Next chapter for your reading pleasure, and I promise everything will begin winding up, at least for this part of our happy saga. I can't really say that there is an end in sight, dear readers. Whether that makes you happy or sad, I hope you enjoy the rest of this, and that you tolerate my obnoxiously long delays in publishing chapters. But they're worth it . . . ;)
Chapter Twenty
The following week brought the day before Christmas Eve, and with it came a rather long note from Isolde's mother, who had left to finish her Christmas shopping and left the four wizards a lengthy missive detailing the specific chores that needed doing in the house and the groceries that needed buying at the market. Isolde read the list off as they ate a light breakfast of tea and toast, crinkling her nose once she finished.
"In short, we'll probably be working all day, and I still have to wrap most of my gifts," she finished, giving the note to Helene, who quickly scanned it and furrowed her brow.
"Are any of you good with cleaning charms? I never really got a chance to learn any, myself," she said.
"I should probably go to the market, if that's all right with everyone," Isolde said quickly. "I know it well and if Helene came too, we could be done twice as fast." She looked askance at Hermione, who nodded.
"I've done this sort of thing loads of times. You two can handle the house," she said reassuringly. Her words did nothing to dispel the look of disbelief on Severus's face and the confusion on Sirius's.
"But—" Sirius began.
"No buts," Isolde said firmly. "You two can bond."
"Me? With him?" Severus asked, gesticulating wildly.
"Yes. Isolde and I have been talking, and we think it will be good for the both of you," Hermione said. "We're not expecting you to be best friends or anything . . ."
"The fact that you two can tolerate each other is a good start," Isolde added.
"But we still feel that you two are awfully cold," Hermione finished, wondering if this little experience could change the future relationship between Severus and Sirius. They were always so hostile at Grimmuald, but she certainly wasn't meant to be in the past. Besides, she'd already meddled in time; in for a Knut, in for a Galleon.
"Severus, it wasn't Sirius who tried to kill you by luring you down to the Willow," Isolde said gently. "That was Pettigrew's plan."
"And Sirius, Severus had the right to defend himself," Hermione continued. "With you and James, it was always an unfair fight in your favor."
Both boys had the grace to look guilty, and as they hung their heads, Isolde gripped Hermione's arm and pulled her into a tandem Apparition, leaving the two sullen wizards with a table full of dirty dishes and a string of swear words in the air. Once the two had finished shouting about Merlin and hairy balls and the like, Sirius gave Severus a deep, soulful look.
"For what it's worth Severus," Sirius said, hesitating on the name, "I am sorry."
Severus gripped Sirius's arm tightly. "Do you mean it?"
Sirius nodded and mirrored Severus, gripping the other boy's arm in a show of solidarity.
Severus relaxed, smiling slightly. "Then perhaps we can . . . bond." The amount of derision carefully poured into the last word made Sirius roar with laughter until the boys looked back at the list Donna had made, at which point, they rolled up their sleeves, and, with a bit more swearing on both parts, began their foolish wand-waving to clean the house.
Isolde and Hermione were faring a bit better, but not by much. They had gotten the pantry staples that were a necessity on any trip to a market, like bread and milk, but there was also the rack of lamb and mint jelly and things for Christmas dinner. There were the potato medallions that were a family favorite, and some sort of something for a vegetable and a dessert, and while Isolde and Hermione knew what they needed to buy and where to find it, their progress was greatly slowed by the numerous people she had been forced to chat with along the way: old teachers, students from her primary school, her doctor whom she now rarely saw, thanks to the wonders of healing potions.
She returned to a chortling Hermione with a grimace on her face, grousing, "I hate living in a small town. God, when did I become everybody's business?"
Hermione laughed fully as she bagged a fresh sprig of parsley and put it in her basket. "I suppose you're just exciting, darling," she drawled.
Isolde groaned. "What do you say we get this wrapped up and, simply because we'll only have to cook and clean up again afterwards, get lunch for ourselves and the boys?"
