22 Dec 1991, Sunday
Hermione loved her room, and she loved the wonderful Malfoy library and its climbing balconies to a second and a third floor. Of course, she wasn't allowed up on the third floor, for those were the books and scrolls that the Malfoys had collected over centuries of the family's existence that dealt with the Dark Arts and old magics that had fallen either out of use, or out of favor in the present.
Seated upon the window seat in her bedroom, Hermione sat before a large tome. Her legs were crossed and she was hunched over the book with a Muggle notebook on her lap, but an Always-Inked Quill scratching out notes in her precise cursive. After several minutes she leaned back and sighed down at her notes.
"Too many," she sighed again, rubbing the fingers of one hand against her temple.
There came a knock on her open door and she looked up as she smiled shyly at Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa walked in and sat down gracefully upon the unoccupied side of the window seat.
"I begin to see what Severus meant when he said 'a book was as a third limb to you', Hermione," smiled Narcissa as she leaned over to look at the large book.
Hermione blushed and gave her new mother a smile. "I love books."
"A love of books is a fine thing, my dear, but you are a growing girl who needs fresh air, just as a growing boy does." Although Narcissa's tone was mild, it was firm and Hermione drew in a breath, ready to protest if her book privilege was going to be taken away again. Narcissa frowned, and any protest Hermione was working up, was bitten back. "Fresh air, play, and time spent in other pursuits, I see, will need to be a rule for you." To take away the sting, the older witch held out her hand for the notebook. Hermione handed it over, a bit sullenly.
Narcissa studied the notebook a moment. "Muggle?" she asked.
"I was saving up for a few of those great research journals that are spelled to copy notes to be saved into a permanent journal." Hermione shrugged. "I don't have much left in my vault, though. Da' had it converted and nearly cleaned out a few days ago."
Narcissa nodded. Hermione's Gringotts vault had only been a mere allowance that was connected to her parents finances. It was inevitable that the girl's father might do something retaliatory such as making Hermione destitute. Saying nothing, for she knew of many plans, besides the adoption, that her husband was working on. Instead, she opened the notebook, which had only been used just recently.
Hermione's notes were neat, organised, and titled. Narcissa smiled at seeing the largest title that read, 'Names I Like'.
"So, you're thinking of the Naming Ceremony," mused the older witch.
"I have a lot to choose from, and some that I like more than others..."
Narcissa interrupted softly as she read a few names from the 'Most Liked' list, "Morgan – the Healer of Avalon, Alexandria – the famous library," Narcissa chuckled at that one and added, "She is also the Protector." Hermione smiled at that. "Narcissa continued, "Nidia – the gracious child." Suddenly Narcissa's eyes lit up. She turned the notebook around and pointed to a name that Hermione had put several stars beside. "Is this a favourite?"
"It has so much meaning," Hermione said softly. She continued, "Faith, hope, wisdom, courage."
"So much of what you are, my dear girl." Narcissa cupped the girl's cheek gently, "Although you are free to choose, I believe this name embodies well, all that you are." The witch rose, and touched Hermione's shoulder. "Now, as fascinating as all of this is, I need you to get dressed. Severus and Harry should be here momentarily."
As the witch left, Hermione closed her book, put her notebook on her desk, and went to the wardrobe to take out her Winter clothing. She smiled at the luxurious, soft suede cloak that was lined with white fur as it spilled from her wardrobe. The cloak, with matching hat, gloves, and a cashmere silk scarf, were all early Christmas gifts from the Malfoys bought just a week ago at Madam Malkins in Diagon Alley. The Muggle coat that had been given to Hermione by her mother, had been deemed both age inappropriate, and garish for the girl. It was a simple, yet terribly pink, down quilted thing with the gloves attached by cord to the sleeves.
Hermione had hated the pink monstrosity, but it had been warm, and it had also been all that she owned. It was gone now, replaced by the suede ensemble which came with very nice, and toasty Warming Charms.
Draco had seen the new outfit and had promptly pitched a fit, demanding that he get a new Winter outfit, too! Lucius, seeing Hermione back to Hogwarts, had simply glared at his spoiled brat who apologised at once. It didn't stop Draco's sulking, though. He kept up a good sulk until they went to dinner that evening. By then he was over it, and even managed a sincere compliment to Hermione on the new clothing.
Since their arrival at the manor, Draco was too enthused over showing Hermione the family wing. She did not know that Lucius had given his son a short talk about the 'crassness' of showing off the Malfoy wealth and had then forbidden Draco's access to the formal wing – that part of the manor that had been built, and added onto by his ancestors.
The family wing of Malfoy Manor had its share of wealthy opulence, but under Narcissa's eye, and magic, it was beautiful, elegant, yet comfortable for a family to live in.
Going down the stairs, Hermione met her family in the parlor where Harry, looking a bit green after Flooing, and Severus were just arriving. She watched in concern as Harry, who started out bent over, gave in and just sank down to his knees on the floor.
"I really wish wizards used cars," he groused as he held his belly.
Snape knelt down and gave Harry a dose of Stomach Soother. "I am getting concerned about this dizziness, Harry. You have traveled by Floo enough times that you should have gotten used to it." He helped his son to his feet. "I think it might be a good idea for us to see Madame Pomfrey."
Harry took a deep breath breath. The potion worked quickly and he was feeling much better. "Can we after Christmas, Dad?" asked Harry. "I don't want anything to ruin the holidays for us."
Snape, the worried parent, was dubious about putting anything off if it meant the health of his son was neglected, but he grudgingly supposed that in this case it wouldn't hurt. He nodded, "Right after term starts, then, and I will not want to hear any arguments then."
Harry nodded, and then smiled as the last of the roiling in his tummy faded away. Lucius then smiled widely, to take in his family, and his two guests.
"Before we start our day," he cleared his throat, suddenly, and oddly nervous as he pulled a scroll from within his robes. "Severus, Harry, as Narcissa and I consider you both a part of our family, and I am sure that Hermione considers her friend as such," he glanced over at the little girl whose eyes were riveted to the scroll. "we thought you ought to be a part of this." With a small, yet dramatic bow, Lucius handed the scroll to Hermione.
All of them watched, with nearly held breaths, as Hermione broke the seal on the scroll and she unrolled it. As she read the words, the colour in her cheeks deepened, and then she finally let a bright grin grace her features. She began to jump up and down, and she let out a shout, "I'm a Malfoy!"
Hermione ran over to Narcissa first, and hugged her, crushing the parchment between them. She then did the same to Lucius before showing the scroll to her Head of House. Snape inclined his head, "Congratulations, Miss Malfoy." At the widening of her gaze, he smirked.
"Hey, 'Mione," said Harry pointing towards the bottom of the scroll. "There's a line above your name that's empty."
Hermione had missed that. Indeed, above her old signature of 'Hermione Jean Granger' there was a line above it that appeared to be missing something. She glanced up at her new parents in puzzlement.
Narcissa explained, "After your Naming Ceremony that is where you will sign with your new signature."
"Oh." Another bright smile suffused her face. "I can't wait!"
Draco pressed a bit closely, and possessively against his father and Lucius glanced down at his son. His nudge was a reminder of the talk they had had the evening the two children had arrived, and Narcissa had bestowed the gift of the Winter clothing. The young boy, the only child in the home, was worried about his place in the family now that Hermione was joining it. Draco loved Hermione, as Harry did, and he had wanted Hermione as his sister. It was another thing, though, for the young boy to see it actually happening.
Lucius had punished Draco verbally, at first, for his unseemly temper tantrum, and had not fully understood why his son had gone off the way he did. It was as Draco, standing in the corner of his father's study, began sniffling that Lucius wondered if there weren't more to the outburst.
"Come now, Dragon," sighed Lucius as he put down his quill and turned in his chair towards his son. "I have done nothing to have put you in such a state. I didn't yell, nor did I spank you, since you have told me you are too old for such 'babyish' punishment."
