Calm, Chapter Eight.

"3 PM: On my feet and staggerin'. Through misplaced words and a sinking feeling I got carried away. Sick, sick of sleeping on the floor- another night, another score. I'm jaded, bottles breaking." ~Stella, Nothing Personal, All-Time-Low again

"Let the green girl go!" -Fiyero, Wicked: A New Musical

"The more he drank, the more polished became his manners." -Of Rhett Butler, Gone With the Wind again

"Do you feel like a man when you push her around? Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground?... Face down in the dirt, she says, 'This doesn't hurt.'" ~Facedown, Don't You Fake It, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

"I hear a scream, from down the hall- Amazing she can even talk at all. She cries to me, 'Go back to bed.' I'm terrified- she'll wind up dead." ~Never Again, Silver Side Up, Nickelback


In my invisibility cloak, I slunk upstairs beside Scorpius, who was even paler than usual. The grand platter shook in his hand, the delicate wine glass of poison sloshing dangerously. For poison, its smell was deceptively sweet- brownies wafted through the air, and I wondered how any man could mistake this smell for drink, or even the strong, throat burning stench of firewhiskey.

A decrepit, morose house-elf stared beadily through me and at Scorpius. Luckily for us, he saw nothing but Scorpius picking up the tray, his wand stowed in his pocket where it could do no damage to the drinks.

The grand winding staircase, with the gilded railing and the sparkling decor, seemed to fill a room in itself, neverending. Would it be better that way? Never ceasing, neverending, never closure, never knowing? Then we reached the top.

A tall man with a sour countenance and a carelessly elegant manner stood right at the top, hand out expectantly. I had been expecting a hobbling, out-of-his-mind drunk- instead there was only this finely dressed personalized pinnacle of high society. I felt as though I had been duped somehow, and I certainly was confused.

"Scorpius," the man drawled. "Hurry up, now. Wouldn't want to keep your Father waiting."

The boy's eyes narrowed, but he quickened his pace, as did I beside him, a hand on his shoulder to remind him that I was there.

"Ah..." Draco Malfoy said. "My dearest friend, my darkest enemy. We drink to death." The goblet was in his hand, and seemed to be his object of conversation. He raised it to his lips, but lowered it again. "Don't you smell odd. A bit like firewhiskey, but not this brand at all. Not this one at all. Don't you smell powerful, my friend..." Without warning, the glass crashed to the floor, as well as my hopes and dreams of success. Scorpius did not flinch. The words rose several decibels. "Spiked my drink and thought it'd be funny?! Thought it'd be funny, when I was on the ground and twitching like a maniac, did you? Well, I know it's not. In my day, it was oak-matured mead to that coot, but didn't it so haunt me in the end... Who put you up to it, then? Eleven year old twit, you haven't the devilment in you to do such a thing. Or maybe you do. The devils are everywhere in these places."

The devils aren't everywhere, you bastard, I thought, scowling. Look a little closer.

"Tori!" he called softly, but assertively. "Tori, where are you? Is this your next escape plan? Homicide? Using our own son as an asset?"

At the mention of Scorpius, a beautiful blonde woman with the same striking brown eyes I had so oft noted in her child emerged. "Don't call him 'your son.' And Malfoy, I thought I had made it clear that 'Tori' is a name reserved for my friends."

"We're married, aren't we? No one cares what we want, it's just the press and the money whispering in their ears," he began advancing on her. "Like it or not, you're my wife, and no one gives a da*m about what happens in this house." I do, I mentally refuted, but I knew that this wasn't the place. I wasn't supposed to interfere; and besides, it might only further incense the volatile Malfoy, who was dangerous enough. A lion stalking his prey- the defiant gazelle matching his gaze.

"Don't hurt her!" Scorpius shouted, brushing my hand off of his shoulder. "Don't dare!"

"Why not? It's her fault I'm in this accursed place, innit? Can't I at least live how I want, then?- You can't order me around," the elder snarled, and whipped around. "Stupefy!" Asteria tried to raise her wand to deflect the spell, but a large, hardly-healed wound impeded the movement and she crumpled to the ground.

Once again, Scorpius did not react other than his glare becoming more pronounced; he had seen it too many times before, knew she wasn't dead. I didn't, however, and rushed to her side, my invisible hand snaking to her wrist. There was a pulse, her breathing was ragged but present, her skin was warm and soft. Her breath hitched at my touch, and I knew she had awakened; I don't blame her for being a light sleeper. I dropped to her ear, and hissed, "Don't worry. I'm here to help." She relaxed again, and tried to finger her wand, but her wounded arm wouldn't obey her. I turned my focus to the two male Malfoys, both staring each other down.

"This is the chain of command, son," the man said, his voice calm again. "I've told you enough times. I've been patient enough. You're eleven now; how long does it take for the message to stick in your head?" Scorpius didn't respond. He was checking himself, I could tell, furiously restraining himself from eviscerating his father, or something on similar lines. "When I was small, my Father hid the world from me. He hid reality, so that when I found out, I was lost. But now I'm telling you that this is life. There are Mudbloods, there are wives, and we do what we can to keep them in their place. So, as I said before, f***ing stay out of it. You'll get your turn when you're older."

