Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed.
I make no money, I mean no harm.
Patchwork
Breeding Trouble
Although most students weren't that much interested in seeing Hagrid's "project", the crowd that gathered in front of the large building where the lesson was supposed to be held was quite overwhelming. Nearly all first years came, and most of the Care of Magical Creatures students, and many others who were worried that Hagrid was, in fact, breeding dragons in there.
Neville and Hermione somehow silently persuaded Draco to come as well. He stood as close to them as was possible without losing his dignity. Or too much of it - he caught several hateful glances from a group of Slytherins not far away.
A few steps away from the Veterans, Robert and Elizabeth were hopping from one leg to another in the chilly morning. The boy was smuggling a Potions book under his coat, although in the crowd he didn't dare to take it out. He only came because Elizabeth insisted.
At ten o'clock sharp, Hagrid opened the big gate and stopped short. He hadn't expected such a big attendance, but by the expression on his face, it was a very pleasant surprise. He beamed and looked even larger as he straightened his shoulders.
"Welcome!" he roared happilly. "Come in, come in!" The students filed into the building, which turned out to be stables, and in spite of the size there were no dragons inside.
"There's nothing in here," Robert whispered, not hiding his annoyance. He reached under his coat and fingered the spine of the Potions book.
"Can't you see them?" Elizabeth answered and pointed into the nearest stand.
"No. What's in there? Is it very small?" Potions book temporarily forgotten, Robert tried to see what Elizabeth was pointing out.
"As yeh can see, or some of yeh can' see," Hagrid chuckled, "we have Thestrals here in Hogwarts. Been quite famous fer tha'. How many of yeh can see them?" Elizabeth raised her hand, but most of the students didn't.
"Not much to show off to the young ones here, has he?" Neville muttered, clearly amused. Draco stole a sideglance at Hermione. She mutely nodded, looking over the Thestrals in their stalls.
"Now, Thestrals can bite yeh if yeh annoy them, so don't go annoyin' them. I brought somethin' to keep them good-natured." Hagrid lifted a cover from a cart next to his leg and took two quarters of a dead cow. He hung each part in between two adjoining stands so that the animals could eat it, and returned to the cart to bring more meat for others.
Hagrid continued to explain how the number of Thestrals in Hogwarts dropped during the last year, and how he managed to gather those that survived only to find them exhausted and sick, unable to provide for themselves in the Forest anymore. But the two survivor males were almost ready to return to the forest and most of the female Thestrals were pregnant, to be kept in safety until their foals were big enough to leave. Hermione very obviously wasn't listening. She moved through the crowd closer to one of the stalls. Draco noticed that and tapped Neville's shoulder to make him follow.
"You did see them, didn't you?" Hermione muttered without looking back when they stood each to one of her side. "In our fifth year."
"No, I didn't," Draco replied while at the same time Neville said, "Yeah." Hermione chuckled.
"Sorry. I just... this brings back memories."
"It sure does," Draco muttered, involuntarily rubbing his cheek, and Hermione put a hand over her mouth to muffle another chuckle.
The Thestral in the stand drew closer, curious about the trio looking at him, and sniffed at their hands as they reached out to pet him. When he discovered they brought him no meat, he returned to his beef and ignored them. Neville and Hermione exchanged a quiet recollection of the night flight to the Ministry a little over two years ago.
"You're missing out on the lecture," Draco whispered when it went on for too long for his liking.
"Hermione was paying attention in class," Neville countered.
"Well, that part is just about to come. Hagrid was talking about nursing the herd back to health and making sure they would reproduce, it was really interesting."
"Mmm. And did you understand him?" Hermion asked, cocking her head to one side.
"Of course I... did." Draco blushed. His hand flew to his face again, but Hermione pulled it down and smiled.
"Good to know I can leave a long-standing impression."
The surface of the crystal clear lake was perfectly still. Snape could see the tiny fish searching the bottom for food. He paid them no attention. There was something better to look at.
She was standing at the bank, gazing across the water, her red hair cascading over her shoulders and back like a beautiful waterfall. She didn't turn as he stopped behind her, as if she didn't want to see him - he was certain she knew he was there. He could easily walk around her to glance at her face, but he didn't dare.
