Chapter 5
Arthur Weasley stood upon the steps of a temple.
The ancient fortress had become decrepit, ravaged and broken by the millennia of passing years. Sun cycles had reduced the sacred site to fragments, barely standing, pillars capsized and warped. Stones, columns and architraves lie together around the structure in a beautiful pile of confused rubble.
It was well past sundown, and torches aligned the archways and outer corridors of the sanctuary. Arthur stood still on the steps, wondering for perhaps the millionth time if he was doing the right thing.
He thought about the previous few hours that had led him to this point, this feeble attempt, in his darkest hour of desperation.
X
"Mr. Weasley," The Healer hesitated, and Arthur felt his insides grow cold.
Something was wrong, very wrong.
"Mr. Weasley," the Healers voice was drawn and sad. "at this point there is nothing we can do. The pregnancy complications are too severe, and it is now beyond my abilities. Perhaps if we had gotten to her sooner..."
"And my child?" Arthur interrupted quickly.
The healer sighed, looking Arthur gently in the eyes. He hated the pity he saw in them.
"I'm afraid the stress is too great, for both of them, Mr. Weasley. Now is the time you should prepare yourself for the worst."
And prepare for the worst he had.
He had spent the last few hours contemplating the impending loss of his wife and unborn child. Each minute felt a lifetime as he felt the ground beneath him seem to fall away. With each hour the despair and desperation grew. With each hour a madness gripped him until he could no longer stand idle without doing something.
Anything.
A wonderful, horrible, idea came to mind. The kind of ideas that only come to men in their deepest despair. When they find themselves clinging to the last desperate strings of hope. It was the sort of idea that no one else dared entertain unless they felt they had nothing to lose.
So he was at the ancient Temple, ready to gamble, no, BEG, with the immortals, feeling that he had no other option.
He entered the torch lit precipice, into the main room. The torches only provided dim flickering light, and the rest of the chamber was cast in eerie darkness and silence. Nervously, he knelt before the stone altar that stood in the middle of the room.
He cleared his throat nervously.
"My name is Arthur Weasley..."
His voice echoed violently across the empty chamber. The altar before him remained empty and foreboding. Hoping and praying that someone was listening, he continued.
"I have come to summon Artemis and Eileithyia."
Prostrating himself on the cold stone floor, Arthur waited.
Many moments passed quietly, and he wondered if he had gone about this all wrong. Perhaps the goddesses would refuse to be summoned? Perhaps they would refuse to speak to a male mortal? Or worse, perhaps they had long ago abandoned the temple, and he was whispering to an empty ruin.
Like a match lighting itself, a single flame appeared upon the altar, flickering in an invisible breeze.
Hushed whispers filled the chamber, and a ghostly, translucent substance began rising out of the altar, floating ethereally in the air resting above the altar.
The substance swirled then stilled, and Arthur heard ghostly voices whispering.
"Who dares summon us, Eileithyia?"
"Sister, a mortal prostrates himself before the altar."
"A man dares to enter the sacred temple?"
"The mortal trods on holy grounds, he is not worthy..."
Arthur's hands began to shake as the ghostly substance from the altar ceased its whispering. It swirled and separated into two halves, slowly becoming corporeal, and shaping into the forms of two females.
The females were fierce and their eyes were bright. Their ethereal faces were both young and aged. But both faces looked down upon Arthur Weasley with open contempt and anger.
The first sister spoke, her voice a gentle thunder in the chamber.
"You have no business here, mortal. You do not belong here. Your presence has corrupted our sacred temple. The punishment is death..."
The women stepped forward to Arthur, who continued to prostrate himself before them. He was desperate, he couldn't let them leave.
"Wait, wait! I'm sorry!" He said quickly, "I'm here for my wife. Please, she is with child."
The women stilled, the anger leaving their faces.
"Why does she not come? This is the holy ground of women, fertility, of birth… All women are welcome in the temple."
Arthur bowed his head slightly.
