I Don't Want to be a Hero - Second Year
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Winter Ball
Harry was in Draco's bedroom in Malfoy Manor. It was a huge place done in blue, white and silver. He thought much of the manor resembled an over-decorated ice palace.
The rooms he enjoyed the most were the Malfoy Library and the Family parlour.
The Malfoy Library stretched the length of the back of the manor, and French doors opened onto the patio that led down into the main gardens. The interior walls were all panelled, re-purposed oak wainscotting, and a subtle, and restful wallpaper that was not paper at all but finely woven linen stained a soothing coffee and cream colour. Tall, slim windows faced the rear of the manor and overlooked the garden where the white peacocks roamed free. Each window was shaped in a bay to allow a comfortable window seat for reading beneath the sun. On either side of the windows fell heavy drapes of royal blue velvet trimmed in gold.
The bookshelves marched along the lushly blue carpeted floor, and up above, accessed by a spiral staircase of polished brass, were wall cabinets fronted with glass that held the more rare tomes and scrolls in the library.
A wide, open area in front the lower floor bookshelves was room for a long reading table of oak that matched the wainscotting, a scattering of leather chairs, and a fireplace to keep the library warm, and the same temperature year round.
Draco and Harry had all ready discovered that the Malfoy Library was a great place to play with their flying Quidditch teams, and dragons.
Family time was in the Family parlour at the front of the manor. The parlour was decorated in warm, muted greens, creams, and white pine. There were two sofas, a lounger, a chair just for Narcissa, and an ottoman for her feet, and four other chairs upholstered in pale green velvet. The floor was carpeted in plush green. There was a small library of books for each of the Malfoys, then there was an alabaster chess set, a mother-of-pearl inlaid backgammon board, and more games all made of materials that reflected the wealth of the Malfoys.
For the moment Harry dressed himself in a formal robe which was ankle length in black, split down the centre and lined with black satin. The robe was held together at the neck with an elegant from clasp that was the Potter family crest. The Snape family crest was not known, and Harry was given a clasp with the Prince family crest but he thought he ought to honour his biological family at the Winter Ball.
Under the open robe Harry wore a white linen shirt, a beautiful crimson waistcoat with the watch his father had given him, and black trousers creased to within an inch of their life. Lastly his shoes were polished, black patent leather. His final bit of dressing was to tie his long hair into a smooth ponytail, and he kept messing it up.
"Why is this so bloody hard?" Harry griped at the full-length mirror he stood in front of as he threw the ribbon down upon the floor in frustration.
For a moment the ribbon lay where it fell. Harry gave it a good glare, then sighed, and bent to pick it up but then it lifted, stretched itself back into a smooth flatness, and floated swiftly across the room. Black boots, and a swinging, elegant robe of black velvet cleverly adorned with edges heavy with black satin embroidery, strode towards Harry.
"Face the mirror," ordered a familiar burnished timbre. "Cursing is the mark of an inadequate man, Harry, who resorts to ignorant imprecations rather than solving the problem."
Harry stood straight, and tall as well-known slim fingers combed his hair back and then tied the ribbon into place. Arms then crossed over in front of him, and Harry leaned back against the slim, wiry frame that breathed with a new set of lungs. He felt a kiss brushed to the top of his head.
Turning in the arms that held him Harry pressed his cheek to the man's chest to hear the steady beating. He slipped his arms around the waist, and squeezed his hug into that heart.
"Thank you for waking me, Harry," Severus murmured gently as he returned the embrace.
"Thank you for waking up, dad," Harry vocalised with relief, and gratitude unmeasured.
Severus reluctantly pulled away from the embrace but he kept his hand upon Harry's shoulder. He studied his son frowning appreciatively. "Acceptable," judged Severus. Harry sighed softly with a breath of disappointment. "Harry? What is wrong?"
"Acceptable is what you say in class over a good potion. Am I a good potion?" Harry did not want his father to feel insulted but he wanted to be the best he could be for him.
"Ah, I see. You think I am comparing you to the dozens of average potions brewed by students," Severus held his hand over his heart, and bowed slightly. "My estimation was inadequate, my son, and that is…" he drew in a careful breath before continuing, "... my failing. I should not compare you to what is average for you are not, Harry. You are quite above average… admirable, I would say."
Harry beamed, and repeated the word, "Admirable. I like that, dad."
"Let us go to the ball, Harry, my admirable son." Severus gave him a brief smile, and then, with his palm to Harry's back, he nudged his son out of the bedroom.
