Switching it up a bit on Chapter Title lyrics. This is from a song called "Falcon in the Dive" from the musical The Scarlet Pimpernel. It's a perfect Severus song.
Severus crossed the threshold of Malfoy Manor at the side of Corban Yaxley, who was already bragging to Snape about his progress in overthrowing the Ministry in an effort to distract from his tardiness.
"Come on, Yax— no need to defend yourself to Severus, since we're late too," Rhiannon teased, following behind the men. Snape had made it clear to her early on that her father needed to see deference and humility from her at all times, so he required her to follow several paces behind with her head lowered until the Dark Lord addressed her. Severus cast a sharp look to her over his shoulder, silently reminding her that goading the ash blond, callous-faced member of the inner circle wasn't really the wisest idea. But reigning Rhiannon in was rarely easy.
She had somehow managed to spare herself from taking the Mark, even though over a year and a half had passed since Voldemort had first summoned her. Snape was immensely grateful for that fact; seeing that devastating ink defile her ethereal skin would break him, and he wasn't entirely sure he would be able to hold together a front. It seemed for now her father was content to simply have her presence at gatherings periodically— to reassure him of some divine predestination of victory. Voldemort felt very clearly the strong connection that bound him to his daughter— the recognition of her magic, the rush of power that not only mirrored his own but sometimes hinted at surpassing it. But still he did not suspect the truth, as hard as it was for Severus to believe. The Dark Lord, in his arrogance, identified his own power in her as a gift from the gods themselves— a divine sanctioning of his masterful plans. He literally seemed to believe she was a goddess reincarnated and had placed her on a pedestal— undoubtedly the safest place for her to be.
This certainly rendered her rather unpopular with Snape's fellow Death Eaters, namely Bellatrix, who fancied herself their leader's consort and most skilled and devoted follower. As they moved into the expansive drawing room, lit only by the light of a large, roaring fire, Snape of course assessed the Dark Lord first, trying to gauge what mood they might be met with this evening. Then he shifted to Bellatrix and watched her hateful eyes as they followed Rhiannon's graceful form slipping into the chair across from Severus. Severus was of course instructed to sit at the Dark Lord's right hand, his murder of Dumbledore quelling any doubts as to his place in the ranks.
Having apprised himself of the pair's moods, Severus turned his attention above, and his stomach lurched. Hovering above the table was a seemingly stunned body, frozen save for a dreadful moan of agony occasionally escaping her lips. Severus had the distinct impression most of the Death Eaters at the table didn't recognize her in her current position. He couldn't confirm her identity, but he had his suspicions.
Glancing ever so subtly at Rhiannon across the table, he knew she did too. She was the only person Severus had ever met whose intuition and perception rivaled his own. He could see the slightest contortion of her face, and he slipped quickly into her thoughts through the bond they shared. To be in Rhiannon's mind didn't require legilimency; it only required the lowering of a shield Severus kept in place the majority of the time to allow her privacy. Once she felt him she willed her expression to be blank again, knowing he would scold her.
Having her with him in these meetings was difficult. She didn't always have to attend, and Snape was grateful for those times, as it allowed him to play his own role with a clear head. But tonight his mind drifted to Colleen's statement earlier in the week about children of war forced to grow up too soon. When Severus watched Rhiannon struggle to detach like this but ultimately do so with such grace and strength, he was reminded that she was close to a child herself when all this began. The Ilvermorny Thunderbird had come over from New Orleans just a couple months shy of nineteen— curious, playful, extremely sexual, with a thirst for adventure. Her emotions had still been raw from the death of her mother, and her arrival to the British wizarding world came with the earth-shattering news that her mother had been the Dark Lord's concubine during some of his time spent studying the Dark Arts in America.
Knowing the Dark Lord's blood flowed through her veins, being in a new place, suddenly thrown back into magical education after a long hiatus— it was a whirlwind time for her— made only more complicated by a confusing, passionate love for two powerful wizards who were longtime enemies. Soon Dumbledore and the Order had crafted a new identity for her— a whole history of schooling, relationships, a career— even a bestselling book. Anything to keep Voldemort from the truth about his child. And as Severus stared at her now, her emerald eyes raised to the hovering figure above, all he could see was that child again.