Then she did turn a bit, just a little bit to let him see her profile. As she opened her mouth to speak, however, a loud knock disrupted the surface of the lake and Snape was washed with a wave of...
Waking up. Another knock - Snape glanced at the clock. It was earlier than he had expected. Whatever Hagrid kept in those stables couldn't be that interesting after all.
"Come in!" he shouted and pulled his leg off of the stool he had rested it on. The door opened and closed behind him.
"You didn't come to breakfast."
Snape first pushed the books he had been getting ready away again, then lifted his leg back on the stool, then frowned at Tisha.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded with a dark glare. "I should be the one gravelling on the ground and begging for forgiveness."
"It's nice to see you at least know what you need to do." Tisha cocked her head to one side as she stood in front of him. She frowned as she glanced at his leg and pressed her lips into a tight line as she looked at his face.
"Then go away and wait until I do so."
"Ah, we may see the seas drying out, heavens falling on the earth and hell frozen over before that happens." She sat down in Neville's armchair. "You didn't come to breakfast. You didn't show up at Hagrid's lesson. And by the looks of it, you didn't sleep at all," she accused him.
Snape sighed and covered his eyes with a hand. His knee was still hurting. It had kept him awake all night, which was responsible for him dozing off in the armchair when the pain dulled a little. Granger was supposed to show up after seeing Hagrid's little secret, to continue their discussion from the night before, and now Tisha decided to torment him with her presence.
"What do you want?"
"I was worried. They say there is a cruel monster living in the dungeons, ready to crush and tear apart. And it may eat small children as well."
She said it softly and he intented to respond with nothing more than another dark glare, intentionally badly suppressed snarl, and a threatening lip-curling, but in the end he asked, "Who says it?"
"The students. Well, they also say the monster is you, but I'm not foolish enough to believe that." She didn't smile until his hostile expression softened. To a degree.
"You have heard students telling frightening stories about me and you decided to come and see if they were true?"
"Oh, I've know them to be true for a long time now. I came to see if I could rescue some students. And dump something over your head. But you look like someone beat me to it, really, what's wrong, Severus?"
"It is merely a lack of small children in my diet. There are simply not enough first years to spare. That, and a residual curse in my knee turned active last night. It hurts," he clarified when he saw she still didn't understand.
"Isn't there some..."
"No. It's residual dark magic, so magic remedies don't work on it." She seemed to quietly contemplate something for a minute.
"What I meant last night was that Malfoy Manor is more than just a house," she said finally in a low, yet determined voice. "It's our family history. It's where we come from. I understand Draco would like to discard that. I wanted to cut all ties to the other Malfoys years ago. It doesn't work like that. I am who I am, a Malfoy by birth, and I have to accept that with all the history and all the bad things. Unless I want to lose everything I am. It's the same for Draco."
"I am fairly certain he would not pursue his plan should you ask him not to."
"I know." She rose to her feet and started pacing the room. "I know that, of course, but that's not all I want. I want him to understand. To learn all these things that make me want to remain a Malfoy."
"You want him to come to share your point of view."
"I suppose, yes."
"What if he chooses not to?" Snape leant forward in his armchair and fell back instantly with a hiss of pain.
"Are you sure there's nothing..."
"Absolutely sure." She sat down in the armchair.
"If this conversation is finally over..."
"There is a book in the manor - it should hold a full account of things to be repaired on the premises. It also offers advice on how to do it. I think I should be able to retrieve it." She tried to say it casually, but the tension in her voice was far too clear for that. She was also not looking at him, but rather at her hands, which were neatly folded in her lap, he noticed. "Do you think that you..."
"I have no wish to enter Malfoy Manor ever again," he replied hastily.
"That will not be necessary. I really need..."
"Ever. Again." He punctuated the words with prodding his index finger in the armchair side, which was completely lost on Tisha since the cushioned side muffled the sound.
"Will you let me finish the sentence just this once?" she cried out and finally turned to face him. "I intend to do what I can, with the help of ready-made charms that should still be in the kitchen, and hire professionals to do the rest. I merely need someone to go over the list and decipher it for me, so that I don't get ripped off. And I can bring the book from the manor."
"How do you intend to get there?"
"I'll take the Knight Bus. I've done it before," she said curtly.
