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Chapter 1

Up the Garden Path

 

August 1988

 

Harry has to climb a tree to avoid Dudley and his gang. He is good at climbing trees, having had a lot of practice since it is one of the most effective methods of escaping Dudley and his friends. They might be considered bullies, but they are fools. They never look up. As long as Harry stays still, he can remain safe. So, Harry settles in for a long wait.

                Dudley and his friends stay in the park for a little longer. It is quite crowded at the moment, but it is expected as it is Saturday: the park is full of mums and dads with their children. Harry only comes here just to avoid being at home with the Dursleys. Almost anywhere is better without the Dursleys. Harry is only eight, but he knows that he is not like others. He has no parents. They died in a car crash. Only Harry survived, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been kind enough to take him in. They had been kind enough to feed him some leftovers on the rare occasion Dudley does not eat everything. They had been kind enough to clothe him when Dudley outgrows his clothes. This happens regularly, as Dudley is almost as big as Uncle Vernon, so Harry is often left with Dudley’s cast-offs.

                As the Dursleys buy Dudley expensive branded clothes, and he does not wear them for long, they should be in good condition by the time they get to Harry. If only that were true. Dudley wears them out so much that Harry is left with little more than rags. Rags that he has to thank the Dursleys for providing.

                Even his shoes are battered, as Dudley’s bulk wears out the soles within weeks. Harry feels he might as well walk barefoot. And they are so big on Harry’s smaller feet that he has to wear several pairs of socks.

“Mamma? Mamma?”

                Harry looks at the other children with a tiny, sad smile. He knows it is hopeless wishing he did not live with the Dursleys, but that doesn’t stop him from longing that, one day, someone will come and take him away. Harry is not loved the way Dudley is loved. He knows he is barely tolerated.

                Harry absently plays with the hole in Dudley’s ragged plaid shirt he is forced to wear. The button had broken off in a scuffle with Dudley and Piers Polkiss, and Harry has not had a chance to mend it.

                Dudley was supposed to leave soon. The Dursleys had planned a trip to the seaside with Dudley. The forecast was sunny for the afternoon, but it would rain towards the evening, so they wanted to leave soon and come back before it started to rain. Harry isn’t invited to go with them. He is never invited to go with them. He has to go to Mrs Figg’s house – the Dursleys often leave Harry with Mrs Figg. She is a rather odd old lady who lives with her several cats. Harry does not mind going there. Mrs Figg is always kind and lets Harry watch TV on her old box sometimes when she is not forcing him to look through her photo album of all the cats she has ever owned. She also lets Harry eat biscuits or makes him a sandwich –  the biscuits are sometimes stale, but Harry does not mind:  it is more than he gets to eat at the Dursleys, so he is grateful for the food and always thanks Mrs Figg.

“Mamma? Mamma?”

                Harry winces as he leans back against the tree. His shoulders hurt where Uncle Vernon has whipped him with a belt. Uncle Vernon often punishes Harry. Though he knows the punishments are unfair, arguing against them will only lead to more punishment. He has learned this lesson quickly.

“Mamma? Mamma?”

Harry cocks his head as he sees a little girl wandering near the slide. The playground is bordered by two gates at opposite ends of each other: the tree Harry has climbed branches off over an empty section where there are no benches, but if he wants to jump back into the penned playground, he just needs to slide down the trunk a little and jump onto the Merry-Go-Round.

She has been calling out for her mum for several minutes. Harry lifts his glasses as he looks down at her. They’ve been falling off ever since Dudley broke them. Harry uses cello tape to repair them.

                 She is a very tiny girl with long, dark hair. Her skin is extremely pale, made even paler by the black dress she is wearing. Harry expects her to be crying, but she just looks around as if this is a game she is tired of playing. Harry has been hiding in the park often enough to see other children weeping at their parents if they don’t respond immediately. Harry finds it curious that the girl is not like them.

                Harry shifts his gaze over the play area once more. Not because he is looking for the girl’s mother, but to see if Dudley and his gang have left. There! He spots them exiting the park at the gates leading closer to Magnolia Crescent, and from there, it is only one road to Privet Drive.

                Still, Harry follows them with his eyes, making sure that they leave completely before he feels safe coming down from the tree. He should go as well and head towards Mrs Figg’s house, but he wants to make sure the girl finds her mum before he leaves.

He drops onto the next lower branch and the next, and then down the trunk and then swings down another branch, hanging above the Merry-Go-Round. He sways for a couple of seconds and then lets go of the branch, landing neatly on the Merry-Go-Round, which spins a little due to Harry’s weight.

                Pushing up his glasses once more, he walks over to the ladder used to climb up the slide where the little girl standing.

                “Mamma?”

                “Want some help finding your mum?” Harry asks.

                The girl looks up at him as she spins around. Her eyes are dark, almost black, and she stares at him innocently.

                “Mamma said wait here,” the girl tells him.

                “Do you want me to wait with you?” Harry says.

                The girl looks around. The park is emptying out slowly; only a few children and their parents are left.

                “I’m Harry,” he says, holding out a hand for her to take.

He wonders for a second if she will talk to him. The Dursleys tell everyone that he is a hooligan and a liar. Most parents take their children and walk away when they see Harry because they do not want children playing with a troublemaker.

                Harry feels relieved when she reaches out to hold his hand. He jumps slightly at the static electricity he feels as her hand slips into his.

                “Holly,” she says shyly. “Harry wait wiff Holly?”

                “Yeah.”

                Holly gives Harry a smile, showing her small teeth.

                No one has ever smiled at Harry the way Holly is smiling now. He smiles back at the little girl: he likes the way she trusts him to look after her. The Dursleys have never trusted Harry like this, ever – they do not even trust him not to burn the bacon.

                Harry and Holly play in the park together while waiting for her mum. Holly is very energetic and runs everywhere, but she always stops and waits for Harry to catch up. They play on the monkey bars, but Harry is scared Holly will fall and that he won’t be able to catch her. He does not want to get into trouble with Holly’s mum for her getting hurt – he does not want Holly to get hurt.

                Holly is fearless, though, and climbs everything. She has fallen twice, and Harry was able to catch her even if his back hurts when he has to stretch, and once, after catching her, he stumbles and falls on his back, wincing at the contact.

                Holly keeps saying sorry, and Harry tells her he is fine because Holly is only two, and he does not want to scare her.

                Laughing a little to show he isn’t hurt, he gets up and pulls back to his feet and tells her he will let her run to the top of the slide.

                He lets her run first and patiently waits for her to climb each rung to the top. The ladder is only six rungs high, but the gaps are big enough for her to fall through, so Harry makes sure she is safe. He is unsure where she gets her bravery from as she fearlessly reaches the next rung.

                “I won,” she shouts as she gets to the top, and Harry is now on his last rung. She throws her arms up in victory, and Harry laughs as he concedes defeat.

                It is as her sleeves ride down her arm that Harry sees it. A bruise. He gently grabs her arm, worried she is hurt from her previous fall.

                “Does it hurt?” Harry asks as he inspects it, carefully pushing the sleeve up further.

                Holly shakes her head and looks at him curiously. He pulls himself down from the highest rung and kneels on the platform. The ridges on the platform dig painfully into his knees, but Harry does not pay any attention to that.

                Harry freezes as he examines the bruise closely. He turns her arm over and places his hand over the bruise: it is bigger than his hand, and he can clearly see finger marks as if someone had grabbed Holly hard and dragged her away. Much like how Uncle Vernon does with Harry.

                He only met Holly maybe twenty minutes ago, but he is already feeling protective of her. She is still a baby, really. Who would hurt a baby?

                “Who did this?” Harry asks. He wonders if she will answer. And if she does, what her answer will be. Harry usually tells anyone who sees the bruises that he fell or is clumsy. Telling the truth would only mean more punishment.

                Holly tugs her arm from Harry’s hand. He is afraid that she will leave and that she will not allow him to help her anymore. Instead, she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him.

                Harry has a strange feeling in his chest. No one had ever hugged him before.

                “Mamma did it,” she whispers. Then, she pulls away.

                Harry wishes he could help Holly, but how, since he cannot even help himself? He realises then that he hates Holly’s mum. He hates her for harming someone innocent as Holly, who does not deserve to be hurt.

                Harry does not have a watch, but he knows that time is getting later and later as he and Holly continue to play. Other parents are leaving with their children, and soon only Harry and Holly are left in the playground.

                Harry knows the Dursleys have already left, and he should too. Mrs Figg will be waiting for him.

Harry asks Holly if she knows her way home. He could walk her there and then go back to Mrs Figg. Holly does not know, though, and Harry wonders what he should do - maybe track down someone from the police or make a call from the phone box at the end of the road outside the park.

                Something prevents Harry from doing that. Maybe he could take Holly with him to Mrs Figg, and she could help somehow. He decides to stay a little longer with Holly; maybe her mum will be back soon.

                Harry and Holly sit on the swings for a while, feeling tired, hungry, and thirsty. Holly does not complain that she is hungry or thirsty, but Harry can tell as she licks her lips. The Dursleys never give Harry any pocket money like they do with Dudley, so Harry cannot get a drink from the local newsagent for himself or Holly.

                When it is getting late, Harry decides that he should take Holly to Mrs Figg and get help: she will also give them food and something to drink.

                “Okay,” Holly says when Harry informs her of his plan.

                She takes his hand without hesitation and looks at him trustingly with her small dark eyes. They leave the playground and walk toward the gate. Harry still looks around as they walk, hoping to see a distraught woman looking for her daughter.

                Harry and Holly are near the corner with the phone booth when they hear a panicked call.

                “Holly?”

                Harry turns to see a woman in a long green skirt that reaches her ankles and a shirt running behind them. She is on the other side of the park fence, but she is not looking in Harry and Holly’s direction.

                “Holly?”

                “Oma!” Holly calls back with a big smile.

                Harry is happy to see Holly smiling, although he is confused as to who ‘Oma’ is. Harry thinks back and could swear she calls her mum ‘mamma’ instead.

                At Holly’s voice, the woman turns around and sees Harry and Holly.

                “Come on, Harry,” Holly says as she pulls him with her.

                Harry, Holly and the woman run parallel in the park but on opposite sides of the fence: when they reach its end, Harry and Holly stop and wait for ‘Oma’ to exit the gate.

                The woman immediately drops to her knees, her handbag falling to the ground, and takes Holly in a tight hug which the other girl returns. Harry is forced to let go of Holly’s hand.

                “Are you okay, Holly?” the woman asks, pulling back and checking Holly over.

                Holly nods and points to Harry.

                “Harry stay wiff me,” Holly tells the woman.

                She looks at Harry with a questioning look. Harry is afraid the elder woman will think he is a troublemaker like everyone seems to.

                Harry thinks he has seen the woman before but believes she is new to the area. She is a tall and skinny woman, bony like Aunt Petunia, who is as thin as Uncle Vernon is fat. The woman has a long face with heavy eyebrows, and her hair and eyes are dark like Holly’s.

                The woman is staring at Harry, studying him, making him a little uncomfortable.

                “I didn’t want to leave Holly alone,” Harry mumbles. “I was going to take her with me to Mrs Figg. She lives on Wisteria Walk.”

                The woman still stares at Harry, looking into his eyes.

                She holds out her hand and beckons Harry closer, who cautiously steps forward. She cups his cheek gently: like Holly’s hug, this is the first time someone had touched Harry like this. He has another strange feeling in his chest.

                “You have beautiful eyes,” the woman says, still not letting go of Harry.

                Harry thinks this is a weird thing to say, but he has always received compliments on the colour of his eyes.                

                “Like my mum’s,” Harry tells her, feeling shy himself.

                He knows this because it is one of the few things Aunt Petunia has told him about his parents; she does not always like to look Harry in the eyes, especially not as this woman does.

                “What’s your name, child?”

                “Harry,” he says reluctantly. “Harry Potter.”

                Harry does not understand why she brushes his hair back to expose his forehead, where he has received the scar in the car accident that took his parents away.

                “Harry Potter,” she repeats faintly. “Thank you for looking after Holly, Harry.”  

                Then, seemingly coming out of a trance, she lets go of Harry and stands up, holding Holly’s hand like he’d done before.

                “I’m Iris, Holly’s grandmother. Come, child. I’ll walk you home. Where do you live?”

                She brushes down her skirt slightly and then looks at Harry expectantly.

                “4 Privet Drive,” Harry tells her. Then, before she can leave, he continues, “But I’m supposed to go to Mrs Figg’s house. The Dursleys have gone to the seaside with my cousin, so I’m to stay with Mrs Figg until they come back.”

                “The Dursleys?”

                “My Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon,” Harry explains.

                “Petunia?”

                The woman’s nose wrinkles slightly, just like Aunt Petunia does when she hears something that disgusts her. Harry wonders why Holly’s grandmother has this reaction. All the other neighbours like Aunt Petunia, even though she is nosy: she likes to pretend to be helpful, but what she really wants to know is everyone else’s business. Everybody believes Aunt Petunia when she tells them Harry is good-for-nothing and a menace.

                “Then I’ll walk you to Mrs Figg’s house.”

                Feeling flustered, Harry blushes and says: “It’s okay, it’s not far.”

                “Nonsense, child. Holly and I live on the next street over. It’s on our way,” the woman says brusquely.

                Harry nods uncertainly and leads the way.

                When they come to a newsagent, Holly stops and says: “Oma, I’m firsty.”

                Iris smiles at Holly and asks her and Harry to wait outside whilst she darts inside. Holly sticks close to Harry, hugging his legs as she smiles up at him.

                “Harry play wiff me in park again?”

                Harry cannot resist the smile Holly gives him and agrees.

                “Harry push me on swings,” Holly demands.

                “Yeah,” Harry replies, smiling.

                Iris is back within minutes, holding two pouches of orange flavoured Capri-Suns. Handing one to Harry, she rips off the straw from the back and pierces the hole, holding it carefully as Holly drinks it thirstily.

                Harry thinks the other drink is for Iris, only giving it to him to hold until she could finish helping Holly drink hers.

                “This one’s for you, boy,” Iris says, raising her eyebrows at him.

