A/N- Erm... Hi? I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to leave everyone hanging
this long, but I had to wipe my hard drive, and then I couldn't get Word,
and I've gotten stuck... I know, it's a whole bunch of excuses, but I'm
really sorry I haven't updated in three and a half months. But here is the
long-awaited Christmas chapter. Yes, Christmas has come to my Hogwarts.
This chapter does jump back and forth in time a little bit, so I'll lay out
some basics here. Sev's section starts on Boxing Day, with a recap of his
gifts. Harry's section starts on Christmas morning. Draco's part also
starts on Boxing Day. I believe I've alluded to some surprises in this
chapter, so on with the fic!
Chapter 25
In which there is Christmas
Severus found himself enjoying Christmas for a change. The entire Dream Team had sent him gifts, even young Mr. Weasley. Of course, each package had been labelled with the sender's pseudonym save Draco's, and the one reading "Flame" had consisted entirely of Wizard Wheezes. The Potions Master had taken the precaution of reading each tag carefully and then consulting with the Weasley twins—his best students after Draco, though he'd never admit it to anyone—to confirm what he had. Who knew where the tricks would come in handy?
Granger had actually found an ancient volume on potions that was not to be found in either the school's vast library or his own considerable personal collection. A glance inside had shown pre-Egyptian hieroglyphs and a note saying that Granger would be happy to help translate if he wished the assistance.
Miss Weasley had sent a tin of his favourite biscuits, having probably pried the information from his godson. Potter had sent a Muggle novel and film, both titled The Wizard of Oz, with a note awkwardly comparing him to the Cowardly Lion, but with no offence intended. Severus understood what the boy meant, and cursed the Dursleys again, wherever they were. Two months had passed since the attack on Azkaban, and they were still missing.
Brown had purchased a set of deep green robes with subtle silver trim in honour of his House and his loyalty to the school, while Draco had found two recent books by his favourite Muggle author, Terry Pratchett. He wasn't about to give any information about Wen's gift, though. That was private.
Boxing Day found the Slytherin Head in his lab again, brewing calming draughts and Dreamless Sleep for Pomfrey, who had used most of her stash on Minerva over the past day. Albus had also requested that he whip up a pregnancy test, for some odd reason. Knowing the Dark Lord's obsession with his colleague, however, Severus had the bad feeling that the draught was intended for her.
The lean professor had just started to read the Wizard of Oz when someone knocked on his door. He carefully marked his place with a length of emerald ribbon before opening the oaken portal.
"Minerva? Poppy let you out of the infirmary?" The woman was a shadow of her former self, cringing were she stood. Her eyes were reddened and the lids puffy, a sure sign of recent weeping. Every alarm in Severus' head began to go off. "How are you?"
"Oh, gods, Severus," Minerva gasped before breaking into fresh tears. A bit disturbed by the rare phenomenon of the usually unflappable Deputy Headmistress in such a state, the tall wizard guided her to an armchair and began tentative attempts at soothing her.
"What's wrong, Minerva?" he asked as the tears dried. He didn't mention that he'd never seen he like this before. After all, she'd only just been released from being the captive of a deranged and obsessed Dark Lord for two months.
"I—I'm pregnant, and it has to be his," she sobbed. The venom in the pronoun left no doubt as to who she meant, and Severus saw red. How dare he? Now it's personal. No one hurts Hogwarts staff and gets away with it. The Potions Master felt a great debt to those who had given him a home and a purpose knowing what he had done, what he had been.
"It's yours, too, Minerva. There is no more likelihood for the babe to be evil than for anyone else." If anyone knew that, he did. Salazar and Jezebel Snape had raised him to be a Dark Wizard, yet he served the Light. "More often, the determining factor is in how the child is raised. You will bring up the babe with kindness and love; I know you at least that well. He—Tom—would teach only cruelty and hate."
The dark-haired witch sniffled loudly, and Severus offered his handkerchief. Minerva mopped her face and then gave him a doubtful look.
"But I don't know how to be a mother," she murmured. The lean wizard shook his head in amazement.
"How many years have you been Head of Gryffindor? We're already surrogate parents for our students. Besides, you have Molly Weasley to help."
"But, Severus..." The whinging tone made him wince, and he threw up his hands in frustration.
"Half of it is pure instinct, Molly tells me. Augh, just let me call some backup, Kit." Turning to the cheerful blaze in his grate, he reached for a pinch of Floo Powder from the jade pot on the mantle and tossed it inside. "Weasley quarters, Hogwarts," he muttered as he crouched and thrust his head into the flames.
The room he peered into—a kitchen, of course—was haphazard but homey. Two pots scrubbed themselves in the sink, and an assortment of baking components stood in line on the counter.
"Molly! Molly, it's Severus! I need some help!" He could hear his voice echo a bit in the suite of rooms.
"Coming, dear!" the plump little witch called from another chamber. Seconds later, she popped in through the leftmost door, a look of distracted worry on her features. "What do you need, dear?"
"Minerva's here, in my quarters, distraught due to— *ahem*— a particularly female condition. I believe you are, shall we say, far better qualified to have these discussions with her." Thank the gods I don't blush easily with my skin. Molly, bless her, nodded sagaciously.
"I'll be right there. Don't let her go anywhere; I've been looking her for the past hour."
"Yes. Hurry, please." He hated having to use that tone of voice, but he needed Molly's aid now.
"I'm only a hop, skip, and a jump away, dear. Three minutes, tops." With that, the short woman disappeared through the same door. The Potions Master sighed before drawing himself back into his own rooms.
"Severus..." Minerva spoke his name with a sob. It tore him to shreds to see the steady Transfiguration professor in such a state.
"Ssh, Kit, one step at a time. You'll get through this with your head held high, and undoubtedly a wonderful child of your own." His little speech was rewarded with a hiccoughing sob. He had just buried his face in his hands when Molly rapped on the door.
"Thank the gods you're here," he hissed as he let the older witch in. "I can't do a thing with her!" The redhead responded with a wry grin and a shrug before crouching by Minerva's armchair.
