Disclaimer: This is all for fun, I do not claim ownership of the characters or anything recognized from the work of JK Rowling. I am only borrowing them.
Warning: Mature themes, subject to change: mild violence, strong language, substance use or abuse, scenes of a sexual nature as well as general innuendo smattered throughout, adult themes including but not limited to death and disease both mental and physical.
[A/N] 2.16.16 - There will be plot development but this is going to be another event heavy day like July 31st, 2005, so depending on when the characters tell me the next bit should be posted, this may take several installments. Also, I am seeking a beta reader, someone to whip my commas into shape. I welcome any grammar or syntax critiques in the meantime.
Läka means "heal" in Swedish.
Beta Love: doctorhodes was kind enough to take the original post and clean it up a bit. Thank you!
Playlist: Half-Truism - The Offspring | Killing Strangers - Marilyn Manson | Live and Let Die - Paul McCartney and Wings (007) | Chromaggia - Repo! the Genetic Opera
Friday, August 5th, 2005 | 5:37am | Malfoy Manor
The albino peacocks were permanently relocated from the front lawns of the Manor. Instead, they graced the smaller gardens of the mother-in-law suites to bring a sense of normalcy to Lucius and Narcissa. Of course, the suites were an entire second residence on the property rather than a set of rooms or even a wing of the main house. Druella Black née Rosier was not the most pleasant mother-in-law so distance was priceless.
Severus hadn't visited the Manor at any great length since the disastrous administration of DMB 3.2 which caused the haunting death of Tracey Davis. Gritty human ashes beneath his fingernails and choking fumes still fueled his insomnia and woke him from a dead sleep. Of all the nightmares that could plague him this was the freshest and weighed heavily on his conscience. He should have known from the equations that it was too dangerous, too soon to experiment. Several tumblers since that trial were drained to in an attempt to drown away the sight of another soul lost at his hand. His first death, first murder, since the end of the war.
"We'll go through the main doors," said Draco over his shoulder. Instead of focusing on his own demons, he chose to concentrate on the tension in Draco's stride.
Sunlight warmed them enough so both men unclasped their travelling cloaks. The humidity that was a cool mist at the loch was muggy and oppressive in Wiltshire.
"The stasis charms should've held since we last visited the lab," Draco continued. Severus suspected he was speaking aloud for his own benefit, a sound to break the silence on the grounds. "I'm sure the elves have kept the house in pristine condition. Do you recall if we lifted their ban from the lab before we left?"
"No," Severus said as he continued to palm his wand. The grounds were completely empty which was incredibly unsettling to the part of his brain conditioned to subconsciously monitor for threats to his person. "I doubt we did, but your elves know precisely what is in that basement so it's unlikely they would have entered it, regardless of a magical or verbal ban."
Draco nodded in agreement, bringing out his own hawthorn wand from his sleeve. There was an unspoken tension in the air, starting from the moment they Apparated outside of the gates. Lucius and Narcissa did not greet them upon their arrival but there was a sort of acknowledgement through the wards and an answering call from their own magic back to the ancient wards. Dozens of the wards were as ancient as the property itself, dating back centuries before even Hogwarts was established. Most of wards were young in comparison and therefore more... responsive. Older wards spoke slowly; new wards acted more aggressively, like guard dogs struggling against their leashes for first blood. The task ahead of them was daunting as several of the wards needed to be fully disassembled before Hermione could safely join them on the grounds.
Left unmonitored, a protective or offensive ward could evolve in unexpected ways. Sometimes they would fade away or be forced to reintegrate by the sheer force of nature continuing the cycle of life. Others, like the wards that would cripple a Muggle or Muggleborn or strengthen a Marked Death Eater, ran amok and vibrated with the tension of a coiled spring.
Abraxas Malfoy, with help from a teenage Lucius, placed hundreds of traps and spells along the rim of Malfoy Manor, both on the house proper and the gated borders. Nearly all of the spells were cast after Abraxas was Marked and residual energy from the Dark Lord was uncomfortably evident as soon as the two Marked men crossed the ward's invisible thresholds. Severus felt with a renewed awareness the cold thread of magic through his veins that singled out his father's blood, belonging to a lowly Muggle, mixing with his mother's near royal Prince blood. Before, during the first and second rises of the Dark Lord, the intrusive cold was as if the hand of a ghost was passing through his heart. Now with the Mark on his arm faded to a bruise, instead of a stark and writhing tattoo, the cold trapped his blood in an arctic ice flow. The comparison between his internal temperature and the burning sun on his skin made sweat trickle from the nape of his neck and all down his spine, pasting his cotton undershirt to his skin uncomfortably.
Draco was not similarly affected; his blood was as magically pure as Severus' mother's, but he was bearing the brunt of the wards' attention as the Master of the property as if they were dozens of invisible but powerful Rottweilers clamoring for attention. Within the last two years Lucius relinquished most of his control over the property to his son. The combined repercussions of his brief time in Azkaban, Voldemort's occupancy of his home, and the symptoms of Lautiores Maleficus left Lucius unable to bear the weight of the property alone. Only the oldest wards fully responded to him alone anymore.