"And you expect a full change of Draco's heart when you remove the damage done to the house? Really, do you?" Tisha hung her head. The question had its merit. Removing the visible remnants and replacing completely destroyed furniture could never remove a memory of things that had transpired in the house. She was well aware of that.
"It's the only thing I could think of. I have to do something."
"Again, you could ask Draco to leave it standing and move in there yourself." She lifted her eyes to meet his. There it was - deep, desperate longing of an intensity he understood, and yet he didn't understand what it was she longed for, what she hoped to achieve.
"Well, all the more reason for me to have it put in order," was all she said in the end.
"As you wish. I will look at the... list of repairs and see if I can offer some advice. But I draw the line there. I will not..."
"... enter the manor again. Ever again. I heard you, Severus." She rose to her feet and as she appeared to offer him some kind of assistance again, by the way she glanced at his leg, he made a point of summoning his long cold tea from the dining area to a small table within his reach. She frowned, as if it were insulting that he could look after himself, or perhaps she found his superlicious expression insulting, but a sharp knock on his door prevented him from having to deal with her any longer.
"That should be Miss Granger. Please show her in on your way out."
"What if it's someone else?"
"Put them in detention for me. For disturbing a professor from his much needed rest." He pretended to take a sip of the tea and waited until Tisha safely reached the door before casting Evanesco on the cup. The only thing worse than a cup of cold tea, he believed, was a cup of tea magically reheated. It wasn't worth the effort. The tea never tasted the same again.
"Oh, hi. I'm afraid you're in detention." The soft rustling was cut off by the door slamming. Snape waited until Neville stood in front of him.
"I was expecting Miss Granger."
"She went up to fetch the book. And some notes. I thought you wanted to see what Hagrid's breeding."
"Why does everyone think I feel compelled to participate in social events of this school?" Snape complained as he put away the cup and considered summoning the bottle of Firewhiskey. The younger man eyed his leg propped up on a stool briefly and decided not to make a comment about it.
"Such as breakfast?" Neville sat down on the rug. "It's just the school Thestrals. What pulled the carriages this year?" he asked curiously.
"Common horses."
"That sounds rather boring for the students." Another knock interrupted whatever he was about to say.
"If that is Miss Granger, let her in on your way out. If it is any other student, put them in detention for me," Snape instructed. Neville gave him a dirty look, but went to see to the door without any protests.
"And if that's the Headmistress?" he called after opening the door.
"It is not the Headmistress."
"You got me there. Can I borrow your copy of latest Intimidating Ingredients? There should be an article on Egyptian shrivelfigs." He rummaged through Snape's Triple P - personal press pile - to find the magazine in question.
"There is, but it is not very good."
"Really." Neville had located the magazine and was quickly scanning it. "The picture is accurate." He showed the page to Snape with a grin.
"It should have come with the terrible wailing sound as well. Miss Granger, have a seat. Stop pestering me." Hermione sat down on the very edge of the armchair and looked from one to another.
"As you wish, but if I find a new suspicious jar on your shelves when I'm back..."
"You wouldn't be able to tell a suspicious jar from a jar of grounded newt liver."
Hermione's eyes nearly fell out of her head.
"... and I would know, so a new jar and no Hermione, there will be reckoning." Neville gestured with a rolled newspaper in Snape's face.
"And leave my Daily Prophet behind!"
"I was just taking it hostage." But he dropped the papers back on the pile, winked at Hermione and showed himself out. A merry whistling sounded before the door softly closed behind him.
"Do I even want to know..."
"You do not," Snape said determinedly. "Where were we?"
Hermione unpacked a load of books on the small table. Snape frowned as he had to levitate the cup and teapot away. The books she brought, together with the books he had prepared, threatened to overflow the table.
"Extension Charm," the girl commented with a shy smile. "I stopped at the library to pick up some referential books. You do have a copy of Horrible Hexes, don't you?" She barely paused to acknowledge his nod. "I find the referential table on combining in that book very useful. It is basic combinations only, but still rather exhausting." Snape silently summoned the book and put it on the table. "I went over Cladibus' Course through Curses last night, very quickly, naturally." She presented the book, opened at a place she had found interesting. "Are you well? You look pale. Paler than usual."
