Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;
Resembling sire and child and happy mother,
Who, all in one, one pleasing do sing:
Whose speechless song being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: "Thou single wilt prove none."
~ Sonnet VIII by William Shakespeare
Christmas that year was on the night before the full moon. Remus was aggressive and possessive, though the fact that he was around the people that he considered family helped tremendously. He didn't really have anyone to be possessive against and settled for touching as many people as often as possible, which made Severus very irritable, Narcissa and Lucius rather jumpy, and Dumbledore absolutely delighted.
Something about Dyre unnerved him though. When they sat down to dinner, he found himself staring at him, his hackles rising for no reason that he could fathom. Dyre ignored it, though everyone else was shooting him furtive glances. It made for a very awkward atmosphere.
Eventually, Severus set down his fork. "Lupin, what is wrong with you?"
The werewolf, who had been frowning at Dyre, started. Then, he just looked confused.
"He senses another Dark creature," Dyre said, finishing the last of his soup – vegetable, he noticed.
"Not this again," Severus grumbled, returning to his food.
"You are not a Dark creature, Dyre," Dumbledore said.
"Perhaps not but the magicks around me resemble a Dark creature, and it confuses the were in him."
"I don't think you are Dark," Remus protested.
Dyre stood suddenly, and Remus was up in his chair, pushing himself in front of Sirius, an ugly snarl on his lips. It faded instantly, replaced with a shamed look and a blush. Dyre sat back down.
"Don't tease him like that," Draco said reproachfully, frowning at him.
Dyre inclined his head. "My apologies. I would attack no one here, Master Werewolf," he said, addressing Lupin.
"I… I didn't mean to… I'm sorry," he floundered, staring miserably at the table.
"It is of no consequence. The were knows that I am dangerous."
"That's no excuse for…" he trailed.
"For losing control of your instincts," Dyre finished, little inflection in his voice. "I apologize again. I should not have teased you. It was untoward of me."
Remus did not respond. Sirius tugged his sleeve, getting him to return to his seat.
Lily coughed. "So, Dyre… where do you usually spend Christmas?"
"In the Tower," he said, taking a bite of broccoli.
"I was under the impression that only women were allowed in the Tower," Severus said, watching him carefully.
"Certain men can be purified and enter the outer domain with the Maiden's permission."
"What kind of men, Dyre?" Lucius asked curiously.
"Eunuchs and virgins," he answered, taking another bite of broccoli.
The table went quiet. He took a sip of water.
"You're not a…" Sirius petered off, making a face and a gesture.
"Not a what, Master Black?"
Draco hit the back of his head. "You're teasing us again," he accused.
Dyre couldn't help the smile that lit up his face as he rubbed his scalp. "I only answered their questions."
Draco glared at him. "Are you a eunuch?"
"No."
"Are you a virgin?"
"Yes."
Draco continued to glare at him petulantly. "You could have just said that."
Dyre raised his brow. "I could have," he agreed.
Draco sawed vehemently into his steak. "I don't know if you are as annoying as Sirius or as stubborn as Severus."
Sirius and Severus both glared at each other, irked to be mentioned in the same sentence.
"I would say you are just like your father," Lucius said, smirking
Dyre looked up. He glanced at James, who was staring at him with his mouth hanging open. He shut it when he turned, looking sheepish. Instead of becoming affronted, he tilted his head.
"Perhaps," he allowed.
Later that night, after he had said goodnight to Draco and fed some bark to the wyvern, he sat beneath one of the many windows of Malfoy Manor, watching the almost full moon walk the sky. He rested his head against the cold glass and closed his eyes. He pressed his fingertips to the frame and imagined that Yrsa was pressing back, the Maiden over her shoulder.
"I am sorry," he said into the night.
o.O.o
Dyre was allowing the wyvern some fresh air when Narcissa found him. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a strange green peal to the sky. It would snow later. The lady was wearing little more than a shawl and a warming charm, a modest nightgown barely protecting her from the chill. Her breath fogged. Yet, rather than hunching, she remained regal, only the red of her ears and cheeks disarming her. Arms folded and her hair in a gorgeous falling braid, she greet him by the white gardens.
