"Father! ...Sir? Are you ok?" Draco Malfoy called through the elaborately carved, mahogany door that led to his parents' personal chambers and knocked again on the heavy wood.
"Yes, Draco, I'm fine. Go away and play," was the faint reply at last.
The young man's pale forehead furrowed further with concern and he shook his head sadly. "With respect, sir, I'm nineteen. My days of playing ended a long time ago, before they should have done, thanks to You-Know-Who. Are you alright? You are worrying me."
Behind the door, Lucius Malfoy winced at his unintentional blunder. 'Nineteen? Where did the time go? I sound like an old fool… but how do I tell my son I am about to throw all of us back into darkness to get his mother back?' He sat on his bed with his aching head cradled in his hands, missing his wife like he never dreamt possible.
After the silence had stretched on for too long, Lucius regained his bearings and spoke hurriedly, "I'm sorry, ignore your old father. I have a headache, Draco, and I will be fine. I simply need some sleep, son." He hoped his heir would accept his weak response and depart.
Draco hesitated to leave and stood in the hallway, his feet planted by indecision. His father did sound ill, and worse than that, he sounded confused. He leaned against the doorframe slightly while he thought. His mother's disappearance was obviously and severely affecting the normally cool demeanour of the man, mentally and physically. He had always assumed that his father was the alpha male, the dominant autocrat of the house. Draco now realised how wrong he was, as clearly his mother did have a strong influence on him.
Trying to coax his father a final time, he shouted through the door, "Can I get you anything, at least? Maybe tea with some pain potion?"
"No, no, that's quite alright. I'm sorry, Draco, go about your business."
"Ok… Oh, I wanted to inform you that I've been invited to the ball at Hogwarts. It's going to be tremendously embarrassing. I'm not, as you may imagine, popular nowadays, but I'm going to attend anyway. It is one more bridge I can try and mend. Do you think that's ok?"
Lucius considered this bit of news for a moment. 'Well, that is another way in, but it would mean betraying my son or pushing him to perform the very task he did in his sixth year; letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts.'
He groaned inwardly. "Yes, very nice. Purchase new dress robes at Twilfitt and Tatting's, they know the style we are accustomed to, and spare no expense; we want people to see that the Malfoy estate is still as strong as ever."
'Now that sounds more like him, the pompous arse!' Draco huffed in amusement, his fear for his remaining parent's sanity lessening slightly as he listened to the muffled words of the stern individual he had never fully understood and, until recently, could rarely ever please.
He walked away from his father's room, his shoes making no noise as he strode across the thick Axminster carpet that floored the exquisite landing area.
Personally, he believed the last thing he needed was to show off opulence and wealth at the school while it was filled to the brim with wizards and witches who would no doubt feel exceedingly hostile towards him, or any other former Death Eater, for that matter. He shuddered at the thought of how quickly he would end up sprawled on his back after being hexed from a hundred different directions.
'No,' he reflected suddenly and his steps halted by the dark wood banister that spiraled through the centre of the manor. 'Invisible. That's what I need to be.'
"Invisible," he said aloud.
'Maybe Potter would lend me his cloak,' he contemplated, staring blankly ahead as his mind began to formulate a plan, and then he carelessly traversed the sweeping staircase.
The eyes of the silent portraits hung on the deep purple walls followed the Malfoy heir until he sauntered out of their sight.
"It's a small concussion, and she will be fine in a few moments," Madam Pomfrey announced.
Hermione shifted uneasily in Snape's arms and murmured quietly, "I think I can stand now, professor."
The taciturn wizard immediately dropped her in his haste to be rid of her and she staggered, almost falling to the ground for a third time in the last hour.
"I said 'I think I can stand'! I didn't say to throw me on the floor!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly as she straightened herself, glaring heatedly at her instructor.
"My apologies," said Snape coolly as he turned away from her, his tone of voice clearly portraying how far he was from being sorry for his action.
"Professor McGonagall, may I leave? I just want to lie down," she asked softly, ignoring him and focusing her attention on the headmistress instead.
"Of course, my dear. Madam Pomfrey will escort you to your rooms and hopefully Mr. Potter will be there to take care of you."
Hermione disappeared out the door with the mediwitch's arm around her shoulders.
"You're turning into a nursemaid, Severus. A few moments and she would have been fine, so why the panic?" McGonagall attempted to bate the professor, in the hope of understanding him a little more.