Draco, firmly turned to the corner, only sniffled again. His breath then hitched in a caught sobbing hiccup. Lucius had never liked to hear his child cry and this not only plucked at his heart strings, but puzzled him, as well.
"Draco." Lucius sighed heavily at another sniffle. "Dragon, turn around and come here."
Draco did turn, slowly, and bowed his red-rimmed eyes away from his father's concerned look. He walked over and sat primly in the chair on the side of his father's large desk. He sniffled again and Lucius gave the boy a handkerchief.
"Will you tell me what has you so upset, child?" Lucius asked with great concern.
"It's dumb, Papa," replied Draco as he blew his nose.
"So it may be, but it has you in quite a turmoil, therefore it does not matter how trivial it may seem to me. Now why this tantrum, and why these tears?" Lucius leaned forward to give his son his full attention.
"It's just... you aren't, are you? I mean I'm yours, right? Uhm... but, I don't know... and it's all..." Draco shrugged with frustration, and Lucius frowned. He was unable to make sense of what his son was saying.
"What do you mean, 'I'm yours'?" asked Lucius carefully. That phrase stood out from all the nonsense.
Draco lifted his grey eyes to those that were the near mirror of his own. Instead of explaining what he meant, he suddenly blurted, "Do you and mother still like me?"
Lucius would have laughed at the silly question, but Draco's fear was nearly a palpable thing in his voice and it disturbed him, instead. "Of course we do! Why would you ask..." and then it dawned on him just what the problem was. "Dragon, do you believe that you are less in our eyes since we have adopted Hermione into our family?" Draco shook his head, vehemently, then nodded, miserably. Lucius motioned for his son to come to him, and he scooped the boy up and into his lap the moment his seat left the chair. He embraced Draco tightly who wrapped his arms around his father's neck, and wept.
"Sweet Merlin, Dragon! You are our son. We shall not stop loving you, nor shall we love you any less. I promise you this."
"I know, Papa," he sniffed, and used the handkerchief again. "I said it was dumb, and it is. I'm glad Hermione's here, but I just kept feeling this..." he leaned back, and held his fist to his chest to help explain himself. "It just hurt here, and mother really likes Hermione a whole lot, and you... you..." he glanced down at the handkerchief in his hand.
"Did I do something wrong?" asked Lucius as he lifted Draco's head by his chin.
Draco scowled, and then spat resentfully, "You asked her first how her grades were!"
Lucius and Draco spoke for the rest of the evening as Lucius assured his son that he was still loved and wanted, and that there was no reason to be jealous of Hermione.
With another nudge to his son's shoulder blades, Draco stepped forward, and smiled at Hermione. With true sincerity, he said, "I'm glad you're my sister, Hermione." He then added, with a smirk, "But I'm your big brother!"
-Paris-
Travel to Paris was by portkey which Harry weathered decently since he already had ingested the Stomach Soother Potion. They then had a short walk up a lightly, snow-dusted avenue of the wizarding side of Paris which Narcissa informed them was called Village de Phoenix. Translating the name was very easy.
Rather more peaceful than its busy, tourist laden counterpart, the wizarding side of Paris appeared lost in time, as so many places that wizards and witches lived tended to be. Rather Dickensian in nature from its buildings to even the quaint signs on places of business, it didn't have the dirt and squalor that was so prevalent in many of Charles Dickens stories.
The streets were festively attired and there was a group of cherry-cheeked carolers that were strolling slowly along, singing in the holiday season. Along the main avenue that they were walking there were booths where one could get all sorts of delicacies from sweets to savories. Snape automatically said 'no' to the sweets the first time Harry asked, and was promptly thwarted by Lucius who purchased cinnamon glazed apple slices for all three children. Snape fumed while the two Malfoy parents both smirked and smiled respectively. At least he could console himself with the fact that it was only a few slices of sugared apple in a small, but pretty container that vanished itself once empty.
Madame Elianne's salon looked no different than any of the other shops on the street. Once the small group walked through the doors, though, they found themselves in a profusion of the most exquisite fabrics, a chaos of dresses being sewn magically, and Elianne herself bustling about as busy as a faery.
"Narcissa! Lucius! So good to see you!" Elianne stood just barely four feet in height, part of that being her smart, red leather, lace-tied boots with elegant heels. Her hair, held up in a soft bun, was absolutely snowy white. Elianne's eyes were a gentle, but discerning umber, and her skin was slightly wrinkled with her age.
Elianne patted Narcissa's hand and grinned in delight, "I've put aside four hours for you, Narcissa. I do hope that will be enough to take care of your young lady."
Harry's eyes widened and silently he mouthed to his father, 'four hours?'
Elianne looked with studious appraisal at Hermione, frowning briefly at the child's bushy hair. Narcissa was teaching Hermione several spells to help tame her hair, but she hadn't quite mastered any of them, and honestly, she had forgotten to ask Narcissa with help that morning.
Elianne startled everyone, but Narcissa, as she firmly clapped her hands together. "Well! Time to get started, my girls!" She then glared at the four men. "Out with you four. Shoo!" she waved her hands as though she were herding hippogriffs out of her salon. "Out! Go make yourselves busy!"
To Snape's irritation, the door to the salon was rudely slammed shut in their faces. Before he could say anything, Harry let out a big huff of air. "Thank goodness! What do we get to do, Dad?"
Snape did reply, but not before crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Lucius. "You are in charge of this outing, Lucius," he glowered. It appeared that there had been no need for he and his son to have come to Paris. "What are we going to do, since Madame Elianne obviously does not wish for us to hang about?"
Lucius smiled disarmingly, and Snape actually felt a bit unnerved by it. He scowled. The older wizard offered as an explanation, "Le Cirque de Merveille."
"The Circus of Wonder?" asked Snape. "We are going to a circus?"
Draco let out an ear-splitting crow that even had his father glaring at him. Harry wanted to yell, too, but was a bit afraid to do so around the adults. He just smiled up at his father, "It sounds better than shopping, Dad."
Snape sneered, but his son could see the hint of amusement in the dark man's deep gaze.
"It IS better!" Draco jumped once, grinning at Harry. "They do all these really fantastic acrobatics and they're wizards and witches so they don't need nets, but it's still really scary, and... there's lions, tigers, and...!" Draco continued to chatter endlessly about the highlights of the magical circus as the two wizards followed behind.
"You've never experienced Le Cirque de Merveille, have you, Severus?" asked Lucius.
"I have gone to a circus, Lucius," Snape replied dryly. "The straw makes me sneeze, the lions are old, the clowns are sinister, and the high rise acts could do with an accident or two just to liven up their dismal performances."
Lucius let out his rich laughter. "Oh, Severus! Sometimes I think your Muggle heritage has completely soured you upon wizardly pursuits! Le Cirque de Merveille is nothing at all like a measly, Muggle circus. There is sophistication, elegance, and most definitely thrills for one and all."
"And how came you to learn of this dubious entertainment?" asked Snape. He glanced ahead of them and saw that both boys were still yammering contentedly non-stop.
"Narcissa and her love of culture," smirked Lucius. "Very early on, not long after Draco was born, my dear wife complained about the time I spent in the library when it would be better spent 'showing my son the world'." He then sighed heavily. "Not that it was a time when I felt there was anything to show Draco."
Snape simply nodded. The Dark Lord was at the height of his power and showing less of the charismatic wizard, and more of the megalomaniacal creature that wanted immortality and the world, to his followers. Abraxas Malfoy was soon to succumb to Dragon Pox and Lucius would be left in the very precarious position of salvaging the Malfoy estate from the excesses Abraxas put it under, and dealing with the Dark Lord who still expected Malfoy money and political savvy to further his cause. Snape, himself, was finishing up his Potions Mastery, dealing with a conflicted soul as far as his inveterate stupidity in joining Voldemort's followers, and to top it all off, then came the fateful Prophecy that changed all their lives.