"I am vastly overwhelmed with the unexpected number of visitors today." He rubbed his knee and realised he failed to put it down from the stool. Granger didn't seem to notice, or at the very least, she didn't say anything on the topic.
"Oh... should I come some other time?" Now it was obvious she had noticed. Her hand froze in the process of opening another book and her gaze fixed upon his hurting leg.
"There is no time like tomorrow." Snape paused briefly and continued, "Especially since tomorrow always seems to remain in the future. I am well enough to go through your extensive notes."
Draco wasn't sure why he had decided to stay behind after Hagrid's lecture for the practical part. Cleaning stalls was not his preferred pastime. Handling manure at all wasn't something Lord Malfoy would do, was it?
But here he was, in the back of the small group of volunteers. Hagrid had a few pitchforks and shovels ready and Professor Grubbly-Plank offered to teach older students a charm that would accomplish the same task if used correctly. Although she herself admitted it was easier to learn once they have tried it the Muggle way, and therefore she would be teaching it only after they have gained some experience.
It must have been that Hermione and Neville disappeared so quickly, Draco decided as he half-heartedly followed Hagrid's explaining of why and how. Hagrid announced they should create three smaller groups. Draco carefully eyed the other students. No-one was keen on being in the same group with him, and he ended up with two Gryffindor first-years.
"Hi, Patchwork," the boy with all too big eyes said. He didn't seem overjoyed either and handled his shovel rather clumsily. Draco grabbed a pitchfork and turned to the girl. She was holding another pitchfork like she had spent her life mucking out stables.
"I'm Draco, actually."
"Elizabeth," piped the girl. "Shouldn't we lead the Thestrals out of the stalls before we start, Professor?" she asked in a small, but clear voice.
"O' course! A point to Gryffindor!" Hagrid beamed at her and set to the task.
"I'm Robert. Have you ever done this before?"
"Not me," Draco conceded. He noticed the remaining two groups consisted of four students each, and no first-years. "How about you?" he asked Elizabeth.
"Daddy and I are running a farm," she said proudly. "Hold the pitchfork like this." She waited until he rearranged his fingers around the handle in a way she approved of. "And get ready to get a little dirty." Draco looked over at the stall's floor, then drew his wand and cast a charm he hoped to keep the dirt and the smell off of his clothes. The charm felt good - he could always say when he cast a charm incorrectly by how it felt - so he perfomed the same charm for his companions, too.
They were assigned a stall to clean. Hagrid and Grubbly-Plank were assisting the other groups and Elizabeth assumed the role of a teacher for theirs. She showed them where to start and how to handle their tools and gave them useful tips on how to work the most efficiently. Draco discovered, to his surprise, that he quite enjoyed the exercise. He concentrated on the repetitive movements of the pitchfork and found his mind cleared of everything - anything. His upper arms and shoulders started to complain, and he was sweating, but even that didn't slow him down.
When they were done with their stall, they moved on to another. Draco traded his pitchfork for a shovel. It took him a couple of tries to get into the routine again.
"Take a break," Elizabeth whispered to Robert, who appeared rather exhausted. "You look like you need it."
"What about," the boy had to take a breath, "Draco?"
"He's bigger," she shrugged. "He can work longer than us little ones." She chuckled, than looked down. "Don't you miss your Mum and Dad, Robert?" she asked in a quiet voice.
"Me? No, I'm a big boy, I can stay away from home for some time."
"I guess we girls need to be a little bigger for that," she said with a sigh.
"Yeh children run inter trouble?" Hagrid's voice boomed behind them. Robert jumped a little.
"No, just taking a break," Elizabeth answered for both of them.
"How's yer friend's cat doin', Lizzy?" he asked, eying Draco with a strange expression.
"Oh, she'll be all right in a couple of days. Thank you for the advice, Hagrid. Professor Hagrid," she corrected herself and blushed.
"There's no need fer formalities," Hagrid waved it away. "Here, have a cookie." He fished in one of his many pockets, pulled out two cookies and handed each of them one. Then he patted Robert on the back, nearly knocking him over, and returned to his group of volunteers.
"Don't eat it," Elizabeth whispered. "It's as hard as a rock."
"Oh." Robert turned the cookie over and inspected it, idly wondering whether it could be used in some potion.
"Ready to go on with the work?" She didn't wait for his answer and set to it.