"My lady," he greeted, bowing.
She smiled, the morning as beautiful on her pale flesh as dew. "Did you sleep at all, Dyre?"
"A while," he replied courteously.
Unconvinced, she merely hummed. "Sirius will wake the entire manor in a few moments," she told him. "He does so every Christmas."
He didn't respond. She gave a resigned smile. "Would you care to join us in the parlor?"
"As you wish, my lady," he said, bowing. Inside, his stomach dropped. He had no gifts for them.
The wyvern, seeing that he was leaving, made a dive and curled up against his shoulder, nestling his neck. An idea struck him.
"Excuse me," he said as they were walking. She turned her head to look at him. "Might I have some discarded glass?"
She crinkled her brow, something that Draco had inherited. "I'm sure the house elves could find some for you," she said, a question in her voice.
He inclined his head. "My thanks."
They brushed the snow off their feet at the entrance, the angry flush on Narcissa's cheeks attractive in a nonsensical sort of way. Dyre watched her from the corner of his eye, wondering if Draco's skin would be so sensitive. When they reached the parlor, almost everyone was already gathered. James yawned, hanging off his wife's shoulder, in pinstripe bottoms. His glasses threatened to fall off his nose. Lucius and Severus looked wide-awake and pristine even in night robes, sipping on tea and sitting in armchairs. Remus was the least clothed, fabric probably very irritable this far into the month. A various assortment of scars decorated him, light and thin. He had a nasty crop of bedhead, only a little better than James'.
Draco was leaning on the arm of the couch, about to fall asleep again. The boy was in silk pajamas, a light blue that matched his fair complexion. Narcissa guided him beside him. Draco opened his eyes long enough to move position, resting him head on Dyre's shoulder. Dyre gave him a startled look. The wyvern gave a small hiss, and Dyre sighed, touching the blond's hair lightly.
Sirius bounced in, Dumbledore behind him. The codger had on a long cap and was hugging a bear. He shuffled over to the couch in bunny slippers, taking the seat to Dyre's other side.
"Dyre?" Sirius said, much too brightly for the hour. "You're dressed."
Dyre lifted his brow in a manner so Snape-like that Sirius started to frown. "I was not aware that the festivities required sleepwear."
"Do you even have sleepwear?" Draco mumbled drowsily on his shoulder.
"No."
The boy raised himself up, trying for a glare and managing only to look sleepy. "You do not sleep in the woods naked."
"Alright," Dyre said magnanimously.
Draco groaned, rising off him completely. "You are so irritating."
The only reason Dyre didn't laugh was because they were in company. The wyvern hissed again and Dyre glared at him.
"The creature does not seem to be too fond of my son," Lucius said as a house elf popped in with breakfast.
"No, my lord," he said honestly, looking slightly miffed. "Forgive him. He does not understand the courtesy of your house."
Lucius chuckled. "He is a creature, Dyre. It would be irrational of me to think he could understand anything of my house."
Dyre gave him a quick, hard look that startled Lucius slightly. The expression changed swiftly though and Lucius wasn't sure he had seen it. He hummed and snapped something at the young dragon, which made him rear off his shoulder, opening his wings. Dyre glared back vehemently and the wyvern flew off his shoulder to Lily, who giggled when he rubbed against her neck. Dyre rested his forehead against his fingers.
"He's cute," James said, offering him his finger.
"If I may," Dumbledore said, that silly bear cradled in his lap while he smeared an inordinate amount of jam on his toast. "Why did he go to Lily?"
"Since I am her offspring, he is under the impression that he will not be thrown out if she likes him."
While everyone else went silent, Dumbledore laughed. "I must say, my boy. You are not a favorite among dragons."
Dyre snorted before he could stop himself. He glanced up at the headmaster.
"If I may ask, what was the fate of the Horntail?"
"She was sent to a preserve," Dumbledore told him. "As long as she attacks no more humans, she will remain there in peace."
"She can fly?"
Dumbledore gave him a genteel smile. "Yes, my boy. As much as suits her."
