament highly amusing because it was evidently bantered about the office-"

"WHAT?" Estella blanched. "Isn't that going against some code of secrecy or something? I thought Dumbledore could trust these people?"

"Oh it was purely a hypothetical recount, I assure you." Severus frowned at the fireplace. "No names were actually divulged… though whenever those foolish Hufflepuffs realise that there doesn't need to be names for a Slytherin to figure it out will not be soon enough!"

Taking a deep breath, Estella set aside her book carefully and looked her Uncle directly in the eyes, a mask of determination on her face.

"Well," she said, getting up slowly. "We had better get started."


Two days had past and Estella had come to realise, firsthand, just why the testing was no longer mandatory in Wizarding society. Thankfully it wasn't anything like the trauma Lucius had subjected her to – she doubted much of anything could come close to that – but it certainly wasn't a pleasant experience.

The premise behind the process of testing a matured Witch or Wizard's magic was not unlike the methods some families used to coerce their young child to display signs of accidental magic. But where, for a small child, accidental magic often comes freely and unbidden, it is next to impossible for a witch or wizard who has outgrown that phase to call upon their magic without a wand.

To assist in the process, the subject was fed a special hallucinogenic potion that was supposed to heighten the senses and invoke dormant powers within. At best, this potion did nothing more than to cruelly amplify the effects of the range of spells that were surreptitiously thrown at the subject and was completely ineffective in provoking a self-preservationist response from one's magical core.

People of weak mind and body would therefore show little tolerance to the testing and be presumed lacking in magical ability, whilst those with the ability to block out the pain and maintain enough clarity of mind to, for example, launch a physical defence, were designated as being more powerful.

A downside to this method, naturally, was the way the testing reflected the manner by which a person had previously been exposed to magic without giving any accurate gauge as to future potential. A classically educated witch was invariably always going to do better than a Muggle-raised witch with no training even though the latter may well have exceeded the former had they been equally trained. The Ministry had come to realise this imbalance and ineffectuality some two hundred years ago, but in refusing to see Muggleborns as anything other than inferior, the staunch purists of the upper echelons of society refused to waiver tradition.

Now, two days after the event, Estella could not get the image of her uncle's face out of her mind. She hoped never to see again the look of self-loathing in his eyes as he forced himself to 'test' her. With the assistance of covertly-cast healing charms and potions, the testing left no lasting effects, but the burden of the secret she now had to carry weighed heavily on her shoulders; she didn't think she'd be able to look at her uncle in quite the same way again.

'At least it's not like the testing Purebloods used to do to test the pureness of the bloodline.' Estella shuddered inwardly at the thought. After having heard how Narcissa Malfoy was not biologically her father's cousin, but rather the product of a illicit love affair between her great aunt-in-law and a unidentified stranger, Estella had made the curious mistake of looking up the methods Lucius was said to have used to test the integrity of his future-wife's bloodline. In hindsight, she should have taken Draco's fear (of being subjected to the same testing when the truth is revealed to the father of his chosen suitor) as proof of how unpleasant the ritual was, but no, she just had to be the conscientious Ravenclaw and borrow that book from the Restricted Section of the library. Even the terrorised screams of the animated images was not enough to dissuade her morbid curiosity…

In light of recent events, however, she appreciated the objectivity the knowledge gave her… compared to both that and what Lucius did to her, what her uncle forced himself to do was most bearable.

"It's OK, Uncle Sev, really." Estella assured her uncle, telling him as much as she prepared to return to London. The man having not stopped brooding since it happened. "I don't blame you."

"You should have left," said Severus in a distant tone. "That afternoon on the Quidditch Pitch. I warned you."

"I don't understand, Uncle Sev," Estella furrowed her brow. "There's no way you could have known what was going to happen…"

Her uncle looked down at his hands, unresponsive.

"Uncle Sev?" Estella's eyes widened, and she took a step back. "Tell me… tell me…"

"Tell you what, Estella?" Severus cut her off impatiently, looking like he had just taken a bite out of a lemon. "What do you want to hear?"

"It was Malfoy who sent that letter, wasn't it?" Estella narrowed her eyes at the fireplace in memory, her mind trying to pinpoint the logistics of sending mail to Hogwarts. Though her uncle hadn't actually said whom the letter was from, she had just assumed that only Lucius would have been able to know about the letter she'd sent Draco and be of mind to request such a thing from her uncle. "You had no choice, right?"