Tisha approached Neville right after lunch and they went to call the bus before students left the castle to go to Hogsmeade. The ride was short. Her stomach was still a little queasy from passing the anti-Muggle wards around Hogwarts and the bus was already stopping at the front gate of Malfoy Manor.
"Wait... I would need you to pick me up here at five o'clock, please," she told the conductor, a thin youth with many pimples.
"You need to call the bus yourself, ma'am," he said. "These are the rules." He moved to close the door and Tisha quickly put a foot back on the steps.
"But I've done that before and it was never problem," she argued. "I can't call the bus, I'm a Squib." The pimpled youth looked at her with pity.
"We have the rules here, ma'am..."
"Please? Just this one time?" He looked back at the driver, who gave a tiny nod.
"Okay. Just this one time, ma'am, because you're so nice. We'll be back at five."
"Thank you." She smiled and stepped away. The bus was gone in an instant.
The front gate was locked, and as she had expected, didn't recognise her to let her through. She walked around the wall to a small entrance to the western garden. This was locked, too, but reaching under a certain loose brick in the wall still did the trick. The hinges creaked as the small gate opened. As Tisha walked into the garden, she felt the familiar tingling of the wards of her home and smiled.
The smile soon left her face. The path to the kitchen entrance led through her mother's beloved garden. It used to be a beautiful place in any part of year; magical and non-magical plants were combined in such a way that there was always something worth looking at, and even in the high of winter, there were evergreen bushes and trees to offer comfort. But now the garden was practically destroyed. Some plants needed daily watering and died long ago, some were fragile and needed regular weeding and were now dead and covered with a layer of dead leaves. The garden had always been in the care of Lady Malfoy, but it had been clearly neglected for a very long time.
Of course, Narcissa must have had different worries during the war, Tisha mused as she reached the fountain built by Armand. It was dry, except for a puddle of muddy water on the bottom. It must have rained recently.
The place was so depressive she wanted to sit down and cry. How could she ever thought she could restore it? There seemed to be too much to do, she wouldn't know where to start...
One brave Romanian Roaring Rose was peaking from a rug of ground ivy, with a solitary bud at the very top. Tisha touched it with a fingertip and the rose wailed - not quite a roar it was supposed to give, but it was clearly still alive.
Still fighting.
Tisha set out again and soon stood in the kitchen. It was in a terrible state, all drawers pulled out and kitchen tools haphazardly on the floor. There must have been a raid, Tisha realised, after the war was over. The Ministry wouldn't leave the manor alone, especially since Lucius may have been still alive and in hiding.
She quickly walked through the house, grateful she had visited it with Draco not so long ago. Most of the wards were set to recognise family members, and most of them had been altered to allow her move through the manor freely, even trigger some of the magic - the front gate opening being one of the exceptions. That was a joint effort by her parents. Lucius had somehow locked her out of the house, but never managed to get rid of the alterations, so when Draco allowed her back in, she could move about as well as during her childhood.
The door to her father's laboratory remained locked to her, as she had expected, but not so his study. She scanned the library and then started searching his desk. There it was, a small book in black leather. Or maybe blackened leather. It was as old as the manor itself and the very first entries were made by Armand and his wife. She used to love reading the book as a child. The book was spelled to answer to any Malfoy, to provide information or even advice to those who asked.
Tisha sat down at the desk and curiously opened the book. The few pages inside were filled with a list of issues to be tended to. A list created by the manor itself, not a human hand.
"There must be hundreds of entries here," she muttered. She tried turning pages backwards to get to any real entry, but there were too many things to be fixed. She looked deeper in the drawer, and sure enough, there was a special ink bottle with her name on it. Reaching older entries quickly required magic Tisha never possesed, but the ink from the charmed bottle could grant it anyway. She dipped a quill in the ink and wrote a date on the first page.
The day her brother sent her away.
At first nothing happened, and she thought the charm had died with her mother, but then the pages cleared themselves and different writings appeared. All mundane tasks, Tisha noticed, and not a single line from Lucius. At first all issues were handled swiftly, and sometimes a question appeared in Narcissa's elegant manuscript, to which the book answered. A strange stain on a carpet - a new kind of weed in the garden - a charm on this or that not working as it should - for years everything was in good order.