                Harry is about to protest: no one has ever bought anything for him. However, he is thirsty and gratefully accepts, gulping it down as they walk towards Mrs Figg’s.

                Holly wants to hold Harry and Iris’ hand as they walk to Wisteria Walk: Iris holds Holly’s partially drunk Capri-Sun as she listens to her babble about playing with Harry in the park.

                Iris insists on walking Harry all the way to Mrs Figg’s door.

                Knocking politely on the door, Harry waits for it to open.

                Mrs Figg throws it wide open, and her cats run out, wrapping themselves around Harry and Holly’s legs, who giggles in amusement and leans over to pet Mr Tibbles.

                “Oh, Harry, I was so worried about you. Because you didn’t come earlier, I thought that the Dursleys had changed their mind and taken you with them,” Mrs Figg exclaims.

                Harry is about to explain, but Iris intervenes and says: “ It’s my fault, I’m afraid.”

                Harry is ushered into the kitchen. Mrs Figg tells him she has made him a sandwich. He says goodbye to Holly and Iris and heads to the kitchen to find a ham and cheese sandwich with a glass of orange juice waiting for him.

                Harry hears Mrs Figg and Iris talking for a few minutes before shutting the door.

                “Oh, Harry. Aren’t you a kind boy? Waiting with that little girl. To think, abandoned in the park by her own mother,” Mrs Figg harrumphs.

                Harry is pleased by the praise. He does not often get praised, not even by Mrs Figg.

                Even though Holly is only two, he hopes to see her again.

 

ooOoo

 

August 1985

 

Severus finishes buttoning up his collar and tucks his shirt back into his trousers, reaching for his coat frock and meticulously buttoning up each and every button.

                Severus is not the kind of person to throw his clothes everywhere in a fit of passion. Not with Jasmine, at least.

She is still sleeping right now, facing away from Severus and lying on her front under the covers, with only the top of her head visible. Her hair is more orange than red. Even if it is her natural colour, he thinks it’s atrocious.  

                Her eyes are green, though they are not of the same emerald green he searches for. No one can match the spirit and looks of Lily Evans. Severus pretends that he is not looking for another Lily Evans. For him, there will always be only one Lily.

                Jasmine is an amusing companion. Severus has been seeing her since Easter, catching occasional weekends with her when he is off duty and spending time with her when he is free during summer holidays since school ended.

                He has only four weeks left until the start of term, on 1st September, and two weeks before he has to return to Hogwarts to work on his lesson plans, complete and replenish his inventory and assist Poppy Pomfrey in brewing more potions for the Hospital Wing, ready for the new term.

 Severus has already provided the required reading list: he does that before the end of term so that he does not get irate owls from Minerva McGonagall in the middle of his summer. Severus likes to have summer to himself without any thoughts to dunces who cannot tell one end of a cauldron from the other. How they get up and dress themselves every morning is beyond him.

He freezes as he hears a rustle under the covers as he finishes doing the last button on his cuffs. He suppresses a groan. There goes his plan to sneak out without waking Jasmine. It is not because he cares about disturbing her sleep, despite the eventful night they shared, but mostly because he is annoyed with Jasmine. Their initial attraction has waned, and, after their date last night, he only stayed because she offered herself to him. Severus has needs too, but going forward, he no longer needs Jasmine.

“Were you trying to sneak away?” Her voice comes out husky from sleep.

She is still naked under the covers, which fall down as she turns around, exposing her bare breasts. She is so comfortable with her body that she doesn’t feel the urge to cover herself up again. She stretches in what she must imagine is a suggestive manner, but Severus doesn’t feel the desire to go back to her.

Yes, their attraction has definitely fizzled out: he is no longer interested in seeing her again.

“I have other places to be,” Severus says, reaching for his cloak.

She looks up at him with a smile on her face. Jasmine is not unattractive. She is just… not for him. When they had first met several months ago, she was on the arm of her colleague at some Ministry gathering or other. Lucius often drags him to this meeting in an effort to cultivate networks. Severus has to admit they do come in handy for certain hard-to-find Potion ingredients.

Jasmine had approached Severus at the bar where he was to avoid the mass of humanity: he couldn’t take much more of other people before he had to retreat. It had not taken long for Severus to seduce Jasmine away from her bland colleague: so insipid, in fact, that Severus couldn’t even recall his name. Albeit, she had wit, charm and intelligence, she was a Muggleborn, and a career was more challenging for her to achieve without the right connections: thus, she is often found at various Ministry parties. She has ambitions, Severus is aware, but he is not sure of what they are precisely. Not that he cares. Jasmine will not be his concern anymore.

“There’s a gala in Cardiff next week. Tell me you’ll join me,” she says, sitting up, still not covering herself up.

He does not make the mistake of asking what the gala is for, even though it is probably some charity or other, to avoid making her think he might be interested when he is clearly not.

“I‘m not into Ministry galas,” Severus informs her.

He is ready to leave and turns to face her, preparing to go through the onerous task of breaking up with her. Even if he was still attracted to her, she is becoming too clingy and demanding for his liking, and Severus has too much going on to handle her drama.

She gets up from the bed and sashays over to him in all her glory, but Severus does not look below her face. Itch scratched: he is ready to leave her behind. Her body no longer has any influence over him.

She pouts when he turns away from her as she attempts to kiss him.

“I have news for you,” she says, reaching out to cover herself with her nightgown when she realises he cannot be persuaded to stay.

It takes another forty minutes for Severus to leave, during which time they exchange cross words as she tries to convince him to stay together. He apparates from inside her flat, leaving her enraged and upset at their breakup. They are better off without each other. Jasmine can find herself a new mark to help her realise her ambitions, whatever they may be, perhaps at the Ministry gala in Cardiff.

                Severus appears outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, furious at his last encounter with Jasmine and livid at her ploy to trap him in marriage. Does she really think that telling him she is pregnant with his child will make him reconsider a relationship with her?

The wards recognise him and allow his access. He walks back to his self-contained apartment in the Manor's west wing, avoiding the main entrance. Severus never brings his partners back here, valuing his privacy too much. Instead, he either follows them back to their homes or makes do with a hotel room.

                Over the next few weeks, he is inundated with owls from Jasmine. Tearful missives begging to get back together. She only mentions the baby twice in her twenty letters, but Severus just burns the whole lot and asks Lucius to alter the wards so her letters cannot get through anymore.

                Severus does not tell Lucius about Jasmine’s pregnancy tactic to ensnare him: he will only laugh at him, and Severus is in no mood to listen to his jokes about that. His own parents were caught in that trap, and his childhood was hell because of it. Severus is certain that Jasmine is lying because he is meticulous about contraception…

 

ooOoo

 

September 1985

 

Jasmine is holding back tears as she leaves Spinner’s End. Severus has been ignoring her since they broke up, and she has no idea how to contact him. He is not answering any of her owls. She remembers him mentioning Cokeworth, where he grew up; it was a slip he made that one time when he came to her in the middle of the night, slightly drunk and upset about something. She remembers him mentioning something about lilies in his drunken fumbling. So she took the chance to visit his old home, hoping his father would pass on a message on her behalf.

                Jasmine liked Severus, grew to love him even though he always held back. Jasmine thought there would still be time for Severus to love her back: he was worth waiting for. She had not meant to get pregnant. Her potion had run out, and she did not have time to purchase her next dose. Severus, who was usually so careful with Contraceptive Charms, applying them even if she took the Potion, which lasted three months, always used his own protection. Until that one fatal time.

                Jasmine knew Severus has a broken heart and was in love with another witch, though she did not know who. He is a few years older than her, and at Hogwarts, they were in different Houses with the consequence that she did not know him at all. He only came to her notice a year before they met, this past Easter, at a Ministry party in Liverpool.

                He was often seen with the Malfoys. At nineteen, he mastered Potions and is the youngest professor at Hogwarts, distinguishing himself by his formidable intellect and acerbic wit. There is a heart underneath all the bluster. Jasmine wanted to be a part of his life with all of her heart. She did not get pregnant on purpose, but she thought it was the only possible way for Severus to remain with her.

                However, Severus does not believe her. Her owls return to her unanswered, and his wretched father refuses to pass on her message.

                She is all alone.

 

ooOoo

 

November 1985

 

Jasmine can’t keep her job at the Ministry of Magic. The stress of her all makes her seriously ill, and she is forced to take several days off. Upon finding out she is pregnant, her boss fires her with some imaginary excuse. In her dismissal, she is cited for her poor attendance.   

Being a Muggleborn in the Ministry is a difficult position, but being a pregnant, unwed Muggleborn is even worse. She has no rights.

                No one is willing to help her, she has no friends to rely on and no connections to speak of.

                She has tried to owl the school when her letters, sent directly to Severus, who will have already returned to school by now to sort out next year’s syllabus, come back unopened, and though her letters are not coming back with the owl, she is not receiving any replies either.

                Her savings run out very quickly, and she is forced to vacate her flat, unable to pay the rent.

 

ooOoo

               

January 1986

 

Iris takes her in when no one else does.

                Jasmine knows she would be grateful for any help. At this point, Jasmine has left the Magical World altogether, snapping her wand in a fit of pique. She has no money to replace it, and she does not want to anyway.

                In fact, she has no interest in anything. Even her own baby. Iris takes care of Jasmine and forces her to eat and bathe. Despite her swollen belly, she is becoming gaunt. Pregnancy has been hard on her: with no money to pay for healers at St Mungo’s, she is forced to rely on the NHS in the muggle world.

               

ooOoo

 

May 1986

 

“I really loved him,” Jasmine pronounces flatly.

                A few days ago, she gave birth to her underweight daughter. The nurses allow her to hold the baby for a while before taking her away. She has difficulty breathing with her tiny lungs.

                “I know,” Iris sighs.

                Jasmine does not even look at her daughter. She is too tired and, frankly, doesn’t care. The baby has ruined her life.

                The nurse returns several hours later for feeding time. Iris is still there. She has not left. The baby is fussy, and Jasmine does not have the patience or desire, to breastfeed. She wants nothing to do with the baby.

                “What are you going to name the little tot?” The cheery nurse asks.

                Jasmine turns her face away.

                Iris gets up from her plastic chair and comes to take the baby from the cot. She gives a small squawk but is otherwise silent.

                “Her name is Holly,” Iris announces into the silence when Jasmine does not answer.

                Severus likes flowers, Jasmine thinks. He said so once, though only for Potions. He never brought her any during their brief relationship, if it could even be called that.

                She cannot call her ‘the baby’ forever, so Jasmine does not argue about the name. She is only glad Iris didn’t choose Lily. Severus especially loves lilies.

 

ooOoo

 

May 1989

 

Harry thinks the relationship between Holly, her mother and her grandmother is odd, though he will never say it out loud.

                Holly does not live with Iris full time, but given the number of times her mother dumps her there, she might as well.

                Harry is shocked when Iris explains on a day he comes to visit Holly, but she is not there, that Jasmine, her mother, has full custody of her daughter. Although she obviously does not care about Holly, she refuses to let Iris take her in full time.

                Harry is no stranger to being unwanted since it is a common phrase in the Dursley household. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon rarely let an opportunity pass where they do not tell him. He finds it sad that Holly is unwanted by her own mother as he would give anything to have his own mother, but after seeing Jasmine, he realises that not all mothers are actually nice. He wonders if he is better off without a mother. Otherwise, he could have grown up like Dudley: foolish, fat and a bully.

                Harry would not mind a mother like Iris, who is always there for Holly, waiting to take care of her when Jasmine refuses to.

                Harry asks Iris about it once.

                “Why doesn’t Jasmine call you mum?”

                He finds it odd that Jasmine uses her mother’s name rather than call her ‘mum’.

                Iris looks at Harry sadly and pulls him into a hug.

                “I wish I could tell you, Harry,” Iris answers.

                Harry regrets making Iris sorrowful and does not mention it again.

                Ever since Harry met Holly and Iris the previous year, he has spent as much time as he can with them. That is, when he is not at school, locked in his cupboard or doing chores for the Dursleys.

                Spending time with Iris and Holly also gives Harry a chance to avoid Dudley and his friends. Iris always takes the time to feed Harry, even if Holly is not there.

                When Iris finds out how much the Dursleys hurt Harry, she is furious, cursing Aunt Petunia more than she curses Uncle Vernon, which he finds odd because it is Uncle Vernon who hurts him the most. Aunt Petunia mainly uses her words, though they are almost as harsh as Uncle Vernon’s belt.

                After the fury passes, Iris has a grim expression on her face and apologises to Harry for not being able to help him.

                Harry tells her he understands. And he really does. How will Iris help Harry get away from the Dursleys when she cannot even help Holly get away from her own mother?

                For Harry, it is enough for Iris to help him heal. Whatever cream she uses makes the pain go away. Almost like… magic.

                Aunt Petunia does not like Jasmine much: she is skinny like Holly and often looks sick. Aunt Petunia calls her loud and vulgar and that she dresses like a woman of loose morals. With all that makeup, brightly coloured tops that expose her bosom, tight jeans, and constant parading of different men when she picks up or drops off Holly. Aunt Petunia does not like the looks of the men that Jasmine takes with her and has warned Dudley to stay away from all of them.

                Harry does not like the way they look either and knows Holly is scared of some of them. He is afraid they will hurt Holly like Jasmine sometimes does.

 

ooOoo

 

July 1989

 

Harry is thrilled that school is over for the summer holidays. Not that he does not enjoy school. He likes learning and reading, maths and science, though he is not allowed to do better than Dudley: that will lead to accusations of cheating. It will lead to a world of hurt.

                Iris, who has seen Harry and Holly’s interest in gymnastics, signs them both up for classes at the local youth centre. As long as Harry has finished his chores, he is free to go as he pleases. As long as he comes home to help make the evening meal and doesn’t stay out later than Dudley. Otherwise, they will lock him out and force him to sleep outside. Harry slinks back to Iris’ home on the occasions where this happens, who lets him sleep in Holly’s bedroom. Holly has a bunk bed in her room, though Harry is not sure why she needs it as there is only her. If Holly is there when Harry has to stay because the Dursleys had locked him out, she always cuddles up to him as they fall asleep together.