"Hey now, let's dry up those tears. Have a little faith in yourself, and everything will turn out all right. You'll be a wonderful mother. Would you like to help me bake some cookies? I was just going to find you to ask, and it's just what you need." An arm about the other witch's shoulders, Molly deftly led her from Severus' quarters.
"Gods," Severus sighed as he collapsed in the chair he'd vacated earlier. Molly always made him think of his image of Wen in twenty or thirty years, and it made his head spin from time to time.
Wen, he thought. I haven't spent time with her, just the two of us, in so long. He really liked the present she had given him, but actually being with her would be leagues better. Albus does owe me a great deal of holiday time, come to think of it. I wonder if Wen would like a week or two in Greece.
The though was parent to the act, and Albus' leave was quickly obtained. A quick fire-call to the other Slytherin was similarly successful.
"Greece? And no tourists? Give me half an hour to pack and get Rebecca to mind the store, and I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron." Rebecca Santari was Wen's savvy Ravenclaw partner and the brainchild behind many of their clothing store's unique Muggle-magical products.
Severus' trunk was quickly packed, and he jotted a quick note to Draco before Flooing to the London tavern.
"Sev!" The ecstatic cry was immediately followed by Wen flinging her arms around him. She pecked him on the cheek and leaned back to look at him through her eyelashes. "So where is this little spot of yours?"
"Now is that any way to greet your boyfriend?" he scolded playfully. He only got a moment of warning when her steely blue eyes hardened, and then the mousy-haired witch ensnared him with a soul-stealing kiss.
"That better, love?" Wen asked as she pulled away. He barely noticed the wolf-whistles as he nodded, dazed. Circe, but I love her.
"It's a little island in the Aegean. No one but us and the wild animals," he murmured, just low enough for her to hear.
"Sounds wonderful." The smoky tone of her voice made his chest—and other sections of his anatomy—grow tight. It was going to be a fantastic holiday.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry woke Christmas morning to Draco jumping on him, Ron flashing a grin like that cat who'd been in the cream. There was a veritable mountain of presents weighing down his feet.
"All right, all right, Flame, you got your revenge." Harry sighed and picked up a knobbly lump from the top of his pile. "Dobby. Wonder what he's knit for me this year." Inside was a stocking cap—hand-knit, of course—in red and violet stripes. ~It figures he'd find out about that.~
Thus begun, the wrapping paper flew thick and fast. Hermione had made knitted versions of their Animagus forms, and the twins had packed up a variety of their products, which were doing a brisk business in the common room during term. Ron and Lavender had both opted for the old standby: Chocolate Frogs. Sirius stopped by the common room before lunch, while the group was lounging around in front of the fire, to present him with a professional dueller's wand holster that could be strapped to either forearm or thigh. Remus took a moment during lunch to give him an expensive cloak that was charmed to keep him dry and comfortable in any weather. Draco, ingeniously, had found a CD player and an assortment of CDs somewhere and charmed them to work on magic instead of batteries.
Ginny's gift, however, was the most personal to the young wizard. Her small silver-wrapped box held in its velvet lining a tiny crystal lily strung on a fine silver chain. Unashamed by the femininity of the necklace, Harry had promptly fastened it about his neck, feeling protective magic drape about him as the charm settled just below his collarbones.
However, he was still worried about Professor McGonagall. He knew what had been done to her, despite all attempts to block it from his memory. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep all holiday. Even after last night's battle, when he should have been too exhausted for dreams, he had been plagued by memories of Voldemort's atrocities. His mind made up, the green- eyed teen headed for the Hospital Wing in mid-afternoon.
"She's asleep, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said when he entered the ward. "I've given her Dreamless Sleep, so you had better not wake her. The gods know she needs the rest." Harry agreed, of course. If only the potion could keep away his Voldemort-induced visions.
Seating himself in the stiff chair by McGonagall's bed, Harry began to speak quietly to his professor. "I wish I could have spared you the past two months. I've been on pins and needles since Halloween, and it was pure agony when you'd told me where you were and I couldn't go yet. Dumbledore made sure we were prepared before the assault, though. He taught us to shield wandlessly, and he taught Draco and I more about our ancestors' weapons." He realized he was babbling, but he didn't really care.
"You're going to have a beautiful little girl, you know. Sweet as can be. She'll never hurt a fly. Tom will want to brainwash her, but we'll protect you both. I'll teach her about Parseltongue so she won't be afraid of her own abilities." He had no idea where this knowledge came from, just that it was truth. He made a mental note to tell his teacher again later, when she was awake. Silent now, he leaned forward, just watching the slender witch. Molly Weasley found him in that position.
"Oh, Harry." The boy leaned back as he felt the warm arms wrap around him. A solid, hot weight fell into his lap, and he opened his eyes to look into a pair the same hue, belonging to a black kitten enveloped in a red Weasley jumper. "Happy Christmas, dear," Mrs. Weasley whispered. Harry had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.
"Thanks, Mum. I don't have anything for you, though." He had gotten used to calling the witch "Mum" or "Mum Weasley," and she would be his mother-in- law one day.
"You don't have to, dear. Just take good care of him. He's half Kneazle." The kitten's tail did seem considerably bushier at the tip. At least his face wasn't squashed like Crookshanks'. "Go find your friends and start a snowball fight. Not a soul has touched what fell last night. I'll watch over Minerva."
Smiling, Harry scooped up both kitten and jumper and reluctantly left the infirmary. He didn't start a snow war, though. The dark-haired teen retreated to the common room, where he found Draco and Lav cuddling on one of the couches.
"No twins in here, are there?" he asked, peering around the room. Both of his friends replied in the negative, and Draco fixed him with a mild glare.
"They're in the Weasley quarters with Ron and 'Mione, which you'd know if you'd bothered to ask them yourself." Harry shrugged and put the kitten in an armchair before stepping back and transforming into Prowler.
Aha! A small voice squeaked at him. I thought you smelled an awful lot like a cat, but not at all like a Kneazle. Prowler blinked and then moved closer to the armchair. The kitten looked up at him in wonder. Oh my, it chirped. You're a large version of me, almost.
Or you're a tiny me, the panther grumbled back. Was this how Hermione felt when she spoke to SkyStrike? What is your name, kitling?
My mum called me Annoyance, but the other kitlings call me Hunter. Hunter cocked his head to one side. Why?