The book didn't have many pages, so Tisha had to write a new date several times before reaching the time of the Second Wizarding War. It was clear Narcissa no longer had enough time nor energy to provide the daily maintanance to the manor. The things not working remained not working and for a long time, no entry from Lady Malfoy broke the stream of complaints the house had. At last there was an entry in her manuscript, although not as elegant as usually.
"How do I remove the Dark Lord from the Manor?"
"Oh, look at this, Lord Malfoy mucking out stables." The voice was unpleasant and Draco wondered whether he had sounded the same way when he had been doing the same thing. "Couldn't find anything better to do? I suppose all the noble tasks have been claimed by the real nobility." He looked up and measured the girl and her suite with a cold indifferent stare. He recognised her - Astoria Greengrass, two years below him. It made her a sixth year, then. Her friends were all Slytherins. So very much like Pansy, he thought, as he returned to his work, not finding the group worthy of a reply. Except there were some young boys in Astoria's suite as well. There is probably no male leader in the Slytherin House now. That lifted his spirit.
"Didn't you hear me, Malfoy? Are you deaf as well as..."
"Wha's goin' on here?" Hagrid towered behind Astoria. She spun around and had to crane her neck to look at him. She even took a little step behind. It was still impossible for her to look down on him, no matter how hard she tried.
"I'm afraid all this manure attracted a swarm of dung flies, Professor," Draco said clearly before Astoria could say anything. He seemingly amicably patted her back. She turned to him and he mouthed "dung flies" again, in case she didn't understand what he meant the first time. She turned red, pressed her lips together, and marched her swarm of followers away, what little dirt and manure had stuck on Draco's hand sticking now to her robes.
"Tha' happens," Hagrid agreed. "The lunch is nearly over. The... three o' yeh should go and have some," he said kindly, although he never looked directly at Draco. He collected the tools from them and Draco realised, with a suprise, that there were only two more students still around, all the others having left to have lunch and get ready for the Hogsmeade visit already.
"You're a lord?" Robert asked as they headed back to the castle.
"It's a family thing," Draco agreed nonchalantly.
"Why were they so unfriendly?" Elizabeth asked with a frown. "Are they like the librarian?"
"Oh, no, they are not like that. See, I started the war on the wrong side - their families were still there when it finished." The two smaller children contemplated this the rest of their way back to the castle.
"How about washing your hands?" Elizabeth said when Draco and Robert headed to the Great Hall right away. Draco looked back. She stood with her small fists on her hips, an expression of a disappointed mother on her face. Clearly, the way Mrs. Weasley treated children in her care was some generic thing women shared, because here the little witch was doing the same, in the same way. He stopped Robert's protests before they even started by grabbing his shoulder.
"Right. We'll be back in five." The closest boy bathroom was in the dungeon, he knew, but there was one on the second floor as well, just next to the stairs, and he led Robert there.
Having climbed all the way to the tower and through the portrait, Robert and Elizabeth were suprised to find Ginny studying on the couch.
"Hi, Ginny," they chorused.
"Hi," she said, briefly glancing up.
"Didn't you want to go to Hogsmeade?" Robert asked curiously as he sat down next to her, peeking into the book she was reading.
"It's too crowded on Hogsmeade weekends," she replid absentmindedly, than realising she wasn't supposed to go there any other day, she added, "I've been there many times before. I have a Charms test Tuesday morning, so I thought I'd study a bit. You two up to something?"
"No!" they chorused again.
"Although we could go to the lake," said Elizabeth, turning to Robert. "You could take your book and I'll take some parchment and write to Daddy." Ginny tuned them out.
"Removing stains is as variable as stains themselves. More generic charms are less powerful than those made specifically for a certain surface and dirt type," she read in a low voice. She measured the lenght of the chapter in pages. "Huh. Who would have thought cleaning was such a science."
"How do I remove the Dark Lord from the Manor?" Tisha stared at the words for long minutes. They were at the very end of a page and she had to muster all her strenght to reach out and turn it.
"You do not have the power," was the reply from the book.
"He's going to kill my son! I can't allow him to stay here!"