                Harry tries to protest that Iris does not have to pay for his gymnastics classes, but she tells him it is a birthday gift for him. Harry is overwhelmed by the gift. He cannot pay for those classes himself, not to mention the Dursleys, who definitely will not pay for Harry to learn gymnastics.

                As a thank you to Iris, Harry makes sure he works very hard, not wanting her to think that he is taking her gift for granted. She has already done so much for him.

                Harry and Holly work hard all summer to perfect their gymnastics. Harry’s instructor is also happy and impressed by his trainee's progress and praises his enthusiasm. As a result of the exercise, Harry feels hungry all the time and feels guilty when he eats too much at Iris’ house.

                He knows not everyone is well off in this part of Surrey, and he thinks Iris doesn’t have that much money: her house is relatively small and very sparsely decorated, with only a few pictures, all of Holly.

                Holly’s bedroom only contains a bunk bed, a small wardrobe, a three-tier shelf and a very, very old dollhouse that is in the corner of the room. Her few toys take up half a shelf. Harry has seen inside Iris’ bedroom, which also has a bed, though hers is a single, a dressing table and a wardrobe.

                There are only two rooms downstairs: the kitchen, which only seems to have the essential appliances – not the latest pots, pans and appliances Aunt Petunia insists she must have – and the front room, which only had a two-seater and one seater sofa set, that looked so old that Harry imagines they must be from a second-hand furniture shop somewhere. Iris also has an ancient TV, but Harry never sees her watching it, though she allows him and Holly to turn it on occasionally.

                Her back garden is also relatively small compared to the Dursleys’. She has no flowers or anything decorous but does seem to grow her own herbs for cooking. When Harry and Holly use the back garden to practice handstands and cartwheels and such, they always have to be careful that they do not damage Iris’ herbs.

                There is only one room that Harry has not seen yet, and it’s the cellar. Iris does not have a cupboard under the stairs like the Dursleys do; instead, the door under the stairs leads to the cellar and Holly and Harry are not allowed in there as Iris told them the stairs are not stable, and she does not want to either of the children to get hurt. Harry only knows this because he once tried to get a broom to clean up the flour he spilled on the floor: he tried to open the door, but it was locked, and Iris, uncharacteristically, snaps at him to not touch the door.

                Harry is bemused but follows her instructions. He has never disobeyed.

               

ooOoo

 

January 1990

 

“Are you okay, Harry?” Holly asks, holding Harry’s hand as Iris makes him take his t-shirt off and tells him to lie down on his stomach on the sofa. Harry gingerly obeys. His back is sore and aching. Harry was blamed for turning their teacher’s hair blue, and  Uncle Vernon wasn’t happy with him. Harry does not know why he is being blamed for it. He was nowhere near the teacher, and he did not add anything to her hair to turn it blue. Even Mrs Peterson does not blame Harry, but Dudley mentioned the incident to Aunt Petunia, and she, in return, told Uncle Vernon.

                Both did not hesitate to blame Harry. Odd things always happen around Harry, and though he can never explain any of them, he often gets punished for them: like the time his hair grew back overnight after the horrible haircut Aunt Petunia gave him.

                Uncle Vernon is particularly vicious in his punishments after an unexplainable event. Harry’s back feels like it is on fire. He knows it’s bleeding slightly.

                Iris is muttering angrily as she walks around collecting bandages and other supplies to help Harry. Through the haze of pain, he can hear her cursing Petunia’s name, which confuses him, as it is Uncle Vernon using the belt on him.

                “I’m fine,” Harry manages to say.

                To distract him, Holly tells Harry about her day at the Nursery.

                “Miss Parker had to stop this boy from putting a crayon up his nose. She said he was naughty on purpose, so she took all his crayons away from him and that he wasn’t allowed to play with them anymore. He was being very silly, and he started to scream and shout when he tried to put the square block in the triangle-shaped hole. Miss Parker had to take that toy away from him as well.

                “Then, this other boy was feeling really ill, and when he tried to eat soil from the plant pot by dipping his banana into it, he threw up his banana. Then my friend Jade said she didn’t feel well and started being sick everywhere.”

                Harry winces as Iris dabs the cuts on his back but tries to concentrate on Holly’s words.

                She has been going to Nursery for a few months now, and, at first, she struggled as she cried for her Oma for the entire first week. Her teachers still express their concerns, as Holly refuses to play with other children.            

                “You made a friend?” Harry asks with a smile that is more of a grimace.

                “Jade’s okay,” Holly shrugs. “She shared her grapes with me when Jack took my lunchbox.”

                Harry is pleased that Holly is finally starting to come out of her shell at school.

                Iris continues to clean his cuts. Harry does not know what she is rubbing on his back, as there are never any changes in the wounds, but whatever she is using is very soothing and stops his back from hurting.

                “That was nice of Jade,” Harry comments as he lets Iris move along his lower back. The Dursleys do not know that Iris is aware of how they treat him. If they did, he would be in even more trouble. He is never allowed to let anyone know. “You should share something of yours with her tomorrow.”

                “Like what?”

                “Maybe take an extra juice or some fruit or biscuits,” Harry suggests.

                His back feels better now. His skin is still tight but is no longer burning so much that he can move around without pain. He cautiously sits up.

                “Harry?”

                “Yeah?”

                “I wish me and you could stay with Oma,” Holly states, looking between Harry and Iris.

                Iris freezes in the act of putting away her cotton pads.

                “Me too,” Iris admits, sitting down next to Harry on the sofa and looking at them despondently. Holding out her arm, she beckons Holly towards her, pulling her into a hug, and carefully places her other arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

                Harry finds himself holding back tears. Though he occasionally gets the urge to cry, he never gives into it. Crying only gets Dudley what he wants. Never Harry.

                Iris has always done so much for him. She feeds him, heals him, gives him a place to sleep when the Dursleys kick him out; she gave him a hobby that keeps him occupied and makes sure he understands his classwork, even if he is not allowed to show how smart he really is.

                Iris always says what she means and means what she says. She would not be lying if she did not want Harry to live with her full time: it would be so different from being an occasional visitor. Her kindness makes Harry’s heart hurt. One day, Harry would like to participate in the Olympics as a gymnast when he is old enough. It would make Iris proud. Show her how he appreciates her support.

Since he has begun to take gymnastics, Harry’s ability to climb trees has improved as he expertly swings himself higher and higher, from branch to branch. Having always been fast anyway, Harry finds himself even speedier and with more stamina since his gymnastics lessons.

                This frustrates Dudley to no end. It amuses Harry to watch Dudley try to scale the gym's climbing frame and see him already at the top.

               

ooOoo

 

April 1990

 

Harry is laughing as he runs towards Iris’ house. Dudley and Malcolm are chasing Harry, but he loses them when he easily vaults a six-foot wall and does a flip to the other side.

                Dudley is as big as he is dumb, and by the time he gets to the other side of the wall, Harry will already be inside Iris’ house.

                He knocks on the door, bouncing on his toes. He actually has good news to tell Iris. She will be so pleased.

                He knows as soon as Iris opens the door that something is wrong. Her eyes are red like she has been crying.

                “Is everything okay? Did something happen to Holly?” he asks uncertainly, feeling panicked and alarmed.

                Did Holly’s mum hurt Holly very badly? She had done that once, a few months ago. Jasmine had yanked on Holly’s arm so hard she had broken her wrist. Harry knows she lied and told the doctors Holly hurt herself practising her gymnastics.

                Jasmine did not visit Holly once during the six weeks she dumped her with Iris while Holly’s arm was cast. Harry had been distraught that day as he was not allowed to visit Holly in the hospital to see if she was okay. Iris assured him Holly was well, but Harry was still angry at Jasmine for hurting the little girl.

                There is an odd rattling sound, and Harry startles as he feels Iris place a hand on his shoulder.

                The rattling stops when Iris says, “Holly’s fine.”

                “What happened?” Harry asks anxiously as Iris pulls him inside.

                “It’s Holly’s mother, Harry,” Iris tells him sadly.

                She has barely closed the door behind Harry when Holly gets up from the sofa and runs to him, throwing her arms around his chest. Harry automatically pulls her close. Harry is short for his age, and Holly is tall for hers. They are almost the same height.

                Harry does not feel any less anxious.

                “Mamma’s gone,” Holly cries.

                “What?” Harry queries, astonished.

                Gone where? Has she finally abandoned Holly for good? Has Iris finally got full custody? Harry cannot feel sad about Jasmine being gone. The only good thing Jasmine has done is have Holly. As far as Harry is concerned, being out of Holly’s life will only be good for her so that she cannot hurt her daughter.

                Iris carefully picks Holly up and takes her back to the sofa. Holly clings back to Harry as soon as he is seated next to her, while Iris sits in the single-seater as she observes them both.

                “Jasmine and Holden passed away last night. There was a house fire. Neither made it out,” Iris tells him in a low quiet.

                “Oh,” Harry says smartly.

                He is upset for Holly’s sake but still thinks she is better off without Jasmine. If there was a part of Jasmine that cared for Holly, then Harry never saw it.

                He is happy that Holly gets to live with Iris full time now: it will be better for her, and Harry can see her regularly.

                Iris gives Harry a knowing look as Holly lays down with her head in his lap. Sometimes, Harry feels Iris can read his mind. He swears he can feel a tickle in his brain when this happens.

                Harry has not spent much time with Jasmine before her death because Iris has always preferred him to be nowhere around if Jasmine came to visit. Harry did not mind staying away if that was what Iris wanted, though he has had to stop himself from hiding Holly away with him.

                Harry feels Holly’s tears seep through his jeans.

                Jasmine might have been a bad mum, but she was still Holly’s mother. It’s clear that Holly prefers Iris over Jasmine, but that does not mean she will not miss her.

                Harry decides to be sad over the loss of life in general, even if he is not upset at the loss of Jasmine’s life.

               

                ooOoo

 

May 1990

 

Harry has kept this since the day he found out Holly’s mum had died. He decides to give it to Holly today because it is her birthday. It will mean more.

                “Here,” Harry says to Holly, handing over the small box. As neatly as Petunia taught him, it is wrapped up in a newspaper he saved before Uncle Vernon threw it away.

                Holly rips it apart with an eagerness that makes Harry smile.

                Harry has carefully cut out a piece of cardboard to display the pendant he has found in his aunt’s attic. It was in a jewellery box labelled “Lily”. Aunt Petunia had sent Harry to fetch new pillows she stores up there, needing to replace her own. Harry had opened the box and found this pendant at the top: he did not hesitate to filch it and place it in his pocket. He looked at it before going to sleep every night. He swears he felt it warm up.

                Holly has been melancholy since Jasmine died, and Harry thought he might gift her this pendant.

                Holly smiles widely as she shows it off to Iris.

                “Looks, Oma. Isn’t it pretty?”

                Iris is already leaning forward and taking the pendant from Holly, gasping as she looks at it.

                “Harry, where did you get this? Do you – Where did you get the money for? This must have been expensive,” she says. Harry gets the feeling she was about to say something different.

                “I found it in the attic. Aunt Petunia sent me up there for something, and I found my mum’s jewellery box. When I opened it, I found this on top. Aunt Petunia doesn’t know I took it; otherwise, she would make me give it back. Please, let Holly keep it.”

                “Harry,” Iris says, exasperated.

                Knowing how little he knew about his mum, Holly told Harry, “You should keep this. It’s your mamma’s.”

                “I want you to have it,” Harry insists stubbornly.

                Holly looks uncertainly at Iris, who glances at Harry with a smile.

                “If you want to, Harry,” Iris relents. Then, imposing a condition, she looks at Holly and tells her, “But – if Harry asks for this back, you will give it to him.”

                Iris gives Holly a strict look, who nods and then holds still as she fastens the pendant around her neck.

                Smiling widely, Holly throws her arms around Harry’s neck and kisses his cheek in thanks. He laughs, happy they accepted his gift.

                They sit down for their meal and Holly’s cake. Harry notices Iris’ gaze on Holly’s pendant the rest of the evening. He is as happy to have found it as he knows Holly will be wearing it. He might have liked to keep it for himself, yet he can’t help but think it is a girly thing.

                It is a beautiful chain of gold. The pendant is made with emerald-coloured stones, matching Harry’s eyes, that cup the golden lily.

 

ooOoo

 

June 1991

 

After the snake incident at the zoo, Harry endures his worst punishment. Beaten severely, he is thrown in his cupboard for days with barely any food.

                He is under restriction and not allowed to leave the house. Just as he finds it hard to move, he also misses whatever magical disinfectant or lotion Iris uses to soothe his back after Uncle Vernon’s punishments.

 

ooOoo

 

July 1991

 

Harry has no idea who is so desperate to contact him. He has no idea who would send him so many letters with an owl or any other method that turns Uncle Vernon into a crazed maniac.

                Aunt Petunia forces Uncle Vernon to give Harry Dudley’s second bedroom, which does not please him at all, judging by his biggest tantrum yet. Harry is happy to have a bigger room, even if he is forced to share it with most of Dudley’s broken and useless toys. He is more curious about who is sending him those letters.

                Harry is surprised that he hasn’t been punished for it. This would definitely count as a bizarre occurrence that the Dursleys would usually punish him for.

                After days of being forced to flee Privet Drive with the Dursleys to escape the letters, they find themselves in a dilapidated hut on the rocks during a dark and stormy night.

                There he meets Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys for Hogwarts.

                “Harry – yer a wizard,” Hagrid tells him.

                Harry does not look back as Hagrid takes him away the following morning, to the world his parents were from.

               

ooOoo

 

Harry returns to the Dursleys, who made their own way back from the middle of nowhere. They are so scared of Harry that they leave him alone.

                Harry heads towards Iris’s house, anxious and uneasy. It is killing him that he cannot share this huge piece of news with the two people he cares about more than anyone. Not that they might believe him. Even Harry is still struggling with that.

                He is a wizard, a famous one.

There is a whole world out there that most people do not know exists. Non-magical people are called muggles, and the magical world is protected by the Statute of Secrecy.

Harry thinks the most fantastical thing of all is finding out that his parents did not die in a car accident. They were murdered. The Dursleys lied to him. Aunt Petunia lied to him about her own sister.

