Knock, knock, let the Devil in,

Malevolent as I've ever been

Head is spinning, this medicine is

Screaming L-L-LET US IN!

Eminem - Venom

The castle had been bristling for hours in rapt anticipation for the imminent arrival of the expected travelers. It felt the return of its saviors of old intertwined with the excitement of the new, including the seething power of uncontrolled, raw magic emanating from the party of the faerie. Fawkes chuckled, shaking his head from side to side as he looked from the highest spire across the sprawling Forbidden Forest. Seagulls swirled on the thermals above and below him, screeching loudly as the bubbling waters of the Black Lake threw up schools of hungry fish chased to the surface by the equally anxious Giant Squid, who sensed the castles jittering as much as any other magical creature who had made its home in the grounds. The forest hummed with hope, and Fawkes could clearly see the tangled mess of magic weaving feverishly through the foliage. He cawed loudly and preened before stretching his great wings and silently sweeping from the spire, gliding effortlessly through the air towards the oncoming onslaught of strength, purity and magic. As the castle braced itself around him, Fawkes trilled a lamentation to the sky and earth, soothing the castle's very essence.

Calm yourself, Great One, you cannot possibly foresee the future of whether your plans will come to fruition, Fawkes sent his thoughts to the castle, who simply scoffed and shimmered in response. It had been waiting a long time for the lingering dark to be removed completely, and now it saw, screaming towards it in a glistening silver sports car, one part of the solution to its problems. To the west, sailing across the lake, three friends who had been so instrumental in its rebuilding and protection, gave the castle and Fawkes the same level of excitement. It had been a while since all three of the Golden Trio had stayed for longer than a few hours within its walls, and the presence of their magic had offset the delicate balance of the wards.

The castle sent a final, more subtle, message to Severus Snape than it's usual insistent surge that begged to be recognised, although it could see he was...otherwise engaged…

_o0o_

"Remus, I said no and I mean it!"

Severus's cloaks billowed menacingly as he paced in front of his enormous stone fireplace, his shadow erratically bouncing from wall to wall, all whilst shooting evil eyes at Remus who was comfortably reclining in Severus's favourite armchair. Bloody cheek of the man! Swanning into his dungeons, his Shangri-La, and proposing such ridiculous nonsense. Looking so BLOODY calm whilst doing so!

Severus growled and paced harder, his hands steepled in front of him as his heart thumped an increasing tattoo against his ribcage. It wasn't like he had not previously...though extremely briefly...contemplated certain things. The allure of the Marauder's had always been something he felt he truly abhorred, and yet their camaraderie, their familial warmth to one another, had always intrigued him, coming from the background he had been molded by. Slytherin House did not excel in producing life-long friends. He had been lucky with Lucius, but he had Narcissa to thank, as well as the birth of his son, for Lucius's ability to think of more than just the size of his wallet...and then the war had made him even more emotionally open to the idea of kinship and loyalty to one's own, although the old mercurial Lucius was still never far from the surface, which kept Severus on his toes in terms of the depth of information he chose to share with his oldest "friend". This could not be really happening?

"Look, Severus, we were dead, that's something you cannot deny is a shared experience. So why would it be completely unreasonable to pursue other shared experiences together?"

"Because you and that mongrel are...well…"

Severus swept a hand through his hair. He was trying to fight against his instincts, first and foremost the wish to knock the grinning lycanthrope out and drag his sodden carcass from his private chambers. Maybe he could dump him in the lake, the giant squid was particularly close to the surface for some reason today.

"Look, Sev, it's just an idea. Me and Siri know you can be a stubborn boring old sod at the best of times, but you have to agree, given our mutual circumstances…"

"I don't see what our 'mutual circumstances' as you so diplomatically put it constitute us doing...whatever it is you are suggesting we are doing! Have you both completely lost your minds?"

Sirius, who had been perched on the arm of Remus's chair and, up until this point, had been in a world of his own, rejoined the conversation. When he and Remus had finally settled into the routines of being alive again, they had found comfort and solace in one another, more so than ever before. Sirius, always the consummate playboy, had of course had a number of trysts upon discovering his assets and their returned desirable status. In fact, his first night breathing the fresh air of a new world he thought he was lost to had involved a memorable liaison with Madame Rosmerta, a childhood fantasy brought to life in the most exquisite of ways. As he lay in her flat above The Three Broomsticks, however, he had begun to feel unsated. Something was missing and he could not put his finger on what. He continued to, as Remus put it, whore himself around Hogsmeade, even travelling around the North of Scotland for a while to revel in his newly reinstated life and be one with the rough Highland nature before being tied into Hogwarts for the year. It had been an amazing experience, but he felt the pull to home grow stronger with each passing day. Eventually he returned to the castle, the itch he couldn't quite scratch grating at his subconscious. It was only when Remus returned to the castle, following the summer of catching up with a now much older Teddy than he left behind, that Sirius felt a sense of calm.

