THE SNAKE THAT WASN'T BRUCE

When the first untraceable poisons had been developed in the late sixteenth century, the Malfoy family had dedicated a part of their ample grounds to farming. House Elves were cheap in those days, so Pristinius Malfoy the Elder had acquired a whole flock of them and installed the flap-eared creatures in a compound, a kind of House Elf Village, between the edge of the forest and the lake; since then, most of the Malfoy elves – except for those serving at the Manor proper – lived there, cultivating the fields, tending the trees and shrubs and keeping all sorts of animals.

Less frugal and more recent generations of Malfoys, who craved the occasional oyster or ten and didn't want to run any risks when imbibing their morning tea or coffee, had expanded and diversified Pristinius' idea: by the middle of the nineteenth century there was no way poison could be slipped in a Malfoy's food, whichever exotic delicacies he or she craved.

Since Voldemort's first and sadly incomplete demise, every member of the Malfoy family had been inoculated against poisons and venoms of any kind, whether traceable or untraceable, with a horrifically expensive but effective antidote, which had to be taken once a year. Their worldwide supply net had become a huge import-export business and one of the main pillars of the family fortune; keeping pigs and growing potatoes on their own grounds, on the other hand, wouldn't have been necessary anymore, but more than four hundred years of farming had become a tradition, and no Malfoy broke with a tradition unless it was to his advantage or necessary to save his life. Or that of his spouse, unless she'd already given him a male heir.

The perfectly kept stables, paddocks and orchards also were the ideal playground for generations of Malfoy children – exceptional though the pureblooded aristocrats may be in many respects, their offspring enjoyed chasing chickens and cuddling rabbits just like any low-born little rascal.

The daughter Hermione Granger-Malfoy had given her husband after two years of marriage was no different, or rather, she was vastly different from most other Malfoy children, but the farm was her paradise.

Afraid even to come within a ten-foot distance of a broomstick, quickly bored with toys both magical and Muggle, reluctant to have her mind and character improved by reading or being read to, the child had an uncanny affinity to anything Mother Nature had brought forth, provided it was alive, didn't carry or sit a broomstick and didn't insist that reading was the best pastime ever.

Demeter Malfoy – her parents couldn't have given her a more fitting name – was happiest when up to her elbows in mulch, or playing obstetrician to a sheep, or cradling something warm and furry to her chest. She was able to tame spiders (Lucius had suspected her of somehow having mastered the Imperius Curse at age four, which was, as Hermione pointed out to him, a totally moronic notion and wrong to boot), play hide-and-seek with Enzo the Ferocious Black Hippogriff and make plants grow by persuading them to do so. (Enzo turned into a snarling avalanche of fury whenever a human being dared approach him, but behaved like a fluffy kitten once he spotted Demeter)

Lucius and Hermione often wondered which whim of magical genetics had bestowed on them a child so unlike either of them; after giving up the research she'd started on the topic as useless and a waste of time, Unspeakable Hermione Granger-Malfoy decided instead to read up on the special magical skills Demeter had developed at such an early age.

If the authors she consulted were right in their assumptions, they were parents to a Chthonomage – rarer even than Metamorphmagi, they excelled in all sorts of nature-related magic, while they often had difficulties mastering the most elementary spells with a wand. If misunderstood or neglected, their skills could become dangerous in the extreme; a powerful Chthonomage was able to cause earthquakes, floods or hurricanes. If properly educated, cared for and supported, though, there was no better healer, magizoologist, or magical horticulturalist than a Chthonomage.

The Granger-Malfoy couple were dedicated parents, and money wasn't in short supply. Demeter therefore was helped, cajoled and lovingly guided towards growing into her unusual skills. Lucius had had a bit of a problem at first with a daughter who made his favourite broomstick sprout branches and burst into bloom; the resulting apples were excellent, though, and after all the child was truly special, and so he soon was proud instead of disappointed that his daughter was never going to play Quidditch with him.

Hermione would never have admitted it to anybody but her husband, but she, too, had had a hard time accepting that her mild-mannered daughter would look at her out of wide grey eyes and smilingly shake her blond ringlets when mum suggested they might sit down in a quiet corner and read a book.

However much they had struggled, by the time Demeter was five her parents were wholeheartedly proud of her and supported her with everything they had.

When Demeter was nearing her sixth birthday, neither Lucius nor Hermione were able to overlook, no matter how much parental love they put into the effort, that the child was getting fat.

Worse, the child was fat on some days, and perfectly normal on others.

