"Where have you been?!"
He barely entered the living room, erasing the pleased smile from his face, and Mother had already materialized next to him. Lying in wait for him, no doubt.
"Where have you been?" she was pale, as always, and was crumpling a handkerchief in her hand. Bawling again, wait till Father catches her at it…
"Went for a walk," he tried to hold back a derisive smirk.
"Where?"
"Can't remember," he waved her off, taking a glass and pouring Firewhiskey. He needs to relax, he has earned it today…
"Your father forbid you," she dared not slap his hands, as she had done thousands of times back then, "before"…
"He's not here to see it. What's new?"
"She called for you," growing sadder, which made him wince, said his mother. "Don't leave again before seeing her…"
A derisive smile crossed his thin, untanned face.
"What about the watchdogs?"
"Same," his mother shrugged her shoulders, visibly calming down. That's right, no need to meddle in his affairs. "Your father went to the hospital today. Maybe you ought to visit also…"
"What for?" he bristled. He has always hated the St. Mungo's, ever since he was a child. And he never forgot the several months he spent there a few years ago. Nor did he want to forget…
"You do know that…"
"Oh, I wish you just left him alone!" he growled, spilling what was left of the Firewhiskey as he set the glass forcefully on the table. "And pay more attention to her, instead."
"Son…," his mother's voice shook. It has been like that for a while, as though something in her broke then, four years ago. This he will not forget, either…
It is alright, Mother, it will all get better. Today he believed it fully for the first time.
"I'll see her."
"Fine," his mother smiled sadly. "If she… if…"
"Mum, it'll be okay," and he left the living room. He quickly crossed the foyer, went down the hall, and used the back stairs to reach the room that was now once again full of life.
Everything was back to normal here, as it was when she was always there with him. He would come in, sit at her feet and press against her knees, and she would a tad carelessly ruffle his hair with her slender fingers, speaking of something. He didn't even listen, reveling in the sound of her voice and in her touch.
That fall, everything changed: four years of emptiness, when he would come here and sit by the empty chair, hugging his knees for warmth. As though the light of his life had gone out, as though the idol he had worshipped was smashed, as though the meaning of his life had been taken away.
Since his earliest days, she was his everything. He didn't even know why. She would enter the room, and he stopped crying. He did everything she asked. She was the most beautiful, the most clever, she never made mistakes. She could easily punish any foe of his. She let him adore her and stay close, and in return, he would do anything for her. And her pain was his pain. And her enemies were his enemies, and he would kill those who took her from him. But she said "no, now is not the time", and he obeyed her. Like he always had.
And now this room, and his life, had light again. She was sat in her chair, looking at him with her beautiful, like snowflakes dancing in the wind, eyes. Her beauty did not fade – her parents assured that with tons of galleons spent to keep her. And her gaze was the same. For now… But he tried not to think of that, because he would fix everything, for he would do anything for her.
"Mother said you asked for me," he said, settling down by her tartan-covered feet, as always. She hemmed in response, and his lips twitched, as he recognised the expert role playing she always did. For now… He again waved off the unwelcome stray thought – now he would be able to help her.
"How are you?"
"What's new?" she asked into his ear. "Where have you been?"
This was not his mother's query that he could dismiss. This was her, and he must answer. Especially since she would not speak of herself, of what had been done to her…
"Tons of Ministry dogs running around," she shrugged his shoulders. "But no one knows about the tunnel."
"Well, of course, how would they..? Where did you go?"
He could tell her how they might know: besides the two of them there was another who had discovered the entrance to it out of deadly boredom. Yet, that man could not be mentioned in this room. Could not even thought of…
He kept silent, putting off the moment of his triumph.
"I can help you. I can now help all of you…"
"Meaning?" she was instantly on her guard, her fingers still in his hair.
"You shall be well again," he stood up with a slight smile, looking into her anxious face. She had always known how to hide her emotions, but several years of isolation affected her ability to do so…
"I am not ill!"
"You shall be as before; and so will he," he was not ready to disclose everything to her, but that marvelous moment would come soon.
"What. Did. You. Do?!" she stood up, tossing away the tartan.
"I? Nothing! Trust me, everything will turn out fine…"
"I forbid you!" her face was distorted by fury, which she did not even attempt to hide now.
"But…!"
"I forbid you to even think about it now!" she slapped him, making his ears ring. "What did you do?"
"I… I just want to help you!" he did not resist the second slap, which made him fall at her feet.
"You idiot!" she cried. "Don't you understand that they would send me back, to that place?!"
"No, wait! You…"
"Idiot!" she struck him again. "You are just an…!"
"Wait!" he raised his voice, trying to stand up. "I…"
"Fritz! Priscilla!" their mother ran into the room, alerted by the screaming. "What happened?"
"He would not come when I called," Priscilla said calmly, turning toward the window.
His mother glanced at him severely and walked to her daughter, putting an arm around her shoulders.
"Pris, darling, he just had some errands to run," Fritz smirked, getting to his feet. "Forgive your brother."
He would not come," the girl repeated, getting back in her chair and letting the tartan to be draped around her. "He…"
"Get out!" his mother hissed, clearly put out.
He nodded and walked out, rubbing his face, feeling lost at the strength of her ire. She simply did not understand that he was trying to help. She would know more and be glad…
And now he needs to think and plan carefully…
"Master Fritz," a house elf materialized next to him.
"What is it?"
Forgive me, but we have visitors…"
"Who?"
"Scorpius Malfoy and James Potter."
"What?" Fritz jumped, knocking down a flower vase off the stand. "And you let them in?!"
"No, they just showed up," the elf reported, looking confused. Fritz realized immediately that the thought of the tunnel and the third person who had found it was not idle. Malfoy had not forgotten his discovery…
"Tell them that…"
"We shall see them," his mother appeared next to them, looking anxiously at Fritz. "We have nothing to hide, do we, son?"
"You want to speak to these," his breath caught in his throat from hatred.
"Yes. Maybe that way I'll find out where you went today. Or will you tell me yourself?"
"It has nothing to do with them," Fritz grumbled, shrugging his shoulders. He now understood what his sister feared so much, but this time all would be well. They are helpless.
He even smiled, imagining Malfoy's helplessness. Oh, this is going to be fun…
He walked alongside his mother, smiling. He knew what he would do, how he would get his revenge on them and make her happy. He had planned it all already; now he just had to bid his time.
It would work. But first – the first act of the play, albeit not his.
He wiped the smile off his face and stepped into the living room.