"How else would I have known what I did?" her uncle responded, carefully avoiding her question. "If I had a choice, don't you think I would have chosen differently?"

Estella blinked at her uncle, not quite knowing how to take things anymore. "Forget I said anything," she said quietly, sighing in frustration. All the pieces of the puzzle were right in front of her, and yet she wasn't even sure if it needed putting together, or if it was just a weird looking picture. "My brain's been on vacation lately."

Severus frowned inwardly at the unsettled look of confusion clouding his niece's features. He hated that she was not as sure of herself and on the ball as she used to be, and he couldn't help but feel partly responsible for the regression. Turning their attention to more neutral waters, he handed her a small pouch of Floo Powder and guided her towards the fireplace.

"Be sure to apply yourself to your summer homework," he said in an impersonal, teacher-like tone. "You missed quite a bit of class towards the end of term."

Catching the look Estella gave him as she nodded wordlessly and stepped into the Floo, Severus inwardly kicked himself. Of all the things to mention…


Sirius and Remus sat in the living room eagerly awaiting Estella's return through the Floo. Whilst Remus amused himself with a deck of cards and Harry was upstairs grooming Buckbeak, Sirius sorted through his mail – positively relishing in the fact that, as a free man, he once again got to receive all the household bills and such. One official looking statement that had him perplexed, however, was one bearing the Gringotts emblem.

"I'll murder her!" He exclaimed, spluttering in indignation.

"Who?" Remus looked up from his game of solitaire lazily, long-since immune to Sirius' melodrama.

"That bloody cousin of mine!" Sirius spat, waving the statement in the air. "What was I thinking, letting her take my daughter out in Muggle London!"

Chuckling at the darker man's protective instincts, Remus smiled. "Whatever she did with Estella, Sirius, I am sure it was not inappropriate." he said. "Muggle London imposes age restrictions on places not fit for children, I assure you."

"Well then she must have charmed Estella to look older!" Sirius exclaimed, holding the statement up and pointing at specific references. "Just look at this! Virgin Megastore! What is that? Are Muggles so perverse that they actually encourage-"

Sirius' tirade, however, was cut off by Remus' rapturous laughter. "Oh, Padfoot!" Remus wiped the tears from his eyes. "I can't believe you thought… Merlin, Virgin is a company. That store sells Muggle music and videos."

"Oh." Sirius deflated slightly. "Well how in the hell was I supposed to know that? Who names a music store after-"

"If you'd look on the back of half the CDs in this house you'd known it." Remus continued to chuckle. "So come on, where else did Tonks take Estella and 'corrupt' her?"

Sirius ran off the list whilst Remus explained the wares of each store to Sirius; who, though he had some familiarity with the larger chains from his time living in Muggle London before his incarceration, was still largely out of touch with the present retail industry.

"And so what of this one, Moony: 'Victoria's Secret'." Sirius frowned at the statement. "What sort of name is that? Why would anyone want to go spend money on a secret? What do they sell?"

Remus blanched.

"I… I don't think I should tell you that one."

"Why not?"

"Because Estella would wither and die in embarrassment if she knew we knew, and Tonks is far too valuable to dismember and feed to Buckbeak." Remus said with a straight face.

"What is it?" Sirius growled, his Gryffindor curiously getting the better of him.

"Let's just say it's some of that 'secret women's business' that we have no business in knowing." said Remus quietly, hoping beyond hope that it put an end to Sirius' questions on the matter. He did not want to be the one to tell him that his little girl was out buying lingerie – heck, it was a revelation he himself was having a hard enough time with.

"If it's 'secret women's business' as you say, Moony," Sirius began after a contemplative silence. Remus recognised the look on his friend's face and inhaled sharply, not liking where the dog Animagus was headed with his reasoning. "…then how the hell do you know so much about it?"


"What's up with them?" Estella asked Harry as he accompanied her upstairs to unpack following her return from Hogwarts. "Poor Moony's looking like he's been castrated and Padfoot's not been able to look at him without sniggering."

It was a matter of record that both she and Harry resorted to referring to their guardians by their Marauder nicknames whenever they were suspected of general tomfoolery and mischief.

"Dunno." Harry shrugged. " I walked down stairs just before you Flooed in to find your Dad laughing maniacally and Remus blushing furiously; spluttering something about inescapable storefront windows."