Becoming Hermione Granger-Malfoy had certainly changed Hermione in some ways, but when she was feeling overwhelmed, helpless or out of her depth, she still unerringly sought the remedy in the library. As did Lucius, who was also a fervent believer in the power of knowledge, only nowadays "power" had become less of a synonym for coercion and blackmail, and "knowledge" had less to do with people's dirty secrets.

Neither of them had yet openly broached the subject of Demeter's waxing and waning obesity, but one windy afternoon in November, when their daughter had gone off to play with Enzo the Hippogriff, the spouses entered the library from opposite sides and found themselves reaching for the same tome, namely Bilius Poultice's "On Maladyes Magicke and Rare".

"After you," Lucius said, bowing gallantly. They may have been married for close on eight years, but there was nothing like good manners to oil the cogwheels of everyday domestic life.

Hermione was looking a bit flustered. "It's okay, Lucius. Take it, I don't need it urgently."

"No, really, I insist." He plucked the heavy book from its shelf and handed it to his wife. "I was merely intending to look up a symptom I came across in von Jäger's biography of Peter Abelard."

Eight years of married life had taught Hermione almost everything about her husband's tells. When he was looking at her left ear he was always lying. "Oh," she said brightly, "That's interesting. I wasn't aware you were reading it, or do we have a second copy."

It took more than a frighteningly perceptive if beloved wife to make Lucius admit he'd been lying, even though the lie hadn't been a particularly good one. "You are jumping to conclusions, my dear," he said, bending down to kiss the side of her neck. "I read it a few weeks ago, and something I saw in the Daily Prophet today must've triggered the association."

"You're worried, too, aren't you?"

"I think 'worried' may be a little exaggerated, my darling – Abelard isn't-"

"Lucius!"

"All right. Yes. I'm worried."

Although not usually prone to acting the Damsel in Distress, Hermione flung herself into her husband's arms; only his quick reaction saved him from having his right eye taken out by the corner of the book she was still clutching. "Of course you are," she said, raising worried eyes to his face only to see the sentiment mirrored in his. "Nobody would seriously consider consulting Poultice, unless they were really desperate."

Lucius nodded and gently kissed the corner of her mouth. "So why haven't you brought up the matter already?"

"I could ask you the same question. And we both know the answer."

He sighed. "Maybe St. Mungo's would-"

"No! Not St. Mungo's! They're completely unqualified to deal with... I don't want her poked and prodded by a bunch of dunderheads!"

"Now you're sounding like Severus."

Hermione stepped out of his embrace; her right hand rested on his chest. "Can you honestly say that you have any confidence whatsoever in any of the Healers there – if we can't work it out..."

Arguing with her right now over St. Mungo's would be pointless, Lucius knew. The stubborn set of her mouth and raised chin told him as much. Besides, he actually didn't believe either that the Healers would be able to help them find out more about Demeter's symptoms – the child was a Chthonomage, and no Healer in living memory had ever treated, or learned to treat one. So they'd have to resort to literature, which was exactly what he and Hermione had been doing, with no success whatsoever.

"Very well," he said, prying the book from her hand and putting his arm around her shoulders to guide her to the sofa, "let's order tea then, and maybe..." He paused for a moment, to gauge his wife's exact needs. "Some chocolate éclairs? And then we shall discuss the matter like the responsible parents we are."

When Hermione put her plate down after ingesting four éclairs – the elves had outdone themselves today; their creations were crispy on the outside, fluffy underneath, the chocolate mousse with just the right amount of sugar, so that every bite was rich, melting bliss – Lucius poured her more tea and leaned back comfortably with his own cup in hand. "I suggest that we compare our perception of the symptoms first, shall we?"

Immensely reassured by the combined effect of sugar intake and her husband's handling of the situation, Hermione nodded and smiled at him. "All right, here goes: as far as I can tell, it started about four months ago. First I thought-"

"Data, my love, not interpretation."

"Oh, right." She took a sip of tea. "How on earth did you ever succeed in convincing select individuals that you were nothing but an inbred, slightly dim aristocrat?"

"People see what they want to see. The trick is to find out what they wish to see, and show them exactly that."

"Mmmh. Devious." She reached over to briefly touch his cheek. "Back to the symptoms. About four months ago, Demi gained weight; I'd say two, three kilos, considering that her arms, face and legs remained pretty much the same, and all the fat – if that's what it was – was on her tummy. The weight gain didn't happen gradually but literally overnight. She wasn't hungry over the next few days; she ate almost nothing. Her belly shrunk back to its normal size within a week, maybe eight days. Then nothing happened for maybe two weeks, and then the same again, almost exactly identical."