"Well, that's just it, my Lady." He murmured sadly. "She is very ill, too ill to leave the hospital. So I have come for her and my child."
One of the Sisters put a hand on her translucent belly, closing her eyes. Her face darkened, her features contorted in pain.
"Your wife, she suffers…The child will not live..."
Arthur's breath caught in his throat.
"Yes, you see, that's why I'm here. To ask you, to beg you, as immortals and goddesses of life, fertility and childbirth, if you would have mercy, and let my wife and son live."
The sister goddess widened her eyes, anger thundering behind them.
"This mortal asks for much, doesn't he Eileithyia? Much more than is willingly given."
"He is foolish to ask so much of the Gods, Artemis, so foolish..."
Arthur began to panic, but it was time to present his offer.
"I know I am asking very much, much more than I ought to. But I thought we could make a bargain, if that is acceptable to Artemis and Eileithyia."
The sisters narrowed their eyes, staring down at him suspiciously.
"What would this mortal give? What bargain could he have?"
"I would happily give my life, My Ladies, in exchange for the lives of my wife and son."
There, he said it.
Now he hoped the Gods would have mercy on him and take him up on his offer.
The sisters whispered together for a few moments, before turning two stony faces towards him.
"The mortal offers his life willingly?"
"Too willingly, he would gladly give his life for theirs. It is no sacrifice to him."
Arthur's heart was pounding in his throat. He knew the Gods to be temperamental and sometimes unpredictable, but how dare they say his life was not a sacrifice? Sensing his window of opportunity closing, he resorted to begging.
"Please, great immortals. I would give anything! Tell me what to give and it will be done!"
He was up on his knees now, his hands outstretched.
"If my life is not enough, tell me what is!"
The Sisters whispered words he could not hear. After a few moments one drew close to him.
"Your child, Arthur Weasley."
Arthur felt his throat close.
His son? His child?
"You would take my child's life? When I am begging you to save him and my wife?"
The Goddess shook her head slowly.
"No, mortal." She said slowly, but with such great intensity that Arthur clung to every word.
"Your son and wife shall live. In time, your wife will become with child again, the last of seven. She will give birth to a daughter. She will be healthy. She will be beautiful. Her heart will hold much kindness. When ten years of her life have passed, you will bring her to the temple. She will belong to the Temple, a servant of Eileithyia and Artemis. She will be guardian and protector of these sacred grounds. She will cherish and protect life, fertility and childbirth. She will be your sacrifice."
"S-servant? For you both? For how long?"
"Until the end of her days."
Arthur leaned forward, feeling his forehead hit the cold stones of the ground below him.
A daughter?
He would have a seventh child?
How long had Molly longed for a daughter?
They would have her for ten years, and then would have to give her up?
And in return Molly would live. His son would live...
Ten years...
Could he do it? Could they do it? Would it break them?
"What say you, mortal?" The Goddess said impatiently. "Can you agree to these terms? The life of your daughter, for lives of your wife and son?"
Arthur slowly lifted himself to his feet.
"My wife… this would destroy her. I can't! "
"But your wife would live, mortal. The choice is yours, she can be broken and live, your son would live… all in return for the life of your last child. If you cannot accept, she will die. Your son will die. Seems naught but a small price to pay?"
"I-I couldn't! "
"She would be well cared for… a servant bound to the temple is an honored life, a sacred life. She will be blessed above mere mortals, and find great happiness in her servitude."
Silently, Arthur felt his decision made. Molly must live. His son must live.
Knowing that this was going to cause him great pain, and knowing that his wife would never forgive him for this transgression, he held out his hand.
"I'll do it."
As Arthur reached out his hand, the Goddesses placed their ethereal palms upon his own.
An explosive blast of light lit the chamber, bouncing of the scattered rubble. Whisps of gold threaded the clasped hands of mortal and immortal, and in another flash of light disappeared.
The Goddess sighed.
"It is done, sister."