Harry will go to a school far away in Scotland, never worrying about money ever again. He has a mountain of gold sitting in a vault, in the deep dark tunnels somewhere underneath London, In a bank run by goblins.

Now, he has to lie to Iris and Holly and tell them he is going to a school for the gifted. How will he be able to speak to them when he is away at school? Hagrid told him muggle stuff like electronics won’t work in Hogwarts. They have no phones. It would hurt them if Harry left and didn’t contact them for almost a year.

Wizards use owls to send letters. Hagrid has bought him a snowy owl as a birthday gift, even though He must name her still. But he can’t send an owl to Iris and Holly. They are muggles.

He has to find a way to keep in contact. There must be some way. It is so frustrating to find out something so big and not be able to share it with people who mean so much to him. They are more his family than the Dursleys.

Harry realises he is now standing in front of Iris’s door. He knocks in a subdued manner, almost hoping she won’t open the door. If only, to delay the moment he has to lie to them for a little longer.

His wishes are ignored.

Iris opens the door, greets Harry with a warm smile, and pulls him inside.

 “Holly and I were wondering when you would be back,” Iris gestures him in. “We didn’t realise the Dursleys would take you with them on their holiday. They certainly never have before.”

Harry opens his mouth to say they did not go on holiday but then realises it is better to let them think that instead of the truth, that they were fleeing from hundreds of letters from a magical school called Hogwarts.

“Harry,” Holly yells as she sees him. She runs over before he can greet her back and is tackled around the middle as she hugs him tightly. “I thought you were gone forever. The Dursleys never take you anywhere, and I wanted to give you your birthday present, and we got you cake.”

Iris laughs.

“Let him in, you silly child,” Iris admonishes.

They are still standing in the doorway. Holly untangles herself from Harry and allows him to enter the house properly. Iris closes the door behind Harry and leads him to the kitchen.

There, on the small round dining table, Harry sees a treacle tart, his favourite dessert, and some presents wrapped up for him. This birthday might be his best yet. If only he could tell Iris and Holly about the magical world…

Harry smiles and decides to celebrate his birthday with them. It is only the day after, and he still has not decided what to tell them.

Iris cuts him a slice of treacle tart, and Holly impatiently urges him to open his presents. Harry is surprised to find several new clothes, all in his size. It is practically a new wardrobe. He now has several new t-shirts, collared shirts, dress pants, and new jeans. Even new trainers and smart black shoes.

“Oma said it because you’re going to big school this year, and you should have some smart clothes to make a good impression,” Holly tells him excitedly.

“All this must have been really expensive,” Harry stutters.

Harry recognises some of the clothes as the brands his aunt and uncle bought for Dudley. None of it is cheap.

He has an entirely new uniform at Hogwarts and has purposely bought extra school shirts and trousers, so he does not have to wear Dudley’s cast-offs.

“When you receive a gift like this, child,” Iris starts in a gentle chiding voice, “you should simply say thank you and accept it.”

“Thank you,” Harry repeats and hugs Iris as tightly as Holly does to him.

Iris gently pats his back as she embraces him too.

“You’re welcome, son.”

Harry finds he has to stop his breath from hitching, as it happens every time she calls him son.

Later, after consuming whatever food Iris has made, the cake is cut, and the table has been cleared away Harry and Iris are sat on the sofas. The TV is on as they watch the Disney film Oliver and Company.

Holly has fallen asleep in Iris’ lap as Iris strokes her hair soothingly.

“Thank you again for the clothes, Mrs Pierce,” Harry says. The clothes are packed away in a bag, and he will store them safely in his school trunk. The Dursleys might be cowed now, but Harry is sure they will not stay subdued for long.

“Don’t mention it, child. You deserve new clothes. I’ve wanted to buy you some for a while. I was just afraid your aunt and uncle would take them for you and punish, wrongly, for having them in the first place if I did.”

Harry flushed. She is probably right.

“Besides, I know you won’t need to hide them at your new school. Your aunt and uncle will hardly come to you at Hogwarts to snatch them away from you.”

Harry’s head spins so fast that his glasses almost fly off.

“You know about Hogwarts?” Harry gasps.

Holly stirs at his loud voice.

Iris gives him what he can only class as a smirk. He has never seen that expression on her face before.

               

>

Chapter 2- Clutching At Straws

 

August 1991

 

Harry is shocked by Iris's knowledge of the wizarding world. She explains that the odd things happening around Harry have made her believe he was a muggle-born like Jasmine.

                He is even more shocked to find that Jasmine is a witch. Harry has only been in the wizarding world for one day and already thinks it is brilliant. He cannot wait to learn new spells. His wand already feels like it is a part of him, and even the fact that the core is shared with that Voldemort doesn’t dampen his excitement.

                Ollivander has said Harry is destined for great things, and he knows he has to prove himself now. The Dursleys have convinced the neighbours he is a delinquent in the making, destined to a life of crime, and only Iris and Mrs Figg know otherwise.

                Being a wizard is different. No one knows him. He can be just… Harry. For a moment, he almost tells Iris that he is the Boy-Who-Lived. That he is famous. Then, he changes his mind. Being the Boy-Who-Lived is not important. It's only a title other people gave him. He wants to go into the wizarding world and earn himself a title.

                The Dursleys will never be proud of him, but Iris and Holly will be.

                "Holly is a witch too," Iris tells Harry, watching him carefully.

                Harry's eyes dart to the sleeping Holly.

                Now that he thinks about it, he realises odd things happen to Holly as well. She is usually calm and does not throw tantrums, but occasionally, when she sees Dudley hurting Harry or someone else taking something that does not belong to them, glass might crack, or a branch will fall. Harry remembers one of her balls changing from green to blue. Harry had thought it was his imagination or that he was wrong. Now he knows it is magic.

                He is relieved that he does not need to hide his true self from Iris and Holly. Then, a thought occurs to him.

                "Does Holly know?"

                Has Holly been aware of being a witch the whole time and chose not to share with Harry? He feels hurt at first, then realises she might not have been able to say because of the Statute of Secrecy. And, after all, wasn't Harry going to do the same?

                "Holly doesn't know," Iris assures him. She leans forward, still keeping one arm around Holly and reaches out to Harry with the other, who extends his own arm to take Iris's hand.

                "She tells you everything. I knew she would want to tell you and, well, I didn't know how to prove it to either of you. It sounds odd to someone who has lived their whole life without magic. So, I waited until I heard you received your letter to Hogwarts."

                Harry ruminates on this for a while. When Iris takes Holly up to her room, he's still thinking about it. He finds it difficult to wrap his head around the fact that Jasmine was a witch but then realises that he does not actually know much about Jasmine.

                From what he has seen of witches and wizards in Diagon Alley, they are an odd lot. Jasmine was weird, and he would never have guessed she was a witch.

                Iris comes back alone.

                "Why did Jasmine give up being a witch?"

                That could be the only explanation.

                "Jasmine loved being a witch. She loved school," Iris starts to say, then sighs wearily. "Being a muggle-born in the wizarding world isn't easy."

                Harry nods. He thinks back to the blond boy who had sneered at him when he thought he had non-magical parents. He does not know the boy's name, but he seems to be the magical version of Dudley Dursley.

                "Jasmine suffered for her ambitions. Then, there was the incident with Holly's father."

                Iris falls silent. A morose look settles over her features, and she looks so… tired.

                Harry has never seen Holly's dad. She had told Harry that her dad abandoned Jasmine when she was pregnant because he refused to believe her. Harry does not like to talk about Holly's dad, whoever he is. It makes Holly and Iris sad. Though he suspects it is for entirely different reasons.

                Harry thinks Holly is sad because she imagines what her mum would have been if she had not been rejected by Holly's dad. Iris probably feels the same, but Harry thinks there is more to Iris's sadness.

                Adult relationships are so complicated.

                "At least you can talk to me about this now," Iris tells him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

                "Really?" Harry asks in a bright voice. "Thanks, Mrs Pierce."

                "Oma, child. You can call me Oma. Just like Holly does."

                Harry feels overwhelmed again.

               

ooOoo

 

Harry spends the rest of the month dividing his time between flicking through his schoolbooks and attending his gymnastics. His instructors are disappointed to see him go away, but Harry promises to return every summer.

                He finds his books so fascinating. He finds a name for his owl in his history book, deciding to call her Hedwig.

                Iris also tells Holly that she is a witch and will go to Hogwarts herself one day. Initially, her first reaction was sadness to find that Harry would be going to a school so far away, but he assures her he would send so many letters that she would not miss him.

                Holly is afraid of Hedwig's talons at first but quickly begins to adore the snowy owl. Hedwig spends more time with Holly than she does with Harry, as she spoils her with bacon rashers every morning.

                One day, when Holly has a play date with some friends, Harry is surprised when Iris asks him to come over.

                When Iris leads him to the door under the stairs that connects to the cellar, he is even more astonished. He and Holly have always been forbidden from this room.

                He realises it is cool down here as he carefully descends the creaking steps.

                Iris turns the light on, and he can see the room properly. It is better lit than Harry expects: there is a small desk in the corner and shelves and shelves of books. Looking through the titles, Harry realises they are wizarding books.

                "Did these belong to Jasmine?" Harry asks as he examines the titles.

                Many seem to be about Potions, some on dark curses. There are several school books here, though the titles show they are more advanced versions of his Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. Some go even up to Grade 7.

                There are a few historical texts as well. Harry looks them over in awe.

                "Some of them are Jasmine's. She didn't want to keep them anymore, so I kept them down here. Out of the way."

                There is an odd pause as Iris hesitates over her following words.                

                "Most of them belong to my son," Iris finally admits.

                Harry rapidly turns back to Iris in shock, almost twisting his ankle as he does so. She has never mentioned having a son before. He stares at her wide-eyed, and Iris flushes as he gapes at her.

                "I know you and Holly have no secrets from each other, Harry," Iris begins to say, stepping closer to him and cupping his face. Harry looks up at her. "But I'm asking you to keep this one secret. There's a reason I've never mentioned my son. Not a day goes by that I don't think about him, and it… it hurts. I wasn't a really good mother to him."

                Harry cannot imagine Iris not being a good mother. He sees the way she is with Holly. How she is with him.

                "Is he dead?" Harry asks hesitantly.

                "No," she sighs. "But he probably thinks I am."

                Harry's brow wrinkles in confusion.

                "One day, I will tell you about him. Just… not today. One day, I will need to tell Holly. I'm trusting you to keep this one secret, Harry. Will you do that? For me?"

                Harry does not like seeing the sadness on Iris' face, so agrees without hesitation. There is a warm glow in his chest: no one has trusted him like this before.

                Iris pulls him for a hug, which he returns. They stand like that for some time.

                "Why did you bring me down here?" Harry asks, pulling away.

                "I wanted you to have this," Iris says. She does not let go of him, just moves to the side so they face the shelves again, her arm still on his shoulders. "Your relatives are not open-minded, but you can be yourself here."

                As he leaves Iris's house with his new clothes and other presents, he realises that he has not even asked her son's name. The opportunity is gone now, and Harry does not want to bring it up anymore for fear of bringing back her desolate look.

 

                ooOoo

 

                On the morning of September 1st, Harry wakes up early, too excited to go back to sleep. He has made sure to pack up all his things the night before. His clothes are neatly organised, his books are in one section, his cauldron is neatly stacked, and all his ingredients are stored properly.

                The Dursleys have agreed to take Harry to the train station, although only because they must take Dudley to a hospital in London to have the tail Hagrid gave him surgically removed.

                Harry has told Iris this, though she still says she will meet him at the train station.

                Several hours later, Harry is standing in King's Cross station. In an uncharacteristically generous move, Uncle Vernon unloads his trunk and even wheels it into the station. Dudley insists on getting out as he wants a snack from the WHSmith, whilst Aunt Petunia remains in the car.

Vernon walks out laughing several minutes later with Dudley, having taunted Harry about the fact that platform 9 ¾ has not been built yet.

                Harry is not worried. Iris has already told him how to get onto the platform for the Hogwarts Express, but… He does not go yet. He is still waiting for Iris and Holly. They promised to be here to see him off.

                As he stands there, watching Vernon and Dudley leave without a backward glance, he remembers that Aunt Petunia would have gone to see off his mum when Lily left for Hogwarts. It makes him sad that Aunt Petunia is still so bitter about Lily being a witch that she would rather Harry suffer at King's Cross than see him safely on the train to school.

                He watches as Vernon and Dudley get to the car. Dudley jumps suddenly, holding his enormous backside, but Vernon does not notice as he's already getting into the car.

                Dudley gives a mad look around and, looking over his shoulder, locks eyes with Harry. He gets a scared look and scrambles into the car, still staring at him even as Uncle Vernon drives away.

                Barely a minute has passed when Iris and Holly walk in through the same doors the Dursleys exited from. Holly lets go of Iris' hand and runs to Harry, hugging him tightly as if they have not met in ages. Harry was only at Iris's last night because she had made him his favourite foods as a send-off he would never get from the Dursleys.

                 Iris hugged him too as she greeted him.

                "Did you make sure you packed everything?" she asks.

                "Yes, I did… Oma," Harry still blushes as he calls her that.

                Iris smiles at him, pleased.

                "You’ll write, won’t you, Harry?” Holly pleads, taking his hand with both of hers.

                “All the time.” And he intends to keep his promise.

                “Did you have breakfast?” Iris inquires.

                “No,” he admits sheepishly. “I was too excited.”

                Though it did not stop Aunt Petunia from making Harry make it for everyone. Dudley had a big surgery he needed to get through, after all.

                Iris rolls her eyes in affectionate exasperation and brings out some sandwiches wrapped in cling film. Then, as they still have time before Harry has to get on the train, she leads them to a café and buys herself a coffee, hot chocolate for Holly and Harry, and a bacon sandwich for all of them. Harry takes his time eating his.  

                Hedwig, who is already eliciting weird looks, hoots loudly, attracting more attention as she eyes the bacon. Holly sneaks the snowy owl some of her bacon whilst Iris pretends not to look.

                “You’re spoiling her,” Harry complains without any real heat.