How am I to know what to call you otherwise? I am called Prowler or Harry, your choice. His nose twitched. You, kitling, are in desperate need of a bath.
What? No! Not a bath! Hunter tried to scramble away, but got a mite tangled in the jumper, and a large black paw on his back end trapped him. Harry quickly began to use his rough tongue efficiently, and the size differential made the task into a moment's work. Prowler soon became the human Harry again.
"See? That wasn't so bad. It's not as though I'm going to dunk you in a bucket of water, Hunter." The black kitten grumbled.
Lav eyed him strangely. "Who gave you the mascot?" Draco had fixed him with a similar look.
"Hunter?" Harry asked, lifting the kitten. "Mum Weasley. And no, she doesn't know about our extracurriculars. It's really very odd."
"Mum can be that way from time to time," a new voice commented form the portrait hole. Harry looked up to see Ginny climb through. "For example, she always knows when company's on the way. She warned me that morning before first year that a guest was almost in, but I didn't listen. I'm not making that mistake again." Ginny smiled wryly. "I'm afraid I didn't make a terribly good first impression."
"You'd already made a good impression on me, dear," Harry murmured as she settled into the armchair with him, careful not to squish Hunter. "You were nice to me without realizing I was famous." Ginny flushed.
"Only you. You're the only person I know who doesn't want fame in even the tiniest way." She snuggled close, whispering. "I know what you do want, though."
"People to love me for who I am, and not for what my mother's love has done." The important things said, the next few hours were spent in cuddles, sweet nothings, and tender kisses.
Christmas dinner was more festive than anything Harry had ever known. The Weasley clan was, of course, the main reason for the fun. Gred and Forge managed to slip Canary Crèmes, Ton-Tongue Toffees, and Colour-Changing Canes among the dessert treats, making the end of the meal particularly entertaining. Dumbledore, enchanted by the Canes, looked like a Christmas tree.
Bill and Charlie were all too happy to regale the group with tales of their adventures at work. Percy, however, was very quiet. Ginny commented to Harry that she intended to speak to her brother after the meal. Naturally, he followed discreetly.
"Perce, we're not mad at you. Yes, you were a prat over the summer, but you have a right to your opinion. We thought you trusted Harry and Dumbledore more than that, is all. Granted, your job bores the rest of us half to death. That doesn't mean we don't want to know how you feel, how things are going for you at the Ministry. We still love you, Perce."
Percy began to crack a tiny smile. "Well, Fudge is rapidly losing support. When Ms. Skeeter released the whole story about the Third Task and Barty Crouch, Jr., he lost all but the most idiotic of his backing. Lucius Malfoy's arrest over the abuse of his family had already been fairly destructive at that point." He was rewarded with a smile and a firm hug from his baby sister.
"That sort of news is interesting. Who do you think will be elected Minister when he's gone?" Oh boy. Politics, Harry thought.
"Some have said Harry in my hearing, others say Professor Dumbledore. There have been rumours about Father being considered, but Amelia Bones would do well, too. I'm just not sure. What is behind the whispers I've heard about Sirius Black?"
~Gin, I'm going to join in now.~
{Okay, love. You're better at explaining Padfoot anyway.} Smiling, Harry stepped out of the shadows and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, his chin on her shoulder.
"I can tell you about Sirius, Percy. Aside from Remus, I probably know the entire story best."
"How do you know?" the slender redheaded man asked shrewdly.
"Let's see." Harry began to tick off sources on his fingers. "Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew straightened the story out for me the night Ron's leg was broken in third year. Pettigrew confessed everything. Wormtail—that's Pettigrew's nickname—has repeatedly shown that he's Tom's creature. He was the one who killed Cedric. Then there's the two letters Mum and Dad left for me in a trunk in the family vault. There's Dad's pocket watch, which said Pettigrew was, and I quote, 'in hiding, the filthy traitor.' I took a picture of that and gave it to Dumbledore before I took the watch to the jewellers'." Harry pulled the watch from his trousers and popped the catch, showing Percy the eight hands for himself, the rest of the Dream Team, and the two remaining Marauders. "Pettigrew was caught in the battle on Halloween, and he has confessed in front of Aurors under Veritaserum. Honestly, I don't know why Sirius isn't free yet. He's not the murderer, after all, Wormtail is."
Percy looked into space for a moment, deep thought evident on his face. "I do believe you, Harry, but I think I'd have to see Peter Pettigrew alive and hear the story myself from both him and Mr. Black before I make a decision."
"That's all right." Harry smiled warmly. This was the behaviour he'd like to expect from a government official. "Actually, I'd rather hoped you'd say something like that."
Percy returned the smile. "Well, I'd rather act like a proper Ministry employee that a judgemental idiot."
Later that night, Harry slept only fitfully. His rest was disturbed for hours, but he was unable to wake, for he was trapped in visions of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Punishment was being dealt for the assault the night before.
"You fools!" the Dark Lord roared on several occasions. "You allowed yourselves to be bested by children and traitors! Crucio!" Harry felt an echo of the Unforgivable every time it was cast.
Bellatrix Lestrange was among those punished for failure that night. Harry only recognized her from the picture that had been in the Daily Prophet when she escaped. She knelt before Tom eagerly.
"You allowed the traitor to dispatch you, Bellatrix. I am ashamed. My most faithful servant, beaten by the least. Crucio!" The witch writhed on the ground, a look of unholy glee on her pointed features.
"Your cousin was with the traitor, was he not?" the evil wizard asked. "How powerful is the Black whelp? I have heard rumours, but they seemed blown out of proportion."
"His shield is sky blue, my lord. The blood traitor had the Aurors drooling all over him when he graduated." There was a look of disgust on the woman's face. Harry knew Sirius was the only Black who had been on the mission. Hadn't he been paired with Professor Snape?
"Damned Gryffindors," Voldemort cursed. "They take the most powerful children, and now they are corrupting my Slytherins. Why did you not tell me of Black's potential before? Crucio!" Harry woke then, drenched in sweat, his sheets once again in knots around him.