"It was not panic, Minerva. I assumed you would prefer that I call for aid and I admit it was the thought of your fury that made me remain. My first inclination was to leave her here with Potter, so I wouldn't miss my afternoon tea in the dungeons. I really thought the concern would be all yours. She is, after all, your little teacher's pet," Snape replied snidely
"No, she is not my pet… but she is quite certainly yours!"
He drew himself up to his full height, and glowering at his colleague, he hissed, "Again, your insinuations are distasteful to me. I have never had favourites and I can assure you that I never will."
"Utter Bagshot! You always favored young Mr. Malfoy."
"That was different. I had to, I was told to, and he is my godson," fired back Snape.
"Well, I'm telling you now, Severus, you need to be careful. It is obvious to me that the girl is drawn to you, and I don't know if I am horrified by it or not. I'm not able to understand what Miss Granger wants from you. I would ask her, but I think she is unaware herself. I'm fairly certain that whatever it is she needs, be it a friend, a father figure, a mentor, or possibly something more personal, you are in a position to hurt her. Unfortunately, knowing you as I do, I am convinced you cannot provide anything from that list… To be honest, Severus, I almost wish you could." McGonagall could not quite believe what she was almost endorsing even as the words tumbled out.
"I beg your pardon? Why would you wish for me to behave inappropriately with any student? Clearly, you are spending too much time associating with Dumbledore's portrait and his ability to cross lines is rubbing off on you, headmistress. Have you started drinking sherry, as well?"
"I would never support crossing the line of student-teacher relationships. How dare you even insinuate that! Miss Granger is no longer a student as she is here on special dispensation. All of the war heroes at the school are treated as equals and adults. I've seen you in the staffroom with Mr. Longbottom; you pass him tea like everyone else. In fact, you treat them all as adults, with the exception of Miss Granger and Mr. Potter, whom you behave towards like they are still eleven. They are twenty and nineteen, and you need to see that, Severus. And no, I despise sherry, but after this conversation, I will need something for my nerves."
Snape struggled to find anything he could say to diminish the import of this lengthy lecture, and went with a feeble retort, "I am certainly going to be pouring firewhiskey over the memory of this afternoon, but for you, Minerva, I suggest gin. You are obviously at that time of life."
McGonagall huffed in annoyance, knowing she was going to get no sensible response from the surly wizard. She opted once again to test his muggle knowledge. "Well, to coin and adapt a muggle phrase, if you were my husband, I would poison your firewhiskey, you cantankerous fool."
"I can finish that one. Madame, if you were my wife, I would gladly drink it." Snape's lip curled slightly as it always did when bantering with the aged Scottish woman.
"Voldemort truly didn't understand you at all, did he, Severus?" The witch smiled fondly.
"I think not, but then I'm quite convinced and let me assure you, happy with the thought. Nobody does, not even you, headmistress."
"Don't be too sure, my dear. You are forgetting that I have known you since you were eleven, and sometimes I still see the insecure little boy when I look at you."
"You see what you want to see, Minerva. You read too many penny trash books."
McGonagall flounced towards the exit. After walking through, she turned for a moment to look back at the wizard who infuriated her beyond belief, noting his proud stance and unapproachable attire.
"I nursed you day and night, Severus. You were asleep for days. I know you very... very well. Are you aware that you talk in your sleep?"
She spun around quickly and left, the door closing quietly behind her. She smiled to herself as she imagined her parting shot penetrating the man's seemingly impervious armour.
Hermione was comfortably settled in her room at Grimmauld Place.
"Are you cursed, Hermione? Why is everything happening to you at the moment?" Harry was sat on one end of her bed.
"Why, what else has happened to her?" Ginny was also cross-legged and sitting close to her boyfriend's side.
"Well, you know about the snake venom and what not," he answered hurriedly.
The redhead looked at him suspiciously and then at Hermione, who nodded furiously in agreement.
"Yes, I seem to be accident prone. Had a bad cold too, Ginny, and I'm sick of being sick now."
Ginny was outwardly satisfied with their explanations. She unfurled her legs and gracefully hopped off of the high four-poster bed. "Madam Pomfrey said I could only stay for an hour, so I better floo back. This is the first time they have let me floo here… I don't think they trust Harry."