Dyre graced him a soft smile, and Dumbledore preened, adding another layer of jam with a delighted hum. The parlor was small. Dyre was sure that the manor had a more accommodating room, but as he watched Sirius sit in Remus' lap and Lily and James leaning against each other on floor, he realized that it was actually rather perfect.
Sirius was eager to get to presents. A small fir sat on the corner of the room, decorated haphazardly by who he supposed was Sirius. The house elves would have done a much more tasteful job. However, there were no presents under it. Instead, Lucius summoned for the house elves to deliver the gifts. Apparently, this was a tradition as well, since James and Sirius always managed to uncover their presents if placed in any other care.
Dyre was pleased when he wasn't immediately undulated in wrapping. The others had gone through a few of theirs before a house elf presented Dyre with a black lacquered case. He took it, setting it on his knees, rather cautious. The others had stopped to watch him.
"We didn't want to drown you in presents," Draco said. "So we thought we would get you something from all of us. Victor said it was okay."
Dyre looked at him then back at the case, even more hesitant to open it. Admonishing himself, he ran his hand around the length, feeling for a latch. It opened at his touch, making no sound. Comfortable even with this much care, he pulled open the lid. His eyes widened. He could only stare.
On plush grey cotton was a set of four daggers. Ranging in style, size, and metal, they gleamed at him like eager soldiers. They were unadorned, the pommels and hilts sleek. One of black crystal for ceremonies and rituals, formed so painstakingly that only hint of a chisel marked the translucent edge. One of steel, a dirk with a black handle and sheath. A swordbreaker. Even a hunting knife. There was even a modern muggle switchblade nestled at the bottom. And tucked into the top of the case was a black leather belt with a slot for each of the blades.
Dyre could only gape at it, not daring to touch.
"Victor said that it was tradition for a father to buy his son his first blade," James said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I… haven't really had the opportunity to act like your father, and I don't know much about blades, so I thought we could all chip in."
Cautiously, Dyre's fingers skimmed the crystal dagger, the translucent edge that extended much further than first apparent. Bastards like him, with no house allegiances, received second-hand swords. They never had the money for this. He hadn't even dreamed of touching this.
"I… I have no way of repaying this," he said in a quiet voice.
"We didn't do it be repaid," James said. "You are part of this family. You deserve it."
Dyre swallowed.
"This isn't to bind you here, either," Lily said, as if reading his mind. "We know you have to leave. And… even if we can't go with you, we want you to have this with you."
Dyre's hand slid down the back of the case. He closed his eyes. They could have no idea what this meant to him.
They crowded to show him the nuances of the pieces. Severus had added a poison to the inside of the sheathe for the dirk, which was goblin-made, and Lucius had added a rune to the ritual dagger that prevented it from spilling blood without his permission and another that kept it from breaking, since it was more fragile than the other blades. The switchblade had belonged to Sirius, simple and muggle and therefore undetectable by magic. Remus had included the hunting knife, though he admitted that since he didn't eat meat it was rather useless. Dumbledore had included the swordbreaker, a parrying blade that had been a last minute addition after watching him fight. They all had surrendered money to have them made. Even Draco.
Dyre was still obsessively caressing the lacquered lid, watching the blades whisper, when they returned to their own presents, granting him a merry Christmas. It was a while yet, the floor littered with wrapping, when a house elf popped in.
"Dobby is having glass for Master Durmstrang if Master Durmstrang is wanting it here."
"Yes, please," he said, moving the case gingerly.
The elf cleared the last of the cold breakfast, a small mountain of broken glass replacing the trays. With a determined expression, he wrapped his hands in a ward and shuffled through it. There was colored glass, most likely from stained windows. There was even some from creative vases, blown in artful swirls. Dyre separated it meticulously and rolled up his sleeves, exposing the light network of scars on his arms
"What are you doing?" Draco asked when he couldn't tolerate to watch him anymore.
"It won't measure up to your gift, but I'm afraid this is all I can give you."
The pile in the middle was completely clear. He raised his hand over it. His mouth moved without sound, the muscles in his arm tensing. The glass moved hesitantly at first, as if uncertain to what it should be doing. Then, they melted, wrapping into a glistening colorless orb. As they watched, Dyre raised it up off the table, letting it spin.
