Lucius ran his bare fingers along the unmarred flesh of his arm. The odd raised lines of the dark mark were gone. Even as the mark had faded, losing its virulent darkness, the ridges had remained. Now, there was nothing. He had spent years learning to ignore it as it waxed and waned with the power of another. The thing had changed in meaning from a mark of honor that made his father proud to a painful brand that reminded him of his failures. It had been his shame and his penance. Now, there was nothing. His bare flesh glowed in the moonlight. He had never imagined feeling truly free again, never imagined being whole again.

He turned and stared at his son and daughter because she was that now. His daughter. Had Narcissa realized he needed this? She couldn't have known about the magic of this place, but she'd known he needed to choose love over hate, to protect instead of destroy. She had always known that he needed more than darkness.

His children were curled together with his daughter's pets. Both of them asleep. He felt a surge of anticipation for the ritual that would finalize the process begun by the papers he had carefully stored in his satchel.

He leaned back in the hammock she'd strung for him and enjoyed the sway of it. Perhaps, there was something to roughing it, though he would never admit it.

His daughter might have a Gryffindor shell, but she was Slytherin at her core. Dragging them up the mountain, making them believe it was just some urge to see the them crawl, she'd shown her true self. She'd used cunning and wit to heal them. She'd keep them on their toes.

Severus stared off into space. Penning this letter was taking quite a bit of effort. More than it should. Distractions seemed to appear whenever he set about writing. His mind wandered. none of it made any bloody sense. He leaned back in his chair, and rubbed the runes carved into his necklace.

"It has to be a spell." Severus frowned and forced his mind to focus. Using occlumency, he pushed aside the subtle compulsion to find another task.

He could cobble a letter together, but he needed to know more before he started in on Andromeda for information. He needed to know what questions to ask. He was fairly certain his old friend wouldn't be eager to help him discover what was really happening.

He dragged the parchment closer. It was time to start a list. He forced his mind to the issue. He could feel a headache coming on, but a headache was nothing compared to the tortures he'd endured in the service of his previous masters.

Hours passed, but he didn't notice anything beyond the changing light. A tray of untouched sandwiches rested on the desk. He didn't stop working. When the inevitable distractions rose up in his mind, he shuttered them away. He appreciated the power of her spellwork. It was masterful, and he knew she'd done it protect him. It was odd knowing someone cared enough to try to protect him, but he knew her.

She never took care of herself.

An image of her with the village children filled his mind. She was a powerful witch with more understanding of true magic than any he had ever met. Part of him shied away from his set course. Picking at the threads of her magic, looking for a loose thread might be his undoing. He took a deep breath.

He was back from the dead full and hale and hearty.

Magic didn't come without cost.

What was the coin that had paid for his rebirth? What had she done?

He needed to know if it came time to protect her.

Forewarned was very much forearmed.

The parchment scattered across his desk contained more questions than answers. He glared down at the few ideas he'd managed to cobble together, but there was one question that needed answering above all others. Why in bloody hell had she chosen him?

Hermione grinned at her family as they played some strange game with an old quaffle. Where Draco had found the thing would remain a mystery, but watching them soar through the mountain air as she cuddled with Buckbeak and Nanga was wonder enough. She giggled as Lucius spun quickly around and caught the ball behind his back.

She had never imagined calling these men family, but it was wonderful. The joy of seeing them strip off their formal facades and be happy left her breathless. She'd watched them roll their sleeves back and grin at each other this morning like first years getting a feather to levitate the first time. Something had bloomed in her chest, something warm and welcome. It was good to have a family again.

Buckbeak shifted next to her and she moved to accommodate the hippogriff. He clamored to his feet and took to the air. His large wings sent spirals of cool air down around her, but she didn't mind. It was impossible to be cold with half of a kirin sprawled across her lap.

Draco shied away from her winged friend and missed the quaffle. Buckbeak did not. He clasped the ball in his talons and began a game of arial keep away that made both Malfoy men chuckle.

Hermione smiled and lay back on the ground. It was a wonderful day. Goddess, she was happy.

"This makes it all easier." Narcissa smiled at her sister. "If he's already arrived at the water, drinking will be the next logical step."

"Severus has never been easily led." Andromeda rested her chin in her palm and stirred her tea listlessly with her free hand. The lush plant life surrounding them as the had their tea in the conservatory wasn't distracting her. "Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Hermione went to a great deal of trouble to provide him with his freedom."

"My daughter has a martyr complex." Narcissa frowned. "Sacrifice is all well and good. I admire it, but I won't let her suffer for it. What if he married someone else? Can you imagine?"

"She may not have signed the papers yet." Andromeda plucked her spoon from the swirling liquid before her. "I do understand that his marriage to another would be a disaster, but he might resent it if we interfere."

"She will be my daughter soon enough. Lucius will not fail." Narcissa smirked. "Draco will make sure of it. As my child, any attempts to help her toward happiness are merely the loving guidance of a mother's hands. He will understand my maternal urges."

"He won't have a choice." Andromeda slid the letter they'd been assessing back into its envelope.

Both women chuckled and sipped at their tea.

Ron cursed under his breath. He'd wasted the night trying to get information. Harry had no idea when Hermione would be back where she belonged. The best he could get out of him was some vague maybe about the upcoming wedding of the century. Why would they invite a old flame to their nuptials? It made no bloody sense.

He glared around his small flat. It wasn't the home he wanted. It wasn't the place he deserved. He tossed his wand down and collapsed on his overstuffed red sofa. It was the only thing he really liked about the place. It was just like the ones in the Gryffindor common room.

"She'll fix it." He stared up at the ceiling. "She always knows what's needed."