"Oh, God," he muttered. He wasn't going to be able to sleep any more tonight. With a groan, the teen pulled on his new jumper and a pair of thick woollen socks. His movements woke Hunter, who was curled on the end of the bed.
What's wrong, Prowler? The kit asked through a yawn.
"I can't sleep, little one," Harry whispered back. "My night-hunt is being disturbed by evil. You go back to sleep." Hunter obediently tucked his nose back into his stomach fur.
Quietly, so as not to wake his friends in the beds next to his, Harry crept down the stairs and left the Tower. Hands in his pyjama pockets, he wandered through the castle, deep in thought.
At some point, the sleepless teen nearly tripped over Sirius and Professor Figg, who were involved in a passionate snog session. They were too absorbed in each other to realize they were right in front of the Prefects' Bathroom.
"Bloody Hell! Can't you two at least go somewhere private when you do that? You're still a wanted man, Sirius! What if some Ravenclaw saw you? Or, God forbid, a Slytherin?" Both adults looked up at his outburst, blinking.
"What?" Sirius asked blankly. Professor Figg smacked the back of his head and put her face in her hands.
"We're such idiots. And to think I'm a Ravenclaw. I should know better," she groaned. When Sirius didn't move, she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. For some reason, his godfather transformed into Padfoot without batting an eye. The dog sat with the stiffness of a statue. Professor Figg groaned again. "I'll take him to Madam Pomfrey since he's catatonic. Try not to run into Filch, Prowler. He's in a foul mood tonight."
As the blonde woman walked off with Padfoot in her arms—she was obviously stronger than she looked—Harry suppressed a roar of frustration.
Calm down, he told himself. This is the sort of thing Tom would do. I do not control their lives. They owe me nothing. He was worried for his godfather. The man had only a spatter of common sense, and that went straight out of his head around Arabella Figg.
More angry at himself than anything now, the Gryffindor stalked away, his feet leading him up through the castle. He emerged at the summit of the Astronomy Tower and, seeing that he could go no further, sat between the crenellations, his feet dangling into the void.
"Harry?" a familiar voice questioned some time later. He turned to see Ginny step off the stairs. "Come down from there, please," she requested. "Seeing you that close to the edge frightens me."
Swinging his legs back inside the tower's battlements, the young wizard noticed that Ginny was wrapped in the cloak he'd received from Remus. The auburn-haired witch sat down beside him and enfolded him in the material's warmth.
"You're freezing, love. What has you up at this hour?" Harry sighed, leaning his head against Ginny's.
"Visions. Tom's punishing them tonight." The girl grimaced in sympathy.
"I couldn't find a charm to block those for you, but that pendant can shut out normal nightmares." She gently touched the crystal lily. "It helps against manufactured dreams, too, like Occlumency does."
Harry blinked at her. "I didn't think about those sort of charms. I felt the protective ones, but I hadn't an inkling of those. You put a hell of a lot of work into a simple Christmas gift."
"You did more on mine." She lightly punched his arm. "A personal astrological chart isn't easy, and you did predictions, too. Trelawney didn't teach you that."
The young wizard blushed. He'd spent a week in the library researching for his friends' charts. Ginny's alone had taken three days, due to several odd conjunctions and strange planetary positions. He hadn't done his own birth, though. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what the stars had in store for the Boy Who Lived.
"Darling," Ginny murmured, snuggling into his side, "you think too much.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Draco spent much of Boxing Day in the library with Lavender and Hermione, boning up on legal procedures they could bring to bear against the Ministry in Sirius' defence. There had been little action as of yet, and a hearing was scheduled for the beginning of Easter Holidays. Three Ravenclaws were also in the huge room, but they paid no attention to the Gryffindors.
"Merlin's beard!" Draco muttered as he looked through several back issues of the Daily Prophet. "Pads never got a trial in the first place! Do you know how much he could get for gross miscarriage of the law?"
Both girls looked up at him, their eyes wide. "They just carted him off to Azkaban when Dumbledore told them he had been the Secret Keeper?" the brown- haired witch asked. Draco nodded gravely.
"Damn them all to the sixth level of hell, then," Lavender growled. The statement was met with incredulous stares. "Let's take them for every last Knut."
"Uh, Lav, a bankrupt Ministry is not what Britain needs with old Mouldy recruiting." Draco frowned at his girlfriend.
"Then focus on Fudge! He was probably behind it all!" Hermione clamped a hand over the honey-haired witch's mouth, glancing nervously at a glaring Madam Pince. Draco read through a few more articles before stopping to quote.
"'While those closest to Sirius Black and the Potters have expressed disbelief that Black could have committed such heinous acts, many feel that he should be imprisoned immediately.
"'Minister Fudge himself supports this opinion. "What sort of man causes the deaths of three of his closest friends and laughs?" the Minister asked a reporter this morning. Black is currently being held for questioning.' That's all that one says about it. The next day's issue only says that he was transferred to Azkaban. I think Fudge did railroad the old dog."
"What's this I hear about canines?" The trio turned to see Remus and Snuffles headed their way. Madam Pince looked ready to explode.
"Just discussing a mutual friend," Draco replied blithely, making sure Remus noticed his glance at the Animagus. Snuffles winked back. At least the man was Slytherin enough to see the ruse.
"Ah, I see," the former professor replied. He smirked as he joined the table, staring for a moment at a Ravenclaw reading the Quibbler upside-down nearby before leaning in to speak. "Fudge was quite eager to put our friend in Azkaban. I agree with the railroading theory. Planning to take him down to the last button?"
Lavender grinned maliciously. "Abso-bloody-lutely, sir."
"Well, then, we'll have to get cracking on the scant evidence we have." As the older wizard began laying out plans, small smirks became wider.
Yeah, I don't like Fudge. Cookies to those who see the cameo in the chapter! Anyone with suggestions, please review them to me, and I'll give you a Draco plushie. *looks around* Anyone seen Sev, Rem, or Siri lately? Or Albus? They've sort of gone missing on me... The only muses I have left are Harry and Draco, and they're determined to go at it all the time... *blushes* I swear, they bite me with another fic and leave this one hanging. Maybe I need to teach them manners. Anyway, maybe I'll get some inspiration and have another chapter out to you all soon. I know another chapter of Bring Me to Life is on the way, and I'm putting up a prequel for this story that is unconditionally a one-shot. Happy Anniversary, Bonds of Pain!