Hermione laughed. "No, it's you they don't trust."
She smiled mischievously in response, gave her friend a brief hug, and then nodded to Harry to follow her out.
About twenty minutes later, Harry knocked on the door and let himself back into Hermione's room. He was carrying a large book with him and a slightly dazed expression covered his features.
Hermione looked him up and down slowly, and then giggled. His hair was a wild mess, his shirt was not quite tucked in, and he appeared to be missing a button.
"Your fly's down," the giggling girl informed him.
"It is not, I checked!" Harry claimed indignantly, only to blush moments later at the veiled insinuation. "I mean, I always check when I've been to the bathroom," he clarified.
"Sure you do, Harry, my mistake. Do you always lose buttons on the loo, too?" She grinned at his beetroot red face.
The embarrassed wizard glanced at his shirt and groaned. "Must of caught it on something," he muttered.
"Yeah, probably on Ginny's fingernail. It happens." Hermione was thoroughly enjoying herself at this point.
"Oh, just shut up, will you? You're getting as sarcastic as Snape! When you've stopped giggling, and dear gods, I hope that's the concussion's effect, I want to show you something. I've brought this for you to read." He plunked the large, leather-bound volume on her lap and shuffled up onto the bed next to her.
"Sacred Texts of Japan," gasped Hermione, tracing the raised title letters with her fingers.
"Yep. That's the one you wanted, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was. When did you get it?" She started leafing through the pages as she spoke, plainly excited to have it in her possession.
"While you were being fussed over by the dungeon bat and two old witches, I thought it was the ideal time to commit a small, unarmed robbery. Knowing his office was empty and that he was unlikely to have set wards, it paid off!"
"It certainly did. You would have done well in Slytherin, Harry!"
He grimaced a bit at the accusation. "Well, you're the one who goes round kissing them, so you'd know, wouldn't you?"
"Oh grow up, and look! This is interesting..."
"Hellooooo! Anyone home?! What's for tea?!"
"Ron," said Harry and Hermione in unison, grinning at each other as the expected Weasley quickly rapped on the door and let himself in.
Gazing at the two of them, his freckled face broke into a smirk. "Does my sister need to be informed that you're sat together on Hermione's bed?"
"You've just missed your sister, and don't worry, she marked her territory."
The amused look adorning Ron's face abruptly slid off and he scowled at the reminder of the relationship between his best friend and his sister. "What are you doing anyway?"
The subject changed and everyone stared intently at the old book resting on Hermione's lap. After filling Ron in on all that he had missed, Hermione found the chapter she was looking for and read aloud to the boys now perched on either side of the bed.
"Kitsune are commonly portrayed as lovers. The kitsune may be a seductress, but these stories are more often romantic in nature. Typically, the man unknowingly marries the fox, who proves to be a devoted wife.
Many stories tell of fox-wives bearing children. These children possess special supernatural qualities that often pass to their own children.
The astrologer-magician, Abe no Seimei, was reputed to have inherited such extraordinary powers from a kitsune grandmother.
The kitsune will protect their child by any means possible, sometimes using questionable means.
The kitsune have a varied arsenal of power to use. One tactic is for the kitsune to confuse its target with illusions or visions, creating false images of reality. These images cannot, however, be sustained for long. Other common goals of trickster kitsune include seduction, theft of food, humiliation of the prideful, or vengeance for a perceived slight.
In some stories, kitsune have difficulty hiding their tails when they are hurt or upset. Looking for the tail, perhaps when the fox gets drunk or careless, was considered a good way to see if a woman is a kitsune or not.
Depictions of kitsune often feature round white balls known as hoshi no tama. Some stories identify them as magical jewels or pearls. When not in human form or possessing a human, a kitsune keeps the ball in its mouth. Jewels are a common symbol of Inari, and representations of sacred Inari foxes without them are rare.
One belief is that when a kitsune changes shape, its hoshi no tama holds a portion of its magical power. Another tradition is that the pearl represents the kitsune's soul; the kitsune will die if separated from it for long. Those who obtain the ball may be able to extract a promise from the kitsune to help them in exchange for its return. Or it may be loaned for a short time as protection to a loved one."
Hermione stopped reading and looked up at the boys. "Sound familiar, Harry?" She reached across Ron to the bedside cabinet, picking up a necklace and holding it in the air.
They all gazed at its iridescent sheen.