I love you, he thought quickly, and then Snape cut the connection to focus his attention on the Dark Lord.
"Saturday next, at nightfall," Snape answered promptly. His subconscious was always aware of the Dark Lord's questions, even if his thoughts and feelings were focused on his wife. Voldemort's eyes were as fiery as the flames dancing behind him within the shining marble.
Yaxley, ever desperate to be relevant, intervened and offered up the false trail Dawlish, the Auror, had planted at the Ministry. He seemed delighted to have what he considered the insider scoop and therefore the upper hand compared to Voldemort's right-hand man.
"It is a false trail," insisted Snape. "The Auror office will play no further role in the protection of Potter. The Order believes we have infiltrated the Ministry."
There was a murmur of laughter over the table as most Death Eaters present allowed themselves to gloat. That was, of course, the goal. And it was looming ever nearer. The target date of takeover was August 1st if not sooner, mere days away. Once the Ministry officially fell, the Dark Lord's puppet Pius Thicknesse, under the Imperius Curse, would become Minister, and Snape's own position as Headmaster would be publicly solidified. Yaxley further confirmed his success on this front, as well as in infiltrating the transportation network to severely limit Potter's methods of escape. It was all proceeding according to Snape and Rhiannon's understanding, however, so they only paid the matter the minimum amount of attention required. They remained focused in their minds, rather, on the figure laying in peril above them.
"Wormtail, have I not instructed you to keep our prisoner quiet?" Voldemort snapped. Peter Pettigrew whimpered and skulked about, terrified and useless, as usual. Snape sometimes wondered why the Marauders, as despicable as they once were, even deigned so low as to accept such an inept idiot into their ranks.
"As I was saying," the Dark Lord continued. "I have gained a much better understanding of the relationship between my wand and Potter's; as such, I will be requiring one of your wands to aid me before we embark on Saturday's most exciting journey. Which of you would be so honored? Lucius?"
"My Lord?" Lucius's voice was a mere squeak. Azkaban had not been kind to the Malfoy patriarch. His skin was even paler than its natural hue, his once grand, shining hair now lank and dull, and unshaven scruff now along his jawline and betraying the careless mental state from which he now seemed to suffer.
"My Lord?" Voldemort mocked with a sneer. He proceeded to examine and inquire as to the construction of the wizard's wand, chiding Lucius for his apparent displeasure at having it stripped away.
"Why do the Malfoys look so unhappy with their lot? Is my rise to power not what they professed to desire for so many years?"
"We did...we do...my Lord, " Lucius stammered. His wife Narcissa sat stone-faced.
Bellatrix swooped in to shower her master with praise when her sister and brother-in-law failed at the task. "We are honored to host you here in our family's house," Bellatrix cooed. "There can be no higher pleasure."
"No higher pleasure," Voldemort repeated. "Even compared with the joyful event that took place in your family this week, Bellatrix?"
She stared at him, taken aback. "I don't know what you mean, my Lord."
"I am talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And yours, Lucius and Narcissa. Married to werewolf Remus Lupin. Such an honor for the Noble House of Black." His cackle echoed off the marble walls.
Snape and Rhiannon exchanged the briefest of glances as laughter and jeers drifted over the table. The timeline was a bit off, for Remus and Tonks had been married the same day as Black and his bride, much earlier in the month. But the ceremony official Remus had selected to perform the rites had agreed to some creativity in the filing of the paperwork. It may have taken this long for news of the event to reach the Dark Lord's ears. The official had agreed to wait until the very end of the allotted period to file the Blacks' paperwork, to give them the longest amount of time possible before disclosing Sirius's existence.
"She is no niece of ours, my Lord," Bellatrix said haughtily. "Narcissa and I haven't laid eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood. We care nothing for the brat, nor any beast she marries."