3-9-04
Beth Weasley
Just a note from Endora: Happy Anniversary, Bonds of Pain! I can't believe it's been a year already. It is scary how the time flies, but it is great to see how many enjoy it. =)
Chapter 25
In which there is Christmas
Severus found himself enjoying Christmas for a change. The entire Dream Team had sent him gifts, even young Mr. Weasley. Of course, each package had been labelled with the sender's pseudonym save Draco's, and the one reading "Flame" had consisted entirely of Wizard Wheezes. The Potions Master had taken the precaution of reading each tag carefully and then consulting with the Weasley twins—his best students after Draco, though he'd never admit it to anyone—to confirm what he had. Who knew where the tricks would come in handy?
Granger had actually found an ancient volume on potions that was not to be found in either the school's vast library or his own considerable personal collection. A glance inside had shown pre-Egyptian hieroglyphs and a note saying that Granger would be happy to help translate if he wished the assistance.
Miss Weasley had sent a tin of his favourite biscuits, having probably pried the information from his godson. Potter had sent a Muggle novel and film, both titled The Wizard of Oz, with a note awkwardly comparing him to the Cowardly Lion, but with no offence intended. Severus understood what the boy meant, and cursed the Dursleys again, wherever they were. Two months had passed since the attack on Azkaban, and they were still missing.
Brown had purchased a set of deep green robes with subtle silver trim in honour of his House and his loyalty to the school, while Draco had found two recent books by his favourite Muggle author, Terry Pratchett. He wasn't about to give any information about Wen's gift, though. That was private.
Boxing Day found the Slytherin Head in his lab again, brewing calming draughts and Dreamless Sleep for Pomfrey, who had used most of her stash on Minerva over the past day. Albus had also requested that he whip up a pregnancy test, for some odd reason. Knowing the Dark Lord's obsession with his colleague, however, Severus had the bad feeling that the draught was intended for her.
The lean professor had just started to read the Wizard of Oz when someone knocked on his door. He carefully marked his place with a length of emerald ribbon before opening the oaken portal.
"Minerva? Poppy let you out of the infirmary?" The woman was a shadow of her former self, cringing were she stood. Her eyes were reddened and the lids puffy, a sure sign of recent weeping. Every alarm in Severus' head began to go off. "How are you?"
"Oh, gods, Severus," Minerva gasped before breaking into fresh tears. A bit disturbed by the rare phenomenon of the usually unflappable Deputy Headmistress in such a state, the tall wizard guided her to an armchair and began tentative attempts at soothing her.
"What's wrong, Minerva?" he asked as the tears dried. He didn't mention that he'd never seen he like this before. After all, she'd only just been released from being the captive of a deranged and obsessed Dark Lord for two months.
"I—I'm pregnant, and it has to be his," she sobbed. The venom in the pronoun left no doubt as to who she meant, and Severus saw red. How dare he? Now it's personal. No one hurts Hogwarts staff and gets away with it. The Potions Master felt a great debt to those who had given him a home and a purpose knowing what he had done, what he had been.
"It's yours, too, Minerva. There is no more likelihood for the babe to be evil than for anyone else." If anyone knew that, he did. Salazar and Jezebel Snape had raised him to be a Dark Wizard, yet he served the Light. "More often, the determining factor is in how the child is raised. You will bring up the babe with kindness and love; I know you at least that well. He—Tom—would teach only cruelty and hate."
The dark-haired witch sniffled loudly, and Severus offered his handkerchief. Minerva mopped her face and then gave him a doubtful look.
"But I don't know how to be a mother," she murmured. The lean wizard shook his head in amazement.
"How many years have you been Head of Gryffindor? We're already surrogate parents for our students. Besides, you have Molly Weasley to help."
"But, Severus..." The whinging tone made him wince, and he threw up his hands in frustration.
"Half of it is pure instinct, Molly tells me. Augh, just let me call some backup, Kit." Turning to the cheerful blaze in his grate, he reached for a pinch of Floo Powder from the jade pot on the mantle and tossed it inside. "Weasley quarters, Hogwarts," he muttered as he crouched and thrust his head into the flames.
The room he peered into—a kitchen, of course—was haphazard but homey. Two pots scrubbed themselves in the sink, and an assortment of baking components stood in line on the counter.
"Molly! Molly, it's Severus! I need some help!" He could hear his voice echo a bit in the suite of rooms.
"Coming, dear!" the plump little witch called from another chamber. Seconds later, she popped in through the leftmost door, a look of distracted worry on her features. "What do you need, dear?"
"Minerva's here, in my quarters, distraught due to— *ahem*— a particularly female condition. I believe you are, shall we say, far better qualified to have these discussions with her." Thank the gods I don't blush easily with my skin. Molly, bless her, nodded sagaciously.
"I'll be right there. Don't let her go anywhere; I've been looking her for the past hour."
"Yes. Hurry, please." He hated having to use that tone of voice, but he needed Molly's aid now.
"I'm only a hop, skip, and a jump away, dear. Three minutes, tops." With that, the short woman disappeared through the same door. The Potions Master sighed before drawing himself back into his own rooms.
"Severus..." Minerva spoke his name with a sob. It tore him to shreds to see the steady Transfiguration professor in such a state.
"Ssh, Kit, one step at a time. You'll get through this with your head held high, and undoubtedly a wonderful child of your own." His little speech was rewarded with a hiccoughing sob. He had just buried his face in his hands when Molly rapped on the door.
"Thank the gods you're here," he hissed as he let the older witch in. "I can't do a thing with her!" The redhead responded with a wry grin and a shrug before crouching by Minerva's armchair.
"Hey now, let's dry up those tears. Have a little faith in yourself, and everything will turn out all right. You'll be a wonderful mother. Would you like to help me bake some cookies? I was just going to find you to ask, and it's just what you need." An arm about the other witch's shoulders, Molly deftly led her from Severus' quarters.
"Gods," Severus sighed as he collapsed in the chair he'd vacated earlier. Molly always made him think of his image of Wen in twenty or thirty years, and it made his head spin from time to time.