To move his thoughts from those dark days, Snape indulged in a bit of memory that gave credence to the side of Narcissa that treasured wizarding traditions, and explored the side of wizarding life that was often overlooked. Muggles did not have the monopoly on creativity and imagination that was sometimes thought. There was music, theatre, art, and more. Some of it was to be found meshed naturally within the Muggle world, but the wizarding world had its own theatres, and museums, and places that were just for wizards to enjoy.
One of Narcissa's loves was to engender more interest in the Wizarding Arts than there was. Young witches and wizards left school generally to become Aurors, to work in the Ministry, or to work in a shop or a trade. Very few of the large, and well known places of learning, such as Hogwarts, Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons, introduced students to art, music, or theatre in their curriculum. Narcissa hoped someday, perhaps after the threat of Voldemort was gone for good, that she could introduce the Arts to Hogwarts and help shape it into becoming a more rounded school for all things wizard.
Until then Narcissa was encouraging everyone, including her husband and his friend, to learn more about the Arts and culture of their wizarding birth. Lucius had all the Pureblood manners he had been taught from birth, but Narcissa would have him leave the library and take their barely a year old son to an art exhibit, or theatre, or other such entertainment. Then, she would also pull Snape, who was often in the Malfoy library as well, and teach him etiquette, brush up his courtly manners (so well that many thought he was Pureblood on sight), and to dance.
Snape never revealed to Lucius, for surely the man would have chained him up and forgotten him in one of Abraxas' dungeons, but the Potions Master had developed a schoolboy crush on the lovely, blonde-haired witch during his dancing lessons. Narcissa, perceptive witch that she was, knew of Snape's crush and did not embarrass him over it. She simply reminded him how in love she was with her husband, and that was the end of that.
The crush had long since been safely buried deep within Snape's mind with the other, few pleasant memories he had protected with his Occlumency. As for Narcissa she was still trying to match him to an 'eligible witch'. Hence, her own push at introducing Snape, and Lucius, and Draco to all cultural events possible. Many of which, by the time he was older, he bowed out of.
"Looking for a way out, Severus?" asked Lucius with a knowing glance towards the dark man who had been quiet and lost in thought for several minutes.
Snape scowled briefly at Lucius then turned his gaze towards his son who currently had his nose pressed against the large display window of a Quidditch supply store. Draco was right beside Harry.
"I think my days of 'looking for a way out' are rather numbered, would you not agree?" asked Snape.
Lucius smiled slyly and spoke under his breath, although he knew the younger wizard's sharp hearing would pick up his muttered, "Especially if dear Cissy has anything to say about it."
In reply, Snape grit his teeth and moved forward swiftly to walk beside his son, leaving Lucius behind him. Lucius, of course, was laughing richly at the Potions Master's expense!
-Madame Elianne's Dress Shoppe-
Madame Elianne bustled around Hermione like a miniature whirling dervish as she took measurements and gave the young girl fabric and colour swatches. Narcissa smoothly would take the fabric and colours from Hermione. Some she held onto, others the older witch discarded. After only fifteen minutes of this, Hermione was feeling exhausted just watching the dress designer continue her flutterings around her. For a brief moment she recalled Madame Elianne's words that she had put aside four hours for them!
Narcissa caught the tell-tale slump in Hermione's shoulders and spoke up, "Hermione, come over here."
The seamstress looked up at Narcissa as the older witch's tone signaled that it was time to end the measurements. Hermione, looking for a way to get away, was more than happy to seat herself on the yellow velvet chaise, that was one of three in the salon, beside Narcissa.
"What do you think?" asked Narcissa as she laid out several choices of colours upon her lap.
Hermione studied the swatches before turning up her eyes in question. "There's no pink." Anything fancy that Hermione had ever had was always in pink since her mother was the one who always decided what looked good on her daughter.
"Pink?" inquired Narcissa. "Oh no, dear girl! You haven't the colouring for pink to be a complement." Hermione's features seemed to crumble under a mis-perceived insult. Narcissa caught her almost-daughter's chin lightly between her fingers. "Your skin is like warm porcelain touched with a pleasing blush of rose to your cheeks. I know you aren't fond of your very curly hair, but did you know it is more than just brown?"
"It is?" asked Hermione tugging down a curl to examine it a little awkwardly.
Narcissa ran her fingers through a few curls. "It is more a russet highlighted by amber and softly shaded by deep red." The older woman smiled. "It really is quite beautiful and your lovely eyes are a perfect match."
Hermione did not know what to say to the compliment; there were so few she had ever heard that were sincere in her life. She just blushed and moved a bit closer to the older witch.
"What colours do you like, Hermione?" asked Narcissa.
As Hermione studied the palette of colour swatches with the same intensity she studied her books, Narcissa watched the girl beside her.
There had always been that hope that someday she and Lucius would have another child together. Despite the rumours that persisted, Narcissa was not an "ice-queen" and had very much enjoyed being pregnant. Lucius had been a proper, conciliatory father-to-be as he often trailed behind or beside Narcissa as she walked (or on some days, waddled) the gardens of Malfoy Manor.
Much of her pregnancy discomfort was taken care of by potions, a few that Lucius had Snape brew as their efficacy proved better than that of a Potions Master Lucius frequented from New Zealand.
The delivery, eased by magic, and more potions, though, had been unusually long, and difficult. When Narcissa had passed out, Lucius, who had been down in the parlor (home births with a midwife still being a long-held tradition) had fainted as well. Snape had been there, feigning a great annoyance, had been able to revive the concerned father. Lucius, upon recovering his senses, broke with the traditional taboos concerning the sanctity of the birthing room against men, and had promptly burst through the door and to his wife's side.
It would be days later that both the midwife, and the Healer from St. Mungos would tell Narcissa and Lucius that a second child could result in Narcissa's death.
Yet, despite a possible death sentence, they had continued to try. As each year passed with no sign of a second child, Narcissa doted on her son. However, to be truthful, at least to herself, Draco was his father's son; sometimes to a fault.
As Hermione held up, tentatively, a few colours, gold, blue, and green, Narcissa impulsively hugged the girl, and then cupped Hermione's face in her hands.
"You are such a blessing, my dearest girl!" Hermione blushed, not entirely sure what had brought on the effusion of emotion. As Narcissa hugged her again Hermione hugged the older woman back, content in the knowledge that someone loved her just for herself.
-The Circus-
Snape would not admit it. Never. He was absolutely amazed by the artistry of Le Cirque de Merveille! He would say, and he had admitted this much just a few minutes ago to Lucius, it was not the circus he had expected.
As a child, when things managed to get too difficult at home, Snape would run away; at least for a few hours. The one time he had run away for more than a day had so distressed his mother that his guilt had eaten him up inside.
When he was six there was a time, after one of his father's futile and useless exercises at job-hunting, when the arguments became so volatile that his father was throwing his fists while his mother was throwing every breakable possible against the walls. It was a war-zone and young Severus ran, and ran, and ran with the intention of never returning.
Severus' running had been interrupted by a circus that had set itself up in a dusty, old field that developers probably had meant to build on, but with the closure of the factory and further closures of businesses, it had just lain fallow.
At first, Severus was curious by all the Muggle trappings, the glitz, glam, and glitter, and he really liked all the animals. He did feel sorry for the tiger, though, who, instead of looking ferocious, only looked tired and old.
No one stopped his stealthy wandering amongst the busy circus folk and he went everywhere that a six year old could. The exploration ended though when Severus was nearly scared out of his skin by an exaggeratedly made-up face with an overly large, red nose, a garish mouth, and mad eyes.
The clown had been a friendly sort except that he had a terrible habit of laughing like a hyena, and after just a few minutes in the company of the clown, Severus' notorious temper was getting the better of him, and he left.
Snape, in later years, dealt with a different sort of mad clown, and masks, that were often, in public, full of charm, but with their fellows, they were frightening. He developed an understandable dislike of clowns.