Lucius nodded. "My perceptions exactly. I only have to add that during the days following the weight gain she doesn't move a lot. She doesn't run, as she usually does, and mostly stays in her rooms, playing with Becky. I also asked Becky about hidden caches of food – nothing."

"I asked her about abnormally frequent visits to the loo, but Becky swore everything had been completely normal."

The two gazed at each other, neither wanting to be the first to admit to complete cluelessness.

Hermione cleared her throat, aware that her next suggestion might not go down well. "Don't you think that maybe we ought to ask the House Elves? All of them, including the ones down at the compound – they spend so much time with her..."

Just as she had expected, Lucius sat up straight, eyes blazing. "I will not consult with House Elves on the health of my daughter! It is bad enough that she spends unreasonable amounts of time in their company, doing Merlin knows what..."

"I didn't mean-"

"And I forbid you, do you hear me, I expressly forbid you to-"

"That's quite enough, Lucius."

The spoon was rattling against his teacup; the knuckles of his right hand, balled tightly, had gone white. After a few seconds he had relaxed sufficiently to say, "I apologize."

She nodded. "Apology accepted. Merely to make matters clear, I wasn't talking about asking for the elves' advice. But they may have seen something we haven't because, as you said, Demi spends a lot of time in their company."

"I see," Lucius said in clipped tones.

"Do you have any objections to collecting more data? If it could help us to find out more about whatever it is that's going on with Demi?"

"You know all too well that I couldn't possibly object, not if objecting means that something important might be overlooked."

Hermione put her teacup down on the coffee table and reached for Lucius's. He withdrew his hand, but then he wouldn't have been Lucius, had he surrendered without a token resistance. When she moved over to sit on his lap, he didn't budge to accommodate her and stubbornly averted his face. Well, she knew how to deal with that – she couldn't get to his mouth, but his earlobe, jaw and jugular were very much accessible.

She brushed her lips across the shell of his ear. "I love you."

Relaxing the merest fraction, he sniffed. "I know."

"And I find you" – she lightly bit his earlobe – "irresistibly attractive when you lose your temper."

"Hermione, don't-"

"Because," she continued unperturbed, kissing her way down his throat, "it is in those moments that I realize how much you have changed. I see how much you love me, because you hold back for my sake. Because you don't want to say or do anything to hurt me."

When his arms closed around her in a vice-like grip, she closed her eyes and smiled.

3333

Even people as clever as the Granger-Malfoys are usually even cleverer in hindsight. They may admit, under duress or when they are very drunk, that, even though they were aware at the time that there was a puzzle, they just didn't recognize the pieces they were being handed as parts of the puzzle they were so desperately trying to solve.

3333

A couple of days after the discussion in the library had ended in most satisfying sex – Demeter's sister Calliope had been conceived that afternoon, still unbeknownst to her parents – Hermione had to spend a night at the Department of Mysteries, the better to monitor a critical stage of the potions project she was currently working on with their friend and her fellow Unspeakable Severus Snape.

Lucius was always a little grumpy on such days. Not that he would have admitted to being grumpy; Lucius Malfoy was neither grumpy nor did he miss his wife, nor did he plead repeatedly with her to quit the ministry and just work as a consultant on select projects. Nor were the abovementioned items related in any way, shape or form, cross his heart and hope to die.

When Hermione was absent, waking Demeter and giving her her morning cuddle was her father's duty.

He'd got up at seven-thirty, drunk his first cup of tea in bed while contemplating the fact that it just didn't taste as nice as when Hermione was there with him, and finally adjourned to the bathroom for his morning ablutions. Keeping a regular schedule was an important factor in raising a Chthonomage, and so he opened the nursery door at precisely nine o'clock. After allowing himself to regard his sleeping child fondly for a few seconds, he sat down on the edge of her bed and carefully stroked her blonde curls.

"Time to wake up, my darling," he said and bent down to kiss her impossibly soft, sleep-pink cheek.

Demeter mewed like a kitten and, still half-asleep, scooted closer so he could pick her up. Wrapped in her duvet, she wriggled a bit until she'd found a comfortable position on her father's lap, then yawned hugely and burrowed into his robes. "You smell nice," she said, a bit muffled.

"Thank you. I just bathed. And now I'm very, very hungry. But I decided to wait, so we could have breakfast together."