Wen, he thought. I haven't spent time with her, just the two of us, in so long. He really liked the present she had given him, but actually being with her would be leagues better. Albus does owe me a great deal of holiday time, come to think of it. I wonder if Wen would like a week or two in Greece.
The though was parent to the act, and Albus' leave was quickly obtained. A quick fire-call to the other Slytherin was similarly successful.
"Greece? And no tourists? Give me half an hour to pack and get Rebecca to mind the store, and I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron." Rebecca Santari was Wen's savvy Ravenclaw partner and the brainchild behind many of their clothing store's unique Muggle-magical products.
Severus' trunk was quickly packed, and he jotted a quick note to Draco before Flooing to the London tavern.
"Sev!" The ecstatic cry was immediately followed by Wen flinging her arms around him. She pecked him on the cheek and leaned back to look at him through her eyelashes. "So where is this little spot of yours?"
"Now is that any way to greet your boyfriend?" he scolded playfully. He only got a moment of warning when her steely blue eyes hardened, and then the mousy-haired witch ensnared him with a soul-stealing kiss.
"That better, love?" Wen asked as she pulled away. He barely noticed the wolf-whistles as he nodded, dazed. Circe, but I love her.
"It's a little island in the Aegean. No one but us and the wild animals," he murmured, just low enough for her to hear.
"Sounds wonderful." The smoky tone of her voice made his chest—and other sections of his anatomy—grow tight. It was going to be a fantastic holiday.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Harry woke Christmas morning to Draco jumping on him, Ron flashing a grin like that cat who'd been in the cream. There was a veritable mountain of presents weighing down his feet.
"All right, all right, Flame, you got your revenge." Harry sighed and picked up a knobbly lump from the top of his pile. "Dobby. Wonder what he's knit for me this year." Inside was a stocking cap—hand-knit, of course—in red and violet stripes. ~It figures he'd find out about that.~
Thus begun, the wrapping paper flew thick and fast. Hermione had made knitted versions of their Animagus forms, and the twins had packed up a variety of their products, which were doing a brisk business in the common room during term. Ron and Lavender had both opted for the old standby: Chocolate Frogs. Sirius stopped by the common room before lunch, while the group was lounging around in front of the fire, to present him with a professional dueller's wand holster that could be strapped to either forearm or thigh. Remus took a moment during lunch to give him an expensive cloak that was charmed to keep him dry and comfortable in any weather. Draco, ingeniously, had found a CD player and an assortment of CDs somewhere and charmed them to work on magic instead of batteries.
Ginny's gift, however, was the most personal to the young wizard. Her small silver-wrapped box held in its velvet lining a tiny crystal lily strung on a fine silver chain. Unashamed by the femininity of the necklace, Harry had promptly fastened it about his neck, feeling protective magic drape about him as the charm settled just below his collarbones.
However, he was still worried about Professor McGonagall. He knew what had been done to her, despite all attempts to block it from his memory. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep all holiday. Even after last night's battle, when he should have been too exhausted for dreams, he had been plagued by memories of Voldemort's atrocities. His mind made up, the green- eyed teen headed for the Hospital Wing in mid-afternoon.
"She's asleep, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said when he entered the ward. "I've given her Dreamless Sleep, so you had better not wake her. The gods know she needs the rest." Harry agreed, of course. If only the potion could keep away his Voldemort-induced visions.
Seating himself in the stiff chair by McGonagall's bed, Harry began to speak quietly to his professor. "I wish I could have spared you the past two months. I've been on pins and needles since Halloween, and it was pure agony when you'd told me where you were and I couldn't go yet. Dumbledore made sure we were prepared before the assault, though. He taught us to shield wandlessly, and he taught Draco and I more about our ancestors' weapons." He realized he was babbling, but he didn't really care.
"You're going to have a beautiful little girl, you know. Sweet as can be. She'll never hurt a fly. Tom will want to brainwash her, but we'll protect you both. I'll teach her about Parseltongue so she won't be afraid of her own abilities." He had no idea where this knowledge came from, just that it was truth. He made a mental note to tell his teacher again later, when she was awake. Silent now, he leaned forward, just watching the slender witch. Molly Weasley found him in that position.
"Oh, Harry." The boy leaned back as he felt the warm arms wrap around him. A solid, hot weight fell into his lap, and he opened his eyes to look into a pair the same hue, belonging to a black kitten enveloped in a red Weasley jumper. "Happy Christmas, dear," Mrs. Weasley whispered. Harry had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.
"Thanks, Mum. I don't have anything for you, though." He had gotten used to calling the witch "Mum" or "Mum Weasley," and she would be his mother-in- law one day.
"You don't have to, dear. Just take good care of him. He's half Kneazle." The kitten's tail did seem considerably bushier at the tip. At least his face wasn't squashed like Crookshanks'. "Go find your friends and start a snowball fight. Not a soul has touched what fell last night. I'll watch over Minerva."
Smiling, Harry scooped up both kitten and jumper and reluctantly left the infirmary. He didn't start a snow war, though. The dark-haired teen retreated to the common room, where he found Draco and Lav cuddling on one of the couches.
"No twins in here, are there?" he asked, peering around the room. Both of his friends replied in the negative, and Draco fixed him with a mild glare.
"They're in the Weasley quarters with Ron and 'Mione, which you'd know if you'd bothered to ask them yourself." Harry shrugged and put the kitten in an armchair before stepping back and transforming into Prowler.
Aha! A small voice squeaked at him. I thought you smelled an awful lot like a cat, but not at all like a Kneazle. Prowler blinked and then moved closer to the armchair. The kitten looked up at him in wonder. Oh my, it chirped. You're a large version of me, almost.
Or you're a tiny me, the panther grumbled back. Was this how Hermione felt when she spoke to SkyStrike? What is your name, kitling?
My mum called me Annoyance, but the other kitlings call me Hunter. Hunter cocked his head to one side. Why?
How am I to know what to call you otherwise? I am called Prowler or Harry, your choice. His nose twitched. You, kitling, are in desperate need of a bath.
What? No! Not a bath! Hunter tried to scramble away, but got a mite tangled in the jumper, and a large black paw on his back end trapped him. Harry quickly began to use his rough tongue efficiently, and the size differential made the task into a moment's work. Prowler soon became the human Harry again.
