A/N: My dear fans and devoted readers. The time off from this story has, although probably frustrating for all of you, been completely invaluable to me. I needed the time to re-evaluate the story and realise that I had started writing exclusively for the audience of my fics, rather than for myself. For that reason, I lost passion for this story and the others I'm writing because I held myself to other people's standards instead of my own. If it helps with the frustration – consider thinking of the first twenty chapters as 'Season 1' and now I am beginning 'Season 2'.
Much love for your patience as I have kept you all with baited breath.
Chapter 21 – Indigo Glow
The air on the mountain was stiflingly still; frigidly cold and painfully biting. Draco didn't care. He sat on the steps of his parent's 'safe-house' cabin - if you could call a five storey, twelve-bedroom log mansion a cabin - using wandless magic to manipulate the snow into dancing serpents. Lucius and Narcissa were fighting. This had not been an uncommon occurrence in his childhood but they'd held their tongues for the past three years, under Voldemort's reign of terror. Draco chose to do what he had always done and ignored it. He couldn't even cast a silencing spell; Lucius actually having forbidden the use of unnecessary magic, lest it interfere with the wards.
The last three days had been tense and filled with fear for the three Malfoys. Once Voldemort was felled at the wand of Harry Potter, the most notorious pureblood family had attempted to flee the scenes of devastation with both their lives and their freedom. Unfortunately, the remaining non-corrupted Aurors descended on their escape route and off they went to either the Ministry. They had waited all day to be processed, locked in anti-magic cells, wands confiscated. Well, Narcissa's wand was confiscated from Draco; Lucius hadn't had a wand for nigh on two years and Draco had lost his own wand to Harry a few months ago.
By the next day, Potter had once again come to the rescue and Narcissa had been released without charge; Draco was sentenced to a year in Azkaban for the act of allowing Death Eaters into Hogwarts and effectively, accidentally launching the main body of the war and largely contributing to the death of Albus Dumbledore. After Potter spoke in depth about Draco lying to protect his identity though, the sentence was suspended in favour of a three year probation which would consist of returning to school to complete his NEWTs and having his magic monitored.
Lucius was another story. He had been recognised too many times in nefarious situations with other Death Eaters; his name given up by those same others in hopes of saving themselves or reducing their own sentences. It was most shockingly Ron Weasley who had managed to give Lucius a reprieve in the form of not awaiting trial in Azkaban. His testimony stating that having seen how painful it was for his best friend to grow up without a father, and after witnessing how the war had created so many orphans, it wouldn't do Draco any good to effectively make him fatherless. A later part of the testimony revealed that Ron's sudden altruistic nature was brought on by Lucius accidentally intercepting a curse aimed at his brother, Percy. Nevertheless, the court agreed with Ron's assessment and Lucius was free until his trial, albeit with the unbreakable vow that he would not perform any magic considered dark.
By evening on that second day, the three Malfoys were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. They activated one of several emergency portkeys and landed in the entrance hall of their unplottable property, hidden deep in the Swiss Alps. Narcissa considered it rustic-chic and had enjoyed decorating it as such – lumberjack meets haute couture, if one can imagine such a thing. When they first arrived, she had plopped down onto the check fabric, with lace trim of the fainting couch in a very unladylike manner and was asleep in seconds.
The shouting stopped just as Draco let his dancing snow-serpents fall back to the white, blanketed ground before him. He assumed they were either enjoying make-up sex, hate sex, or one had killed the other. As the snow had not shimmered green with the reflection of an avada, he assumed the silence alluded to some situation that involved naked parents and so despite finally starting to feel the cold, he stayed outside. Ugh! No one needs to see that – again!
The pattern of their pre-Voldemort life had resumed as soon as they landed in the cabin two days ago. It was all too familiar to Draco; screaming matches in which Narcissa blamed Lucius for their involvement with Voldemort and the Death Eaters and Lucius blamed her sister Bellatrix for his involvement in the first place; at which point Narcissa would blame his father and he would throw back that her Uncle Orion supported Tom Riddle too. This would go back and forth for hours until the curses started flying. Neither of them ever admitted that these raging argument/duels were their own twisted form of foreplay but that was usually what it was.