"You do not have the power," the book repeated. "Seek help from more powerful friends." Tisha looked at the date. This was more than two years ago, summer 1996. For more than a year after that, there was nothing from Narcissa again, although time to time there was an entry put to "resolved", which was clearly her work, and then, in her typical manuscript once more:
"How does the rug in the long hall work? How does it protect us?"
"It leads your hearts to take the same path, thus granting you strenght to face dangers together."
"Will it save Draco?"
"That cannot be said."
"How can I use it to save my son?" Tisha could picture Narcissa writing the question. Frightened but determined. Not frantic anymore; not merely desperate, calm with desperation. Ready to do anything for her son - anything - that was really her greatest strenght. Tisha imagined Narcissa licking her lips nervously as she waited for the book to answer.
"By the blood and the power, it will give you the strenght you lack. But it may not be enough. Seek help from more powerful friends."
After this, all entries were maintenance issues generated by the house, and none of them resolved. A chill ran down Tisha's spine. Narcissa had known she had been going to die. She had known...
Without pursuing the thought, she collected the book and the ink bottle, straightened the chair behind the desk and walked back to the kitchen. The cleaning charms were not in the cabinet, but most of them survived the raid and she found the carpet cleaner quickly enough. From a corner of her eye, she caught a movement behind a row of shelves.
"Who's there?" No answer came, and nothing budged. "If there are rats in here..." she mumbled angrily. She grabbed the cleaner and noticed the bottle was almost empty.
The curse marks on the rug, she knew, couldn't be cleaned with a charm. There was a high chance they couldn't be cleaned at all. But she homed in on a circle of dirt she had noticed in the middle of the hall. She poured a little of the cleaner on the palm of her hand, knelt down and spread it on the rug, then repeated the administrations until the bottle was empty. Most of the dirt dissipated almost immediately, some rose from the rug in the form of snowflakes that fell upwards instead of down, and Tisha got up to open a window, so that they could fly outside.
She returned to the spot she had just cleaned. Sure enough, there it was. A drop of blood.
The rug needed more cleaning, and there may be more bottles of the cleaner in the kitchen, but a glance at her watch told her she didn't have enough time. She needed to be back at the front gate at five, or she would have hard time getting back to Hogwarts.
She closed the window, annoyed because she hadn't thought about opening it sooner. The place needed fresh air. She quickly returned to the kitchen and tried to take count of the cleaners there. Not nearly enough, she thought, but it would be sufficient for a few more visits, and she could sort out the kitchen then to get a better overview.
She reached the front gate at half past four. She sat down and opened the book again. Sure enough, it read now, "Cleaning of the rug in the long hall insufficient!" on the last page. She thought about writing back something insulting, but decided against it. There were clouds gathering, threatening to rain, and as soon as she put the book away, first drops fell. She huddled in her cloak.
The bus appeared on time and both the conductor and the driver looked relieved to find her already waiting for them. She paid for the ticket and tipped the conductor with a little wink, and the boy blushed.
Neville waited for her at the gate and helped her find her way through the Muggle-repelling spells. They descended in the dungeon together and Neville showed her in. First thing they heard, of course, was Snape's angry voice.
"I do not care what you believe you may achieve, Miss Granger. You are talking about a very dark ritual, the dangers of which you cannot fully comprehend!" He was still sitting in the armchair, his back to the door, as he had in the morning, and Hermione was towering over him, not even glancing to the door, eventhough Neville made no effort to close it very quietly.
"I don't think I deserve to be called stupid at this point!" Hermione answered heatedly.
"You do, if you think about delving into Dark Arts just like that. We are not talking about taming redcapes or perhaps befriending half-dark fiends from the Forbidden Forest."
"Oh, please!"
"This is Dark Arts, and Dark Arts come with a price. And you can believe me, Miss Granger, that I do know what I am talkng about when I say the price is at any rate too high."
"I suppose you also have a reason to believe it's dark, since it's nothing more than a reconnaissance spell?"
"Any spell or ritual that requires spilling of blood, Miss Granger, either that of the spellcaster or that of anybody else, is to be considered dark. You will do well to remember that. Aren't you going to at least close the door?" he snapped over his shoulder.
"I did," Neville said in his best I-have-not-heard-an-argument-here voice. "You must have missed it. Drop it, Hermione." The young witch scoffed, but didn't continue the argument.