Dying does a lot to a person in terms of perspectives. The bonds held whilst plodding through our existence can stand the course, even into Death, but the experience of coming back from death sharpens the mindset, gives purpose and priorities a whole new realm of insight, and builds determination to achieve. Or at least so Remus said. Remus said many insightful things over the years, most of which Sirius regretted to have forgotten. As they spent more time together rebuilding the fraternal bond they had shared, Sirius became acutely aware of the attractive man he now cohabited, and co-parented, with. Sirius had never been shy to admit he was a man who longed for pleasure, for touch and sensation that can only be derived from another human's embrace. He didn't really mind which gender that human happened to inhabit (or, in some cases on more wild nights in his youth, whether it was indeed a "human" at all).

Remus, on the other hand, had never really exhibited the same 'sexual pureblood arrogance' he attributed to his oldest surviving friend. Although he would never admit to being enticed by the same sex, he felt he had a path, and his lycanthropy was enough for him to deal with let alone any romance of any kind. And then came Tonks. She had breathed a fresh perspective into his heart, giving him the hope that perhaps he could have it all, for it all to be viciously snatched from his grasp by a group of maniacs following a snake faced despot. After being taught it was possible, Remus felt braver, more assured of himself and what he wanted. And he had known from the age of 11 what he truly, deeply wanted. The wolf in him had wanted to make his pack mate more for so long, Remus almost forgot the true motivation behind the desire. But now, after going to the grave and back again, he was taking no chances. He wanted what he wanted, and had wasted his first chance at life fearing it, running away from what he truly was and what he truly wanted. No longer. He may not have the arrogance and prowess...or experience...of Sirius, but he knew that mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

It had been just after a full moon run around the Forbidden Forest, hunting with Sirius, a week into their settling period at Hogwarts, when he took claim of what he wanted. Sirius, demure as ever, was changing into clean clothes kindly left for them in the Shrieking Shack, his broad muscular back turned to Remus giving a full view of the scars, the tattoos, the memories etched on his skin of that dreadful place. Remus also noted a few tattoos that were definitely NOT from the wizarding prison, and as his eyes trailed downwards, he heard Sirius let out a low seductive chuckle.

"Alright there Moony, like what you see?"

Remus was, for a moment, taken aback, and then, with a wolfish grin, he responded.

"Maybe, what are you going to do if I say I am?"

Sirius stiffened and stopped in his movements, as if he had forgotten how to dress. This was not what he had expected as a response at all, and Remus bellowed a laugh at his friends reaction.

From that moment on, Remus and Sirius had entered into the relationship in which they were, now, attempting to tempt a greasy, irritable git into joining. Yes, they loved one another wholly, however that did not mean there was more to the relationship than themselves and, after a very drunken night where Harry and Ginny had volunteered to babysit their godson to give the two men a "well deserved break before Hogwarts", it became clear that Remus in particular was oddly drawn, both wolf and man, to the dower professor who they had befriended...even if this friendship was in part mainly against said professors wishes.

The triangle forming between Sirius, Remus and Severus was progressing into a steady friendship, however both Sirius and Remus felt the pull of something more, and both knew deep down Severus was feeling that self fame pull to them, though he would continually deny such a thing. This had lead to "poker night", a combination of bonding and a means for Remus and Sirius to slowly chip away at Severus's hard exterior to get to the point they now had reached.

Little did they know the changing tides readying to engulf them...

_o0o_

Narcissa could recall with minimal effort the amount of time she had spent in her life being pushed around. First, it was by an overbearing father, weak-willed mother and weighted legacy that seemed to land squarely on her shoulders owing to one sister running away to live her dream and the other being…well…a demented psychopath. Now, here she found herself, imprisoned in a magical cell awaiting gods know what. Like she hadn't been through enough in her life to warrant the remaining years to be peaceful. Did she not deserve her moment?

In recent years, Narcissa had learned a lot from her time around muggleborn friends of Draco and Kingsley's, which in turn allowed her to finally break through the prejudice chains that had ensnared her for so long and enjoy her curiosities. She had developed a stronger relationship, too, with her distant 'poor relations' through their instant and unyielding loyalty to her son. She had always known Molly to be a fierce and competent which, scary almost, and her killing of her own cousin had made her even more of a behemoth in Narcissa's mind - as she had said to Molly before being pulled into the warmest hug she had ever had in her life "Someone needed to kill that bitch eventually" - and they had become thick as thieves. It was Molly who had encouraged Narcissa to listen to Muggle music, or more specifically muggle musicals courtesy of Hermione. It was also Molly who took a previously domestically inept Narcissa, skeptical of the worth of her learning domesticity, and had transformed her into a goddess of the home. Combined with her already well honed skills of organisation, Narcissa became a driving force behind many a family dinner, working and learning from Molly. She had never experienced a world such as the Weasley home, and she recalled with fondness how it had all come to pass...

The Burrow - Four Years Ago

Molly had not been quiet upon receiving the letter from her estranged cousin thanking her for "degrading her house" with the "shame of their association". Molly had been furious, ranting at any unfortunate Weasley in her path as to how her cousin could think so negatively of herself, how after all these years of course she would care for a child in need without question. When George dared say how Narcissa had acted towards the Weasley whilst married to Lucius, Molly had smacked him with the closest teatowel, exonerating her cousins previous behaviour as the result of a "cruel and vicious circle" that she had no means of escaping. Now was the time to offer the gentle hand, not to turn away family.