As a child, at home, he could cast silencing spells and pretend it wasn't happening; escape onto the vast grounds of his home estate on his broom and imagine they were just having tea in the parlour with Uncle Sev. With no silencing spells and no broom, Draco could not force out the resounding evidence of his parents' awful marriage and to top it all off, Severus was dead. There was absolutely no way he was taking tea with them, or acting as a pseudo-marriage councillor like he had in the past.
Lucius had taken his son aside when they first arrived and explained Voldemort's belief that the Elder Wand (from the Tale of The Three Brothers in Beedle and the Bard no less) had allied itself to Severus because that was who killed its old Master. Trying to avoid the rowing of his parents and the belief that Severus was dead, Draco had let his mind be consumed with thoughts of what he knew of wand ownership and allegiance. He hadn't cried over Severus yet; the biting cold was making his eyes water but that didn't count.
He knew that the wand chose the wizard; he knew that a wand's allegiance could be won in a duel and he knew that even having a wand gifted to you was not necessarily going to mean it allied itself to you. He had been using his mother's wand for a while now and he was convinced it didn't quite 'like' him. Severus hadn't been the one to disarm Dumbledore that night on the Astronomy Tower, he, Draco had. Did that mean he was the true owner of the Elder Wand? Had it switched its loyalty and full power to him, even if he never wielded it? As far as he knew, the wand had been buried with Dumbledore. Did that mean Voldemort had 'tomb-raided'? Ugh! Was nothing sacred to that dastard? "Obviously not", Draco said aloud just as his thoughts became less internal and the deafening silence battered against his ear drums once more.
In fact, the silence was so thick, that when an elf suddenly apparated directly in front of the young Malfoy, he near jumped out of his skin at the resounding crack. Draco was on his feet in seconds. How on earth had it got through their wards? Who did it belong to? It was in a little uniform and looked like a tiny muggle butler. Draco felt suddenly defenceless – he knew elves had unique magic and his mother had had her wand back, presumably as a defence against his father.
"Who are you?" Draco snapped, more out of fear at being discovered that actual malice although he wasn't sure the elf could see the difference as his eyes widened and his small butler-clad body went stiff.
"Weston is my name, Mister Malfoy, sir. Master is requiring your presence, and help. He is sending me to collect you."
Draco thought about what the shivering elf had said. His Master could be anyone. Someone from the Ministry. Another Death Eater. Although, he didn't recognise this elf. He knew most of the servants of the Death Eaters and a few of the Ministry elves too. It was a little known fact that elves were almost as compulsive in gossip with each other as they were in their need to serve. He had caught the Manor elves, too often, hiding in alcoves with a guest elf from a visiting family, sharing whatever the latest juicy tidbit was of their Master's dealings with each other. In a way, it could be explained away as protecting the family from those who would wish them harm; the elf knowing all of the dealings could help with protection in some form or other. Draco doubted this was one of those occasions but…
"I don't recognise you. Are you from Hogwarts?"
"No Mister Malfoy, sir. Weston is the sole elf in the service of Master Severus Snape." He said proudly, straightening back his shoulders, to puff his little chest out.
Draco stared in complete and utter shock.
Severus is alive? Truly? How? When? Who could have helped him? Who would've wanted to?
"Mother…." Draco shouted, backing up towards the cabin, "Father… get out here!"
It took several moments for Draco to realise they hadn't heard him and so he excused himself from the elf's presence and headed inside with the dear wish that he wouldn't hear anything too disturbing. He chose to give them the heads up that he was in the house the second the door closed behind him and shouted for them again.
"Draco, darling. What are you shouting about? Has something happened?" Narcissa asked softly but with eyes full of concern. She approached the stairs from the first landing, pulling robes back into place.
'Ugh!' Draco thought to himself, 'Definitely make up sex then. Well, at least they didn't kill each other.'