"I'll just have tea and watch you eat."

"Watch me? You mean you'll be keeping me company."

"No, I'll be watching you. Mum said you eat too much bacon, so I have to make sure you don't."

"Your mother just wants all the bacon for herself."

Demeter peeked up at him with one bleary, grey eye. "Nonsense. Mum can have as much bacon as she wants. She's just worried about your health."

"That is where your mother is wrong," Lucius declared solemnly. "Bacon is very, very healthy."

"Of course it is, or have you ever seen sick bacon? But having too much of it isn't good for you. Mum knows, and you know it, too."

Lucius sighed. "All right, I yield. But what about you, darling? Why don't you want to eat?"

She shrugged, but he already knew the answer. She'd felt decidedly heavier than normal when he'd picked her up; he put his hand on her waist and felt her belly. Circe and all her pigs – it was huge! Biting down the worry and irritation he felt, Lucius made sure she was otherwise all right and called Becky to run a bath for his daughter.

3333

His day didn't improve much; even stealing another rasher of bacon when Demeter wasn't looking didn't prove satisfactory.

As he'd expected, the child was sleepy and merely wanted to return to the nursery with Becky, so he sent her on her way with a kiss and a pat on the backside. He wanted Hermione to come home, so he could share his thoughts with her, but he had to be patient, since she would only return in the early evening. There was work to be done, though, and thus he slowly climbed the stairs to the first floor, summoned a House Elf on his way down the corridor and ordered coffee to be brought to his study.

He'd written and dispatched a few letters and was just busy pondering whether to buy the piece of land adjacent to one of his French vineyards, when one of the farm elves knocked on the door. "Mays Chicky Seven disturb the Master?" it asked, bowing so deeply that its nose touched the carpet.

The farming elves were named after their tasks and numbered. It was a very practical system, even though Meaty Eight was bony and Corny Seven totally devoid of any sentimentality.

"Make it brief, though," he said, "I'm busy."

"Yes, Master. We is worried about the chickens, Master. They is disappearing, always at night."

"How many have you lost?"

"Five, Master. And they isn't eaten by the fox, because we puts up wards, and there is no blood or feathers. They just disappears."

Probably Enzo's fault, Lucius thought. The elves' wards would be useless against a Hippogriff, and he'd just snatch a chicken up and carry it off, so as to devour it in peace. No blood, no feathers. "Put up guards," Lucius ordered, his thoughts already straying back to the vineyards, "and report to me in case of further losses. You may go now."

3333

Demeter had waned and waxed one more time, Hermione had found out that she was pregnant, and suddenly Christmas had arrived.

In the old days, the Malfoys had always thrown lavish Christmas parties, but nowadays Lucius preferred to celebrate en famille, just the three of them and of course Severus Snape, who was not only a colleague and old friend but also Demeter's godfather.

Demeter was allowed to stay up late, so she could have dinner with the adults; at ten-thirty, when Lucius proclaimed (for the third time) that it was time to go to bed, she protested sleepily but let herself be carried of by her father. The adults then reconvened in the library for brandy – one of Severus's gifts to Hermione had been a bottle of amber-coloured potion whose taste was indistinguishable from the aroma of Lucius's finest brandy, but which didn't contain alcohol – and spent a leisurely couple of hours talking and enjoying one another's company.

Severus was still a pretty private, introverted person, but when he'd consumed so much alcohol that Flooing would've resulted in vomiting and Apparating in splinching, he was reasonable enough to accept Lucius's offer of staying the night. Besides he really wanted to be there when Demeter opened her presents – he was the only person she ever accepted books from, and read them, and he had made her a potions textbook with lots of images and easy recipes. A potions kit completed the present.

After their fifth final nightcap, they all toddled off to their respective bedchambers, Lucius supported by a half-laughing, half-scolding Hermione, followed by an insanely grinning Severus, who was trying to walk a straight line to prove that he wasn't drunk at all.

Both Lucius and Hermione were too tired to even contemplate more than a good-night kiss, and drifted off to sleep the moment their heads touched the pillow.

It was still pitch dark, and Lucius's brain was still fogged by alcohol, when the peacefully slumbering spouses were woken by a horrible scream. They sat up, hearts racing, and exchanged one look before saying "Severus!" in unison, upon which they grabbed their wands, scrambled out of bed and raced down the corridor in their nightclothes.

Severus was out of his bedroom, standing with his back against the open door. White-faced and clearly terrified, he looked up and down the corridor.