Hermione agreed, scampering off to the baking aisle for some ingredients for an easy-to-make dessert for Christmas Eve dinner as well as some for a tart that Isolde considered a specialty of hers. Isolde picked out a beautiful rack of lamb with the help of a slightly lecherous, albeit grandfatherly, butcher; she also picked up a goose her mother had requested as a special order, placing them both in the rather heavy basket with a slight shudder. Hermione had already gotten everything she needed for the two desserts into her basket, groceries in hand; the girls proceeded to the check-out, shrinking their purchases once they got to a private enough location and Apparating to a fish-and-chip shop.
Isolde and Hermione approached the house with trepidation, as both were incredibly uncertain as to what, precisely, they would find in the house. It would either go incredibly well, or the house would be completely destroyed inside, Hermione supposed, reaching one hand to the door knob, her wrist loaded with bags, as Isolde struggled with the four orders of fish, chips, mushy peas and cold sodas, as well as most of the groceries, as some things simply couldn't be shrunk.
Hermione held the door open as Isolde bustled in with the groceries, a James Brown record blasting from one of the rooms. The two girls systematically put the food away, beginning with the perishables, wondering aloud where the boys had gotten to, getting louder and more obvious as the conversation went on.
"'Lene," Isolde said loudly, trying to drown out the soulful tones of James Brown and failing, "who do you think would have lasted longer if it came to a head? Sirius or Sev?"
"Dunno," Hermione said, shuffling things around in the icebox to make space for the extra food. "Could be either one. I've never dueled them."
Their conversation was cut short by the beginning of Hermione's favorite James Brown song, "I Feel Good." "I love this song!" she squealed, swinging her hips to the music.
"Care for a dance, then, beautiful?" Isolde said, bowing for a moment and offering her hand. Hermione took it giggling, before they broke into a neat little dance that had been made up on the spot. They sang along with the Father of Soul, stopping only when Isolde caught sight of the boys.
Sirius was sliding across the floor in his socks, wearing his shirt and a pair of boxers as Severus followed, dancing rather expertly, his partner a broom. It should also be noted that as Sirius slid across the kitchen floor (eventually crashing into the table), he sang into a hair brush. Hermione had been swept into a dip, and was promptly dropped, mainly due to her friend's surprise, landing with a thud and rubbing her head as she stood.
"What the hell was—" she began, interrupted by Isolde's peals of laughter as she doubled over against the counter. Hermione then caught sight of the boys, one frozen and blushing and dropping his dance partner like a hot potato or, in Sirius's case, crashing into the table and landing on his bum with a gobsmacked expression on his face.
Hermione struggled for words for a few long minutes, eventually saying, as close to deadpan as she could manage, "Zelda, I think they've bonded."
"I can't think of a better word to describe it, although I wish I had the video camera," Isolde said wistfully, watching Sirius and Severus try to maintain their dignity. She had already cast Warming Charms over their fish and chips and Cooling Charms over the bottles of soda, setting them on the table. "We picked up fish and chips for lunch. I hope you don't mind."
Sirius squeezed her shoulder as he went to sit down, taking his place next to her as Severus sat next to Hermione. "Not at all, love," he said, pulling a packet of newspaper towards him and opening it with a crocodile-like smile. They dug in happily, tossing everything in the bin once they were finished eating. Their hunger sated, they tossed themselves onto the pile of blankets and pillows they made in Isolde's basement bedroom.
"Dare I ask what you actually got done today?" Hermione said, stretching languorously.
"I think most of the house is done, except the bedrooms, for obvious reasons. All we had to do was charm the feather duster and levitate the knick-knacks. The broom swept the kitchen floor and the mop took care of the rest before we dried that off. House cleaning isn't hard once you're of age," Severus said, rolling his eyes.
"Right. What do we need to do later, then?" Isolde asked, resting against the wall.