At Le Cirque de Merveille there were clowns, but they were hardly in the caliber of those in the Muggle Circus. These were not clowns, in Snape's eyes, but elaborately costumed performers who more resembled the Harlequin or the jesters of kings. They did everything from dancing on the Invisible Wire, to a remarkable ballet in the air, on brooms that were as colourful as any of the performers.
As fascinated as Snape was, he mostly enjoyed the expressions that passed over his son's face as Harry watched the spectacle. There were oohs and ahhs aplenty just as there were gasps, and spontaneous relieved bouts of applause after a particularly executed leap, or jump, or acrobatics enhanced by magic. What he found even more... endearing... was that Harry, after several minutes of sitting beside Draco had moved to sit beside his father so he could ask him a barrage of excited questions, "Did you see that, Dad?", "Isn't that amazing, Dad?", and his favourite, "We need to learn that spell at school, Dad!"
The highlight of Le Cirque de Merveille was an impressive duel that began in the darkness and was opened by spirals and dancing impressions of magic; ribbons, glitter, sparks, and beams. Two elaborately dressed combatants, one in pristine white and wearing a silver crown upon its head (whether they were witch or wizard, no one could tell) and one all in dark sparkling grey with a silver crown that twisted terribly, were on the center stage. As the two rulers battled, more supporters, in white, or in grey joined in the battle not just from the ground, but the air as well.
As spells struck, there were explosions, and bangs, along with a cacophonous accompaniment of music. Not an eye in the audience was elsewhere as the great battle was fought in a well choreographed, dizzying dance of life and death. At last the ruler in white was triumphant as the ruler in grey was struck by a spell of silver and gold that caused him to burst into a shower of silvery grey ash. The theatre was rocked by the thunderous explosion that rumbled every seat in the house.
Harry let out a yelp and Snape's lap was suddenly filled with what he expected, was frightened boy. Glowering as the lights dimmed briefly and then returned with the triumphant white ruler and his army, Snape took out his wand and cast a very low Lumos so he could look down into his son's face. He was surprised to see that Harry's cheeks were flushed with excitement, and his green eyes were large and bright, still dazzled by the faux battle below them.
"Wow!" breathed Harry as he turned to look over his shoulder at the now bowing performers, both white and grey.
Snape, although pleased that Harry hadn't panicked, frowned with displeasure. The battle, for him, had been all too reminiscent of smaller duels that had gone on between Voldemort's followers and the Aurors before the deaths of Harry's parents. It brought home to the Potions Master that in their future there would be a battle between Light and Dark – assuming the Dark Lord could not be dealt with now. However, in that battle, many might die, and would not return to take a bow. It weighed heavily upon Snape's heart and quickly he hugged his son before all the lights went on to allow the audience to leave.
Lunch was at a small restaurant that was redolent of Spring, in the midst of Winter. The two boys ate their sandwiches with chatter interspersed with anecdotes about the circus. Snape had settled on a very bitter espresso that he had slipped a Calming Potion into. Lucius had noticed this furtive gesture and over his vichyssoise he carefully watched the younger wizard.
Lucius did not regret his choice of entertainment for his guests although he honestly had not expected such melancholy from Snape. After all, he looked upon the battle, one he had seen in various forms with Draco, as a catharsis. He took it as a reminder that, eventually, the Light would triumph.
Snape worried, though, at the memories the faux battle had stirred up. Harry, babbling happily with Draco as boys will over such theatrics, was innocent of what such violence would come to mean in his young life if Voldemort was not swiftly dealt with; once and for all.
"Severus," Lucius had risen and Snape glanced up at the pale wizard.
"Dad?" Harry asked, looking to his father to see if everything was all right. Draco echoed the glance by looking up at his father.
"Papa? Is everything all right?" asked Draco.
"Dragon," said Lucius retrieving his purse from his pocket and taking out a small handful of sickles. "You and Harry go and get whatever you'd like for pudding. I need a word with Severus. We'll meet you outside."
Draco, happy for the excuse of anything sweet, jumped up and headed for the pretty counter that held all the extravagant puddings on display. When he noticed Harry wasn't with him, he skidded to a stop, turned around, and jogged back. "Harry!"
Harry stood, but paused as he looked up, again, at his father. "Dad?" he asked a bit more softly.
"Go on, Harry. Lucius and I are just going to talk."
Assured by his father, Harry followed his friend. Snape stared worriedly at his son until Lucius tugged uncharacteristically upon his sleeve. Annoyed, yet wondering what the older wizard wanted, the Potions Master followed to the outside of the restaurant.
"What..." began Snape with irritation in his voice, but was quickly interrupted.
"You can be very depressing at times, Severus," scolded Lucius. Snape glared darkly in confusion. "Let Harry be a boy and forget about the past." He was met in reply with only another scowl. Lucius gave the younger man an icy glare. "Don't think that you're the only one with nightmares, my friend. You recall, mine are very similar to yours."
"So you are saying I should forget the past and blithely face the morrow?" snapped Snape testily.
"All of us should be so fortunate to forget the past," Lucius replied softly. "But that is not what I meant. Our futures are not written in stone and that great battle that Dumbledore seems to anticipate between Harry and the Dark Lord will not come to pass if we have anything to say about it."
"No, it shall not, Lucius. I do not want Harry to grow up with my nightmares. You saw him as he watched that battle. He was crowing with the crowd, unconcerned at all that such battles are real." Snape's voice lowered with his frustration. "Time and time again they occur, and death is not beautiful light, and spirals of glittering hues. It is bloody, and frightening, and there are no corpses to rise, unblemished, free of terrible wounds, and ready for a new day."
"So," smirked Lucius with a sly twist to his mouth, "you would put the nightmares in your son's head just to save him from what others might do?"
"Would you care to twist my words further?" sneered the younger wizard. "I want to protect my son from the truth, but neither do I want him to revel in falsehood; to become some Gryffindor that does not stop to think about the reality ahead of him." Snape suddenly spun away from Lucius and walked a few steps down the path as he drew his Winter cloak tighter about his shoulders. He then turned, and paced back. "I do not know what to think," Snape bit out slowly under his breath. "I wish to keep Harry from such things, but at the same time I do not wish to paint the truth in pretty pageantry." Pinching the bridge of his nose, he bowed his head, allowing his hair to drape over each side of his face. "The Dark Lord wants my son dead, and Dumbledore wants to turn Harry into a martyred saint for the Light. I simply want what he desires for himself, Lucius..." Snape slowly lifted his head and stared into his friend's icy grey eyes. "I want him to just be Harry. A little boy that likes to draw and paint, to fly on his broom, to play with his friends, to study hard, and to make good grades..."
"You want what any parent wants for their child, my friend," Lucius spoke quietly as he glanced into the restaurant and saw Draco paying for his and Harry's puddings.
Feeling pained, and conflicted inside, Snape refused to show it and glared stoically at Lucius. The older wizard's hand, again on his sleeve, gripped his arm suddenly, and tightly.
"This is a time of difficulty, Severus," hissed Lucius under his breath. "We are as we once were; distrusting of others, and sometimes of each other. Yet, we are also parents and those are our children. Regardless of the storms surrounding us, we must do all that we can to make their lives normal whether that should be Little League Quidditch, or a special pudding, or the spectacular sight of a fantasy battle." Lucius let go of Snape's forearm. His posture stiffened as he tugged with exaggerated needlessness upon the glove on one hand. Forcing a deliberately insincere, false cheer into his voice, Lucius smiled indulgently and spoke loud enough for passersby to hear, "I know it is in your nature to be a dour, dark man, Severus, but do make an effort for Harry." His voice held that charming mien that so often irritated Snape as it was more often than not aimed at those Lucius felt beneath him. "We have an hour and a half before we meet the ladies, and Draco has been desperate to visit Geppetto's Toy Store."
Snape sneered at Lucius, insulted by the 'public chiding'. A sudden, hard glare just barely masked by the 'publicly charming' smile was directed in warning at the Potions Master. "Act nice, Severus, or I'll be forced to tell the boys how well you sing Frère Jacques."