"They're weird." Estella conceded. "So how was your week, anyway?"

"Frustrating." Harry sighed. "Did your uncle tell you that this Order is reforming?" Estella nodded. "Well Sirius and Remus have been discussing plans whenever they think I'm not around, but then they shut up as soon as I come in. It's getting annoying."

"What, that they won't tell you anything?" Estella frowned. "Maybe they are just planning a surprise party or something."

"No, it's not that." Harry confirmed. "With tomorrow it's like they deliberately tease me about not knowing what's going to happen. This is different. They are actually serious about this."

"Good Merlin!" Estella exclaimed, appalled at the thought of being kept in the dark – a Ravenclaw does, after all, value knowledge. "Maybe we should ambush them for information now that we're both here and can join forces."

"What are you thinking?"

"I don't know." Estella paused. "We could try to play them off against each other I suppose. I never tried to do it with Uncle Sev and Remus because Sev's too cluey to fall for it, but we may just be able to weasel separate pieces of the puzzle from each of them and then collaborate and put it all together for ourselves."

"That… that may just work!" Harry exclaimed, thinking how, in particular, Dudley would often manipulate his parents in such a way to get what he wanted. "It's brilliant!"

"Well here's hoping neither of them remembers that the Sorting Hat considered putting the two of us in Slytherin."

For the rest of the day, the pair worked in tandem, each cornering a respective adult in turn and firing a series of vague, but specific, questions at them. By the time that the two cohorts hastily excused themselves from the dinner table, eager to compare notes and solve the mystery, their two unwitting targets began to suspect.

"Padfoot." Remus looked to his friend in amusement as soon as the two industrious teenagers had left the kitchen.

"Moony." Sirius inclined his head in silent agreement.

"It seems the progeny has combined forces against us." Remus grinned, reinvigorated by the idea of a challenge.

"It does." Sirius nodded. "Which presents us with a problem."

"It does." Remus agreed. Each child was perceptive and intelligent enough on their own, without having the added benefit of collusion. "Though I can't believe they wouldn't think we'd figure out what they were doing."

"Indeed." Sirius scoffed, "who do they think wrote the book?"

Remus drained the last of his tea and regarded his friend with all manner of gravity. "How long do you think we can fend them off?"

"I don't know. I'm a bit rusty." Sirius admitted. "And with their genes, I'm afraid to say we may have met our match."

"What are you proposing?" Remus smirked at his friend. Despite the seriousness of what they were trying to keep from the children, the idea of employing long discarded methods to misdirect the curious teenagers sparked a youthful exuberance in the weary werewolf. "Divide and conquer?"

"Divide and conquer." Sirius confirmed, a hungry look in his eye.

"Right, then I'll take Harry and you can-"

"Wait, why don't I-" Sirius cut him off.

"Because they won't expect us to do it this way, Paddy" Remus rolled his eyes and tapped his nose. "We'll catch them unaware."

"Right." Sirius grunted, rising from the table and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Halfway to the kitchen door he turned and looked back at his friend, who was almost through spelling the dishes to wash themselves in the sink. "You know, we really ought to come up with names for those two. They're becoming regular little Marauders!"

"Don't sound so pleased." Remus grimaced, his mind balking at the possibilities. "It will only come back and bite you in the arse."


Later that night, as the teenagers filed off to their respective rooms to mull over the fragmented information they had managed to piece together from their respective reconnaissance missions and get ready for bed, they were each surprised by a visitor at their door.

"Knock knock." Sirius rapped at his daughter's door cheerily. "Can I come in?"

"That depends," Estella opened the door a crack and stuck her head out into the hall to grin at her father in equal playfulness. "Are you going to tell me what's going on around here?"

Sirius was taken aback. So much for catching his daughter unaware.

Wiping the goofy grin off his face, he sighed in defeat. It had been foolish to assume that, in Estella's case at least, he and Remus had been able to conduct themselves in a manner that didn't alert her to the fact that they were onto the teenager's plan.

"That depends, are you going to let me in?" Sirius countered, his eyes darting upwards to where he assumed Remus was having more luck misdirecting the too-trusting Harry. Leaning in close and dropping his voice into a conspiring whisper, "can't very well disclose certain details in the hallway, y'know."

"Fine." Estella stood back and opened the door wide, permitting her father entry before closing the door firmly behind him. "Spill."

"First, tell me what you know." Sirius rubbed the back of his neck wearily and sat down on the edge of the bed, facing her.