"What do you suggest we do, then?" she asked Snape.
"I will show you the place, if you insist. Tomorrow. The shadow is mostly active during night, and it is no good to risk any more than strictly necessary. After breakfast is fine. Good night," he dismissed her. "And what do you want?"
"Ah, you must feel really sociable today," Neville commented. "Here's your magazine. You were right, the article is rubbish." He put the magazine back on the pile. "Don't worry, I'll be back." He motioned for Hermione to go with him, and she did so without vocal protestations. She did throw a dark glare at the Potions Masters, though.
"That leaves me to deal with you."
"I just brought the book." Tisha placed it on the table next to Snape's hand.
"I shall have a look at it after dinner."
"Can you just open it now? To see if it's working for you?" He looked up with bleary eyes, but complied.
"Oh, great, it's blank." Tisha took the book and turned pages back and forth. She could see the letters.
"And now?" she handed the book to him.
"Cleaning of the rug in the long hall insufficient? What did you do?" Snape snapped the book closed and put it at the table, eyeing Tisha with deep suspicion.
"Just poured carpet cleaner on it. There wasn't enough of it for the whole rug, though."
"Did it work?"
"It did, for regular dirt. How's your leg?" She sat in the armchair and watched him. Snape resisted the urge to squirm under her scrutiny.
"Still attached to my body, thank you for asking."
"I can see that, Severus. You look tired."
"Why would that be, what do you think?" He tapped his nose with a long thin finger.
"It certainly isn't the result of running, that much I can tell. Did you even have lunch?"
"I do not need you looking after my daily routine," he rebuked angrily.
"You do, if you think about skipping meals like that." He pretended he didn't notice how well she imitated his intonation. Instead he picked up the book again.
"Oh, blank pages." He handed the book to Tisha and she closed it and put it away in her robes, in spite of his expectant expression.
"You may be ready to go on through the night, but I am not," she said softly. "This could wait a few more days. I should probably go over it myself and copy out only the entries I can't deal with on my own." She cleared her throat uncertainly.
"You can just show yourself out, then," Snape growled. She stood up, but headed in the bathroom instead. "Of course you can use my bathroom, it is at your disposal for asking," Snape shouted as the door closed. Tisha came back after a few minutes, bringing a towel and a small basin.
"I thought a little poultice might help with the pain. The cause is a curse, but the swelling isn't, is it?" Snape looked down and realised with surprise and embarassment his robes had rucked up, revealing his knee for everyone to see. Granger hadn't mentioned it, although she must have noticed.
Before he could cover his leg, Tisha took hold of it, wrapping the knee in something wet. Snape could swear under Veritaserum that he had never seen that particular cloth before and that it had not been located in his bathroom, in spite of the fact that it simply had to be.
Of course, Snape could swear under Veritaserum that he had been sorted into Hufflepuff, if he only concentrated enough.
Tisha busied herself wrapping the towel over the wet cloth, oblivious to Snape's murderous looks. She all but tucked him in; and it would be amusing to watch her trying that, Snape mused, his mood slighty lifting as he pictured it: the Squib pulling his robes up to his chin, then screaming in horror as she realised she uncovered him instead of covered.
"What's so funny?" she asked when she finally looked up. He scowled.
"Nothing. Why would anything be funny today?" He put his leg down and hastily covered it. Whatever Tisha put in the poultice was very effective. He could feel the pain subsiding already.
"I'll leave you to..." Another knock on the door and Snape was ready to hex whoever was it this time. But the door fell open before he could do anything, and Neville pushed a clearly agitated Granger back in.
"The shadow. In the corridor leading to the kitchens."
"We banished it," Granger interrupted when she saw Snape whisking out his wand. "Professor McGonagall's charm worked, well, like a charm."
"Just thought you should know," Neville added. Whatever argument the two Gryffindors had been having, Granger lost. Which was why she was so angry now.
"Very well. Was anyone else there? Students, perhaps?" They both shook their heads.
"The house elves may have noticed something," Granger realised. "We should..."
"We should go and check on them, what an excellent idea," Snape agreed and strode to the door. "I will go with you. Neville, accompany Professor Malfoy to her rooms." Snape noticed with pleasure that Granger's eyes again attempted to fall out of her head. He should keep track of such accomplishments.