"See? That wasn't so bad. It's not as though I'm going to dunk you in a bucket of water, Hunter." The black kitten grumbled.
Lav eyed him strangely. "Who gave you the mascot?" Draco had fixed him with a similar look.
"Hunter?" Harry asked, lifting the kitten. "Mum Weasley. And no, she doesn't know about our extracurriculars. It's really very odd."
"Mum can be that way from time to time," a new voice commented form the portrait hole. Harry looked up to see Ginny climb through. "For example, she always knows when company's on the way. She warned me that morning before first year that a guest was almost in, but I didn't listen. I'm not making that mistake again." Ginny smiled wryly. "I'm afraid I didn't make a terribly good first impression."
"You'd already made a good impression on me, dear," Harry murmured as she settled into the armchair with him, careful not to squish Hunter. "You were nice to me without realizing I was famous." Ginny flushed.
"Only you. You're the only person I know who doesn't want fame in even the tiniest way." She snuggled close, whispering. "I know what you do want, though."
"People to love me for who I am, and not for what my mother's love has done." The important things said, the next few hours were spent in cuddles, sweet nothings, and tender kisses.
Christmas dinner was more festive than anything Harry had ever known. The Weasley clan was, of course, the main reason for the fun. Gred and Forge managed to slip Canary Crèmes, Ton-Tongue Toffees, and Colour-Changing Canes among the dessert treats, making the end of the meal particularly entertaining. Dumbledore, enchanted by the Canes, looked like a Christmas tree.
Bill and Charlie were all too happy to regale the group with tales of their adventures at work. Percy, however, was very quiet. Ginny commented to Harry that she intended to speak to her brother after the meal. Naturally, he followed discreetly.
"Perce, we're not mad at you. Yes, you were a prat over the summer, but you have a right to your opinion. We thought you trusted Harry and Dumbledore more than that, is all. Granted, your job bores the rest of us half to death. That doesn't mean we don't want to know how you feel, how things are going for you at the Ministry. We still love you, Perce."
Percy began to crack a tiny smile. "Well, Fudge is rapidly losing support. When Ms. Skeeter released the whole story about the Third Task and Barty Crouch, Jr., he lost all but the most idiotic of his backing. Lucius Malfoy's arrest over the abuse of his family had already been fairly destructive at that point." He was rewarded with a smile and a firm hug from his baby sister.
"That sort of news is interesting. Who do you think will be elected Minister when he's gone?" Oh boy. Politics, Harry thought.
"Some have said Harry in my hearing, others say Professor Dumbledore. There have been rumours about Father being considered, but Amelia Bones would do well, too. I'm just not sure. What is behind the whispers I've heard about Sirius Black?"
~Gin, I'm going to join in now.~
{Okay, love. You're better at explaining Padfoot anyway.} Smiling, Harry stepped out of the shadows and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, his chin on her shoulder.
"I can tell you about Sirius, Percy. Aside from Remus, I probably know the entire story best."
"How do you know?" the slender redheaded man asked shrewdly.
"Let's see." Harry began to tick off sources on his fingers. "Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew straightened the story out for me the night Ron's leg was broken in third year. Pettigrew confessed everything. Wormtail—that's Pettigrew's nickname—has repeatedly shown that he's Tom's creature. He was the one who killed Cedric. Then there's the two letters Mum and Dad left for me in a trunk in the family vault. There's Dad's pocket watch, which said Pettigrew was, and I quote, 'in hiding, the filthy traitor.' I took a picture of that and gave it to Dumbledore before I took the watch to the jewellers'." Harry pulled the watch from his trousers and popped the catch, showing Percy the eight hands for himself, the rest of the Dream Team, and the two remaining Marauders. "Pettigrew was caught in the battle on Halloween, and he has confessed in front of Aurors under Veritaserum. Honestly, I don't know why Sirius isn't free yet. He's not the murderer, after all, Wormtail is."
Percy looked into space for a moment, deep thought evident on his face. "I do believe you, Harry, but I think I'd have to see Peter Pettigrew alive and hear the story myself from both him and Mr. Black before I make a decision."
"That's all right." Harry smiled warmly. This was the behaviour he'd like to expect from a government official. "Actually, I'd rather hoped you'd say something like that."
Percy returned the smile. "Well, I'd rather act like a proper Ministry employee that a judgemental idiot."
Later that night, Harry slept only fitfully. His rest was disturbed for hours, but he was unable to wake, for he was trapped in visions of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Punishment was being dealt for the assault the night before.
"You fools!" the Dark Lord roared on several occasions. "You allowed yourselves to be bested by children and traitors! Crucio!" Harry felt an echo of the Unforgivable every time it was cast.
Bellatrix Lestrange was among those punished for failure that night. Harry only recognized her from the picture that had been in the Daily Prophet when she escaped. She knelt before Tom eagerly.
"You allowed the traitor to dispatch you, Bellatrix. I am ashamed. My most faithful servant, beaten by the least. Crucio!" The witch writhed on the ground, a look of unholy glee on her pointed features.
"Your cousin was with the traitor, was he not?" the evil wizard asked. "How powerful is the Black whelp? I have heard rumours, but they seemed blown out of proportion."
"His shield is sky blue, my lord. The blood traitor had the Aurors drooling all over him when he graduated." There was a look of disgust on the woman's face. Harry knew Sirius was the only Black who had been on the mission. Hadn't he been paired with Professor Snape?
"Damned Gryffindors," Voldemort cursed. "They take the most powerful children, and now they are corrupting my Slytherins. Why did you not tell me of Black's potential before? Crucio!" Harry woke then, drenched in sweat, his sheets once again in knots around him.
"Oh, God," he muttered. He wasn't going to be able to sleep any more tonight. With a groan, the teen pulled on his new jumper and a pair of thick woollen socks. His movements woke Hunter, who was curled on the end of the bed.
What's wrong, Prowler? The kit asked through a yawn.
"I can't sleep, little one," Harry whispered back. "My night-hunt is being disturbed by evil. You go back to sleep." Hunter obediently tucked his nose back into his stomach fur.