"What- WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Scorpius screamed; the structure seemed to be shaking from the echo. I was at his side in an instant, trying to place a placating arm on his elbow. For some reason, Dad's lightly spoken words came to mind, "Don't duel with anyone 'til you've learned how."

"I've never hurt you, Scorpius. Perhaps I ought to have, hm? But I've never blamed you for your mother's mistakes, like people were so wont to blame me for my father's."

"And you blame my mother?! NO, JAMES!" He ripped his arm away from me, and the cloak slid to the ground, leaving me totally exposed. The nearsightedness of the cloak gone, I had a chance to fully appreciate the situation at hand: father and son, looking for all the world like the same person, Scorpius' eyes glinting grey in a trick of light.

"Scorpius, you've only been at Hogwarts for three months!" I joined in, figuring any plan had fallen to shreds by now. I was honestly frightened, now, of both of them.

"SHUT UP!" He cried to me, and shoved me away, tears streaming frankly down his young cheeks from his now very visibly brown eyes as he turned towards his father. "Well, I blame YOU for your mistakes! Crucio!" His wand emitted a small spark that instantly fizzed out. Impatiently, he shook it, as thought the spell might fall out of it. "D*** it! Work!"

Draco Malfoy's eyes, still silver in comparison, narrowed. By now, I knew that he was not sober, even while he acted so quietly; it must have been sheer drunkenness that kept him from noticing me. "I've been too easy on you, I see it now. Perhaps you need chastisement yourself. Cru-"

"Perhaps you'll be remembering what happened the last time you tried that spell in my presence," came a familiar voice from the doorway. The man himself blanched. "Put your wand down, Malfoy. Or you won't need it anymore." We all turned to see the newest arrival, so calmly threatening with enough power to bring this indefatigable monster to peaceable surrender. With a few words, the storm clouds had vanished, to be replaced with an indecipherable calm. Behind him stood a flock of Aurors (which explained the shuddering floor.) Beside him stood Uncle Ron.

I didn't know whether I should be feeling upset or pleased or ashamed. Upset that he had come, pleased that he would help, ashamed that I had needed it. But by now I should have known that I couldn't control my emotions for beans. Definitely not here, not around him.

Dad had arrived.


A/N: Woohoo! So at least the plan was cut off from the beginning. We'll see more of its failings later on, but at least now we can wipe the sweat from our foreheads that it didn't come anywhere close to fruition. BTW, I KNOW I said that Harry was a Quidditch player, and Ron was the Auror. I'll explain his presence next chapter.

I'd like to clarify a few things here, because I know that I'm writing about a particularly delicate subject. According to the National Violence Against Women Survey, as analyzed in Extent, Nature, and Consequences of Intimate Partner Violence, 32 million Americans alone suffer from domestic violence. So this might be personal. I just want to make two things clear: 1) Men are the victims just as much as women are. They are simply 32% less likely to report it, according to Justice Department studies. The reason the wife is the victim here is because it fit the story better, and not because it is the more likely form. 2) Much abuse is not physical. Sexual, emotional, verbal and economic abuse is also prevalent in these relationships. While physical and verbal abuse are the only types implicitly discussed in this story, there is much more to such problems. (It is also possible/probable that Asteria in this story suffers from other kinds as well, even if it's not discussed.) Note that Harry himself has suffered from abuse from his aunt and uncle, and so this is not the first instance of it in the Harry Potter world.

Serious moment over, I shall address my faithful reviewers:

Lady Stephy- The climax has come! Egads! - I amuse myself. No, that word amuses me. Teehee, never read the books, and I haven't watched the movie yet (though I SO want to!) Topsy Turvy? I haven't listened to that one nearly as much as the others, only because as a bonus track I only recently discovered it. (Now I'm listening to it, though.) "Wake me, I've had enough... Up or down, tears on the ground..." It's an awesome song so far. :) Beats Avril Lavigne's Alice for sure (the screaming parts hurt my ears. I apologize).

Lietus- :D Sorry, dear, James is pretty invisible in this chapter. Um, pun unintended. Well, I didn't leave him stranded and starving in the mushroom dungeon. A dark Albus? Wow, that sounds really deep. I would totally read something with that kind of characterization. That just sounds fantastic. Anyway, my characterization of Albus is fairly shallow at the moment. But it'll do for this tale. Yeah, that line is the all-time teenage question. It sure haunted me at the time. Why can't they be perfect? Why can't they be wise? Are they all we have to look up to?

mjmusiclover- Aw, I'm sorry you had to go through that. I hope the resolution to come satisfies you.

Katie- I think Albus is a bit more like Harry naturally anyway, or at least James is a bit more different. In the same way, though, aren't we all a bit the same and a bit different? The eye thing- that's what James thought, too. But all problems have to be a bit more than skin deep. I mean, Harry can't be that shallow, right? I was thinking Teddy the moment you mentioned him... Hm, I've got to remember to include him or he's going to disappear.

AJ- I love you! Yay! (Oh, I know this individual in person, so I promise I'm not a creepy internet stalker.) I updated just for you! ...and because I always update this story on the weekend.

Hm, that's weird. I've been using "-" instead of ":"... Oh well. Hope you liked the chapter! See you next week!