Snape neither laughed, nor smiled at the jibe for he knew that although it sounded ridiculous, and harmless to a witch with her two daughters walking by, it was not made in jest. Lucius would underline his point next with the most vexing hex possible if Snape didn't shape up and end the melancholy.
Snape gave a sharp, acknowledging nod to the older wizard just as the boys emerged with their puddings; ice cream confections despite the chilly, Winter air. Lucius showered the two youngsters with delight at their choices and gathered them each to either side of him and nudged them up the snow brushed cobbles.
"There is a wonderful toy store, Harry, that I think you'll find fascinating," began Lucius as his voice faded quickly while the three wizards walked ahead.
Snape, allowing his grimace to remain in place, mostly out of sheer stubbornness, finally let out a heavy sigh. Lucius was right. Snape could not give Harry the normal childhood he wanted if his father were always concerned with the shades around them. When he was alone, or with other adults, Snape would worry, but when he was with Harry, he would be there for him; as his father.
Brushing at a dusting of snow on his cloak, the Potions Master shoved his worries about the pestilential past behind his Occlumens shield and strode forward to meet Draco, Lucius, and Harry. Lucius gave him a quick, sidelong glance.
"Geppetto's, Severus?" asked Lucius, although Snape could hear the implied threat to behave himself, or else ringing in his mind.
The Potions Master ignored the elder Malfoy as he stepped up next to his son to walk beside him. After several moments, Snape felt his heart ease just a bit as Harry, perceptive as ever, slipped his gloved hand into his father's, and smiled up at him, and then lifted his ice cream in offer.
"Would you like some, Dad?" asked Harry. "It's cherry cordial and strawberry cream."
Snape hated Geppetto's Toy Store. All the children squealing and oohing and ahhing and shouting for parents or siblings attentions was the chaos of the Welcoming Feast at Hogwarts a dozen times over. The noise was added to by the toys themselves; a unique disturbance where things ticked or tocked, played silly melodies, squirted messy things, or belched smoke. They flew in the air, dipped past his ears, or trundled close enough to his feet along the floor to very nearly trip him.
A child, though, was at ease in the store with all the amazing things to see, to watch, or to participate in. For a grown witch or wizard Geppetto's was an exercise in extreme patience, of which Snape had very little of.
It did do him some good to watch as Harry had leapt into the fray with all the other children. Still, he kept as close an eye as possible on the child. Harry still flinched at accidental touches, and he was still very wary of all adults that he didn't trust. Not necessarily a bad thing, in Snape's mind for such watchfulness could make a wizard rather skilled. However, in Harry, until he could control it, the flinching, the need to run and hide, or the flashbacks, only made the boy vulnerable. Snape noted that Harry kept close to Draco, and did not let his father out of his sight.
A glance at the patrician informed Snape that Lucius was an old hand at this toy shopping business. He had somehow managed, without casting a spell, of creating a little island of peace around himself where no one, child or wayward toy, passed within his sphere.
Snape swatted at a wooden fairy that tugged rather viciously upon a lock of his hair. The insipid toy giggled.
"If you were a real fairy," he snarled under his breath at the taunting, flitting toy, "you would have teeth that could chew the bones of your enemies." In reply, the wooden fairy tittered, and just before Snape could swat at it again, it whirled out of reach.
Hating all things whimsical, Snape peered over all the shorter heads beneath him for sign of his son, or of Draco. He could see neither and grimaced knowing that he would have to venture further into the joyful mess ahead of him.
Harry could not get over the magnificence that was Geppetto's Toy Store. The circus was really special, but one could only view it from a seat in the audience. At the toy store, one was right in the middle of all the glittery and noisy splendor. Slyly taking his cue from Draco, Harry touched, lifted, examined, and finally activated the toys before him. A Whirligig flew up above them and belched out a cascade of rainbow sparkles that faded before anyone was touched by them. Two, small knights on horseback were set by Draco into a joust while a garish Fool leaped about giggling madly. Harry didn't quite care for the Fool. He seemed a bit creepy with his overly made up face and maniacal laugh.
As they moved deeper into the store, Draco's chattering became a faded drone, that soon vanished all together.
Harry's attention had been caught by a fine set of inks with seven quills tipped with silver nibs of varying sizes that were meant only for drawing. Draco, having no interest in all the artistic supplies surrounding them had allowed his own attention to be taken by the miniature Quidditch players that were modeled after real, professional players. He'd been collecting them since he was ten and they were sold exclusively by Geppetto's.
The drawing set really was something exquisite and Harry could not turn his gaze away from it. The ink bottles were nearly rounded baubles of crystal with flat bottoms. The colour of each ink shown through the crystal giving each bottle the appearance of a faceted jewel. The caps were of filigreed silver dragons, each one different. The bottles, it was noted in a scribed note on the inside lid of the box that housed the drawing set, were spelled to be Non-Spill Bottles. The inscribed description also noted that each quill had been handmade by the master artist, Pierre Sojourn of Giverny. An example of the artist's own work adorned the lid of the box. The pen and ink drawing was of a beautiful wheat field dotted with colourful, tiny flowers, and a quaint little church of old stone in the distance.
Harry sighed. Opening the box once more, his eyes drifted over each bottle, each quill that was made from a different feather from owl, raven, dove, gryphon, hippogriff, pegasus, and a Russian firebird. Very shyly Harry's finger stroked the beautiful, glowing, flame-like firebird feather.
"Harry, there you are!"
Harry jumped at the unexpected sound of his father's voice behind him. He turned and smiled, and Snape noted the brightness in his son's viridian gaze, the excited flush on his cheeks.
"Isn't this great, Dad? There's like... everything here! And more, too...!" Harry babbled a few more incomprehensible sentences that were suddenly all strung together.
"Harry. Take a breath before you hyperventilate," ordered Snape sternly.
Harry drew in a quick breath and tried to tell his father about a set of stones that a child could build... whatever it was, it was lost once more in excited, childish babble.
Snape caught Harry by his shoulder. "Harry. Breathe like I taught you for your lessons. Now."
Harry huffed and let out a moue of displeasure. He knew his father was implacable at times, so it was best just to humour him. So, Harry breathed, a bit too erratically at first, but after a pointed glare from his Dark Man, he concentrated on breathing properly.
As his breath went slowly in and out, the flush faded from Harry's cheeks, looking less feverish. Finally, Harry smiled. He did feel better. Not so much like he was going to float away like one of the dozen or so miniature air balloons that drifted about the toy store.
"Dad," Harry whispered softly, still grinning. "This store is fantastic!"
"Better than, oh say, Quality Quidditch Supplies?" smirked Snape.
For just a second, Harry looked conflicted as he tried to divine the right answer. After awhile, he shrugged helplessly. "Well, Quality Quidditch is the best at what they do, but for toys, I always want to come here." Turning, he touched the beautiful drawing set one last time. He knew it was terribly expensive, with all that silver, and feathers from magical animals.
Snape nudged his son away from all the art supplies. "Go find something for today, breathless idiot." Harry grinned, and turned back to the milling crowd of children calling out for Draco.
Lucius stepped up beside Snape to see Harry and Draco now going through a box of Witch and Wizard Collectible Cards.
"Ahh, Severus Snape in a toy store," jibed Lucius. "Wouldn't that be a photo opportunity for an intrepid journalist?"
Snape sneered pointedly at the man beside him. "As if Lucius Malfoy in a toy store would not be such a coup as well."
Lucius laughed and clapped his hand against Snape's shoulder. "I've had practice, Severus. Toy stores, Quidditch stores, ice cream parlors, sweets shops. I'll have you know that it is quite an ordeal to maintain one's dignity while one's child is in their notion of Heaven."
Snape huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. A little girl bumped solidly into him and he glared down at the child. As she looked up at the imposing wizard, all dressed in his usual black, her mouth opened into an 'O', and her eyes widened. "Mummy! Mummy! It's a real vampire!"