"Marriage witnessed by Mr. and Mrs. Bruce Wayne," Yaxley added with a growl. "Who the hell is that? Is the Order crafting identities out of thin air now?"
"The writer of that Muggle-worshipping filth at Flourish and Blotts," Bellatrix supplied. "No surprise he would befriend a werewolf, whoever he is."
Snape and Rhiannon had insisted that the couples list each other as witnesses, since only two names were required. They couldn't afford to have their own names compromised. Obviously that was wise, but Severus himself hadn't really expected the wolf's nuptials to be a topic of interest to the Dark Lord. Clearly Voldemort was only using it as a game to taunt Bella and Lucius, the two of them never having risen to their former glory after failing to retrieve the Prophecy years ago.
"The thinking is that this Muggle-lover writer character is American," Yaxley continued. "The writing style is rather basic and irrespective of grammatical and structural norms."
"Ah, yes, Ilvermorny. Not known for turning out the finest." The Dark Lord laughed. "No offense to you, my dear Rhiannon."
"None taken, my Lord," Rhiannon returned quietly. Severus knew she had some cheeky retort laying just beneath the surface, but she respected Severus enough to play her role. She'd often expressed her desire to stand up to her father and "put him in his place." Laughable, childish games that Snape often used to toy with her and remind her who was in charge. It had become somewhat of a fetish between the two of them - a power play, and a source of twisted pleasure.
"Well, dear Bellatrix, the oldest of our family trees becomes diseased over time. Perhaps it is time to prune yours. Cut away the parts that threaten the health of the rest," Voldemort suggested.
"Yes, my Lord! At first chance," Bellatrix promised him gratefully. Snape knew he needed to forewarn the wolf and his bride.
It was now apparent that the climactic moment of the evening had arrived. Now armed with Lucius's wand, Voldemort used it to animate the suspended figure above the table, and she struggled against her bindings with louder moans of agony.
"Do you recognize her, my dear Professors?" the Dark Lord asked gleefully.
"Yes, my Lord," the couple responded in unison. Severus permitted himself the slightest slip in his defenses and felt Rhiannon's nausea. He also saw the terrorized face of Charity Burbage, recently "retired" Muggle Studies professor, replaced in Rhiannon's mind with that of Colleen as the Dark Lord ranted about the professor's perceived transgressions.
"Severus...please...please," Burbage pleaded. Severus locked his jaw and did not take his eyes away from the woman's trembling limbs and pleading eyes.
"Professor Burbage, until most recently, had the audacity to teach the children of distinguished wizarding families that Muggles were not so very different from their own kind." Voldemort paced back and forth along the table. "She writes in the Prophet that we should accept Mudblood thieves of our knowledge and magic. The dwindling of Pureblood dominance in the world should be celebrated, according to this former professor. She would even encourage us to mate with Muggles...or no doubt, werewolves," Voldemort spat.
Again, Snape saw Rhiannon's vision of Colleen above the table, her beautiful strawberry hair pooling on the carved black wood instead of Professor Burbage's wispy, straw-like blonde.
Block her, Severus commanded. If you care for Colleen, block her and do not think of her again. If I can see her, so can he.
This time he saw Rhiannon's memory of a casual conversation with Charity Burbage in the hall outside of the latter's classroom, Burbage welcoming Professor Aspenfell to Hogwarts and immediately asking questions about No-Maj life in America.
"Feeling merciful today, Goddess Rhiannon?" sneered Voldemort. "Is that a tear I see pooling behind your delicate emerald eye? Our good luck charm seems to have a soft spot for Muggles." He scanned the room awaiting more laughter, but none came. Everyone seemed to know what was coming next and was afraid to have any of their reactions hyper-analyzed and subject to punishment.
"Only a soft spot for life, my Lord," Rhiannon explained stiffly. "It's a pity Burbage...ch...chose to squander hers."
"Nice save, beautiful," Bellatrix taunted.
The former professor's body was revolving in circles, giving each of the table's occupants a chance to look her in her tear-stricken eyes. She passed by Severus one last time, and he remained a statue.
"Avada Kedavra," the Dark Lord murmured calmly.