Harry had gone into the middle of the dancing crowd with his friends. He danced with Hermione and Ginny, but then spent the rest of his time with Luna.
Draco would only dance with Hermione, and Fred and George pursued the delightful, and curvaceous Rosmerta. The keeper of The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade stood out in a chiffon gown of yellow with embroidered white roses on it. She caught, and danced one dance with Fred then George, and then introduced them to her twin nieces Lia and Lena from the magical school of Beauxbatons.
Neville, encouraged to talk to any girl at the Winter Ball discovered a pretty Ravenclaw girl, with glasses, that had the same love of plants that he did. He managed a few dances with Elizabeth Swan, but then they spent the rest of the evening discussing horticultural dreams.
Ron was dazzled by Lavender Brown who had obviously enhanced her curves with a Glamour so she could fit in her designer pink gown by the fashion witch, Elvira. Ron kept dancing with Lavender and could not keep his eyes on hers; his were preoccupied by the Glamour.
"It is good to have you back with us, Severus!" Lucius raised a crystal glass of champagne, yet the Potions Master met the toast with a crystal glass of sparkling cranberry cider. They drank a sip of their drinks, and then Lucius asked, "How long are you relegated to that juice, my friend?"
"Another week," replied Severus. "From now on, though, Healer Smethwyck has cautioned me to reduce the amount I drink at a time. Or, to abstain." He glanced towards his son on the dance floor with Luna Lovegood. "I believe abstinence would not be that difficult."
Lucius' gaze slipped towards his wife who was seated on a small, queen-like throne of white velvet trimmed in silver. Around her were a bevy of witches, old and young, who were all doting upon Narcissa's pregnancy. Several witches had been invited to touch Narcissa's belly to feel the kicking of his son or daughter, and such sharing was bringing forth sounds of delight that chimed across the ballroom.
As Severus' eyes followed his son his gaze drifted across the open double doors that allowed the guests access in and out yet a ward prevented the falling snow from coming inside. That doorway was now occupied by a tall, slim figure of a man whose age was clearly shown in the steel grey of his long hair - in a single braid down his back, and similarly long, grey beard that was also braided. His robes were of deep blue wool over a clean white shirt, and brown trousers each of homespun cotton.
Severus blinked thinking the familiar man was none other than Albus but there was darkness in the blue eyes that did not belong to ex-Headmaster. "Aberforth!"
Lucius turned to see the newly arrived guest. "Aberforth!" Lucius stood and strode over to the elderly wizard. "Welcome to the Malfoy Winter Ball… finally!" A house elf popped into being with a tray that held a mug of Bumblebee's Old Peculier.
Aberforth took the offered mug, and took a healthy swig of the beer, and promptly wiped his lips with the sleeve of his white shirt. He smiled. "Warm. Perfect." He stepped forward, and bowed sharply. "Happy Christmas, Lucius."
"And you, Aberforth." Lucius drew the man into the ballroom. "I am pleased you came."
"I would'na come but I got an owl from…" he glanced at his host shrewdly. "'im, yeh know. Other 'twis I don't like cel'brations."
"Understood, Aberforth. Come, sit with myself and Severus."
Severus stood and bowed, "Happy Christmas, Aberforth."
"Happy Christmas, Severus." He sharply appraised the young Potions Master. "How them new bellows treatin' yeh, Severus?"
Severus took a few deep breaths. "Healer Smethwyck did a fine job."
All three men sat down but Aberforth shifted as he removed two packages from his pocket. They had been shrunk so he enlarged them. One was a scroll, the other a hand-carved box. He shoved both across the round table to Lucius.
"Nuthin' fancy, Lucius." He pointed to the scroll, and revealed, "That there's the recipe for the ale yeh asked me to create."
With the eagerness of a boy opening Christmas gifts Lucius broke the seal on the scroll, unrolled it, and read the name. "Malfoy's Silver Frost. Wonderful!"
"Your own ale, Lucius?" smirked Severus.
Aberforth nodded, "I 'spect it's the only true white ale in th'wizardin' world!"
"I should hope so," remarked Lucius. "Otherwise, what would be the point?" He then studied the carved box. Ivy had been carved along the edges in such a way that the ivy became the edges. The ivy stem had been painted green but the fat leaves were painted a deep, plummy red. Painted on the box, in a style where all the bristles of the thin paintbrush could be counted, was a pastoral scene of six goats grazing upon the soft grass and colourful flowers of a hilly meadow. "It is a beautiful piece of work, Aberforth."