Snape, most certainly insulted, hissed at the girl, and she turned tail to disappear back into the chaos of children. Lucius laughed, holding his hand against his belly as he wiped a tear from one eye.
"If I were a vampire," snarled Snape at the ridiculous patrician beside him, "I would cheerfully drain every drop of your pristine blood." Three more children, overhearing the Potions Master, squealed in fright and ran. Snape smirked. Even in a toy store in Paris, France… he still was a terror.
Once outside of the salon, Hermione allowed herself to look at everything possible around her. The entire street had been decorated for Christmas with evergreen, holly and ivy, endless, colourful lights. She smiled at the sight of all the shops with their pretty displays to tempt the eye, and then her gaze lit upon a bookstore. She started over to it automatically, but stopped herself since she had been told to wait. She did wait, but not once did she take her eyes from the unassuming shop.
As Narcissa emerged from the salon, she saw just where Hermione's eyes were mesmerised. She touched the girl's shoulder to break the spell. "We need to eat a little lunch first, Hermione, and then, if you wish to visit the bookstore, we shall."
Hermione was a little disappointed at having to wait, but she did admit that she was rather hungry after all that dress shopping. Who would have thought that would be such a tiring thing to do?
Even after Geppetto's and meeting up with Narcissa and Hermione at a dusty, old bookstore, there had been more wandering about to do. Harry felt that the Malfoys might never stop shopping and just before dinner the exhaustion of each child had manifested in cranky tempers. The worst had been a bickering joust between Draco and Hermione over a pretty bauble that when put in the sunlight caught the light and fractured it into kaleidoscopic patterns of colour. Harry had ignored his two friends while Lucius broke up the fight as he drew his children out of the store by the collars of their cloaks. Narcissa said it was time to return to the manor, and they did so. By then, Harry had been hoisted up into his father's arms, fast asleep.
The adults made quiet farewells, and Snape went through the Malfoy Floo, and back to the cottage where he put his son to bed, and then himself.
23 Dec 1991, Monday
The next day heralded more shopping as Snape and Harry went to Hogsmeade for Christmas shopping. Snape had never bought anyone other than Draco a gift for the season. Snape also had never put much thought into the simple toys he bought through owl catalogue and assumed that those toys were long gone. With Harry in his life now, Snape discovered that, by his son's expectations, he was now obligated to purchase gifts for EVERYONE! Snape quashed that exuberant declaration that morning by telling his son that he would get something for Narcissa and Lucius, and then for Draco and Hermione, and that would be it.
Hogsmeade had been as crowded as Snape expected. After trudging to store after store that began to feel all alike after two hours he was ready for a nap. Harry was ready to go to more stores. Snape knew that Harry had finished his shopping and was probably bouncing off of the sugar plums he had consumed at Honeyduke's. It was time to take his bouncing boy home, and to get some calming dinner into him.
-Monday Evening, We Need A Tree, Now-
The two Snape's had just finished their dinner and were relaxing by the fire. Harry was looking around the big main room of the cottage while Snape had his nose in some Potions periodical.
A small sigh caused Snape to pause in his reading. When nothing seemed to follow, he went back to the article describing new advances in Potions. He was about a third of the way through the article when another sigh, this one a bit more forced, broke his concentration. Snape glanced up at his son who sat on the sofa, his eyes lazily trailing around looking at the walls of their home.
"Something on your mind, Harry?" he asked with a knowing smirk.
"Kinda bare in here," the small boy said in his best nonchalant manner that caused Snape to chuckle lightly.
Snape gave the large main room a cursory, sideways glance. "Really? I had not noticed. Do you think we need a painting or two? Something from our in-house artist?" Snape gave his son a brief wink and Harry grinned.
"I can do that, Dad, but you know? It's Christmas. Shouldn't we have a tree and some blinking lights?" Harry's tone was doing its best to be serious and casual in the asking, but as Snape regarded his son, he was able to note a tautness of self-restraint in the child's bearing, and a look of hope in his son's eyes.
It was that hope the Potions Master knew could easily be shattered by his wrong answer. The hope in the small boy's eyes had been there, year after year, dimming with each year that his horrid relatives withheld the simple joys of Christmas from their nephew as some sort of punishment for his existence. That fragile hope that fairly thrummed ever so perceptibly through Harry's body would never be shown, to anyone ever again, if Snape did not say the right thing.
Snape would not hurt his child for the world, and so he allowed a slow smile to grace his face as he put down the periodical. "Have you ever harvested your own Christmas tree, Harry?"
Harry's eyes lit up beautifully as a smile broke through that hope, that wish that had finally been answered the way he had always wanted to hear it. He practically leapt off the sofa, ran toward the hook where his cloak, hat, and gloves waited, and was dressed before his father could even take a breath. Harry snatched down his father's Winter clothing and ran over to him with his bundle.
"Now?" asked Snape, caught a bit off guard. It was only just after seven of the clock, but he had hoped to get his son calmed down and ready for bedtime, not traipsing around the country looking for a Christmas tree.
"Where are we gonna get a tree, Dad?"
Snape understood the point in his son's eager voice and body language. A tree was needed. Now.
Snape didn't hesitate as he rose and dressed himself warmly. He then paused for a moment, thinking of a place that had trees, and that would be open at this hour of the night. Pulling Harry to his side, they vanished from the cottage.
Snape had to admit that Christmas when he was a child had held little meaning for him until he'd met Lily. His father was often too drunk around the holidays to really be aware of what was going on around him to do anything approaching festive. As for his mother, Eileen seemed to always choose Christmas as the time to bemoan her fate, and the loss of her own wretched family that wanted nothing to do with her.
The Evanses, though, were happy to include young Severus in their Christmas activities. While Severus learned from Lea how to make spiced pumpkin pie, Lily taught her friend how to make strings of garland from popcorn, cranberries, and small pieces of fragrant, dried orange. About a week before Christmas Day, Gus Evans had Lily and Severus bundle up warmly (Petunia was too busy for such a childish thing) and they drove a few miles in Gus's truck to a locally owned Christmas Tree Farm.
Lily and Severus would run between the snow-dappled trees, examining each one to be certain they found just the right one. When it was discovered, Gus cut down the tree and then the three of them hauled it back to the large barn where the tree was wrapped in a swirl of plastic netting. Before leaving, the three of them sat in the barn with other families, drinking down hot apple cider to warm up their insides.
Snape didn't know if the tree farm still existed, so, on the off chance that it didn't he had Apparated a fair distance from where he remembered it was. The sign of cars parked outside of an old, crooked wooden fence that divided the tree farm from the long, country road, was a sign that the tree farm was still in business. Harry grabbed his father's hand with a whoop, and before Snape could snatch at his disappearing dignity, they were both running towards the Christmas Tree Farm.
Once through the gate, Snape reigned in his dignity, and his breath, and caught his son. "Slow down, Harry," he smiled as he drew in a few controlled breaths. "There is a lot to do here. Barn first," and he pointed toward the tall, red structure that dominated the farm.
Harry did his best to cool his enthusiasm, but just barely. His eyes went from the barn, to the tops of dozens of trees just to the side of it, to families that were loading up their tree into their cars. The families were laughing, some were singing carols.
"Deck the halls!" Harry sang, a bit off tune. "La la la la la!" He grasped his father's hand again and tugged, just a bit. His father was walking too slowly towards the barn.
Snape winced as more 'Deck the Halls' hopelessly jumbled up with 'White Christmas', and something rather grim about 'chipmunks roasting on an open fire' assailed his ears.
"Happy Holidays!" called a cherry cheeked woman with her white hair in a soft bun. She held out a gingerbread cookie each to Harry and to Snape.
Snape took the gingerbread shaped like a whimsical man, and then studied the old woman. He was a bit surprised to realise that this was the same woman that had greeted he and Lily when they were children. She had been slimmer, back then, and her hair had been a mousy brown, instead of white.
"Mrs. Doran," Snape greeted the woman.