"Maybe. We have a visitor outside. An elf called Weston who says he's in the service of Uncle Sev."
"What?" Gasped the elegant blonde as she quickly descended the stairs, calling for her husband to join them, "Weston is here? That must mean… oh thank Merlin."
She flung open the door and hollered behind her again for Lucius.
"Weston, get in here you silly elf; you'll freeze your ears off out there."
"Yes, Madam Malfoy. It's good to see you again. And Master Malfoy…" He added, his large, saucer like eyes diverting to the top of the stairs. "Are you well, Mister Malfoy, sir?"
"Wes, what's going on?" Lucius asked, crouching down to be at eye level with creature. "Who sent you? How did you know where we were?" His tone was soft but demanded an answer all the same.
"Master told me to find young Mister Malfoy. He said it was of the highest importance that I bring him back to the Prince Cottage to save Missy Granger."
All three Malfoys fell silent in their shock and disbelief. They stared, not moving a muscle or exhaling aa single breath in the face of the elf and his claims that not only was Severus alive but that he was with Potter's mud- erm… muggle-born friend (might as well get used to calling her that; it wouldn't be astute to continue with the other term now) and she was somehow in danger.
"He's alive?" Lucius asked finally, not bothering to hide the relief or incredulity from his voice.
"He is Mister Malfoy, sir. Missy Granger, she save him, sir and he be well. But Missy Granger be trapped, sir. She be animal and Master must be thinkings that young Mister Malfoy can be of some helps."
"Granger saved him?" Draco suddenly asked, also unable to hide the emotion in his voice – shock, relief, disbelief.
"Yes, young Mister Malfoy, sir. She be saving him with potions and water and love, sir."
"Love?" Narcissa asked in astonishment; one perfectly sculpted blonde eyebrow arching up.
"Yes, Madam Malfoy, sir." The elf said, and then realising he had called her 'sir', brought his ears forward in shame as they tinged pink, his head bowing in embarrassment.
"Never mind a mistake in proper titles, Wes. It's of no consequence. Where are they? Can you bring them here or take us to them?" Narcissa asked, losing her patience a little.
"Master has requested young Mister Malfoy's presence to help Missy Granger."
"Then let's go." Draco said, jumping into action at the chance to both see Severus and get a break from his parents' arguing (not to mention their other activities).
"Weston can transport all of the Malfoys." The elf stated proudly, holding out his arm.
The three blondes each grabbed onto the small suited elf and were whisked away.
The wait was driving Severus slowly out of his mind. It had only been thirty minutes since he had sent Weston off to find Draco and usually, it did not take Weston thirty minutes to do anything. The elf was superbly efficient and adept at knowing every need of his master. Therefore as the seconds ticked by to thirty-five minutes, forty, Severus began to worry not only about Hermione and how he was going to convince his godson to free her from her feathers via a connection that was unproven but was worrying about Draco himself. Could Potter's testimony have fallen short? Was the boy locked in a holding cell at the Ministry? What if he'd run to escape the justice he feared he would be given? Where would he go?
"Sweetheart, please stop pacing, you're making me dizzy." His mother said calmly from her seat in the reading area of the library. They had relocated at Eileen's insistence in an attempt to calm down her son. She remembered the smell of parchment had always settled him as a baby; strange as it was.
Her voice hardly registered but he slowed his pace a little. No matter what the problem was, it was taking too long to get Draco to the cottage. He could feel Hermione's turbulent emotions washing through him. It was a strange feeling, as if he was experiencing her shame; the anger had washed away it seemed, as soon as she entered his soul but the feelings surrounding it were still present. The effect of her rage had made her feel as if she had disgraced herself before him. She felt as if she had fully given in to her Gryffindor urges and came out fighting – 'guns blazing' or in this case, fire-blazing, as it were.