"More than you, or even Harry, thinks." Estella admitted, walking over to her dresser to put down her hair brush and retrieve her mother's diary. "You forgot I had this, didn't you?"

Sirius paled and swore under his breath.

Putting the book back in its drawer and turning to face the mirror and braid her hair, she looked directly at her father's reflection. "I didn't know what to make of it," she admitted, gesturing to the drawer . "But what I pieced together today clarified a few things."

"What does Harry know?" Sirius frowned, rubbing his hands on his thighs before rising to stand behind his daughter. Picking up the hair brush, he stilled her hands. "Do you mind?"

Estella considered her father's reflection for a moment before lowering her hands and nodding. They stood there in silence, nothing but the crackling sounds of a brush caressing hair filling the room. After a while, Estella spoke. "You've never brushed my hair before." she said sadly.

Sirius' hand stilled the brush mid-stroke. Trying to inject a little levity, he shook off the implied loss and smiled. "Were you always so flighty when you were little?" he asked, referring to the time over the summer previously when Estella had temporarily de-aged for his benefit. Trying to get her to hold still long enough for anyone to do her hair was an exercise in madness.

"Yes." Estella sighed, "Almost always someone would have had to point a wand at me and charm my hair to behave when I wasn't looking."

"Why didn't you let anyone brush it?" Sirius asked, momentarily forgetting his earlier point to the conversation in favour of satisfying his gaping curiosity about his daughter's life.

"I was scared all my hair would fall out or something," Estella shrugged, unable to comprehend her juvenile actions any better than the adults in her life had been able to do at the time. "Besides, as a matter of principle, I generally refused to do anything I didn't see an adult do first."

It took Sirius a while to get the reference, but when he did, he laughed heartily. "I hope someone told your uncle the virtues of leading by example." he chuckled, his mind unable to reconcile the image of his brother-in-law brushing, let alone washing, his greasy locks.

"Well actually, Professor Dumbledore scared me into it." Estella smirked. "Told me my hair would go all slimy and die if I relied only on magic to care for it. That even he had to brush his hair to keep it healthy. My uncle was far from impressed when I told him I decided to take care of my hair because I didn't want it to become slimy and die like his."

Sirius dropped the brush in shock. "You said that to Severus and lived?"

"Yes, though I almost died of boredom when he began to lecture me about the nature of protective gels and the dangers of stray hairs falling in potions." said Estella. "He does wash his hair, you know. It's not really nice of people to poke fun at what is actually a result of his job description."

"He could charm his hair clean between lessons." Sirius informed his daughter, forgoing the abandoned brush so he could set about braiding the thick, shiny locks instead.

Estella shrugged.

"How he acts around people, y'know, because of his role, is not how he'd normally choose to act." said Estella insightfully. "Perhaps dressing the way he does and looking like he does is something he does deliberately to separate the real him from the act. Like a reminder to himself not to let his guard down."

Sirius stilled his hands again to lean down and kiss the top of his daughter's head appreciatively. "You know, that was really rather insightful of you." he said. "It's no wonder we can't keep anything from you."

Going back to their earlier thread, Estella straightened up and looked at the reflection of her father's eyes. "Harry doesn't know any more than what he's overheard this past week." Estella informed her father. "It's not my place to tell him, but I think you're making a mistake keeping it from him."

"It's not my choice," Sirius told her, the grip on her hair tightening slightly in an outward display of his frustration. "Dumbledore has a preconceived idea of…"

"Dumbledore is no more your keeper than he is mine or Harry's." Estella chided him lightly. "Just because he defeated Grindelwald and is a Headmaster, doesn't make him right on every little thing. He has no right to tell you how to do things, especially now that you're free."

"You know, you're right." Sirius' eyes flew open in realisation. "I am free now… and I can raise my kids however I damn well like!"

"Hear, hear." Estella smiled encouragingly at her father, not allowing herself the time to mull over the possible implication that Dumbledore had been imposing parenting advice to her father about how to raise her too.

"Are you all right, kiddo?" Sirius bent down slight and craned his neck over his daughter's shoulder to look at her directly.

Turning her head to look her father directly in the eye, Estella smiled. "I'm fine, Dad." she said quietly. "You're doing a really good job on my hair, you know. Are you certain you never played with dolls when you were younger?"