                “She’ll be flying all the way from Scotland. She’s going to need her energy,” Holly giggles.

                Hedwig snaps her beak in agreement.

                Harry does not honestly mind, as he likes to see Holly happy.

                Finally, it is time for Harry to board the train.

                “Make sure you eat properly, child. No junk food. Don’t just fill up on desserts and sweets,” Iris instructs.

                She has told him about the Great Hall and the variety of food offered every day.

                “Yes, Oma,” Harry agrees.

                “If you need anything else, just send me a letter with Hedwig,” Iris continues.

                “Yes, Oma.”

                “And you pay attention in your classes. I expect you to try your best.”

                “Yes, Oma.”

                “Keep practising your gymnastics when you find a space. Hogwarts doesn’t have a PE system,” Iris carries on.

                “Yes, Oma.”

                When all reminders are exhausted, they stop in front of the wall between platforms nine and ten.

                “Go, my son. You don’t want to miss the train,” Iris says emotionally, giving him a final embrace.

                “I’ll miss you, Harry,” Holly says tearfully, hugging him tightly, reluctant to let him go.

                “We’ll see Harry again, Holly. Sooner than you think. Hm? Come on, darling. We’re blocking the entrance.”

                Holly kisses his cheek one last time and lets Iris lead her off, heedless of her tearful eyes that follow him the whole time she walks away.

                As another group of travellers block his view of Iris and Holly, Harry takes the opportunity to slip through the barrier with his trolley.

                Pushing his gloom to one side, he is awed by the Hogwarts Express. He moves aside with his trolley when he realises he is blocking the barrier.

                 Not a moment too soon as a red-headed family spills through in twos and threes. There are quite a few of them.

                Soon, he makes himself comfortable in an empty compartment near the end of the train, with Hedwig still in her cage.

                It is not long before the door to his compartment opens again, and the younger brother of the twins who helped Harry carry his trunk inside the train enters.

                Apart from an incident or two with the annoying blond he met in Madam Malkin’s, Draco Malfoy, and the scary first year who memorised all her school books, Hermione Granger, Harry spends the rest of the uneventful train ride with his new friend, Ron Weasley. Together, the boys laugh, joke, share their food and learn about each other’s families.

               

ooOoo

 

First Year

… you were right about the feast, Oma. They had everything, and the food was wonderful. They even had treacle tart!

                I got sorted in Gryffindor with my new friend Ron. I’m so happy about that! Ron has five older brothers and one younger sister, but she doesn’t start at Hogwarts until next year. All the Weasley boys are in Gryffindor.

I almost got sorted into Slytherin. But, I met this prat on the train, Draco Malfoy. He reminded me of Dudley. I’m going to stay away from him.

The castle is so vast, and the staircases and portraits move as well! I have saved some Chocolate Frogs for you, Holly. I bought them on the train with some Every Flavour Beans. Be careful with those because they mean every flavour. One of Ron’s brothers claims to have once eaten a bogie flavoured bean …

… I share a dorm with Ron and three other boys: Dean Thomas, who is a Muggleborn. Seamus, who said he’s half and half, and Neville, a Pureblood.

Ron thinks Dean’s West Ham poster is weird because it doesn’t move…

 

ooOoo

 

… Classes are amazing. Most of them, at least. Although It’s mostly theory. I like Charms the best so far. Professor Flitwick really knows what he’s talking about and makes learning fun. I thought Defence Against the Darks would be better, but the professor’s a little weird. It’s a pity because I was really looking forward to it. Quirrell’s classroom stinks of garlic, and the lads from my dorm think it’s because he’s afraid a vampire he fought against before will come back for him.

Transfiguration is hard, and Professor McGonagall is really strict, making us do a lot of reading, but I like it.

I was really looking forward to Potions because I read all those books in your basement, Oma, but this professor is genuinely awful. I swear I read all those books you said I should, but Snape asked me so many questions about asphodel and wormwood, aconite and bezoars. I’ve written them all down to look up properly later. Anyway, only this girl, Hermione Granger, knew the answers, but Snape kept picking on me.

He certainly hates me for some reason, though I don’t know why. Hagrid thinks I’m just imagining it, but I don’t think so.

Hagrid invited me for tea after classes. He lives in a hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Students aren’t allowed in there. Hagrid said it’s because it’s full of dangerous creatures.

 

ooOoo

 

… I love flying. Being on a broom is marvellous, a feeling of complete freedom that I can’t even describe in words. Professor McGonagall said my dad was a brilliant flyer, and he was in the Quidditch team of his House.

                She was so impressed with my flying that she made me a Seeker on the Gryffindor team. According to her, I’m the youngest Seeker in a century, and I even have my own broom, the latest brand, Nimbus 2000.

I have to work so hard to keep up with all my homework and go to Quidditch practise and gymnastics.

Ron thinks gymnastics is boring, but Dean thinks it’s cool, so when I practice, he comes with me sometimes. I don’t know where I’m going to practice when the weather gets colder. Perhaps I’ll have to ask Professor McGonagall.

 

ooOoo

 

 

… it’s a long story, but I’ve made another friend. It’s Hermione Granger. She’s a Muggleborn and terrifying clever, and she makes me and Ron do our homework before letting us play games. Ron’s a genius in chess. It’s his favourite game. Playing with a magical chess set is so much weirder. I’m rubbish at it, but he is terrific, and even his older brother Percy, who is almost as smart as Hermione, can’t beat him. I know you could take him, Oma, but he’d make you work for it.

Even Hermione can’t beat him, though she lasts the longest. That’s only because it takes her ages to make a move. Ron thinks it will do Hermione good to lose at something, occasionally, because she’s so brilliant at all her classwork…

 

ooOoo

 

Harry continues to write letters to Iris and Holly throughout the year. Their letters always come back with loads of questions from Holly about everything and admonitions to stay out of trouble, making sure he eats well, behaves in classes, does his homework and looks after himself from Iris. Like a real mum.

                Iris always gives him advice when talking about his teachers and shows how pleased she is with his progress and how she is proud of him for joining the Quidditch team at such a young age.

                Harry deliberately does not tell all the other dangerous adventures that he has faced or that have happened to him over the first year – like the troll, the three-headed dog, the Philosopher’s Stone, and one of his professors' having Voldemort on the back of his head. He does not want Iris to worry, but he plans on telling her some of it when he is there in person.

 

ooOoo

 

Summer 1992

 

The Dursleys have reverted back to form, no longer scared of him. When he left the Hogwarts Express, Harry had hoped that he would be able to convince the Dursleys to leave him alone with the threat of magic. After all, they do not know that he is not allowed to use magic during the summer holidays.

                This has not deterred them. Apparently, when they went to the private hospital to have Dudley’s tail surgically removed, they found it had already disappeared. They think Harry had used magic on Dudley in the train station that day.

                Never mind that Harry still had not any training at that point. The Dursleys are experts in their own brand of logic.

                As soon as Harry steps through the front door of number 4 Privet Drive, his trunk is locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and he is sent to his room with a padlock on Hedwig’s cage. She is not happy with the turn of events. Neither is Harry.

                The next day, he agonisingly stumbles towards Iris’ house, having suffered from the worst beating he has ever received. He has snuck out with a caged Hedwig after all the Dursleys left the house for the day. He cannot allow Hedwig to be locked all summer. Iris can help him get Hedwig out of her cage and keep her safe for him.

                Iris opens the door to his knock. Her welcoming smile fades as she observes Harry’s strained features. Quickly taking Hedwig’s cage from him in one hand and holding back Holly, who is rushing to greet Harry with a massive grin on her face. Iris still tries with the other to guide him to the sofa to lie down.

                “Those animals,” Iris mutters angrily above him.

                Harry has to stand up again, wincing tenderly, to take his t-shirt off. It hurts as it peels away from his skin. Holly gasps as she sees his bloody back when he lies back down.

                Vernon has never beat him this badly before. Until last night, Harry has never thought of Vernon as the kind of person to hold back.

                “Holly, go get my first aid kit, sweet,” Iris instructs her granddaughter.

                Holly rushes back, and Harry tilts his head slightly to watch her come back with a little green box.

                “Please… Don’t cry,” Harry says comfortingly. He stopped saying he was fine so long ago. Holly and Iris told him he is not allowed to use that word when he is hurt.

                Despite his pleas, Holly begins to sob. Handing the kit to Iris, she kneels on the floor next to Harry, taking his hand in both of hers. Holly should not see him like this. She has experienced so much sorrow in her own life that it seems almost unfair to make her see Harry suffer. He wishes he could protect her from himself. He wishes he could stay with Iris forever.

                Harry hisses and flinches every so often when Iris dabs a particularly painful wound. Nonetheless, despite all her efforts, she cannot heal him properly. Harry has realised she has been using potions on his back for several years not to heal him but only enough to ease the pain. Never fully, as it would make the Dursleys escalate their violence if they saw his wounds disappear entirely. So that is what Iris does now. She heals his injuries enough to make the bleeding stop, though she cannot remove the marks wholly.

                He does not realise when he falls asleep. He just feels Holly’s small hand stroking his hair like she has seen Iris do so many times when comforting him.

                Harry wakes up several hours later, still lying face down on the sofa with his arm dangling off to the side. Holly is still on the floor, falling asleep leaning back, and Harry’s arm is wrapped around her body. Even in her sleep, she has not let go of him. He is still feeling stiff and unable to move straight away, and not just because Holly is holding his arm hostage. His back is sore rather than on fire, so it is definitely an improvement.

                Iris notices that Harry is awake and makes her way over from the kitchen. She gently picks up Holly from the floor without waking her and places her on the one-seater, covering her with a shawl usually draped over the back of the seat.

                “How are you feeling, child?” Iris asks him as she helps Harry into a sitting position.

“I’m better, thank you,” he replies.

Once he sat up, she hands him a vial she has plucked from the front pocket of her dress.

With surprise, he realises it is a Pain-Reliever. He realises that, as a muggle, Iris is not capable of brewing potions for herself. Where has she bought this from?

                “It’s a Pain-Relieving Potions,” Iris explains, sitting next to Harry.

Whilst he uncorks it, she reaches over to the small coffee table and pours a glass of water from the jug she has ready.

                 “Where did you get it?” Harry asks curiously, then drains it in one go.

He is handed a glass of water which he sips slowly to get the awful tasting potion off his taste buds.

“Where I got it isn’t important,” Iris tells him.

Harry does not question it. Not after healing him. It would be ungrateful. She has been helping for so many years that it does not matter where she gets magical items she should not have access to. He silently accepts that Iris has more knowledge about the magical world than he does, given that she has two children who have gone through Hogwarts. She is bound to pick up extra knowledge, even if by proxy. Iris has always been a straightforward resourceful person. She has probably been able to sneak into the Magical world for years.

“It just breaks my heart that I have to use these sorts of potions. I seem to be cursed to piece my children back together,” she murmurs into the silence.

Harry has no words for this. It is sad that Holly has to be healed as well from the hurt bestowed on her by Jasmine. He also feels the warm glow he always gets when Iris refers to him as her child.

“Come, Harry. I’ve made you something to eat,” she declares, standing up and brushing down non-existent wrinkles from her dress.

He is still stiff, but the Pain-Reliever has kicked in. It will probably last him partway through the night. He has been through this pain before. Iris has never given him a potion before. Perhaps she only recently stocked up on it, or maybe she didn’t give it to him because he did not know about Potions before his Hogwarts letter.

As he follows Iris into the kitchen, he realises her dress is looser on her skinny frame than usual. He silently sits down and studies her. He can see that her face is gaunt, and she looks paler than usual.

“Have you been ill?” Harry queries as she opens her fridge to bring out a plate of sandwiches.

Iris flits him a glance and answers unconcerned voice, “I’m just recovering from a touch of flu.”

                 Harry knows Iris always plays down her health. He remembers last year when Iris had dizzy spells and trouble breathing. She likes to pretend nothing is wrong with her. Harry and Holly forced her to rest: he took over cooking for weeks. In the morning, Holly and Iris made do with cereal or toast. In the afternoon, Harry came over to cook something for lunch and for the evening.

                When not being forced by Aunt Petunia, Harry enjoys cooking. It helps to have an appreciative audience. Both Holly and Iris enjoy eating what he makes for them. Holly always requests blueberry pancakes whenever she can get away with it.

                Harry pretends to believe Iris and slowly begins to eat his sandwich as she pours him a second glass of water.

                He freezes mid-bite when he suddenly remembers Hedwig.

                “Oma,” he gasps in flustered tones, putting his sandwich back down. “Vernon put that padlock on Hedwig’s cage. Have you got some bolt cutters so I could let her out?”

                Startled by Harry’s sudden panic, Iris quickly gathers herself and reaches out to grab his arm and gently guide him back to his chair.

                “Relax, child. I’ve already released Hedwig. When you fell asleep, I let her out from her cage. See?”

                She points to Hedwig’s cage on the kitchen counter, now empty.

                Relieved, he collapses back against the chair, wincing slightly at his skin's stretched feeling. It is not painful, thanks to the potion, but still uncomfortable.

                “Thanks,” he sighs. “Where is she?”

                “Stretching her wings,” Iris informs him.

                Harry nods and goes back to eating his sandwich.

                Later, when Harry is about to leave, he notices it. Harry decides to leave Hedwig’s cage with Iris, who has gone upstairs to fetch something. He is about to move it out of the way when he sees something shining in the kitchen bin.

                Looking down, he realises it is the padlock Vernon put on Hedwig’s cage. There is something odd about it, though. Puzzled, he reaches into the bin and picks it up to figure out why seeing it bothers him. Experimentally, he pulls up the shackle. It comes up easily.

                As he pushes the shackle back down and engages the lock mechanism, he comprehends why this bugs him: Vernon has hidden the key for the lock. If Iris had used bolt cutters, the mechanism would not work as the shackle would have been cut.

                Either Iris has picked the lock somehow, or magic has been used.

 

ooOoo

 

Arabella Figg is in the kitchen cleaning her sink when she hears the knock on her front door. Her face briefly contorts into a frown, trying to remember if she is supposed to be expecting a visitor.