Quietly, so as not to wake his friends in the beds next to his, Harry crept down the stairs and left the Tower. Hands in his pyjama pockets, he wandered through the castle, deep in thought.
At some point, the sleepless teen nearly tripped over Sirius and Professor Figg, who were involved in a passionate snog session. They were too absorbed in each other to realize they were right in front of the Prefects' Bathroom.
"Bloody Hell! Can't you two at least go somewhere private when you do that? You're still a wanted man, Sirius! What if some Ravenclaw saw you? Or, God forbid, a Slytherin?" Both adults looked up at his outburst, blinking.
"What?" Sirius asked blankly. Professor Figg smacked the back of his head and put her face in her hands.
"We're such idiots. And to think I'm a Ravenclaw. I should know better," she groaned. When Sirius didn't move, she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. For some reason, his godfather transformed into Padfoot without batting an eye. The dog sat with the stiffness of a statue. Professor Figg groaned again. "I'll take him to Madam Pomfrey since he's catatonic. Try not to run into Filch, Prowler. He's in a foul mood tonight."
As the blonde woman walked off with Padfoot in her arms—she was obviously stronger than she looked—Harry suppressed a roar of frustration.
Calm down, he told himself. This is the sort of thing Tom would do. I do not control their lives. They owe me nothing. He was worried for his godfather. The man had only a spatter of common sense, and that went straight out of his head around Arabella Figg.
More angry at himself than anything now, the Gryffindor stalked away, his feet leading him up through the castle. He emerged at the summit of the Astronomy Tower and, seeing that he could go no further, sat between the crenellations, his feet dangling into the void.
"Harry?" a familiar voice questioned some time later. He turned to see Ginny step off the stairs. "Come down from there, please," she requested. "Seeing you that close to the edge frightens me."
Swinging his legs back inside the tower's battlements, the young wizard noticed that Ginny was wrapped in the cloak he'd received from Remus. The auburn-haired witch sat down beside him and enfolded him in the material's warmth.
"You're freezing, love. What has you up at this hour?" Harry sighed, leaning his head against Ginny's.
"Visions. Tom's punishing them tonight." The girl grimaced in sympathy.
"I couldn't find a charm to block those for you, but that pendant can shut out normal nightmares." She gently touched the crystal lily. "It helps against manufactured dreams, too, like Occlumency does."
Harry blinked at her. "I didn't think about those sort of charms. I felt the protective ones, but I hadn't an inkling of those. You put a hell of a lot of work into a simple Christmas gift."
"You did more on mine." She lightly punched his arm. "A personal astrological chart isn't easy, and you did predictions, too. Trelawney didn't teach you that."
The young wizard blushed. He'd spent a week in the library researching for his friends' charts. Ginny's alone had taken three days, due to several odd conjunctions and strange planetary positions. He hadn't done his own birth, though. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what the stars had in store for the Boy Who Lived.
"Darling," Ginny murmured, snuggling into his side, "you think too much.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Draco spent much of Boxing Day in the library with Lavender and Hermione, boning up on legal procedures they could bring to bear against the Ministry in Sirius' defence. There had been little action as of yet, and a hearing was scheduled for the beginning of Easter Holidays. Three Ravenclaws were also in the huge room, but they paid no attention to the Gryffindors.
"Merlin's beard!" Draco muttered as he looked through several back issues of the Daily Prophet. "Pads never got a trial in the first place! Do you know how much he could get for gross miscarriage of the law?"
Both girls looked up at him, their eyes wide. "They just carted him off to Azkaban when Dumbledore told them he had been the Secret Keeper?" the brown- haired witch asked. Draco nodded gravely.
"Damn them all to the sixth level of hell, then," Lavender growled. The statement was met with incredulous stares. "Let's take them for every last Knut."
"Uh, Lav, a bankrupt Ministry is not what Britain needs with old Mouldy recruiting." Draco frowned at his girlfriend.
"Then focus on Fudge! He was probably behind it all!" Hermione clamped a hand over the honey-haired witch's mouth, glancing nervously at a glaring Madam Pince. Draco read through a few more articles before stopping to quote.
"'While those closest to Sirius Black and the Potters have expressed disbelief that Black could have committed such heinous acts, many feel that he should be imprisoned immediately.
"'Minister Fudge himself supports this opinion. "What sort of man causes the deaths of three of his closest friends and laughs?" the Minister asked a reporter this morning. Black is currently being held for questioning.' That's all that one says about it. The next day's issue only says that he was transferred to Azkaban. I think Fudge did railroad the old dog."
"What's this I hear about canines?" The trio turned to see Remus and Snuffles headed their way. Madam Pince looked ready to explode.
"Just discussing a mutual friend," Draco replied blithely, making sure Remus noticed his glance at the Animagus. Snuffles winked back. At least the man was Slytherin enough to see the ruse.
"Ah, I see," the former professor replied. He smirked as he joined the table, staring for a moment at a Ravenclaw reading the Quibbler upside-down nearby before leaning in to speak. "Fudge was quite eager to put our friend in Azkaban. I agree with the railroading theory. Planning to take him down to the last button?"
Lavender grinned maliciously. "Abso-bloody-lutely, sir."
"Well, then, we'll have to get cracking on the scant evidence we have." As the older wizard began laying out plans, small smirks became wider.
Yeah, I don't like Fudge. Cookies to those who see the cameo in the chapter! Anyone with suggestions, please review them to me, and I'll give you a Draco plushie. *looks around* Anyone seen Sev, Rem, or Siri lately? Or Albus? They've sort of gone missing on me... The only muses I have left are Harry and Draco, and they're determined to go at it all the time... *blushes* I swear, they bite me with another fic and leave this one hanging. Maybe I need to teach them manners. Anyway, maybe I'll get some inspiration and have another chapter out to you all soon. I know another chapter of Bring Me to Life is on the way, and I'm putting up a prequel for this story that is unconditionally a one-shot. Happy Anniversary, Bonds of Pain!
3-9-04
Beth Weasley
Just a note from Endora: Happy Anniversary, Bonds of Pain! I can't believe it's been a year already. It is scary how the time flies, but it is great to see how many enjoy it. =)