As the seconds and minutes passed by, he felt the strangest sensations affecting him – years of doubt and fear and worry seemed to be melting into nothing. It was as if his whole life, every torment and moment of loss and despair were being healed from the inside out; as if the emotions he had buried, unable to face or too ashamed to feel were being filtered through long winding channels of understanding and acceptance.
A thought occurred to him as the tension slowly and softly eased from his shoulders with the strength of gradually becoming unburdened of the years of his life… Hermione was inside his soul… could she be filtering these long buried woes; processing every torment through her logic, compassion and amazing talent for compartmentalising?
His breathing increased with the possibilities of this theory. Was it really possible? Was she dealing with his emotions for him? Healing his heartbreaks and sacrifices? Laying to rest his anguish and regrets? It certainly felt like it. If so, it would be an incredible feat of power, they weren't even in the same room anymore.
Although, he supposed, when one soul swims within another, physical proximity is apparently not necessary.
"Mother, I think Hermione is…"
CRACK!
Startled by the unexpected apparition and quite suddenly anticipatory of fixing Hermione and seeing Draco, Severus's head shot up from where it had been blindly staring out of the large library window; his pacing having absentmindedly halted only moments ago, his mind still struggling to comprehend the analytical direction of his thoughts.
"Draco!" He exclaimed in surprise, having almost forgotten the boy was due.
Without even stopping to look at where they were or who else was in the room, with the love and impatience of a little boy, the youngest Malfoy ran without shame or care into the uncrossed arms of his Godfather.
"You're alive!" He breathed, his arms wrapping around the older man's torso as the tears came. "You're alive! Thank Merlin, you're alive!" He sobbed, unable to hold back the emotions. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't get to you in time."
Severus was overcome with how much relief was in the boy's sobs. They had been close when Draco was a child and of course, he had always favoured the boy in regards to marks and help in Potions but as he had grown older, Draco had distanced himself. It wasn't until Voldemort had returned that the true divide in their uncle/nephew like relationship had become strained. On Severus's part, it was because he was trying to maintain the deepest undercover work imaginable; Draco, because he had to deal with the megalomaniac bastard setting up base in his home. Not showing care for anyone other than Voldemort himself was the easiest way to survive such an ordeal relatively unscathed.
"Draco, I am well," he announced to the rest of the room, as well as his godson, "Hermione did a very satisfactory job of healing me. In more ways than one, I believe." The Potions Master said proudly, feeling the relief of allowing true honesty with his friends.
The young blonde wizard stepped backward to stare as his Godfather in disbelief. Not only had the man just complimented a Gryffindor, but the most insufferable know-it-all known to the entire wizarding world. Something wasn't right.
"Who are you and what have you done with my Godfather?" Draco asked, suddenly much more suspicious than a moment ago, and forgetting what Wes had told them about Hermione at the cabin. Taking several steps back toward his parents he pointed an accusatory finger as if it were a wand. "He would never compliment a Gryffindor, especially not that Gryffindor."
Severus took a deep breath.
"My apologies. I thought Wes would've explained. Hermione and I are… well, she saved my life and we're…"
"Involved." Eileen supplied helpfully.
"I did explain, Master Snape, sir." Said Wes quickly in defence of himself as the Malfoy's eyes all went very wide. Lucius's chin almost hitting the floor at Eileen's declaration.
"Wes, would you get us some drinks please whilst everyone gets settled and calms down. There's rather a lot of explaining to do."
"Who are you?" Draco snapped, his body whirling towards where Eileen sat in the reading chair by the fire. The question was muffled by the sound of elf apparition but was heard nonetheless. Whoever this witch was, she was quite obviously suffering some form of befuddlement of the mind to think Severus would consider being anything other than… well… nothing to the brains of Gryffindor.
"Eileen Prince, Mister Malfoy. Severus's mother. Although, I'm sure you would be more likely to recognise my pseudonym… Madam Irma Pince – Hogwarts Librarian." She smiled.
"You never said a word, Severus. All these years and you never said a word." Narcissa whispered, surprise on her face and a touch of hurt in her voice as she took in the older witch.