"Well," Sirius said slowly, "we should probably clean up in here a bit. And I couldn't figure out how to work the vacuum-thingy."
"I still need to get my gifts wrapped, too," Isolde said, thinking aloud. The rest of the group agreed, and Hermione come up with a "battle-plan," as she called it.
"I'll vacuum the carpets while you two," she said, indicating the boys, "wrap your gifts. Isolde, maybe you could make some Christmas biscuits?"
She nodded. "Sounds good. Then, we switch off, yes?"
Hermione grinned. "Precisely. You boys can work an oven, can't you?"
"Only if we can eat some of the biscuits," Sirius said, looking at Isolde for confirmation. She rolled her eyes and grinned.
"Why else would we be making them? I, for one, intend to gorge myself on biscuits. We can decorate them too, if you like. We picked up a few things for biscuit-making at the market today."
Isolde stood. "C'mon 'Lene. We should let them get started." She helped Hermione up and the two went upstairs, to the kitchen as Severus and Sirius continued to sit on the pillows, glancing at one another with trepidation.
"I'll help you if you give me a hand, mate," Sirius said, Summoning the gifts he'd bought from his trunk.
"Deal," said Severus, doing the same. "I usually just give gifts in the parchment, but that won't work anymore, will it?"
"Nope," Sirius agreed. "We've got very classy birds on our hands now, Sev. We can't just do as we've always done, I guess."
"It doesn't bother me at all, really," Severus said thoughtfully.
"Nor me," Sirius said, fingering his gift for Isolde. "I'm not bothered at all."
Isolde took a deep breath, enjoying the spice that hung in the air as she turned the page of her book, having already micro-cleaned the kitchen. The soft whir of the vacuum come from upstairs as Helene finished up the house cleaning. Then the timer pinged and the cookies were whisked out of the oven and set down on the stove's burners to cool as another sheet went in, a dozen little men and women waiting to turn a nice golden-brown before being iced and eaten. Isolde put the previous batch on a plate once they had cooled enough before returning to the table and picking up the book she had been reading.
She was just to the part where the heroine was declaring her love for a hapless and very much engaged suitor when the timer pinged again. Isolde, with a theatrical sigh, rose to get the biscuits out of the oven, leaving the book open in the seat of her chair. She got new ones onto the sheet and put those in the oven before sneaking a glance around the kitchen and popping a biscuit, fresh and warm and lovely, into her mouth.
"I saw that, you know," a lazy drawl said softly.
"Sev, must you always be so dramatic?" Isolde asked, putting a biscuit on a napkin and offering it to him. He took it, his eyes fluttering closed as he ate it. "What do you think? I was afraid they'd burn."
"They're fantastic, Zelda. You really are self-deprecating," he said, taking another bite.
"This coming from you?" she asked doubtfully. "Pot, meet Kettle. Now we can call each other black!"
His eyes rolled. "Sweet Merlin, you think you're so clever, don't you?"
"Doesn't that contradict the self-deprecating thing?" she asked innocently as he groaned, defeated. "Either way, are you finished?"
"Yes. I think Sirius is still working though," he replied.
"Well, I shouldn't disturb him. I prefer surprises, really. When it comes to presents, anyway," she said, moving the fresh batch from the baking sheet to the plate.
Severus chuckled, striding to the table and picking up her book. "Gone With the Wind, Zelda, really? I thought you had better taste than that," he joked.
"I considered it rather appropriate. Another family of Muggles was killed yesterday, along with the Prewett brothers; it's in the paper. Life as we know it is coming to an end, I think, and it will be sooner than we dare to hope."
"What do you know?" he asked, concerned. Severus scoffed at Divination, but he trusted Isolde. She was his second friend, and Helene, his second love.
"I can't really say I know anything. It's the future, and it's going to make us guess at it. Even prophecy is nothing more than woolly guess-work once you get down to it. Who knows what's true? I just . . . get the feeling that everything is going to change soon, and not all of it for the better. You know just as well as I that we've been sheltered all these years . . . you don't know what's what or who's who and what's around the corner and whether it'll kill you and your family or let you live out in the real world."