Her grin widened, making her apple cheeks rounder. She then squinted a bit at the tall, dark haired man before her. Recognition dawned slowly in her eyes. "Oh my! If it isn't little Sevvy!"
Snape scowled, and his cheeks coloured as he coughed at the nickname he had not heard in years. He really had not expected the woman to remember him, and it rather mystified him how she did from only a few visits, one each year until he and Lily parted at the age 15.
"Severus Snape," he corrected, a bit formally. He then felt an insistent tug on his hand, and he drew his son forward in front of him. "My son, Harry. He has never gone tree hunting before."
Mrs. Doran bent slightly to pay attention to Harry. She put out a gloved hand. "Very nice to meet you, Harry."
Harry hesitated, but then took the proffered hand. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."
Mrs. Doran rose, and placed her hands on her hips. "Never been a'tree hunting, eh? Now why was that?"
A bit awkwardly Snape offered as explanation, "We live near the school where I work and there was not a tree farm nearby. Since I was showing Harry where his mother and I grew up, I decided that a trip here was in order."
"Well! It's never too late to learn," laughed Mrs. Doran. "Come into the barn, Harry and we'll get you started." She held out her hand and Harry took it and walked with her, a half skip in his step as they walked. Snape followed, watching his son with decided pleasure.
Snape was given a hand saw for taking the tree down, and a small Muggle torch since it was already dark and there were no lights over the trees. Then he and Harry were pointed to a section of the farm where everyone was to do their tree gathering. Snape was very critical of each tree, but Harry was quickly glancing at each tree before dashing to the next.
"How about this one, Dad?" asked Harry. He was grinning, probably wider than Snape had ever seen, and his cheeks, and nose, were red from the chill in the air, and the excitement.
Snape studied the tree Harry had pointed out. "It is rather tall," he said with deep consideration.
"Is it too big for the cottage?" Harry had unconsciously adopted the same studious position his father was in.
"I think we need something just a bit shorter," Snape suggested with a drawl. "A bit rounder, too? What do you think, Harry?"
Harry's lips thinned at the tree, then nodded. "Yeah. Okay, Dad. Can I have the torch?" Snape handed over the Muggle contraption and stepped back as like a startled rabbit, Harry sprinted in zig-zag fashion around at least four more trees. Snape, knowing it would be fruitless to try and keep up, stayed in place, smiling placidly amongst the trees, as he waited for his son's inevitable shout.
Twice more, a similar scenario was played out until the absolutely perfect tree was found. Snape, who had no intention of using the Muggle saw, made sure that there was no one to see his actions as he pulled his wand from his sleeve, and delivered a precise Cutting Spell that severed the tree from its roots. As it fell, Harry dodged out of the way. Snape caught the tree, and then with Harry grasping firmly upon several branches, they dragged the tree to the barn.
One of Mrs. Doran's hired workers came over and hefted the tree over his shoulder, and for a moment Harry was stunned by the man's strength. "I've never seen Hagrid do that!" he gasped in awe.
Snape quipped, "The Hogwarts trees tend to be much bigger than our Keeper, Harry. I think even he might be crushed beneath one of them if he tried that way of carrying them."
Harry snickered, and Snape smirked. They then watched as their tree was put top first through a mechanical machine that wrapped the tree in white plastic netting quicker than one could blink.
"Goin' fer some cider?" asked the big, burly Muggle.
"Yes," Snape replied. "I think we shall."
The man nodded as he snatched a large red tag from a pile of tags. "Name, then?"
"Snape!" supplied Harry. He watched closely as the worker wrote their name in black marking pen ink, then tied the tag onto the tree, and tossed it into a pile of trees. "Thanks, sir!" smiled Harry, once he was sure no one could take their tree.
The worker handed over a receipt to Snape, and instructed, "Ye can pay fer yer tree after yer cider, sir."
Snape gave the man a nod, and then directed his son over to the big red barn. They were met by Mrs. Doran who smiled and directed them over to a rough hewn, round table made from the bottom of a barrel. Two smaller barrels had been fashioned into crude chairs that Harry and Snape seated themselves in. Before they knew it they both had their hands cupped around large, steaming mugs of cinnamon spiced, hot apple cider.
Harry smiled over the rim of his cider at his father. "This is great, Dad."
Snape gave his son a quirk of a smile, a light lifting at the corner of his mouth. "You approve, then, do you?"
Harry nodded and blew his breath across his cider. "So, did you and my mum really come here as kids? Mrs. Doran seemed to know you."
"Yes. For a few years your grandfather, Gus, would drive Lily and I out here when we were children. I am pleased to see that the old farm is still thriving," noted Snape as he took in a moment to draw in the ever present aroma of pine that so strongly reminded him of his childhood.
"Did you celebrate Christmas with your parents?" Harry asked carefully, his bright green eyes watching his father with intense scrutiny.
Snape merely shook his head. Then, after a sip of the cider, he added, "I really did not think much of the holiday season until your mother was my friend." His smile was wistful, as he finished, "I believe that Christmas was one of Lily's favourite holidays."
Harry warmed at that sentiment and grinned down at his cider, before lifting his gaze, "I think it's mine, too, Dad."
Snape gazed upon his son who was still looking at him with those bright green eyes that were so like Lily's. Only, in Harry's eyes there was a sparkle of contentment, and a warmth of love that was just for him. Snape sipped his cider again, but he knew the warmth that he felt around his heart wasn't from the drink.
24 Dec 1991, Tuesday
Harry tugged at the starched collar of his dress robes as he sat upon a green and cream striped satin upholstered chair of white pine in the Malfoy family wing parlor. Beside him, also tugging at his collar, but with a bit more subtlety, was Draco.
"Where's Hermione?" asked Harry, his voice hushed in the large room that was as big as the main room in the cottage.
"Mother's getting her ready," said Draco. "We don't get to see her until the Naming Ceremony."
"Then where'd my dad go with your dad?" Harry let out a small huff of annoyance. It felt like they had been waiting forever.
Draco considered the question, then replied, "I think your dad is going to take Abraxas' place."
That answered nothing and Harry scowled at his friend. Draco ignored Harry's petulance and moved over to the very large Malfoy Christmas tree. The top, tipped with a swirling representation of the goddess Circe sparkled in rainbow colours. Beneath her, the tree's branches were tipped in silver, and it was meticulously decorated with glass-blown ornaments of hippogriffs, dragons, other fantastical creatures, and round balls that were painted with various moving scenes of old world villages.
Harry followed Draco to study the tree. He thought it was pretty, and sparkly, but the tree he and his dad decorated was lots more beautiful.
"Me an' dad cut down our own tree last night," spoke Harry in remembrance. "We also got to drink cider at the tree farm, and then we took the tree home and decorated it just like mum and dad used to decorate theirs when they were kids."
"How was that?" asked Draco, genuinely curious.
"We made these long strings of popcorn, and cranberries, and some dried oranges that smelled real nice, and put them on the tree." Harry pantomimed with his hands the stringing of the garlands. "Since we didn't have any fairy lights, dad used his wand and touched it to various ends of the branches and they sparkled. It was soooo wicked!"
"Papa doesn't let the house elves touch the tree, or the ornaments, or even the lights," said Draco as he told Harry about their tree decorating. "We have to put on the lights, first, and I finally got to do that, this year." He touched a string of the flittering fairy lights proudly. "Mother and Hermione put up most of the ornaments, but I have my own ornaments that papa and mother have gotten me each year since I was born." He pointed to a silvery white, blown glass ornament of a winged Pegasus. Very carefully he touched one of the wings. "Mother gave me this one when I was six. I almost broke it." Draco shuddered just a little bit at the memory and Harry could tell that his best friend really loved his ornaments.
"Will Hermione get her own ornaments?" Harry inquired.
"I s'pose," Draco said off-handedly. Harry eyed Draco, and meant to ask what that meant.
Lucius entered the parlor dressed in a finely tailored suit. The jacket was a dark crimson jacket with long tails with a waist that hugged the tall, slim man's waist. The fitted trousers were of soft grey, fine spun wool, and a his shirt was a pristine white silk with cuffs of lace that spilled from the sleeves of the jacket.