No one had noticed the door open during the strained introductions and confirmations or that Tempest had silently crept into the room with the same skill in soundless movement as her brother. Her voice silenced, stilled and otherwise created a tightening of the tension already straining those in the room.
"It was for mummy-dearest's protection, you prissy little wannabe. You were never good enough to be amongst my father's ranks; just like your drip of a husband here. As for the boy… well he takes after his father… weak. Pathetic. It takes more than pure blood to do well under my father's reign; it takes strength and power… not vanity and undeserved pomposity. Now, Bella… she's what a witch in the service of Lord Voldemort ought to be. Pure, devoted and just the wrong side of unhinged. She had a nickname for me, you know… when I was at my most dastardly… BellaDash. She seemed to use it when I was most like her."
"Bellatrix was a twisted bitch…" Draco protested, loudly. "She…"
"You're his daughter?" Whispered Lucius in shock, but his question was lost to his son's defamation of Bellatrix. 'Bitch is probably the nicest thing someone could say about her.' He thought.
"Yes, but a damn good one. Who managed to get Potter's mudblood screaming on your drawing room floor? Who finally took the Black mongrel out of the family tree? Bellatrix, that's who. The only Black sister to not disgrace herself. Honestly, Cissy, if you're mother had been smart, she would've drowned you at birth and given Bella to Lucius. Salazar knows how fun that would've been for him… he deserves that crazy…"
"Desist!" Lucius bellowed, defending his wife in spite of their troubles, maybe he could throw it in her face later that he did so, and attempting to prove Tempest's words incorrect. "Wait…. What are you doing here? Didn't you flee yourself when the war seemed to be heating up? I seem to remember you and Dolohov fucking off back to Russia. That's hardly loyalty now, is it?"
"Actually my darling Anton warded me and my daughter into his mother's compound when father called him to the fight. Interesting story how I got here though, isn't it," she said sweetly, her eyes moving to Severus, "… brother dearest?"
"Brother?" yelled all three Malfoys, before spluttering, questioning and exclaiming as Severus closed his eyes and gave an infinitesimal nod of confirmation, the fingers of his right hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as if to ward off an oncoming migraine.
"It seems that Tempest here is my twin sister and I'd like to formally introduce you to our mother, Eileen Prince."
"If she's your twin sister… and Vol… Volde… the Dark Lord is her father… that means that you're… it means that…" Draco was staring incomprehensibly at his Godfather before swinging around to his father. "Did you know about this?"
"No, Draco." Severus confirmed. "Your father did not know that I was Tom Riddle's son; I doubt he even knew that Tempest here was Tom Riddle's daughter until just now; even I did not have that information until she showed up here yesterday. My mother and Dumbledore kept it from me. We're not even sure if Riddle knew himself."
"Of course he knew." Tempest added.
As the story of Tom and Eileen was retold to Narcissa and Lucius, with Tempest sharing sarcastic insight and nasty little barbs, Draco excused himself to explore the cottage.
"I need some air." He stated simply before heading for the door.
"Don't go far." Snape responded, a slight desperation to his voice. "I need your assistance with something shortly."
"I'm just going to look around. I won't leave the grounds."
Having left the library, it took a relatively short amount of time to discover all that the downstairs had to offer… a beautiful country kitchen, with a large oak table, an augur and herbs drying on a rack overhead; a drawing room which he practically skipped past, memories coming all too easily of Granger screaming on the floor of the drawing room at the Manor. There was a lavish reception room at the front of the cottage, decorated with ivory silks and forget-me-not blue drapes, a bronze eagle statue on a plinth dominated the far left corner – how very Ravenclaw; a second statue adorned the opposite corner of a bronzed cobra head. Draco smirked.
The main entertaining room looked as if it had never been used; Draco supposed as he ran a pale hand over the sage green, suede sofas that Severus hadn't had much occasion over the last however many years to celebrate; a life time really.