After a moment of utmost concentration, his hands moved. Touching only the air around it, he pulled it into a long coil, moving almost too fast for them to distinguish the corresponding movements. As it rolled, spikes and wings rose. Gradually, it grew into a wyvern, thrice the size of the one at Lily's neck. Dyre's fingers flicked, calling out points from the spires. The soft glass wavered as if in intolerable heat before settling into shape. Every point was sharp, the mouth like a triangle, the eyes angled into a graceful arch. The bat-like wings had careful tips, spreading wide and thin enough to be invisible. Only the torso and tail were round, snaking in sleek coils from the junctures of the wings.
Dyre held out his hand, allowing it to rest, and stared at it a long moment. He frowned slightly. Then, he leaned forward. He blew softly in the creature's face. They watched mesmerized as a small trail of blue coiled in the center of the glass, like ink in water. It settled in the middle then bloomed into a flame.
The wyvern shuddered and gave a stretch. Its wings shuddered. Dyre's hand fell away and he leaned back with a rare, satisfied smirk. The wyvern gave him a single assessing look, circled the ceiling, and crawled atop Draco's shoulder, careful of its fragile, sharp wings. The blond stared at it with his mouth agape. The creature gave a self-admiring arch of its long neck, daring Draco to touch it. The boy did so. The slick unhindered flesh was cool and warm in patches. It moved beneath his fingers like a pleased feline, a slight tink echoing as it shifted.
"How did you…"
"You seemed to like the wyvern. Does this shape suit you?"
Draco nodded. The wyvern swooped beneath his chin to light on the side Draco was facing as if it couldn't bear not being the center of attention. Sirius gave a single, short bark that was quickly muffled.
"I've never seen someone manage animation without a wand," Dumbledore said, staring at it.
The creature regarded Dumbledore, circled Draco's head and landed in his hair to pretend to take a nap.
"It is an elemental," Dyre said, shifting the next pile in front of him. "It will stay alive as long as I do."
"So even if you are in Iceland…" Lily said.
"Yes," Dyre said, melting the oranges and reds of a stained panel much more quickly than his first try. "You will know whether or not I am alive. Even if my magic is stricken from me or I venture into Hel, these will remain as long as I possess my soul."
He called out the shape of a bird, a small canary of the most vivid hues of fire. It was much more rounded than Draco's creature, the feathers no less sharp though and its small feet a tad thicker. He breathed the dark blur of a heart beneath the glass. It shook itself, puffing out as if it could feel the chill of winter beneath its glass plumage. It tilted its head and chirped, clucking in a high-pitched bell. Scratching his palm, it fluttered to Dumbledore's shoulder. The old man looked shocked. It hopped closer to him. He smiled, offering his finger. The bird nettled the digit, pecking like it would at a worm. Then, it jumped on his finger and started singing.
"How utterly delightful," he said, taking closer to his chest. "Shall I name it?"
"Of course. It will serve no purpose but to keep you company though."
"There need be no other purpose in life," he said. "How does Leopold sound to you?" he asked the creature.
It pecked in his beard then gave a mighty trill, readjusting its wings. Dumbledore chuckled.
"Does this not tire you?" Lucius asked.
Dyre seemed stuck on what to do next, pondering the blue and purple pieces with a frown.
"I do not use magic often," he said dismissively. "Or in large quantities. I have been trained to work without a wand. I should have enough to finish them."
"Well, that neatly sidestepped my question," the blond mused.
He got a small smirk in return. "A bit," Dyre said honestly. "And I will not be able to perform any magic of substance for a few days."
He seemed to decide on a form and melted the glass. A little while later, a hummingbird flew to Narcissa, who blinked at it, then smiled at the beautiful coalition of colors.
"Well, aren't you a pretty thing. Cissy," she named.
"You named it after yourself?" Sirius teased.
She continued smiling at the bird resting on her finger. "It should have a name fitting its beauty," she said shamelessly.
Sirius snorted.
"You're making all of them fly," Remus noted.
"They'll break if they're stepped on. And they can answer your call quicker if they can fly." He glowered at the swirl of blue. "Master Black, would you change this to grey for me?"