Arthur choked, cradling the hand they had held as if it had been burned. The Sister Goddess knelt before his face, her eyes like thunder and lightning as they pierced through him.
"Your wife and child shall live, Arthur Weasley. In time, your wife will become with child again. The sacred daughter. At the first Beltane, when ten years have passed, you will bring her to the temple, and give her over to Artemis and Eileithyia."
If possible, her eyes darkened further.
"You are bound by covenant, mortal. Should you break your bond, the punishment shall be most grave. Indeed, death would be a blessing compared to the wrath of the immortals."
Nodding shakily, Arthur clambered to his feet. The outlines of the ghostly goddesses began to fade, and their arms stretched before them, motioning towards the door.
"Go, Arthur Weasley. Go to your wife and child, a gift to you from the gods…"
As Arthur reached the door, tears of joy and terror sliding down his face, he stopped as the sisters spoke as one, penetrating the temple, and reverberating in his very insides.
"Forget not your covenant, mortal."
With a whisper of wind, the flames flickered and stifled, and the temple became empty once more.
Arthur stumbled out of the temple, collapsing to his knees. He had to get to Molly, but the pain and dread had turned his feet to lead, and he found he could not yet stand.
Molly would live, his son would live… he had to get to them.
But the joy was tainted with a deep sense of foreboding.
He racked his hands over his face.
Forget not the covenant…
Forget not…
X
Days later, at St. Mungos, Arthur sat calmly next to his wife's bed, treasuring the comfort of the sight of her sleeping form. Next to the bed lie a cot with a bundled sleeping newborn. Arthur reached down and picked up his son, holding him close. The baby slept soundly, wisps of red hair dusting his little head.
The Healer had been absolutely astonished, unable to explain the drastic change in the health of the witch and her baby.
Arthur thanked the Healer despite this, overwhelmed by the relief that his wife and child were still alive.
Molly mumbled in her sleep, then lifted her head and looked sleepily at her husband.
"It's a miracle, isn't it Arthur? Our little boy is alive and well."
Arthur smiled as a tiny hand clasped his finger in a tight fist.
For this moment, he thought perhaps he had made the right decision. Perhaps it would all work out. And for a few precious moments, he ceased all worry about the future at all, reveling in the peace filling the room. But as the baby stirred, as Molly smiled lovingly down at him, he thought of the covenant, and all he had promised the immortals. The sweet moment was stolen, and he feared what was to come. He feared the pain his family would inevitably face. He feared the wrath and rejection of his true love when she would find out what he had done.
He held the babe tighter.
"A miracle." He murmured quietly.
X
The sounds of shattering glass echoed throughout the study at Malfoy Manor.
Draco Malfoy paced in front of the grand fireplace. His face was contorted in fury, and his clenched fists oozed blood from their grips. He was breaking every object he could get his hands on. After tearing pages out of every book in the study, he resorted to attacking potion bottles, and finally his father's crystal brandy set.
He could not contain the frustration, it welled and lapped up inside him like a violent storm, and he thrashed and growled as he paced the study.
"Where is she?" He barked for the millionth time.
Lucius sat in his chair behind the desk, watching him intently as his son destroyed the room. His face was drawn in disproval.
"Draco, you're acting like a child."
Draco whirled around to him in a rage.
"Father. She's not at school, she's not at home. That means they took her somewhere-"
"Hiding her from you, I'd imagine. Probably the only smart thing the Weasleys have ever done."
Draco seemed not to hear him, his fists trembled and he slammed them down on his father's desk with a crack.
"They took her! I know they did! They took her!"
Lucius sighed with increasing annoyance in his voice.
"Yes, well that does seem to be the case. At any rate, its time for you to grow up Draco, I'm done with you storming about acting like you've had your broom stolen-"
"She's mine!" Draco snarled.
"She isn't Draco!"