"It's fer Narcissa, mon," grimaced Aberforth as he finished his ale. "Grumble's missus gave the wool. Softer, fer a babe. I ain't no good with the dyes but Rosemerta's got the skill, and dyed the colours. Minerva was goin't'do th'knittin' but she's been kind of busy with Hogwarts so she had that goddaughter of hers knit th' booties. If'n Narcissa don't like em, the box is pretty enough fer baubles and what-not."
The three men talked more, about ale, Aberforth's 'special cider', and whether or not any of them planned to dance; Lucius would dance with his wife, Severus did not answer, and Aberforth only shrugged when asked.
Harry had broken off his dance with Ginny when he saw a familiar face come through the open door. Worried, he rushed over to his father, and whispered in his ear, "Dad! It's Regulus!"
Severus gently moved his son aside to see that very wizard walking into the Malfoy ballroom, a green velvet, green silk embroidered cloak hanging rakishly over one shoulder. Regulus smiled at the friendly faces not so far away, and when he reached the table he was easily met by Severus who hugged him tightly despite all the faces now gaping at him. Regulus returned the embrace with his familiar greeting, "Brother!"
Severus ushered the wizard into a chair that Lucius had conjured between himself, and Aberforth.
"Where yeh been hidin' yerself, boy?" demanded Aberforth as a second ale found its way into his hand.
Lucius put a hand on the older wizard's shoulder, "In a moment, my friend. My guests seem unable to take their eyes from our friend." He stood, and retrieved a scroll from an inner pocket of his jacket. "My friends," Lucius' voice rose mellifluously above the crowd, "please welcome the return of our brother to our world, Regulus Arcturus Black."
The applause was minimal, anemic actually, and reflected puzzlement, and questions. Lucius broke the seal on the scroll, unrolled it, and turned it towards the crowd, but he made sure that Regulus could read the overlarge script.
"I, Tiberius Ogden, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot Assembly of 1992 have absolved Regulus Arcturus Black from any and all prosecution for activities as an unwilling follower of Voldemort - Thomas Riddle (deceased 1991, permanently). It is our considered, collected opinion that Regulus Arcturus Black was forced, and possibly under the influence of the Imperius Curse wielded by Orion and Walburga Black, his parents. Signed by Tiberious Ogden, Chief Warlock, and every member of the Wizengamot."
With a flourish Lucius re-rolled the scroll, and bowed as he handed it to the astonished wizard. "Your pardon, sir."
As Regulus' fingers touched the scroll the ballroom became thunderous with applause from all the guests. Narcissa was at his side, and she put her hands on Regulus' forearm. "Welcome home, cousin," she smiled, and kissed his cheek.
Regulus glanced down at the state of Narcissa, and he grinned. "Blessings to you it appears, too, dear cousin." He then glanced over to Lucius, and spoke gratefully, "Blessings indeed." He held up the pardon. "Thank you, Lucius." He then looked towards Severus whose black eyes glittered knowingly. "You knew of this, Brother?"
Severus nodded once, "Only a few hours after we left you I spoke with Lucius and we decided to begin proceedings for the pardon. My cancer, I had thought, had interrupted this but Lucius went ahead while I was asleep and effected the pardon. I found out before the ball began that Lucius had succeeded."
Regulus laughed warmly. "Well, as a free man I want a drink, and to…" his eyes suddenly lit upon a petite, pretty auburn-haired woman with curious lavender eyes. "... dance. Who is she, Lucius?"
Lucius glanced where Regulus had indicated the witch with the lavender eyes who wore a silken gown of the same color. "Ah! Fine taste, my friend. That is the young lady who is bringing much needed change to our Muggle Studies class… Miss Charity Burbage."
"I shall make my acquaintance then, shan't I, gentlemen?" Regulus rose from his chair, bowed to his friends, touched Severus' shoulder, and moved over to the young woman with all the grace he never had much of as a student.
Lucius chuckled as his sipped his refreshed wine, "I predict a Spring wedding, Severus. What do you say?"
Severus smirked as he noted Regulus bowing before Charity and then introducing himself. "You are the one that moves quickly, Lucius, not Regulus. Winter, is my supposition."
"Where has our bearded one gone?" Lucius looked around frowning.