"Isn't that a bit melodramatic, Isolde?" Severus asked, certain he didn't like where this conversation would head.
"You know it isn't. I know who you used to hang on to, even if you were never really part of the group, and I can only imagine what they're planning. I just . . . I don't trust them or like it," she finished lamely.
"I don't know if I can trust Helene, you know," he said sullenly.
"What do you mean?"
"She lied to me about everything in her past, and I don't know why and I don't like it . . . "
"But you love her," Isolde reminded him. "Don't let your paranoia destroy what you have. You've never been so happy, not even with Evans, for all that means. Helene . . . respects you, and she loves you the same way. There's something odd about her, but I don't think that it's anything too insane. Just wait until it's the right moment. You'll know it."
He sighed. "You'd better be right."
"Knowing her, she probably is," Sirius said jovially, coming up from the basement. "You and Helene can head downstairs, if you like. How long do the biscuits take in the oven?"
"Ten minutes or so, sometimes longer, sometimes shorter, but I think you two can handle it," Isolde said, showing him how to set the timer as she pulled another batch from the oven, shaking her slightly burned hand. She'd forgotten the oven mitt that time and ran her hand under lukewarm water for a minute, gritting her teeth.
Sirius waved his wand over her hand as the water flowed over the burn, and the magic healed the burn. Isolde blushed. "You are a witch, you know," he said lightly, pocketing his wand again and shooing her down to her bedroom. "Go wrap your gifts, all right? Helene will be down to join you in a moment, and we'll be just fine. After all," he continued, waving the oven mitts triumphantly, "we've got these, and we're not afraid to use them." He gave her bottom a light swat and got glared at for it, smiling impishly as she headed down to the basement, pretending that he hadn't noticed the smile curling her lips.
"How she lets you get away with that sort of thing, I'll never understand," Severus said, chuckling and shaking his head. He got himself a glass of water before sitting at the table, flipping through the day's paper.
"It makes her laugh, and trust me on this, but she needs it more than she lets on. Bit like you, really, only you're way bitterer about life," Sirius countered. "She's just a bit better at letting it out, in the end."
"Whatever you say, Sirius," he said, rolling his eyes, searching through the front pages for the article about the Muggle family that had been killed. Isolde was a bit self-deprecating, as he'd pointed out earlier in the day, but that was nothing, really. He was the same way after all, and nothing too terrible had ever come of it in the end, even if Helene was convinced he would be a Death Eater.
It would have been a wasted conversation had Hermione not been walking to the basement, just within earshot to hear everything the two had said. Acting as naturally as she could, and, just as the others had, swiping a biscuit on the way, she joined Isolde in gift-wrapping, using the time to subtly question her about her "self-deprecation," as Severus called it, ever formal. It was a good start to find the information she needed about Isolde and whether or not she had a tendency for self-mutilation to support the suicide theory.
Isolde was quickly taking care of the gifts she'd bought for James, Remus, Peter and Lily, as she would have to Floo or owl them to James's house. Hermione took a seat next to her once she'd pulled out her gifts, laying the brown-paper wrapped cloak she'd gotten for Severus in front of her, tapping the paper with her wand to turn it a pleasant shade of blue.
As she tried to choose a good color for the ribbon, Hermione said, "Sirius thinks you're a bit . . . melancholy, you know, Zelda."
Isolde laughed softly, attaching a nametag to each gift. "He is right, in a way, but he knows when I need a laugh and when I don't." She flushed lightly. "Did I ever tell you about him in the Hospital Wing after I fell from that tree?"
"No," Hermione said, smiling as she changed the color of the ribbon to silver and white, "what was he like?"