Lucius snapped his fingers and told a bemused House Elf to bring brandy. "Severus, are you all right?"

Severus merely nodded.

"What happened?" asked Hermione. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"I'm not a child, Hermione," he bit out. "So kindly refrain from-" The elf reappeared with a tumbler of brandy, which he emptied in one go. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bite your head off. There was a snake..." He shuddered and touched the ropey silver scars on his throat. "A snake just like..." He averted his eyes.

"Like... Nagini?" Lucius said, frowning. "How could a ten-foot snake get into the house..."

"It wasn't as big as N-Nagini. Smaller. Shorter." Severus inhaled deeply. "Maybe... maybe three, four feet."

Hermione bit her lip. "Severus, are you sure – I don't mean to imply it was just a dream, I just... Are you sure it was actually there?"

"It fucking touched me! Of course I'm sure!"

"It's okay, Severus, I believe you." Her wand hand was trembling a little but she looked determined. "All right. Accio snake!"

Nothing happened.

Eyes narrowed, Hermione shook her head. "If Severus says it was there, it was there. Let's try something different. Shields up, both of you!" The men did as they were told and watched as she first cast a strong shielding charm around herself, then began to murmur an incantation accompanied by complex wand movements. Both flinched as a befuddled-looking garter snake came slithering down the corridor at high speed, stopped a few feet from them and raised its head to perform an undulating dance.

Severus had just opened his mouth to utter an undoubtedly scathing comment, when Demeter's bedroom door opened and the little girl came running towards them. Lucius caught her in his arms and lifted her up. "What happened?" she said. "I heard... I heard..."

"Shh, darling." Lucius stroked her hair. "Severus had a bad dream."

"I'm sorry," Severus said. "I didn't mean to frighten you. You know I sometimes have nightmares, don't you? I told you about them."

"I wasn't afraid," Demeter objected. "I merely heard... and then I just had to – what's Bruce doing here?" She pointed at the snake. "You're not afraid of Bruce, are you?"

All three adults shook their heads; Severus was careful to avoid his goddaughter's eyes, though.

"Go back to the cellars, Bruce" Demeter commanded. "You want to catch some mice. And don't come up here anymore, you're frightening mum and dad and Severus." The snake twitched its tail playfully and slithered off; Demeter gave a contented sigh and focused her attention on her father. "Can we go open our presents now?"

"It's not morning yet, Demi."

"But you said that I had to go to bed, and when I'd wake up, there'd be presents!"

"Your father meant there'd be presents once you'd wake up in the morning," Hermione pointed out.

"That's not what he said. He said 'when you wake up', I heard him perfectly well!"

Severus, who had evidently recovered from his shock and was observing the exchange with unholy glee, beckoned to Lucius to hand the girl to him. Lucius obliged; he was feeling the beginnings of a dreadful hangover and therefore not entirely sure to win the argument with his daughter.

"I can't go back to sleep right now, either," Severus told Demeter in conspiratorial tones, "So we're going to go down to the kitchens and make cocoa. Then we go back to bed, and we'll sleep till at least ten, so your parents will have to wait for us, because presents can only be opened if we're all there."

"He really does make an excellent nanny," Hermione said, once they climbed back into their bed. "Don't tell him I said that, though, or I'm going to tell him-"

She needn't have worried. Lucius was already asleep.

3333

The Malfoy House Elves still flinched occasionally, when their master made an unexpected movement, but it had been a long time since Lucius last kicked an elf. To himself he justified this fact by the draconian measures his wife had threatened him with, should he ever again abuse one of the little buggers, but in reality he just didn't feel like mistreating anybody or anything, because he was almost obscenely happy. The sight of a terrified House Elf, frightened out of its wits and into nervous spasms, therefore evoked concern – not for the creature itself, but because something extraordinary had to have happened.

He was having breakfast with Hermione – he hated getting up early, but watching her eat more than made up for it – and Demeter was still asleep. The elf that barged into the small dining room as if chased by furies was covered in mud and trembling from head to toe. The mud was easily explained by the rain that had started three days ago and threatened to make February an even more unbearable month than it usually was; that an elf, even a farming one, shouldn't clean up properly, though, before entering the house was nothing short of exceptional.

"Master!" it screeched, "Master, Milky Nine is begging your pardons, Master, but there is a giant snake in the hen house!"

"Bruce isn't a giant snake, Milky Nine," Hermione said. "He's a garter snake, and he won't harm the chickens."