                Arabella rinses her hands and grabs the hand towel hanging from the door handle under the sink to dry them off, and heads to open her front door, revealing Iris in the doorway.

                Wordlessly, she steps aside and allows Iris to enter her home.

                “Tea?” she offers in lieu of a greeting as she closes the door behind them and heads back to the kitchen.

                “That would be wonderful,” Iris agrees, following the elderly woman.

                Draping the hand towel over the back of a chair, Arabella bustles around, topping up the kettle with more water and switching it on. Iris takes a seat at the small square dining table, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself.

 Whilst the kettle is boiling, she pulls out two mugs and throws a tea bag in each, followed by two teaspoons of sugar in hers and one in Iris’, and uses the remaining time to finish rinsing the sink and clear up. Just in time as the water is boiled. She fills the mugs with water, stirring to help dissolve the sugar. Grabbing the milk bottle from the fridge, she adds a dash of it to her own tea. Iris has always preferred hers without.

                Neither woman speaks the whole time, though the silence is not uncomfortable. Arabella has known Iris for many years. Since the day she walked Harry to her house for the first time.

                Arabella places the mugs on the dining table and then fetches a plate of cherry scones from the breadbin that she has baked herself.

                Iris acknowledges her tea with a simple “Thank you” but keeps her eyes fixed on the table, staring unseeingly at the worn wood. Her mind is elsewhere.

                Arabella breaks the silence. “How bad was he?”

                Iris only gets this look about her after healing Harry from the tender care of Vernon Dursley. It is usually worse after a visit from Vernon’s vicious sister, Marge: the last time this had occurred, her ferocious dog had bitten Harry’s leg and chased him up a tree. He was nine at the time. Harry’s leg is still scarred from that bite. Arabella thanks their lucky stars that Marge only occasionally visits her brother in Surrey. Usually, Vernon and his family travel to her house in Canterbury, while Harry stays with Arabella.

                Iris raises her eyes to meet the other woman’s eyes. Then takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. She pulls the mug towards herself with both hands, seeming to need the warmth.

                “Vernon whipped him till he bled.”

                Arabella gasps. It truly is the worst beating. Vernon is usually more controlled than that. If beating an innocent child can be called control…

                She hears the cold fury in her voice as Iris explains the reason why. She can understand it well enough. How Harry has grown into a kind-hearted, sweet boy is beyond her. He has known only violence and neglect all his life, but Arabella firmly believes that he would still be tender-hearted even if he had not found a family with Iris and Holly. She has seen how devoted he is to Holly, considering her no less than a blood sister.

                Arabella takes a sip of her hot tea to help swallow the anger she was feeling towards Vernon and Petunia Dursley.

                “Do you need more potions?” she asks as Iris gathers herself, who shakes her head.

                “I have enough for now.”

                “Is he back at the Dursleys?”

                Iris nods.

                “I healed him, and he left a few hours later. He needed to get back before his family,” Iris spat out the word with great venom, “got home.”

                “Can’t you poison Petunia and Vernon?” Arabella questions, only partially jesting.

                Iris snorts.

                “I would love to.”

                They fall silent again. Iris takes a mouthful of her tea.

                “It’s my fault,” she murmurs, slamming her mug down. Her tea sloshing over the top.

                Arabella does not flinch; she has seen Iris’s temper before. She calmly pushes the kitchen roll on its holder towards the woman.

                Absently, Iris breaks off a piece and dabs at the spill.

                “It isn’t,” Arabella disagrees calmly, taking another sip of her tea.

                “I shouldn’t have interfered,” Iris continues, ignoring the other’s words. “I should have let Vernon take his son to the hospital for his surgery.”

                “If not for this, then Vernon would have found another excuse,” Arabella argues.

                “You’ve been holding back from going to Dumbledore because of me,” Iris quarrels, not in the mood to let what she feels is a transgression of hers slip through her fingers. “If I wasn’t in the area, you could have gone to him. He would have taken Harry away from here, somewhere he wouldn’t be suffering right now.”

                “I already tried to speak to Dumbledore,” Arabella admits.

                Iris looks at her in astonishment.

                “When?”

                “After you came from healing Harry for the first time. I wrote to Albus. Told him about the bruises, the chores, and how they like to show their love.”

                “Then why is he still here?” Iris gapes at her.

                “He asked for proof. He had promised Petunia he would not interfere. He asked for incontrovertible proof. Harry doesn’t come to me. He comes to you. I couldn’t give him proof without exposing you.”

                Iris stares at Arabella in dismay.

                “You protected me? Why didn’t you protect Harry?”

                Arabella flinches at the unintended accusation.

                “Albus Dumbledore has not stepped foot on Privet Drive since the night he left Harry with Petunia. He would have found you here if he did,” she replies quietly.

                “Harry said the Dursleys gave him a bedroom after the first letter. They were afraid of being watched,” Iris says.

                Arabella lets out a huff of breath.

                “They were,” she responds self-deprecatingly. “Just not close enough.”

                “Would Dumbledore really not get him out of here?” Iris questions.

                “I wish I could give him proof.”

                “Harry will never reveal his suffering to anyone else. It took too long for him to trust me enough to heal him,” Iris admits.

                Silence falls again in the kitchen.

                “I’m a monster, Arabella. I’ve condemned one child to protect another,” Iris utters forlornly, pushing her half-drunk mug away and pressing her palms against her forehead.

                “If that’s true for you, Iris, then it’s true for me as well,” Arabella says in a firm voice.

                She knows this. Ignoring Harry’s abuse at Vernon and Petunia’s hands makes them just as ruthless, both accomplices.

                Guilt, the size of the Knight Bus, weighs on Arabella’s heart every time Harry comes to see her, even if It is not as often as he visits Iris. When Arabella broke her leg last year, she could not look after Harry on the fated trip to the zoo. She was still getting used to her crutches. After Harry was finally let out, still recovering from whatever miserable punishment his aunt and uncle had inflicted on him, the dear boy still came to Arabella’s to help her cook every other day.

                Petunia certainly taught him well: Harry is an excellent cook, even better than Arabella. She knows that Harry prefers Iris over her. She doesn’t hold it against him, however much that realisation may pain her. Like Harry, she has a reputation in the area. She is a loner, the crazy cat lady.

                Besides, Arabella would still prefer the presence of her cats over ninety-nine per cent of Privet Drive residents. Bunch of busybodies. Criminals, the lot of them, judging Harry on the word of the waspish Petunia. Blind. All of them, if they cannot see that Dudley is the budding delinquent.

                “What should I do, Arabella?” Iris inquires despondently.

                “Just… Be there for him,” Arabella replies simply.

                Iris does not respond to that.

                “There’s something I need to tell you,” she admits, pulling her hands from her head.

                Arabella listens with growing misery as Iris describes her ill health.

 

ooOoo

 

“Why did you do it, Harry?”

                While lying on his worn mattress, Harry is staring up at the ceiling and is surprised when he sees Dudley standing in his doorway.

                “Do what?”

                He frowns at Dudley. What is he being blamed for now? Harry knows whatever Dudley accuses him of will be believed instantly by his parents. There is no point in arguing that. But knowing what he is being accused of also helps him gauge how bad his punishment might be.

                Harry watches Dudley warily, swinging his legs over the side and sitting up. He is ready to bolt if he needs to, even if Dudley is blocking the way.

                Dudley looks nervously over his shoulder as if he expects his parents to be right behind him. They aren’t. They are both out. Vernon at work and Petunia at some friend’s house – exchanging gossip, no doubt.

Dudley drops his voice to a whisper, “Take the tail away?”

“Oh,” Harry says. He has already been punished for this. “It wasn’t me.”

Dudley does not look like he believes him any more than Vernon did.

Harry reasons the spell might have worn off. Hagrid isn’t a fully trained wizard, having been expelled before he could complete his seven years of training. It would not be unimaginable that his spell would not be permanent.

“I didn’t want Dad to punish you for that,” Dudley admits. “I didn’t expect him to.”

Harry looks at Dudley like he’s an assignment he is trying to wrap his head around.

“You’ve egged your dad on far lesser stuff than that,” he snaps.

Dudley flushes, and Harry is stunned to see it because he seems ashamed rather than angry.

“I’m sorry,” his cousin exclaims before thundering down the stairs.

Harry stares at the space where Dudley was standing for a long time. It is not until he hears the door slam shut behind him that Harry untenses.  

What was all that about? He thinks, feeling thoroughly confused.

 

ooOoo

 

It is the day of Harry’s birthday, and he has to clean the house from top to bottom. Vernon is expecting some important clients, and it is in his uncle’s, and Harry’s, best interest that everything goes well.

                Harry, who has not had a single letter from his friends, is miserable. Even Iris is surprised that he has not received any correspondence.

                On entering his bedroom on the eve of his birthday and seeing a bizarre-looking creature jumping on his bed, Harry knows in his bones that this birthday will be worse than any other.

 

ooOoo

 

“I’m sorry, Hedwig,” Harry whispers to his owl through the bars of the window.

                Hedwig flies in circles outside his window and flies off with a sad bark in his direction.

 

ooOoo

 

Dudley pushes a plate of grapes, an apple and a banana with a packet of Space Raiders (pickled onion) through the cat flap.

                Harry briefly wonders what Dudley did to the food, but he is too hungry to care. Food is food. He has been locked in his room for over a week and is only given one cold soup can a day. He is only allowed to use the toilet once in the morning.

                Harry tries not to think about whether Dudley is sneaking food because he has grown a conscience or dipped it in the toilet.

                Dudley has been secretly giving him extra food since he was locked up and hands him a bottle of water.

                Without his schoolbooks, Harry can only do some stretches to pass the time. Much to his chagrin, he has not been able to practice his gymnastics much since he has come back from Hogwarts.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry is woken from his strange dream by a loud noise outside the window.

                Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he grabs his glasses and puts them on. A huge grin splits his face as he focuses on what he sees.

                Ron and his brothers are outside his window in a flying car.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry sends off Hedwig with a letter to Iris and Holly.

                He knows they must be so worried. He doesn’t want them to.

 

ooOoo

 

Ron chooses to lag behind with Harry when Iris calls his name. She and Holly have been waiting, disappointed, as they thought he had already boarded the Hogwarts Express.

                Harry introduces Ron and quickly explains that they were late leaving the Burrow, so they only have a few minutes. Holly has not let go of Harry since she ran up to him, and Iris gives them both an extra tight hug. Handing him some additional packages – the birthday presents they had not been able to give him and a bag which contains a lunch she had made for him – Iris is understanding and drags a protesting Holly away, urging Harry to get onto the train.

                Harry watches them walk away, and Holly gives him a forlorn wave as she looks back at him. He and Ron wheel around their trolleys and head towards the barrier, running at full speed only to crash their trolleys, attracting a lot of muttering and attention.

                Harry is happy he told Hedwig to fly ahead to Hogwarts earlier this morning; her cage was still at Iris’s, and he did not want her to get hurt.

                He and Ron load up their trolleys again, and some kind passers-by hand him his wrapped presents. Ron pushes against the barrier, and the two boys exchange looks of horror as the clock chimes eleven.

                They have missed the train.

                Later, in Snape’s office, Harry wishes he did not listen to Ron’s brilliant idea of flying his father’s car to Hogwarts.

 

ooOoo

 

Second Year

 

… I never thought there could be anyone more incompetent than Quirrell, but Lockhart doesn’t even have to try to look inept.

                All my other classes are going so much better, but Snape seems to be worse. Hermione always checked my essays last year, and she said there was nothing wrong with them; nonetheless, Snape always marks me down for them.

                I got my summer homework back, and there is so much red ink on it that I can barely read my original essay. I’d like you to take a look at it, Oma, so I’ve included it with the letter. You’ll see how unfair he is. None of the other professors has had a problem with my homework.

                Fred and George said I don’t have to worry about Potions following fifth year because I can drop it after then. I’m thinking of playing Quidditch as a professional, so I don’t think I’ll need to keep going with Potions after that. Besides, like you once told me, end of year exams are for teachers, and it’s the qualifications that actually matter. So, as long as I pass my OWLS and my NEWTS, then it should be okay. I’ll continue studying potions independently, but if Snape is going to red ink all my essays for no reason, there’s no point in trying.

                Sorry, I complained too much, didn’t I?

 

ooOoo 

 

I’m sorry I couldn't come back for Christmas, but you know the Dursleys won’t allow it. I missed you both last year as well. Maybe next year you could come to Hogwarts? Third years are allowed to visit Hogsmeade village, so I thought we could all explore it together?

                Thank you both for my presents. I love the calligraphy set, and the fountain pen is so much better than using a quill and ink. I should have done that last year.

                Hermione said she will borrow Hedwig to ask her parents to send her some fountain pens too. She hopes my handwriting will improve if I keep practising with that.

                This year, I received another hand-knit jumper from Mrs Weasley. It’s brilliant!

                Hermione and Ron said hi to you both. Ron also said he hopes you liked the Liquorice Wand and Ice Mice he sent you, Holly.

 

ooOoo

 

Classes are going as usual. There’s isn’t much new. Lockhart’s still a prat.

                Thanks for the advice on picking electives for next year, Oma. I tried asking Percy, but he wasn’t very helpful. I’ve decided to go for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes. I am sure it will be difficult, but I know you’ve got loads of books on them, and you said I could borrow them. Plus, Hermione will help. She didn’t even need to think about it. Of course, she’s signed up for everything, though I don’t know how she’ll manage every class.

 Ron wanted to do Care of Magical Creatures and Divination and wishes I had signed up for those lessons with him. He thinks Divination will be an easy class, so he’s a little upset that we’re not taking those together. Hermione has convinced him to take Muggle Studies as well; that way, he can take Magical Creatures with both me and Hermione and Muggle Studies with her. Besides, Muggle Studies will be a doddle with Hermione and me helping him with his homework.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry purposely kept his letters vague, not wanting to worry Iris and Holly about the threats from the Heir of Slytherin.

                He does not tell them that Hermione has been Petrified by some unknown monster nor that three-quarters of the school think he is the Heir of Slytherin.