"Well, that time, he insisted on staying with me until Madam Pomfrey could assure him that I would be perfectly all right, even making her push our beds together so that he'd always be there, and he missed the second night of the full moon for me. After my first full moon, he wouldn't transform from his Animagus form until I did . . . he's very protective, and I know that I'm a bit more independent than most, but that's why I like it, really," Isolde said, adding a pattern of black stripes to the box holding Severus's new dagger.
"You know, I stopped by to see you on your birthday after, well . . . you know, to say hello and check on you, but Madam Pomfrey said you couldn't have more than one visitor, as you were sleeping and all, and that someone was already in with you. Severus actually chased him away at one point while you were being taken there, 'cause he was sure that Sirius was only there to hex him while his back was turned." Hermione rolled her eyes and Isolde gave her a look that clearly told her that she shouldn't have expected anything less.
But then her face changed. "'Lene, can you keep a secret?"
Hermione nodded, trying not to appear too eager.
"That time I—for lack of a better word—glowed in the Great Hall in front of everyone wasn't the first time I've ever done that," she said, fingering the fiery ring on the chain around her neck.
Hermione gasped. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I didn't know that I glowed the night I fell from the tree!" Isolde shrieked, covering her mouth afterwards and praying that the sound hadn't travelled upstairs. Hermione motioned for her to continue, and she did, saying, "Sirius told me later that he thought I'd died until he saw the glow, and then I was breathing again. I fell from that tall tree and hit my head on a rock . . ." She trailed off.
Hermione, desperate to hear more, said, almost manically, "And the first time? Tell me about that."
"I was little. It was the summer after I was adopted, so I was two, maybe three, seeing as I don't know my birthday. There was a pool party, and I just fell in—no fuss, no dramatics or splashing. It was a few minutes before they realized, but Doc jumped in as soon as he saw me, never mind that he was in his clothes, shoes and all. That was the first time I glowed, but it was attributed to a trick of the light until the following evening, when Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall showed up and explained almost everything, except . . ."
"Why you glow," Hermione finished with a spark in her eye after putting together another few pieces of the puzzle. "Zelda," she said suddenly, "can I see your ring?" Isolde looked hesitant, looping the chain over her neck and running it through her fingers. "Just for a minute, I promise."
Isolde handed her the necklace, watching Hermione's every move with the eye of a hawk . . . or a jackal, Hermione supposed, but the expression simply didn't fall easily from the tongue. She pored over it, marveling at the depth of color of the stone: deep red, flecked through with what seemed like sparks of a deeper, blood-like red. Her mind flicked through her near-encyclopedic memory, trying to dredge up whatever she knew about magical gems. Though she hadn't learned anything from the library when she'd first researched the subject, Hermione knew that she had to know something about it; it was just a feeling.
"Can I have that back? I-I don't like being apart from it," Isolde said, snatching it back. "It's nothing against you," she continued, putting it around her neck. "I just don't like it being far away from me."
Hermione barely listened, racing to finish her gift-wrapping before she lost the wild train of thought her mind was riding. Once she had finally charmed the last bow onto the last gift, she pulled her Arithmancy journal and a self-inking quill out and, telling Isolde that she wished to write in her diary, shut the curtains and began working, scribbling feverishly and listening with slight amusement as Isolde coerced the boys into decorating gingerbread men.
Severus came downstairs a bit later, giving the excuse that, as the biscuits were finished, she ought to have one, which, he added a bit proudly, he had decorated himself. He presented it to her on a napkin, and her heart melted as she saw the four letters, written in green icing:
SS + HF.
"My closet romantic," she sighed, taking a bite. Hermione also, very carefully, nudged her journal closed as Severus joined her, collapsing on the bed and folding his hands behind his head as Hermione snuggled closer once she'd finished her gingerbread, her head at his chest. Hermione, until this moment, hadn't realized that she was so tired, falling asleep on Severus's chest as he covered them both with the blankets, kissing the top of her head before he wrapped his arms around her, a smile on his face as he dreamed about the future, both napping peacefully until dinner.