The elf whimpered. "Not Bruce, Mistress, not Bruce! Milky Nine knows Bruce. This snake is being big, Mistress, so big..."

Lucius and Hermione exchanged a worried glance. "Not Bruce? Are you sure?" Lucius asked sharply.

"Sure, Master, yes, Milky Nine is completely sure! Meaty Eight stuns it, and Chicky Seven binds it, and Milky Nine Apparates straight to the house!"

"Very well," Lucius said, getting up. "Let us see the snake, then. I do hope it really is a giant snake, because if it turns out that you interrupted my breakfast because of a Flobberworm, you'll be-"

Hermione cleared her throat.

"...very ashamed of yourself," Lucius ended his sentence, gritting his teeth.

He did glare at Hermione's back, though, when he let her precede him out into the corridor.

3333

"Circe's tits!" Lucius exclaimed, as he entered the hen house and saw the snake immobilized on the ground, bound tightly in shimmering ropes of elf magic and surrounded by determined-looking elves.

"Language, darli – Bugger!" Making an involuntary step backwards, Hermione almost tripped over the hem of her robes. "It's big!"

Lucius nodded. "Not as big as Nagini, though. Severus was right."

"But how could it possibly..."

"I have no idea," he said grimly, "But we're going to find out, aren't we? The bonds will hold if I Ennervate it, right?"

The elves nodded in unison.

"Good." He pointed his wand at the snake. "Ennervate!"

Slowly, lazily, the diamond-patterned coils began to shiver and ripple; the snake raised its head and tested the air with its forked tongue. Then it slowly turned its head to look at each of the elves.

"This is creepy." Hermione gripped Lucius's arm. "Look how it turns its head, almost like a human-"

She couldn't finish her sentence, because the snake started to shimmer and twist, and Lucius flung her behind him with his free hand. She landed painfully on her tailbone; Lucius's robes were blocking her view. "Lucius, what – be careful, for heaven's sake!"

Nothing happened, though; Lucius and the elves were standing transfixed, as if petrified, and for one terrifying moment Hermione thought of the basilisk...

"Mum?" said a small, quivering voice, "Mum, where are you? Are you hurt?"

"Demi?" She looked behind her, but there was nobody there except for a few chickens pecking corn from the wooden floor boards.

Then, suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and she scrambled to her feet, helped by Lucius who had finally come out of his stupor. Rubbing her lower back, she leaned against him for a moment to gather her strength.

"Shalls Chicky Seven remove the bonds from Missy Demi?" the elf piped up.

Lucius merely nodded and went knelt down next to Demeter. "You're an Animagus," he said tonelessly.

Demeter frowned at him. "Mum always says not to call people names."

"Merlin's balls, Demi, why didn't you-"

"She also says swearing is unnecessary and merely shows that you're out of arguments. That's right, mum, isn't it?"

"I think," Hermione said faintly, "that right now both your father and I are out of arguments. So this is an exceptional situation in which swearing may be permissible, within certain limits." She motioned for Lucius to get up and took her daughter's hand; Lucius grasped the other. "I suggest that we go back to the house now and have a little talk. I guess Demi is hungry, aren't you dearest?"

Demeter's face fell. "I meant to eat a chicken," she whispered. "I hate it when I do that, but when I'm a snake, there's nothing I can do about it..."

She started to cry, and Lucius picked her up. "Let's do as your mother suggested, Demi."

"You always" – she hiccoughed – "you always do as mum suggests."

It was testament to his emotional upheaval that he didn't even look back when the elves tittered.

3333

Nothing much remains to be said about the events described above.

With the help of his goddaughter Severus Snape finally overcame his fear of snakes.

Calliope was born the following August; from the moment Demeter was allowed to hold her sister for the first time, the two were inseparable. Most of the time, that is – Calliope was an absolute demon on a broomstick and mortally afraid of any animal larger than a hairbrush.

The story "How Master Lucius Was Put in His Place by Missy Demi" became a favourite among the young elflings.

Demeter eventually found out about her father's Dark past, and how he had become a Good Man. She immediately understood that all Enzo the Ferocious Hippogriff needed in order to become more treatable was a nice lady Hippogriff and some foals. Thus, Lucius added pedigree Hippogriff breeding to his already manifold activities.

At the reception the Granger-Malfoys gave on occasion of their tenth wedding anniversary, Severus fell in love with Narcissa Black, who had been invited at Hermione's insistence. The feeling was mutual. Once again, Lucius had to admit that His Wife Was Always Right.

THE END