The body smacked the table with a thud, and the Dark Lord's snake Nagini slid into place on cue, dismounting from her master's shoulders and swallowing the body in one silent slither onto the polished wood.
"There!" Voldemort exclaimed. "Now that the show is over, perhaps I should raise our dear Rhiannon's spirits with a gift?"
Bellatrix's red mouth immediately turned stiff, her back arching, dark eyes searing into Snape's wife with envious hatred. Her sister Narcissa rose from the table unbeckoned, as if the Dark Lord had already clued her in to the role she was to play ahead of time. She touched Draco's shoulder gently, almost imperceptibly, as she moved to a cabinet in the corner of the drawing room and removed a large, flat black box tied with a silver satin ribbon. Narcissa reached around Rhiannon's arms to place it on the table in front of her, then slid back into her seat, her face still betraying no emotion.
"An early birthday gift, my Lord," Snape commented with a raised eyebrow. "We must thank you for your generosity."
"Yes, early indeed," the Dark Lord agreed. "She will need it for Saturday, and in truth, it is long overdue. I do like the rather dramatic black gown she chooses to wear for occasions such as these, but as we ascend to power and make our presence known more frequently and openly, she will need to learn to blend in with rest of her lot."
Snape observed Rhiannon's expressionless face as she lifted her robe and intricate silver mask from its box.
"Saturday, my Lord?" Snape asked, trying to disguise his wariness as best he could.
"Of course! I would never deny my Rhiannon the honor of witnessing my eradication of Harry Potter. She will want to be among the first to congratulate her master in victory and declare it to her heavenly consorts."
"Yes, my Lord. I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else," Rhiannon answered fervently, surprising even Severus with her lack of hesitation. He felt his eyes narrow immediately in suspicion.
"Thank you for the gift," she continued, her hands folding it neatly back into its box.
Those that chose to stay for dinner adjourned to the dining room, but Severus excused the two of them by claiming Hogwarts business in preparation for the impending Headmaster announcement. Out of caution, they apparated as close as they could to Hogwarts and made their on way on foot toward the castle for a bit before exiting via a different route and apparating again to their home on the coast. Snape felt they couldn't be too careful, especially with such a blatant declaration against Muggles this evening and the mentioning of Black's ridiculous pseudonym. The man's damn ego was going to be the death of them all if he didn't learn discretion.
"Awfully excited for your Saturday plans, are you not?" Snape asked her, once they landed on the outskirts of their village and began to wind their way up the steep path toward their home.
The large house beckoned with a warm glow inside and out— filled already with Colleen's tasteful, comforting style. If you asked Black what he loved most about his wife, as Rhiannon loved to do, he would often list that aspect of her personality near the top. Black craved warmth, color, and softness after Grimmauld Place, living off the land, and the cold cells of Azkaban. After Spinner's End and the dungeons, as much as he thought he enjoyed the latter, Severus had to admit he was rather fond of the Muggle's sense of style as well. She had a way of making everyone who crossed the threshold feel welcomed and loved, even a Slytherin Death Eater the rest of the world had declared rather unlovable.
Since Severus had rescued Ben from a kidnapping by his magical relatives early that year, Colleen had softened toward him a bit, but she still responded to any of his attempts at conversation with shyness and a bit of fear. Severus thought it was just as well. He didn't need his mind clouded with any hint of affection for a Muggle - especially after tonight. He had his hands full enough with his wife's.
Rhiannon ignored his initial comment, which made him immediately make a mental note to follow up on it later.
"She was our friend, Severus. Our friend, our colleague- murdered in cold blood and fed to a snake for dinner." Rhiannon's tears were flowing freely now, choking her along with her panting breath as they made their way up the steep incline. The sounds of the ocean waves crashing on the rocks below filled the night air, and Severus chose to focus on those rather than join his wife in the rabbit hole of her emotions.
"She was," he acknowledged stiffly.
"That's all you're going to say?"
"What do you want me to say, Rhiannon?" Snape responded with a sigh. "Do you want me to give her an oceanside eulogy?"