By this point, Draco had settled well into the home, and his being present even seemed to rouse George from his depression after Fred's death. Molly and the family had not known how they would have coped, and initially the new addition to the home had been far from smooth sailing. It had been following a particularly ferocious argument between George and Draco, who seemed to be the only one capable of getting an emotional reaction from George, when a jinx had been thrown, knocking George to the ground, that had suddenly broken the dam. George had burst into tears and Draco, who was only beginning to get used to physical affection, patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. As a response, George pulled Draco into a bearhug, wailing about how he missed Fred, how he was sorry for blaming Malfoy when he knew Draco had nothing to do with his death, and how Draco might not be all that bad because "somewhere in there is a hidden Weasley ready to come out!".

Molly, seeing the improvement to Draco's temperament, was more than insistent in the responding riposte that Narcissa should come to the home for a "chat", maybe "stay for some tea" and they could extend the House Arrest parameters (with a few strings pulled at the ministry) as, of course, they were family and, more importantly, what brave man would argue with Molly Weasley? And so it came to pass that, one winter's morning, cuffed at the hands and feet not dissimilar to her son, ragged and bedraggled, a far cry from her once decadent and striking beauty, stood Narcissa, a Ministry and Auror guard on hand to escort her to tea. Molly quickly vanished the two with reassurances of her being perfectly capable, having raised Fred and George Weasley, of dealing with Narcissa Malfoy. Once she was ushered into the house and plonked on a soft sofa her chains were dispelled by Molly and they both began "the conversation", which ended with Narcissa, for the first time since the war, breaking into a pool of tears as Molly told her what she truly thought. With her head in Molly's lap like an innocent child, she wept and wept as Molly stroked her hair and held her hand, encouraging her.

"I do know what it was like, you know. The expectations placed upon a pureblood aristocrat. Of course, my mother ran away from all that rot to be with my father, but she still told me stories. The carrying of a stack of spelled books on your head to erect your posture, the intricate corset to make you thin, the lessons in etiquette so you can be the perfect little wife, able to hold court with a room of wayward wives and plan a party whilst pleasuring your husband's every desire, bearing children and being unable to show them the emotional warmth a mother should their child. I know it all. I don't blame you Narcissa, you were the last one to be manipulated by your horrible parents. You were married to a man even more manipulative, with bigger ambition and prejudice than your mother and father combined, from a long line of bigots. You didn't have a chance, girl. But you do now. It's your time now. So you cry it out, there's a girl, and when you're done let's find out who Narcissa Black really is, hmm?"

From them on, Molly and Cissa became the best of friends, something that Molly found a blessing considering her years of raising children in a strongly male environment. She taught Narcissa all she knew, and in turn Narcissa discovered she was a dab hand at intricate pastries and cakes. She loved it so much that, with a lot of persuasion on her part as she knew too well that Molly was also a force to be reckoned with in the kitchen, she won Molly over with the idea of a little cake stand at the Ottery St Catchpole Solstice Fayre. This lead to Molly insisting that she take Narcissa's charge, too, and transferring her to the Weasley home from the drafty ruins of Malfoy manor ("do you good to dust away the last of those ghosts"). The success lead to Narcissa reappropriating the money left after paying reparations in the Malfoy vaults, removed her sizable dowry and depositing it for Draco (and by this time Ron's) future, and then taking what she felt she was owed from her years of marriage to an unforgivable tyrant, and she started "Fred's Fancies", a small bakery in the heart of the village. Here she enjoyed for once being master of her own fate, working every day with Molly joining her sporadically throughout the week. Narcissa thrived and grew, not just in confidence in her new life but also she developed, or as Arthur had jokingly put it (which had earned a smack from his wife) "Prewetted", around the hips, gaining a weight she found comfortable and easy to maintain as opposed to the strict regime she had been forced into the maintain her slender figure. She enjoyed her new curves immensely, as did her most regular customer, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Being a muggle village, he was often visiting to "give himself some Ministry free time" or "just to see how everything was going".

Narcissa had now found a place in her life wherein she not only belonged, or was obligated to remain in, but in which she thrived and where she loved to be. Draco even commented on the positive change, and how his mother had been well and truly Weasley'ed!

Present Day

Narcissa slunk to the ground, her head in her hands, replaying the happy events of the most recent years in her mind to keep herself sane. She knew she had a propensity for madness, every Black had "the streak" running through them, and she was no exception. Years with Lucius had trained her to evolve and adapt the latent Black power, but in the situation she now found herself in, she could feel the tinges of insanity licking at the corners of her subconscious, cajoling her. She knew that was why she was here, and what they wanted from her. But she would not give in. Ironically, their having captured her in plain sight, allowing her to see all those whom she loved without them being able to see her, had been a blessing to her sanity. Whatever these faeries were up to she couldn't be too sure, but she was sure of one thing. Something she would bet the life of her son on. Somehow, in some twisted way not unusual considering his character, Lucius had aligned himself to the wrong side. Again. And this time, when her wand would be pointing at his head, she would blow that blonde bastard into the afterlife for the Devil to deal with.