"Hey!" Dismissing the haunted look on his daughter's face as a figment of his imagination, Sirius scowled indignantly at her implication. "I'll have you know, missy, that I became quite proficient at doing your mother's hair while she was pregnant with you."

"Why'd you have to do Mum's hair?"

"Her arms would get too tired." Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Then why not just charm her hair then? She was of age to do magic." Estella was curious, her memory failing to recall any instance of her teenaged mother styling her hair.

"Because…" Sirius leaned in close and whispered directly into his daughter's ear before kissing her cheek. "Your mother liked having her hair brushed."

"I can see why." Estella exhaled in relaxation. "It's very soothing."

"For you, maybe." Sirius smirked, making a show of flexing his weary fingers and shaking circulation back into his hands. Before she could pull away and admonish him for putting himself out, however, he smiled reassuringly and kissed the top of her head again. "But if I had my way, I'd do it for you everyday."

"Careful, I might just hold you to that" she said as he held up a mirror to show her his handiwork. "Mmm, no, I think you're out of practice – it's all wonky. Do it again."

"Don't push your luck." Sirius grabbed his daughter around the waist without warning and hoisted her into a fireman's carry, causing her to squeal in surprise as he lugged her over towards her bed. Holding onto her with one arm, he drew his wand with the other and spelled the blankets down before depositing her on the mattress in an unceremonious heap.

"Gee, guess you didn't do that for Mum while she was pregnant." Estella sat up against the bed-head and scowled playfully. "I wasn't ready for bed, you big prat. I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

Sirius smirked malevolently at his daughter and fired the teeth-scrubbing charm at her without warning, causing her to splutter. "Right, then, anything else?"

"I'm afraid to say." Estella shook her head in bemusement, one hand rubbing the residual feeling of the charm from her mouth. Not being able to use magic outside of school, and having an uncle who looked down his abnormally long nose at frivolous wand play, she'd come to favour the Muggle method.

"Well, if you're all done, you won't mind if we chat a while." Sirius said, settling on the edge of his daughter's bed and making himself comfortable.

"I won't tell Harry," Estella vowed. "Not unless he me asks about it directly."

"Wait, just what do you know." Sirius frowned, his eyes drifting to the drawer where he knew the journal to lie. "I didn't exactly get to read much of it over Christmas break."

"I know why Harry's so important," Estella admitted knowingly. "Everything James and Lily told you and Mum, she wrote down."

"How long have you…" Sirius rubbed at his face nervously, his child's insecurities earlier in the week having renewed meaning.

"Since the week Harry got here." Estella said. "I sat down and read it all while Harry was settling in."

Turning away from his daughter to cradle his head in his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees, Sirius sighed. "I should never have given it back to you… I didn't even think…"

"It wasn't yours to keep from me, Dad." Estella said tersely.

"No, I don't mean it like that, sweetheart." Sirius turned back to look at her, his hands grasping at hers tightly. "I would never keep you from something that was your mother's… it's just that you shouldn't have found out that way. I can't imagine the burden you've had to shoulder all this time… why didn't you confront me about it? No… don't answer that… Merlin, I'm sorry, Estella."

"What are you sorry about?" Estella shook his hands for emphasis. "You've done nothing wrong! It's not that I don't find you approachable, Dad… I'm just used to figuring things out for myself, you know?"

"You don't have to do it alone, kiddo." Sirius sighed, misty eyed, as he pulled Estella in for a fierce hug.

An hour later, Sirius slipped from his sleeping daughter's room, closing the door quietly behind him as he emerged into the hallway feeling as though a weight had been lifted.

"You told her everything, didn't you?" Remus emerged from his own doorway, having left Harry to his Quidditch magazine well over half an hour earlier.

"She has Selina's diary, Remus." Sirius reminded his friend. "Not to mention Severus' ability to suss things out."

"Fair enough." said Remus. "And since we're being honest, I offered to take Harry because I know I wouldn't have been able to keep anything from Estella either."

"So what did you tell Harry?" Sirius probed his friend.

"I told him you'd talk to him after his birthday." Remus' cheeks flushed and he looked way sheepishly. "That you would answer his questions then."

"You know me too well, Moony my friend." Sirius smiled gratefully at his friend and accompanied him downstairs to the living room where they would spend half the night thinking of ways to tell Dumbledore that they would no longer keep the children out of the loop.

END CHAPTER

NEXT CHAPTER DUE: two weeks-ish.