"Sure thing," he said, taking out his wand.
He formed a peregrine falcon, a nimble quick thing smaller than its average size with a sharp face and wingspan. It went to Lucius, landing on the back of his chair instead of his shoulder. Lucius nodded his approval, noting how the bird held itself so upright, watching the other people in the room as if too proud to be truly associated with them. He chuckled.
From one of the vases, a deep mixture of purplish-reds and greenish-blue, Dyre made a Chinese dragon, the face kind with age. It flew to Lily, curling around her neck, where it preceded to rumble contentedly against her pulse. The wyvern let out a screech, darting back to Dyre, who ignored it.
He took the reds and crafted a brilliant cardinal, the plume at the top puffed just like James' ratty hair. It landed on the man's shoulder, who laughed and called him Kyle.
"You could make a bat for Severus," Sirius teased.
"Change this black for me," he said, ignoring him.
"I don't know if black will stay in the glass," Sirius mumbled but did as told.
It went smoky and Dyre directed him to stop. It was an inky mixture, the dye seeming to bleed. Dyre formed a swallow, sleek and long, the blue flame darker beneath the glass. It dived low and caught itself on Severus' knee then flew into the rafters.
Dyre said, "I thought you would prefer for it to remain out of sight. It will act rather shy."
"That is acceptable," Severus said, taking a sip of his tea.
"Are you ok, Dyre?" Draco asked, eying the small sheen of sweat that coated his forehead.
"You can save ours for later," Sirius said, and Remus nodded.
Dyre shook his head. He made two piles of blue and red, raising them both separately. He formed their shapes then put them together. The edges blurred a little, but the color remained mostly true, revealing a young robin. He breathed life into it, and it went to Remus, who welcomed it with a kind smile.
Dyre stared at the remaining miscellaneous pieces. He took up the remaining blues, casting dark navies along the back, wings, and tail and soft beryls for the chest and up into the arch of the eyes. He gave it life and let out a sigh as it flew away.
"What species is it?" Sirius asked.
The bird nibbled on strands of his hair, hopping around his finger to inspect the rest of the room curiously
"A jay. Also known as a Whiskey Jack. It is more native to North America than England." When Sirius continued to stare at it blankly, Dyre sighed. "Whiskey Jacks are considered trickster birds."
"Brilliant!" Sirius crowed.
"Thank you, Dyre," Lily said, petting her dragon. "This was very thoughtful."
"No more thoughtful than your gift, my lady. And I apologize for the forms being so hasty."
"There is nothing to apologize for," Narcissa said, fingers resting over the breast of her creature. The fragile beak rested over her knuckles. "This is perfect."
The others nodded.
"Why North American birds?" Severus queried, eying James' cardinal as if considering throwing a rock at it when it continued to bob its head at him stupidly.
James put him hand up between them and stuck out his tongue.
"The Maiden has a guide to them."
Draco shook his head. "She collects some of the strangest reading material."
"Yes," Dyre agreed. "Such things have been known to curry her favor. It is a small vice and most often harmless."
"Would you like me to find some to send back with you?" Lily asked.
He looked up at her so suddenly that his neck popped, making them wince. He gazed at Lily with an open expression that made his face so much younger.
"You would do that?"
Lily shifted, embarrassed, feeling awkward beneath that stare. "Well, she raised you. I have a lot to thank her for."
"That… would be very kind of you," he said carefully. "And most appreciated."
Lily blushed. "Will I ever get to meet her?" she asked.
Dyre's face fell slightly but the sadness did not seem directed at her. "No, my lady."
"Because we're not virgins?" Draco said grumpily.
Dyre shook his head. "Even if you were, it is not in your skuld to meet."
"How would-" Severus started to ask but cut himself off, waving the question away, too bothered by Dyre's strange nature to obey his curiosity.
"Do you miss her, Dyre?" Draco asked softly.
"The Maiden is everywhere in this world. She will watch over me. It would be foolish to miss her."
They left it alone, petting the creatures as proof of his life. Christmas that year would mean more in the years to follow, a peek into the life that could have been had Dyre's Fate been more kind, had the consequences of his short life not been so dire.