What he was really curious about though was the upstairs. He had only had one occasion in the past to visit his Godfather's quarters at Hogwarts and he was more than a little intrigued by what a place that allowed Severus to truly relax, looked like. Not to mention, there was that implication that Madam Pince had made, that Sev and Granger were… what was it she said…? Involved? If anything warranted upstairs investigations, it was that.
There was a door ajar down the first beige carpeted landing; it seemed quite obvious that the set of rooms it led to were the Master suite. Draco stepped silently into the room and halted in his tracks… the bedding was mussed which was indicative of either a very fussy sleeper, something Severus was not, or more fun activities other than sleeping. The air seemed permeated with both the smell of sex and something that smelled suspiciously like charred… he sniffed… fabric?
'How very curious.' Draco thought to himself, still trying to understand a world in which his Godfather was shagging Hermione fucking Granger. It was difficult to not picture such a thing whilst trying to reach this understanding and each time he did, he shivered. 'That's almost worse than mother and father. Ugh!'
Walking into the room slowly, he made his eyes focus on anything but the bed; he did not want those imaginings burned into his mind. There was a large set of high windows, a bookcase, a reading chair, a fireplace… a strange statue in the middle of the floor that he almost tripped over, so focused on not thinking of what happened in that bed. What is that?
The charcoal like feathers didn't seem as though they would crumble at a single touch like one would assume but appeared to be actual feathers, made of… well, whatever feathers were made of. Severus had mentioned something about feather composition is a Potions class in fifth year but the specifics escaped him now. Visually, the statue looked like a black phoenix; as if it was an albino phoenix taken to the opposite extreme.
He remembered visiting a muggle museum when he was about eight years old with the American au pair who looked after him, Erina Nyxx; it had housed a number of… what had she called the animals… stuffed? Yeah, that was it… stuffed animals. That's what this black phoenix looked like. As if it had been alive once. Except none of the animals in the museum had a strange glow emanating from them. This phoenix did though. It was glowing purple and the closer he got, the stronger the light coming from it glowed.
It seemed this phoenix had some sort of magic. All the magic he'd ever seen or heard of… and that was a lot, manifested as green, red, gold, blue or silver. He's never seen it purple before. What kind of magic manifested purple? Where could it come from? He knew that any magic glowing green was channelled from the earth; red was from personal passions, gold manifested from the sun, blue was emotion-based magic and silver channelled energy from the universe but purple…? That was unheard of… wasn't it?
Almost absent-mindedly, Draco knelt down beside the statue in his need to inspect it further. Curiosity getting the better of him, he ignored the possibility that this was a bad idea and he was interacting with an unknown power. It felt as if he wouldn't have been able to stop even if he wanted to, as if that deep purple glow was calling to his soul. It beckoned to him and whispered, reached out toward him to pull him closer until without realising it, Draco was gliding his fingers along the glossy, black feathers of the phoenix.
Next thing he knew, he was flying backward, propelled by the force of bright indigo flames as they erupted from the no longer present statue of the black phoenix. In its place stood Hermione Granger; stumbling, disorientated and blinking soft, slow eyelashes over glowing indigo eyes.
A/N: I wish to say a huge, colossal, massive, divine, celestial, astral and magical thank you to TinkerVine LeFay for her unwavering support whilst I have been writing this chapter. She has truly and magnificently helped me to kick my muse repeatedly in the bottom so that she spews inspiration. Vine, daaaaaaaaarling, you are a blessing and this chapter would not be present without you. So much love.
Also, the rest of the Coven will be showing up along the way. Dash is already here of course, as Tempest; a role has been assigned to Claw but she will not show up for a while (mini-clue as to character: Mrs Slytherin); Nyxx got a mention today and I may bring her into the story 'physically' at some point but not sure where; everyone else will be slotted in as and when I find something that suits them.
Many, many thanks to those of you who have come back to this story after the very long wait. It was entirely necessary for my psyche to put this down for a while and walk away but I am so glad to have my dumping ground back for crazy vipers that slither across my mind. Please review as I love reviews, they make me smile and give my muse ideas that I must write down.
Love and Blessings
Moon x