"Gentlemen," his voice broke the silence. "Come along."
"Where's my dad, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Harry as he followed Draco.
"You'll see him in a moment, Harry."
Lucius led the two boys down a short hallway and down a narrow set of stairs. They went down another hallway that was bare of portraits, or any sort of adornments. Harry didn't think that was an area often used by the Malfoys.
Tapping his cane on the door they came to, it shimmered and morphed from a plain, white door, into a heavy door of great age that had been stained by many centuries. It silently swung open and Harry jerked to a stop as he saw that dark cavern ahead of them.
"Papa," Draco spoke softly. He had felt his friend jerk to a stop and he glanced worriedly at the boy's stricken look.
Lucius quickly dropped to one knee in front of the young boy, putting his cane down on the floor. Very gently he cupped Harry's chin in his fingers as he carefully forced the boy's gaze to his silvery grey eyes.
"Harry? What's wrong?" he asked quietly as Draco lifted one of Harry's limp hands into his own.
Harry's tongue ran over his upper lip and he drew in a shuddering breath. "It's dark." The boy's head shook rapidly. "I don' wanna go in there." He tried to step back a step, but Draco was holding onto his hand still.
Lucius turned slightly, picked up his cane and waved it at the entrance. Immediately torches lit up drowning the rather cavernous entrance in yellow-gold light. He then returned his attention to the boy whose breathing had begun to even out when the torches lit up.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, my boy," Lucius drew the backs of his fingers on his right hand down Harry's cheek. "Your father is down there, as are Narcissa and Hermione."
Harry finally focused his gaze on Lucius. "My dad? He's downstairs?"
"He is." Lucius rose to his feet, and then held a hand out to Snape's son. For a moment Harry hesitated, but then he took the proffered hand and walked down the long set of spiral steps and into a round chamber.
The chamber was all of white marble from the walls, to the seven columns that supported the ceiling above, to the walls, and to the floor. Torchieres, three on each column, lit the chamber with flickering flames. Narcissa, in a gown of lavender silk and lace, stood beside Hermione who was wearing a beautiful gown of pale, blue velvet. She did not look up at Draco, Harry, or Lucius.
Snape was at the center of the chamber on a modestly raised, round area of the floor. When Harry saw him, he raised his voice, and spoke, "Daddy?" Harry's voice echoed with a mild waver, and Snape, who was reading an old scroll, turned sharply at the worry in his son's voice. Snape glanced sharply at Lucius, and then to Harry's great consternation, and confusion, his father turned back to the scroll. He lurched forward, but found he was stopped by Draco's father still holding onto his hand, firmly.
Lucius knew he had to defuse the situation, and quickly, or the Naming Ceremony would not be done this evening. With a squawk of startled protest from Harry, he hoisted the child up into his arms, holding him despite his attempts to squirm away.
"Stop this right now, young man!" Lucius scolded with a low voice that hissed slightly.
Harry, who hadn't had someone else speak to him as his father did, froze suddenly, and eyed the wizard that held him warily.
"You saw your father, and you know that there is nothing here to hurt you, Harry." His scolding softened. "Your father has graciously consented to... represent... the Malfoy ancestors and to officiate the ceremony." Harry turned his head away to look towards his father, who seemed to be solely concentrating on the scroll he held. Lucius touched a finger to the boy's chin and drew his gaze back to his own. "Such a role means that Severus must not be disturbed until the ceremony is ended."
"What's going to happen?" asked Harry worriedly. This was all so strange to him. Weird, even. An unwelcome voice whispered in his mind, 'Freak!' that sounded very much like his Aunt Petunia. His hands involuntarily clutched at the patrician wizard's shoulders.
In a soft whisper that only Harry could hear, Lucius explained what Snape was going to do. After several minutes of the explanation, Lucius felt Harry's body relax and so he let him back down.
"It's okay, Harry," smiled Draco at his friend. Harry smiled back wanly.
Snape's head rose from the studying of the scroll. He glanced back at Lucius; a signal between the two wizards. Lucius led the boys towards the center of the chamber. He directed Draco to move beside his mother, then directed Harry to stand on Hermione's left side, but between Snape and the Malfoys. Lucius then went to stand next to Hermione, on her left.
Harry felt a little like the odd wizard out until his father caught his eye. It was a brief glance, but there was enough in the Dark Man's obsidian gaze to let him know he was doing well, and that Snape was pleased with him.
With a sudden flourish, Snape vanished the scroll, and raised his arms. He spoke quietly, but his voice surrounded everyone in the chamber. "I call upon the Honored Ones of Malfoi to bless this family and to accept within their number, this good child!"
The chamber rumbled, gently. Harry's eyes were glued to his father who began to glow with an unearthly, deep blue light. He turned his head to look at the Malfoys. Hermione, who had appeared very calm a few minutes ago, looked a bit nervous. Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius were all smiling, though.
"Hermione Jean Granger," Snape intoned, his voice sounding like his dark, silken tones, but it echoed with the cadence of other voices. Hermione stepped forward half a step. "Do you wish to join the Malfoy family, with all the blessings such a relationship will entail?"
Hermione's voice came out shyly, but politely, "Yes, please."
Snape's raised arms swooped down until they were stretched out in front of him. Hermione knelt, then, so that the wizard's hands were over her head. A mist of blue light drifted over the small witch.
Snape's multiple layered voice then called, "Lucius Malfoy, patriarch and lord of Malfoi, do you accept this good child as your daughter?"
Lucius stepped forward so that he was now beside the kneeling girl. "I accept this good child as the daughter of my heart." The older wizard then knelt upon both knees beside Hermione and the blue mist drifted over him.
Snape then addressed Narcissa. "Narcissa Malfoy, matriarch and lady of Malfoi, do you accept this good child as your daughter?"
Narcissa glided forward and gave a small, respectful curtsey to the Malfoy ancestors. She then replied, "I do gladly accept this good child as the daughter of my heart." It was Narcissa's turn to kneel beside Hermione. The blue mist then embraced her, as well.
Lastly, Snape and the Honored Ones addressed the youngest member of the Malfoy family, "Draco Malfoy, son of Lord and Lady Malfoy, do you accept this good child as your sister?"
Draco stepped too far forward, and had to take two steps back so he was standing next to his mother. He then bowed his head once respectively. "I will accept Her... I mean... this good child as the sister my heart." Draco dropped to his knees, and winced as he hit the marble floor before a Cushioning Charm could catch him. Narcissa caught him before he collapsed sideways, cast the Cushioning Charm, and then nudged her son to straighten his back. When he was settled, the blue mist floated down, and around him.
"Good child, you are accepted as daughter and sister into this family, and you shall receive the blessings of your ancestors once you tell us your name."
Hermione, whose head had been bowed, raised it so that she was looking into Snape's dark gaze. She swallowed once, then spoke, "I have chosen to honor my mother in being named after a flower. I have chosen to honor my father's French heritage in choosing the flower that is their national flower, and in taking the Malfoy name." She bowed her head slightly, then raised it. "M-My name is Hermione Iris Malfoy."
The blue mist swirled around the Malfoy family and Harry watched, his mouth in an 'O' of awe as it swirled up to the ceiling and vanished so that only his father still had that odd, blue glow.
Snape spoke one last time as his arms lowered to his sides, "Blessings, good daughter. Welcome, Hermione Iris Malfoy." Narcissa and Draco stood, and Lucius stood, giving Hermione a hand up.
The blue glow abruptly faded from around Snape and his shoulders slumped, the only sign of how wearying it had been for him to channel the Malfoy ancestors. Although he barely felt like moving, he forced himself off of the dais and looked at his son. Harry smiled and knew that whatever had kept his father from him was gone. He ran over and threw his arms around his Dark Man's waist, and squeezed in relief.
"That was wicked, but weird, Dad," he exclaimed.
Update 5/2015