"Actually, yes, that would be rather lovely," she admitted. "It's not like her family can give her one. They will live forever thinking she just disappeared."
"That's better, is it not? Would you want to know your daughter met her demise in such a horrific way?"
"I don't know," Rhiannon answered thoughtfully. "I think perhaps it might be better. I think it's easier to wrap your head around a horrific truth than wonder about horrific possibilities."
"When the war is over, we will be the first to pay them a visit," Severus promised. "Does that help you at all?"
"Not really. But thank you for trying."
Severus stopped his ascent and waited for her to catch up, then slipped his hand into hers, tightening his grip as he always did whenever she seemed to need something extra from him. Trying to meet her needs for reassurance and affection was a constant challenge Snape never felt equipped to handle. It was another blessing of their current living arrangement- plenty of household members better in touch with their emotions instead of the burden always being on him. But he wasn't exactly eager to share the details of tonight's evening with their roommates- especially Colleen. The mother didn't need to worry for herself and her son even more than she already did.
He resolved to tell Black, however, as soon as they had a moment alone. The man would need to learn proper caution, quickly. He was already doomed to be the Death Eaters' number one target after Potter, if they learned of his existence, and his Muggle bride and Muggleborn adopted son merely devices that would be used to torture him.
"How did it go?" Lupin asked anxiously before they'd even had a chance to close the door behind them.
"Splendidly," Snape replied in a voice of silk. "It was a delightful evening."
"Not funny, Severus," Rhiannon reprimanded him.
"Come on, Ben, let's get you to bed," Colleen said, lifting the almost five-year-old up in her arms. She had a knack for excusing herself quite often when Order business was to be discussed. Though naturally inquisitive and analytical, as a paralegal in her former Muggle life, her capacity for fear and uncertainty left something to be desired. She and Rhiannon worked continually to address this noticeable lack, but she still actively avoided obvious instances of stress or strain. Severus couldn't blame her. As a mother, she needed to feel strong. And sometimes strength meant knowing your own limitations. Though Severus himself was never allowed to have any.
"So sorry, Rhiannon, let me try again," Severus continued dryly. "Tonks, you and Lupin are in grave danger Saturday night and should prepare yourselves for relentless pursuit. Your aunt sees your wedding as the ultimate betrayal and has vowed to punish you accordingly."
Black's eyes flashed darkly as he downed the firewhisky that remained in his glass. "Tonks, I don't care what you say. I am going along. To protect you and the baby."
The purple-haired witch let out an abrupt laugh. "No offense, Cousin, but I'm an Auror, and you spent twelve years wasting away in prison. I'm not sure who would be protecting whom."
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm no longer wasting away. I work out like a regular Muggle now— push ups, sit ups, running on the beach..."
"And multiple 'Magical Maneuvers' courtesy of your new book," Remus reminded his wife with a grin.
Sirius gave him a nod. "Exactly. I'm in better shape than in our Marauders days. Fresh out of therapy, and madly in love. Mentally and physically at the top of my game. Let me help."
"It's not a bad idea," Severus spoke up, leveling his eyes with Black's. Black blinked a bit in response, but slowly nodded.
"Thanks, Snape. Glad to have you onboard with my plan. Now who's giving me a hair?"
"Rhiannon," Severus answered. "And a gift, wrapped up with a pretty satin bow."
"Severus, no. That's not the plan," Rhiannon argued.
Snape switched his gaze to his wife. "Oh? You and Black had a plan? Color me surprised."
She blushed a little. "Yes. He was going to go as a second Tonks."
"WHAT?" Tonks exclaimed. "And not tell me? Just wait for me to stumble across a copy of myself and fall off my broom in shock?"
"I was going to deflect some of the spells that might be directed toward my cousin," explained Sirius. "Split their fury between the two of us, since they wouldn't know any better. Cut their assault in half."