                When he returns to Surrey at the end of the year, he does not tell them about fighting the Basilisk or his encounter with Lucius Malfoy, who is pissed at Harry for freeing his House-Elf.

               

ooOoo

 

Summer 1993

 

The Dursleys have not forgotten or forgiven for his escape from his bedroom the previous year. Vernon takes great pleasure in reminding Harry of this.

                They still lock up Harry’s trunk and wand in the cupboard under the stairs when he returns to Privet Drive. Fred and George have taught Harry to pick the lock, and he takes the first opportunity to utilise his new skills when the Dursleys are away from home.

                Instead of keeping his homework in his bedroom, Harry sneaks it out to Iris. He can do it there, and Iris can help him structure his essays better. Harry thinks this will not make a difference to any of Snape’s assigned essays, but he is sure his other professors will appreciate the effort.

                Dudley is still curiously friendly with him. Harry is also shocked to see how much weight his cousin has lost. Apparently, this is because Dudley has found a new passion in boxing whilst at school, and during summer, he will keep up with it at the local youth gym.

                Harry feels ambivalent about this: on one hand, Dudley seems to have turned over a new leaf; on the other hand, if he goes back to his bullying ways, he will be able to punch with more power and accuracy.

                Vernon seems to be particularly proud of this. Harry just keeps his mouth shut and gets on with the chores. He needs to keep his cool and somehow get Vernon or Petunia to sign his permission slip for Hogsmeade. He wishes he could get Iris to sign it instead, but she is not his parent or guardian, no matter how much Harry wishes she was.

                   

ooOoo

 

Harry watches Iris carefully. She seems to be in worse health than last year. Harry is concerned, and he tries to ask Iris about it, but she keeps deflecting. He discerns that Holly does not know much either, despite living with her all year round; still, he tries to ask her about Iris’ eating and sleeping habits.

                Harry has put a lot of effort into learning about healing over the last two years at Hogwarts. Harry has not told Iris and Holly that, although he is practising his gymnastics at school, he has also been practising some acrobatics... on his broom.

                The first time he had tried this during his first Quidditch practise, his teammates thought he was trying to kill himself. Oliver Wood especially seemed to regret letting him onto the team, thinking McGonagall was mistaken about Harry’s flying skills: eventually, he proved them wrong when he demonstrated some simple manoeuvres on the broom, such as doing a somersault or a backflip, though he made sure he was only a few feet off the ground when he showed those.

                As Harry continued to practice and grew more confident in his skills on his Nimbus broom, Oliver allowed him to practice the same manoeuvres slightly higher.

                His first match might not have gone well when Quirrell was jinxing his broom, and he had nearly swallowed the snitch, and in his second, he had to be even more careful as Snape was refereeing the game.

                Last year, he had shown off his skills some more, but not as much as he would have liked.

                The point is that Harry has learned a lot about healing spells and potions because he needed them whenever he got hurt practising his broomstick stunts. He wishes Iris would tell him what was wrong with her: maybe he could do some research and find some magical help for her.

                She has done so much for him. He wishes he could do something in return.

                “I know you’re a witch,” Harry says softly, having decided to tackle this subject at least since Iris is so reticent about her health. She freezes in the act of peeling potatoes.

                Harry is standing next to her, chopping up the onions and carrots.

                She looks like she is going to deny it before her shoulders slump.

                “What gave me away?” she finally asks.

                Harry darts a quick glance at Holly, who is in the front room sitting watching a rerun of an old Tom and Jerry cartoon.

                He keeps his voice low.

                “A few things. I know you have a lot of knowledge, which might have been from the books you have downstairs, but there are other things as well: like, I started to notice how you cut certain things as Potions ingredients. The door to the cell has no lock, but Holly can’t open it when she tries, while you can even without turning the key. Some of the potions you have knowledge of and seem to be able to get when you shouldn’t.

                “Then, last year, I saw the padlock from Hedwig’s cage. You didn’t cut it off with bolt cutters, did you? It was in one piece. You used magic, didn’t you?”

                Iris gave him a side-long glance, and a smile twisting her lips

                “Very clever, Harry,” she shakes her head ruefully.

                He is glad she is not mad at him for figuring it out.

                “Were you ever going to tell me?”

                Her answer is quick.

                “Yes.”

                Then, she sighs and puts down the potato and the peeler, so she can turn to face Harry completely. He does the same, giving Iris his full attention.

                “I know I should have told you the same day I said I know you got your letter from Hogwarts, but please, believe me, Harry,” she cups his face and looks at him gravely, “it was not my intention to hide it from you. It was to protect Holly. One day, she will get her letter to Hogwarts and, to be honest, that day scares me.

                “Like Jasmine, I left the Magical world for a reason. It is cruel to people it thinks don’t fit in. But Holly… she deserves her chance. Perhaps, by the time she gets to Hogwarts, they will have progressed in their thinking.”

                She lets go of Harry and picks up her potato and peeler again to continue where she left off.

                Harry turns back to the chopping board, picks up his knife and begins slicing again. Giving Holly another glance to make sure she is not paying attention, he drops his voice to little more than a whisper and says, “Jasmine wasn’t your daughter, was she? Holly’s dad, he’s your son, isn’t he?”

                Iris is startled. The potato slips from her hand, and the peeler drops to the counter with a clangour.

                Harry is alarmed to notice the fear in Iris’ eyes. She clutches the countertop tightly and sways as if she is about to swoon. He has never seen her frightened like this. He regrets putting that dread there and bringing the whole thing up.

                “I won’t tell her,” Harry promises hastily. Throwing down the knife, he reaches for her, but she raises a hand to ward him off. He is hurt, and Iris must notice as she touches his shoulder comfortingly, pulling him close.

                “I’m sorry,” Harry says miserably as he guides her to a chair and fetches a glass of water.

                Iris takes a moment to gather herself, and Harry gives her space by taking over peeling the potatoes, though he can’t help but glance back at her every so often to make sure she is okay.

                “Life shouldn’t be this hard, child,” Iris pronounces in a despondent voice that Harry does not like to hear from her. “Unfortunately, it is. I’ve tried to protect my family as best I could, but that doesn’t stop me from questioning myself all the time. Am I doing the right thing? Have I made things worse? What could I have done differently?

                “Jasmine deserved better than how … my son… treated her. Holly deserves better than how Jasmine treated her. You deserve better than Petunia and Vernon. You and Holly deserve better than me,” Iris confesses.

                “No, don’t say that,” Harry denies instantly, still keeping his voice down. He drops the potato and peeler and kneels before her, taking her hands in his own. “You are the best thing that ever happened to Holly and me. If it wasn’t for you, I would think all people are like the Dursleys. You showed me there are kind people out there. You’ve always been there for Holly when Jasmine wasn’t. You’ve been there for her when he wasn’t. I don’t need to know who he is. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the one who’s lost out by rejecting Holly. I promise you I won’t ever say anything to Holly. I trust you.”

                He squeezes her hands to emphasise his point.

                “Oh, Harry,” Iris says tearfully. She pulls him in for a hug, and Harry awkwardly hugs her back. “I hope you’ll still say that when you’ll find out the truth; because, one day, you will.”

                The words are whispered into his hair, and he can feel her tears fall on his scalp.

                “There’s nothing you could do that will drive me away,” Harry assures.

                Her arms tighten around him.

 

ooOoo

 

After the rage and adrenaline fade away, Harry is left in a cold panic. He has used accidental magic and is trying to outrun the letter he knows he will receive from the Ministry of Magic.

                He is on his way to Iris’s house, the only place he can go this late. Aunt Marge is floating away somewhere, Uncle Vernon is in a rage and Aunt Petunia is practically catatonic.

                Dudley had purposely got in the way of Uncle Vernon choking Harry under the guise of helping him when Ripper, Aunt Marge’s bulldog, had latched onto Vernon’s leg. Harry had grabbed his trunk and left, but not before extracting his wand and threatening Vernon with it.

                Harry is about to turn down Magnolia Crescent when he hears a growl in the dark alley to his left. When blue eyes blink at him in the dark, he is startled and falls, throwing out his arms.

                That is how he accidentally summons the Knight Bus.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry spends the rest of the month in Diagon Alley, in a rented room at the Leaky Cauldron. He cannot believe his luck at not being in trouble, especially given last year’s warning, but he has no intention of poking that particular dragon.

                Hedwig, who was staying with Iris, is already waiting for Harry in his room. He debates sending a letter now, even if it is so late. It was still early evening when Aunt Marge was blown up, and Iris usually goes to bed late.

                Harry decides to err on the side of caution and pens a brief letter to Iris, explaining what happened and reassuring her that he is safe. He invites them to visit him in Diagon Alley if they can, though, knowing how Iris is trying to stay away from the Wizarding World, he is not hopeful that she will accept the invitation.

               

ooOoo

 

Dudley has been having second thoughts from the moment he stepped outside his house to Mrs Pierce’s.

                However, he cannot deny his concern and needs to make sure Harry is okay. Mrs Pierce will be able to tell him. Dudley has seen Harry with the little girl – Hallie, or Holly, or something like that. He has seen them in the park together, sometimes with the old woman. And during Christmas, when Dudley is home for the holidays, he has seen Harry’s owl, Hedwig, flying to the house.

                Gathering his courage, Dudley knocks on Mrs Pierce’s door.

                It opens just as he debates leaving, believing no one is home given how long it is before it is unlocked. He frowns as no one is there. There is a slight fear. Did it open by magic? Mrs Pierce might be a witch. It could be possible, though Harry came here for years before discovering that he was a wizard.

                “What do you want?” A little, rude voice asks him.

                Dudley directs his gaze downwards. Before he can answer, Mrs Pierce comes up behind her granddaughter. Her gaze is warm until her eyes light on Dudley; then, her whole demeanour turns cool.

                “Do you know if Harry is all right?” Dudley blurts out before his courage fails.

 

ooOoo

Iris and Holly are already there, waiting for them at King’s Cross, when the Ministry cars drop Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys off at the train station.

                Holly spots him first and gives him a hug. She has been worried. Harry knows this from the letters Iris has been sending him. This is the second summer in which an incident cuts Harry’s return to Surrey short. If it weren’t for Holly and Iris, Harry would try to stop returning to Privet Drive. He knows it would make Madam Pomfrey happy if he could get away from the Dursleys, but he always refuses to talk about his relatives.

                Harry hugs Holly back, picking her up with a wide grin.

                “You left before we could give you your presents again, Harry,” Holly reproaches, wrapping her tiny legs around his waist.

                “I know. I can’t express how sorry I am.” Harry kisses her cheeks apologetically.

                “I’ll forgive you if you send me lots of Chocolate Frogs and Ice Mice,” Holly bargains.

                Everyone laughs at Holly’s negotiating skills.

                “Deal,” Harry agrees. Then, turning back to the Weasleys and his friends, he introduces Iris and Holly to them all, though Ron has already met them both last year.

                They move towards the barrier, Mr and Mrs Weasley subtly questioning Iris. Fred and George take charge of entertaining  Holly, who is greatly amused by their antics, and equal parts fascinated by Hermione’s new cat, Crookshanks.

                Harry hears Iris telling them Holly’s mum is a witch and therefore knows about the Magical world. Harry had made the same assumption since the beginning, and Iris only continues with it. He can’t begrudge her for holding back the truth. He has promised not to tell, but at least it alleviates Mr and Mrs Weasley’s fear that Harry has broken the Statute of Secrecy.

                Iris hands over a bag full of Harry’s presents and lunch for the train, as has become tradition. After hugging everyone goodbye, the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione take turns pushing through the barrier.

                Mr Weasley pulls Harry aside to warn him about Sirius Black, and he is touched the older wizard does this. Harry promises that he will not go looking for Black. Still, he makes a mental note to search the library for the reason why the convict would go after him, other than being a minion of Voldemort and wanting to kill Harry for defeating his master.

                Once on the train, Harry and his friends settle in across from the sleeping professor. Harry buys enough Chocolate Frogs and Ice Mice to keep Holly happy for some time.

                He ends up needing some chocolate for himself after having an encounter with a Dementor for the first time.

               

>

Chapter 3 – Pushing Up Daisies

Third Year

 

They’ve despatched Dementors around the school because of Sirius Black. Everyone’s asking their parents for chocolates even though the Dementors can’t get into the school.

                Even Madam Pomfrey is filling up her supplies in the Hospital Wing. Seamus reckons it’s for when students have to pass them to and from Hogsmeade.

                Not that I’m allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Neither Vernon nor Petunia signed my permission slip, but I imagine even if they had, then Dumbledore and McGonagall would have found a way to keep me from going anyway. You know, for my own safety.

                I’m gutted that I’m not allowed to see the village, but I’ll probably give Hermione and Ron loads of money to buy me something. And yes, Holly, I’ll share it with you.

                I don’t like the Dementors. Oma, I hear my mum’s voice when they’re near. I hear her last words. I hear him killing her.

 

ooOoo

 

Thanks for the chocolates, Oma, but my last letter wasn’t a suggestion for you to send me some. I appreciate them, anyway. And Ron certainly did. Growing up in a pureblood family, he thinks muggle stuff is weird and thinks wizard sweets are better. I think between you and me, Oma, we’ve educated him otherwise.

                Dean saw your packet to me filled with Dairy Milk and Toffee Crisps and everything else you’ve given me and used a school owl to ask his parents for the same. He did the same when Hermione and I started using fountain pens. Some purebloods still don’t like to admit that some muggle things are better, but many muggle-borns have written home for fountain pens. Fred and George have made some money by enchanting their inkwells to refill the pens.

                Plastic doesn’t hold up well with magic as it’s not a natural material, but the twins are extraordinarily ingenious, and they’ve managed to adapt somehow.

                Anyway, I promise I won’t sneak off to Hogsmeade. I wouldn’t want to worry you like that, and maybe next year, when the security measures are lifted, I could go. If I can convince Vernon or Petunia to sign my form, that is.

 

ooOoo

Classes are going well. Arithmancy was interesting –  I was always good with numbers, so I liked the class a lot. Ancient Runes is more complex, and I can foresee it will be a challenging class. Everything comes easy for Hermione, so it’ll be a doddle for her, though I don’t know how she’s getting to all the classes as some of them clash.