Severus Summoned Lucius' full wine glass from his hand. "O thou invisible spirit of wine! If thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!"
"Severus!" Lucius protested lightly.
"Dribble," the house elf appeared within seconds. Severus handed it the glass. "Sparkling cranberry juice for the master of the house if you please. No more wine."
"Is Dribble making it so, Master Potions Master, sir!" Dribble vanished and just a few seconds later, a pretty crystal glass of the same juice Severus was drinking arrived for Lucius. "As to our erstwhile friend…" he nodded towards the dance floor where Aberforth was spinning Minerva about the floor. "For here, I hope, begins their lasting joy."
Lucius gave Severus a quick inquiring glance, and then looked out upon the dance floor at Aberforth and Minerva dancing. Their dance was certainly joyful but there was a depth to it that spoke of a longing now allowed freedom.
"Severus," asked Lucius as of someone now let in upon a secret, "how did you ever know?"
Severus tapped his nose, "How have I always learned what others were unaware of?"
"Husband," interrupted Narcissa her six months of pregnancy burgeoning beautifully. "I would that you dance with me before I retire. Shall we?"
"Most assuredly, my love!" Lucius stood, bowed graciously to his wife, and then led her onto the dance floor.
Severus, content to watch his son, his brother, and his friends dance, sipped at his sparkling juice, and allowed his eyes to roam the exquisite guests who all wore their finest for the Malfoy Winter Ball. He smiled to Harry as he spun past in a rather good form of the waltz with Luna, her hair as free as moonlight and her gown with darkness of the night but lit by the stars.
He wished he had known Harry when he was much younger. He knew now that he could have given a little boy an easier life than the one he endured. Severus did not wallow in such a wish, though, for he would much rather enjoy the fact that his son was in the here and now; as was he. Harry was his pride, what he lived for. There was nothing he would not do to secure his happiness.
Severus knew it was time to re-think his position as a teacher. Remus Lupin, still no Potions Master, had performed with alacrity in the position once the bumbling fraud was removed by Minerva. It had been an odd suggestion he had made, and one that he had contemplated in his dreaming. When he had gone over a few of the tests, and practicals that Lupin had managed in just a few weeks, Severus had discovered that… perhaps… Lupin might show distinct promise. Promise he had never bothered to show as a student.
As for Harry, and for himself…
Severus' thoughts froze just as the open doorway to the ballroom dwarfed a pretty witch delightfully lit by the torches burning just outside. Her hair was a deep golden hue that fell down her back and was bracketed by temple braids woven with silver ribbon. Her skin was smooth, bright, and her eyes were a deep amber with hidden depths to them. Her gown was a simple one of satin that fell in a pleasing luster from shoulders to ankles in a spill of snow touched by a teasing of blue.
Drawn by the witches gaze which seemed to catch him in a spell such as amber might entrap an insect, Severus suddenly realised he knew this lovely creature. Rising from the table, he strode towards the witch, and bowed in introduction.
"You appear the younger sister of Poppy Pomfrey, but I know she has no relatives," said Severus. "Please tell me that it is not a Glamour I see."
Poppy laughed softly as she laid her hand upon the forearm proffered. "It is a Glamour you see in my Infirmary, Severus. This is how I am without it."
"Indeed? May I ask…" he prompted with curiosity.
"I was simply seven years older than you, Severus, when I came to Hogwarts as apprentice to Healer Ganglion."
"My first year," mused Severus as he effortlessly led her onto the dance floor.
Poppy nodded. "So it was. And, I looked far too young for any student to take with the appropriate gravitas. Therefore, Healer Ganglion fashioned a Glamour for me that aged me by ten years, and would grow old as I did. I rarely have need to remove the Glamour as I'm so used to it… but, as you can see, sometimes I do."
"And when you show your truth, Poppy, I am pleased to be one of those blessed," and with those words of his own heart, Severus swept Poppy further into the crowd of dancers.
a/n: Six is the number for hearth and home. The female goat is the symbol for nurturing, guardian, mother, and home. It is thought that the female goat's wool is softer than that of the male's.
A note about Aberforth: His House has never been told to us by JKR but he raises goats, and his Patronus is a goat. This is the symbology of the goat: they are independent, logical thinkers, ambitious striving towards spiritual ambition, and extremely clever. (Source- Whats Your Sign - Link on profile) Now, doesn't that sound like Slytherin? Would it not explain the further hostility between the brothers if Aberforth had been Sorted into Slytherin?