"Not a bad plan, outright," Snape admitted. "But flawed in that the Order would know immediately something was amiss, and believe you to be not just a Death Eater but one who had infiltrated their ranks enough to steal DNA to make Polyjuice Potion. Not to mention they too would doubt which is the real Tonks, and may well attack you both. Thus nullifying any benefits of your risk. You would no doubt be cornered and forced to reveal yourself, and then break Dumbledore's number one request of you— to keep your identity hidden. A task made all the more important since your little Batman figure is now very much on the Dark Lord's radar with your Muggle-loving literary tribute. Although from the review I heard tonight, perhaps 'literary' is too generous of a term."
"Oh, Voldy read my book, huh?"
"Not hardly. And I wasn't going to disclose this in front of Colleen, but while she is away— Rhiannon and I were witness to the murder of Charity Burbage, former professor of Muggle Studies, this evening. For her transgression of publishing a defense of wizarding-kind mating with Muggles. So I suggest if you'd like to keep yourself and your wife out of a snake's insides, you begin running these 'genius' ideas of yours by me before jumping in. Understood, Black?"
Lupin let out a horrified gasp, and Black seemed to pale a bit at this news.
Good, Snape thought. He needs to learn to take something seriously for a change.
"Severus," Rhiannon began cautiously. "I don't want Sirius flying in my place. The Dark Lord commanded me to join the ranks Saturday night, and I intend to do so."
"You have no obligation to do so," Snape replied. "You haven't taken the Mark. You're not one of them." He noticed his own use of the word "them" instead of "us." Living here as part of a permanent sub-arm of the Order was making him disassociate. He clearly needed to reflect and assess before he did something foolish.
Rhiannon noticed too. "No, we're not them," she agreed. "But we have to play our roles convincingly enough that we are allowed the freedom to remain that way. So I'll go. And it's not like Sirius has taken the Mark either— the argument makes no sense."
"I'll go, Rhiannon," Sirius told her emphatically. "Severus is right. I want to be out there. Helping Tonks and Harry. I can disguise it with well-placed jinxes sent to the Order here and there, to keep up a ruse. As I'm sure Snape will also. I'll follow his direction. Let the four of us handle this. You stay here and work with Colleen on her magic. You clearly understand it better than the rest of us and can make it all the more powerful."
"Are you two gentlemen trying to protect my virtue?" Rhiannon teased, backsliding into the thick New Orleans accent of her younger days.
"Well, I would say we both stripped that away a long time ago, wouldn't you, Severus?" Sirius grinned.
"Oh, gods," Lupin muttered. "Do you always have to make things so awkward?"
Snape searched for a feeling of anger and resentment, but truth be told he couldn't find one. It was a rather good joke. The woman had taken way too much pleasure in the power she held over them the past couple of years.
"Indeed," Snape replied tightly. "Rhiannon, you will protect Colleen. Black and I will go to the battle as Death Eaters, with Remus and Tonks clearly aware of certain planned attacks and signs. I will 'lose' my hood rather early on in the battle. We will have to come up with some kind of subtle distinguishing feature for Black...well, for Rhiannon."
Rhiannon lifted her right hand. "Here." She removed the braided gold band from her right ring finger and sauntered over to Black, placing it in his hand. "You once told me you didn't have any use for this and I could keep it. Looks like that's no longer the case."
Sirius smiled and took the ring. "Why do I sometimes feel like I'm married to three people?"
"'Cause you are, and it's bloody weird," Tonks spoke up. "I'm seriously glad Remus and I live on the third floor. But I feel sorry for Ben. Maybe he should stay up there with us until the baby is born."
"What about Ben?" Colleen asked brightly, returning downstairs in a lavender bathrobe. She slid onto Sirius's lap.
"Hey, isn't that my bathrobe?" Rhiannon asked her. She was considerably shorter and smaller framed than the Muggle woman, so the robe was more like a neglige on Colleen.
"Yes, I lost mine in the move somehow," Colleen said with a laugh. "I figured you wouldn't mind."
"Uh-huh," Tonks said with a told-you-so smirk.
Everyone except Snape dissolved into laughter, even Colleen, who didn't have a clue what they were laughing about. But Severus did consent to a small smile.