The Manor house was built of precisely placed stones and bricks; the newer wings indiscernible from the original building through the use of superb builders and expensive stone imported from quarries around the country and continent. High, imposing windows framed the main doors at the top of a small staircase. Flanking the tops of the staircase were intricately carved marble statues in the shape of various intertwined dragon tails. Hollows and divots in the marble suggested that centuries before there were scales set into the stone, likely of gemstones matching the color of each particular breed. They reminded Severus of the hog's heads outside of the Hogwart's gates, but much more tasteful.
"Diffindo," muttered Draco as he wandlessly cut the thumb of his wand hand. Grasping the solid gold handle set in the heavy oak doors, he rested his thumb where a Muggle craftsman would place a keyhole. The twenty foot high door swung forward effortlessly before the two men.
"Läka. After you, Severus."
Severus glared at Draco out of habit but did not protest any further. Walking past his godson, welcomed officially into the ancestral home, Severus was finally relieved of the cold hands gripping him at a visceral level.
The prediction that the Manor would be in pristine condition was proven accurate as they stepped over the threshold. Shining tile reflecting the soles of their shoes made the already expansive foyer appear even larger. Vibrant tapestries hung over bare stone walls with nary a thread out of place. Sconces lined the walls at precise intervals, casting light in such a way that no shadows would be cast regardless of where one stood.
"Shall we?"
The set of Draco's jaw was stony, his grey eyes flinty and narrowed. The tone of the invitation was nonetheless cordial. Severus lead the way for Draco, not needing a guide to wander the halls of a home in which he had spent more time than his own, bypassing the main hallways to take the first passageway behind a framed painting of the current Malfoy family. The oil versions of Lucius, Narcissa, and a fourteen year old Draco nodded solemnly to them as they disappeared behind them.
Bare stone walls continued within the passage but the torch brackets within were simpler than those in the grand foyer. A small pop occurred behind Draco as they strolled purposefully down the carpeted passage.
"Master Draco and Master Snape," squeaked the carrying voice of a young house-elf named Brax. "Welcome home. May I be taking your coats?"
"Thank you. Please let Alphie know we will be joining my parents for brunch once we've gained control of the lab."
"Yes, sir. Just be calling Brax when you is needing him."
Without breaking their original stride it was still several more minutes before the pair reached the double doors to what was once the Master's entrance to the dungeons. The quarters the Dark Lord utilized for Ollivander, Lovegood, and Griphook were completely gutted at the other end of the Manor and currently housed facilities for the Malfoy elf-made wine his mother controlled. The Master's suite of the dungeons beneath the home were more lavishly equipped before their own gutting. Various ancient torture devices including a rack and thumb shackles on the ceiling were removed to make way for marble-topped tables, cauldrons the size of a bathtub, and dozens of shelves for potions ingredients and implements.
Their aprons rested as they left them, thrown haphazardly over the drying rack near the entrance, the dragon hide sparkling in the gloom. Rustling made Severus cringe as he grasped his long black apron. The hairs on his arms stood straight from goosebumps like a cat that was rubbed the wrong way. Both aprons would need to be soaked in Romanian mountain oil before they'd regain their luster and protective qualities. Nothing was more dangerous in a potions lab than mistreated equipment.
"It's not as bad as I expected," Draco mused aloud, brushing his hands over his own brown apron. "The ward journals are here, I'll start with my father's if you'd…"
"Of course. He wasn't as sloppy with the new Marks as he was with mine and the rest of us, I should be able to find that foul bastard's trace. Did Lucius move the core?"
Draco shook his head. "The elves destroyed the scrying gems that he tainted but they used the core room to do it. Just through here."
A quick slice of his thumb later and Draco opened the locked cabinet above the lowest room of the Manor. The room housing the core of the Manor's protections was severely understated compared to the grand rooms it protected above. Bare stone walls were coarse to the touch and not a stitch of cloth or decoration adorned it. Dropping down into the cramped space, Severus landed heavily on his feet just behind his godson who was already bringing up the stone table from the floor. It fit seamlessly into the floor when not in use but when called by the Master it floated freely up to waist height.
Pressing his hands into the closest corner to him, Draco chanted under his breath for a few minutes, Severus watching intently from the other side of the room. His mind wandered a touch as he saw lines Draco's Glamours fall away from his arms and neck. The shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows exposed his forearms in a way he never did outside of the company of a handful of people. The sheer energy it required to connect his magical core to the wards drained any excess energy used to fuel those charms. Glamours were second nature and powered by the various cuff links or watch chains Draco wore on a daily basis. Knife marks from his bloody Marking initiation cut horizontally down his right arm, ones that matched Severus's. Though he did not cover his own marks, Severus did not judge Draco for working to conceal his own. Each survivor of the war had their own penance.
Just like the glittering Arithmancy equations that followed Hermione around like a misshapen flock of birds, the threads of the Manor's wards sparked to life. As if he were adjusting the channel on the wireless Draco drew some runes into the table corner to anchor the map.
"Shall we?" Severus said, gaze concentrated on Draco's lightly sweating face.
A nod later both men drew their wands and pulled at strands before them, the lines as fine as gossamer and as strong as Acromantula silk.