"But I-"
Draco's voice was cut off abruptly as he felt his throat close. Lucius stood at his desk, wand drawn and pointed at Draco's neck, teeth bared, the fury now in him. Draco choked and gasped, clutching at his neck. Seeing stars, he began sliding to the ground, darkness peering at the edge of his vision.
Lucius advanced on him, stepping to the side of his increasingly limp form on the ground of the study. As he spoke, his voice shook, and his wand hand trembled.
"I grow tired of your theatrics, boy. Do you have any idea the implications of your behavior? The embarrassment on our name? The dishonor of our household? Do you have any idea the demands our solicitor made? We could have been ruined. You could be rotting in Azkaban. There is nowhere in this manor for a whining, sniveling rat like you. You say she's yours, do you? Well, I say bully for her, because she avoided being snatched up by a pathetic coward."
Just as Draco was sure he would lose all conscious thought; Lucius released his hold and Draco frantically sucked gasping breaths of air into his lungs.
"You disgust me, Draco."
Draco fought the burning in his eyes but was unsuccessful. Whether it was from the lack of air or the cutting, slicing words of his father he wasn't sure, but they leaked down his face in reckless abandon.
"Lucius? What on earth?"
A worried voice echoed in the doorway.
Narcissa stood in the doorway, eyes wide at the sight of Draco on the floor, gasping and Lucius towering above him in a rage.
Lucius whirled on her.
"Get the fuck out! Now!"
Cowering, Narcissa fled through the door and slammed it shut.
Lucius stared down at Draco with a look of loathing.
"If you are truly a Malfoy, Draco…" he glowered, "Then this obsession stops now. You will stop this embarrassing behavior immediately. I will not have my son tailing after some blood traitor whore. You will right yourself. You will return to Durmstrang. You will conduct yourself like the pureblood you are."
Lucius softened his tone slightly, but his voice was just as threatening. Draco managed to sit up slightly, avoiding his father's gaze.
"In time you will learn to control yourself. Durmstrang will assist you in your growth and your ambitions."
Draco clenched his jaw and glowered at the ground. His desires echoed through his mind.
Power…
Control…
He desired control in the worst way…
And now carefully tucked away in the back of his mind, a delicate redhead who smelled of flowers. That desire would have to remain hidden, for now…
Lucius cleared his throat.
"If you bring honor to the Malfoy name while you are at Durmstrang, you obtain power, obtain control..." he hesitated slightly before continuing.
"And of course, any other less honorable pursuits you might still desire."
Draco stared.
Power.
Control.
Two things he desperately wanted.
"It will be done, Father."
Lucius pocketed his wand.
"We shall see."
He walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. Draco immediately flinched, knowing what was being drawn out of it. He stared fixed at the ground as Lucius walked back over to him.
"And now, Draco. It's time for restitution."
Draco obeyed without being told. He removed his shirt, and knelt forward to the ground, exposing his back to his father.
Three echoing cracks reverberated off the ornate walls of the manor.
Afterwards, Draco stood up, his face showing neither pain nor emotion.
Lucius closed the drawer of his desk, and his tone turned business-like.
"Another lesson learned Draco. Now get out, I do not want to hear from you until you are back at Durmstrang."
Draco nodded wordlessly as Lucius began leaving the room. Lucius called over his shoulder before he closed the door.
"And fix that eye already, it's disgusting to look at."
Draco put his shirt back on slowly, mindful of the fresh wounds.
He walked up to the mirror above the fireplace and studied himself a moment.
He adjusted the black silk around his head.
His souvenir…
A wonderful, beautiful memory surfaced. That day in Diagon Alley, savoring the memories before gently hiding them in a dark recess of his mind, like burying precious treasure knowing it would be sought after and relished much later.
Soft, pale skin, warm under his hands.
His fingers in long, silky hair.
Rosy lips, parted and gasping…
His features slid into a mask of coldness.
He would find her eventually. She belonged to him. But that could be a secret for now…
He allowed a smirk to tilt at the corner of his mouth.
If Malfoys were good at anything, it was keeping secrets…
x