                Speaking of predictions, Hermione and Ron had their first Divination class. I’m glad I didn’t take the class. The Divination professor, Trelawney, told Ron he was going to die.

                This upset him, but when we went to McGonagall’s class, she said Trelawney always picks one student to die every year, and they’ve all lived despite her prediction. And then she told Ron that if he were dead, then he wouldn’t have to worry about homework, so, until then, he’s still expected to do some classwork. At least he didn’t complain about Muggle Studies.

                Oh, guess what? Remember the biting book – Monster Book of Monsters? Well, Hagrid set that book. I couldn’t believe it when Dumbledore had announced him as the new Magical Creatures teacher.

                And you won’t be able to guess what Draco Malfoy did in Hagrid’s first lesson…

               

ooOoo

 

Harry is sitting in the library. His friends are in Hogsmeade, so he takes the opportunity to research Sirius Black.

                He starts with old Daily Prophet articles from Voldemort’s defeat, reading about the trials of various Death Eaters captured at the time.

                He sees that Lucius Malfoy’s name is amongst those who got away claiming to be under the Imperius Curse. This leads Harry to search for what Imperius Curse actually does. He feels sick as he reads what the Unforgivables are. He remembers the green light he dreams of. It’s the spell that killed his parents.

                He still dreams that nightmare occasionally, more so recently since his only encounter with the Dementors. Harry hopes they will be removed soon.

                He almost dismisses one article until the name Longbottom catches his eye. As his curiosity is piqued, he continues reading, growing pale with every word.

                The Ministry sentenced Rabastan Lestrange, brother to Rodolphus Lestrange, his wife Bellatrix Lestrange, and Bartimus Crouch Junior, to life imprisonment in Azkaban for countless crimes. All four have been found guilty of being Death Eaters and carrying the Mark of You-Know-Who. (Harry made a mental note to look up the Dark Mark, having seen it mentioned several times).

                Amongst their numerous crimes, it was discovered the Lestranges tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom, lauded and formidable Aurors in their own right, to the point of insanity due to the overuse of the Cruciatus Curse after the defeat of their master. Their son, Neville Longbottom, was with them that dreadful night and miraculously remained unharmed, possibly because he was well hidden, though not far from their bodies.

                The Lestranges’ deranged quest for information about You-Know-Who left the Longbottoms in the Janus Thickey ward of St Mungo’s hospital for the rest of their natural lives, with no hope of a cure, requiring constant care.

                This intrepid reporter has found out that the Longbottoms remember no one, including their infant son, Neville, who will reside with his paternal grandmother, Augusta Longbottom.

                Harry drops the article shakily. Having just read about the Cruciatus Curse as one of the three Unforgivables, he understands what the Longbottoms were subjected to. And Neville was there, so close to his parents and probably able to hear their desperate screams.

                Now, he sees his clumsy friend in a new light. Harry’s parents are dead, but he wonders if it is worse for Neville, whose parents are still alive but unable to recognise him and raise him as they should have. Sometimes, there are fates crueller than death.

                Since Harry confronted Voldemort at the end of his first year, he has hated him for killing his parents. Now, reading about Neville’s parents and their suffering, the abstract thought of Voldemort having followers has become a sickening reality.

                Hagrid and Ron had told Harry about people who followed Voldemort when he first entered the Wizarding world.  

                There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin, Hagrid once told him.               

                Harry had believed it at the time, so much that he had begged the Sorting Hat not to put him in Slytherin.

                Reading this article, he realises that there were people who had believed in Voldemort with such a passion that they’d destroyed other people’s lives for it.

                Harry decides there and then to be a better friend to Neville. From his stories about his grandmother and uncle, he knows Neville is constantly put down for not being a better wizard. Harry comprehends the power of confidence. The Dursleys never believed in Harry, so he thought he would never amount to anything, even if he tried hard enough.

                Iris believes in Harry. She had made Harry believe in himself. He might not be a top performer like Hermione, simply not having her natural intelligence, memory and ability to quickly understand things, but he still receives good marks in every class – except Potions.

                Harry has still a couple of years to decide, but he is already debating whether to drop Potions as a class after OWLS. He cannot imagine studying under Snape for that long. Besides, Percy had told him that Snape only accepts those who score an Outstanding in the OWLs. He knows he would pass if he was marked by an unbiased proctor, and despite Snape’s behaviour, Harry still likes Potions. All due to Iris’s influence.

                Neville suffers from worse confidence than Harry did all those years ago. Yet, when Lupin believed in Neville, even after Snape told him he was practically useless, he did well with the boggart. Neville just needed a push in the right direction. The other boy doesn’t have many friends. He seems to be a loner. Harry feels suddenly guilty for ignoring the other boy. He knows what it feels like to have no friends. Neville deserves a friend as well.

                Harry continues to search about Sirius Black. He is only mentioned in one article Harry has found so far, and that is the one with pictures of his arrest: Black is laughing his head off as the Aurors drag him away.

                There is something deranged about him, Harry thinks as he studies the article. He flicks through several copies of the Daily Prophet; he sees nothing about the trial for Black, which he finds odd since even those who claimed Imperius got a trial.

                Harry continues to read through various articles before time runs out –about Sirius’ brother, Regulus Black, who also was accused of being a Death Eater but, in the end, had turned against Voldemort. He had cited pressure from his parents and talked of how he was tortured by his mother when he had tried to go against the ideals he grew up with. Regulus had named several Death Eaters who were convicted, but, oddly, not his brother. Harry thought that the brothers would have become Death Eaters together.

                He carefully puts everything away, then leaves the library to meet his friends. They will be on their way back from Hogsmeade.

 

ooOoo

 

Dumbledore was mad when the Dementors swarmed the pitch – I didn’t want you to worry by telling you this, but I knew you'd want to know. Gryffindor was playing against Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin because Malfoy was still milking his injury.

                The Dementors still have a terrible effect on me. We lost the match when I fell from my broom. The Whomping Willow smashed my Nimbus into pieces. I asked Lupin for extra lessons to look for more precautions, as they seem to be particularly hard on me, but he said he was too busy, at least for the moment. He fell ill and said he’s catching up with loads of work but won’t start them until after Christmas.

                Can you send me some more smarties and Lion bars, please? Hope Holly hasn’t already eaten all the Chocolate Frogs I sent her last time.

 

ooOoo

 

Thanks for the books you send me, Oma. I read the one about the Patronus very quickly. As Lupin won’t be able to teach me the charm until after Christmas, I’ll take the chance to revise the theory so as not to go in blind.

                And I appreciate the books and notes you sent me on Occlumency; I’ve already started doing the exercises you outlined. I’m trying to do them every night, and I can already tell how much difference I’ve made with them: I feel like my mind is sharper, and it’s helping me retain information much faster – and that’s in 3 weeks!

               

ooOoo

Happy Christmas to you and Holly, Oma. I hope you enjoyed my gifts!

                Thanks for the extra fountain pens. I needed a new one, and now I have four. I hope you liked the jewellery box and bracelets I sent you and Holly. I still can’t go to Hogsmeade yet, but Hermione brought me back a catalogue last time, and I picked out the ones I thought would suit both of you and then she bought them for me.

                Did you get a Weasley jumper again? Mrs Weasley gave me one this year too. I chose a shawl for her, like the one I got you last year, Oma, but in blue instead of green.

                ooOoo

 

I got a Firebolt for Christmas, a gift with no sender. Hermione went to tell Professor McGonagall behind my back, so she and I fought. I know she meant well, but she acted like I would go ahead and ride it. All right, maybe I got a little excited, but, come on, it’s a Firebolt. It’s the latest broom on the market I saw in Diagon Alley when I stayed at the Leaky Cauldron. Of course, if I could have afforded it, I’d have bought it, but I still have four years of school to get through.

                Still, I wish Hermione had trusted me to speak to McGonagall myself instead of going behind my back. She should have trusted me, and it hurts me that she didn’t.

                Ron’s angry at her too, but not entirely for the same reason. Crookshanks, Hermione’s cat, keeps going after his pet rat, Scabbers. I mean, all right, Scabbers is a bit useless: he’s old, and he doesn't have any tricks, just eats and sleeps. But still, Ron’s had Scabbers for years –  I think he said twelve or something. He used to belong to his older brother Percy; then, when he was made Prefect a couple of years ago, he got a new owl as a reward, and Ron got Scabbers.

                He talks badly about Scabbers, but we all know he’s protective of him, so he doesn't like that Hermione doesn’t take her cat trying to eat his rat seriously.

                I’m actually on Ron’s side with this, and I’m not just saying that because Hermione got my Firebolt confiscated. I know cats chase mice and rats and whatnot, but it’s a little rude that Hermione’s not respecting Ron’s boundaries about his pet. She wouldn’t like it if someone else’s pet tried to eat her cat because Crookshanks would be lower on the food chain.

                Hermione’s been frazzled all year, anyway. We kept telling her that she needed to take a break or drop 1 or 2 of her electives, but she’s too stubborn to listen. She hates Divination, so I don’t know why she keeps going to it, and she doesn’t need Muggle Studies because she was raised as one: both subjects are a waste of her time.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry is still looking for more information on Sirius Black. He has already found out that he was best friends with his dad, James Potter. He had come across an article mentioning it last month while combing through various editions of the Daily Prophet.

                It was a small article published the year before Harry started Hogwarts on the anniversary of his parent’s death. It made him angry at the time, but now he understands why people kept telling him he should not go after Black.

                Harry had almost thrown away his photo album – or at least specific photographs – when he had realised that Black was in his parents’ wedding photos. Black was in many photos. He didn’t look like a maniac in those. He looked… happy. Normal, even. Harry doesn’t understand. Was Black already planning to betray his friend at the time?

                Harry has calmed down since then. He now spends his spare time between classes, homework, Quidditch and gymnastics, Patronus lessons and teaching himself Occlumency, searching more about Sirius Black and the other Death Eaters.

                Harry had looked at their genealogy and family trees. Sirius Black and Regulus Black were born to Walburga and Orion Black and had three female cousins, Bellatrix (now Lestrange), Andromeda (now Tonks) and Narcissa (now Malfoy).

                Narcissa is, of course, married to Lucius Malfoy and the mother of Draco… Harry cannot help but roll his eyes at the Malfoys. His curiosity is piqued when he sees Snape’s name added separately.

                Severus Snape was taken on as the ward and later the foster son of Abraxas Malfoy in 1977. Harry notes the date on his parchment to try to find the editorial in the Daily Prophet. In the meantime, he looks at the family tree. Severus Snape is the son of Eileen Prince – an old Pureblood family – but his father is Tobias Snape, a muggle. Harry wishes the Genealogy books had pictures for everyone. He would like to see what Snape’s parents look like.

               

ooOoo

 

                My Patronus lessons are going well. Lupin is surprised at how well I’m doing, considering it’s such an advanced Charm. I managed to get a strong mist on my first try, and he reckons he will soon be able to start seeing a form. I wonder what mine will be. I wish I could find out what form my parents’ Patronus would take, or even if they could perform it. It’ll be interesting to find out.

               

ooOoo

It is entirely by accident that Harry finds it. He is glad that he is alone because he does not have to explain anything to his friends.

                It is a small piece stuck to the back of the Daily Prophet in 1959, referencing the marriage of Eileen Prince with Tobias Snape. Less than a year later, there was another article, barely more than two lines announcing the birth of their son.

                It’s not the words in the article that catch Harry’s attention, though he quickly skims through those. It is the picture of a sullen-looking woman, sallow-skinned and thin. Harry has seen those lips smile. He has seen that face light up in laughter, her eyes crinkle up in mischief, crease in anger. He had never seen her so downtrodden and lifeless. He finds it difficult to believe that the woman in the picture is the same one who has compassionately tended his wounds for so many years.

                Iris Pierce is Eileen Prince. The same Eileen Prince who is married to Tobias Snape. The mother of Severus Snape.

                Harry closes his eyes, realises what this means, and groans to himself as his mind automatically finishes the thought.

                Severus Snape, the bat of the dungeons and all-around greasy git, is Holly’s biological father. Sweet Holly. Cute, kind, caring and adorable little Holly is Snape’s illegitimate daughter. Harry flinches at the thought of it. None of those adjectives could ever describe the man he knows.

                Merlin’s beard! Holly… is a Snape.

 

ooOoo

 

I did it, Oma. I finally did it! We were playing our last Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor was in the lead. I saw the Snitch, and I went for it, but then people started pointing out the Dementors, and I pulled out my wand, casting a fully corporeal Patronus. Ron said it had antlers, and Hermione, who got a better look at it, said it was a stag.

                Apparently, it wasn’t a Dementor. It was Malfoy and his mates dressing up as one to scare me and knock me off my broom – not that I knew it at the time. I thought there were real Dementors, so I just cast my Patronus, and my stag knocked Malfoy on his bum. Serves him right. McGonagall was so angry that Malfoy had attempted such a thing that she gave him and his mates detention every day for 2 weeks.

                And, even better, I caught the Snitch. Gryffindor won not only the match but also the Quidditch Cup! Oliver was so thrilled…

 

ooOoo

Harry Potter,

                 I must admit, I was surprised to receive your letter. I have been out of the country for many years… As I’m sure you have done your research, you will know that I was once a Marked Death Eater. Living at home was simply too much for me, and given that I testified against many of those who roamed free claiming the Imperius, I felt it best to leave. Also, to be honest, I needed to get away from my mother. She is dead now, and I do not regret her death, as harsh as it may sound. She was not a kind woman.

                My brother Sirius and I had tried many things to please our mother. Eventually, Sirius stopped trying – or so I thought. I let my mother pressure me into joining the Dark Lord. Suffice to say, it was the worst mistake I have ever made. Leaving his service before his defeat nearly destroyed me. Inferii are not easy to fight. Kreacher, my family House-Elf, actually saved me: my life was lost without him.

                By the time I recovered, the Dark Lord had been defeated, my Mark had faded, and I was arrested and tried for my crimes. I was fortunate not to be sharing a cell alongside my brother.

                I must confess my surprise and the rest of the world that Sirius betrayed his best friend, James. He had a much better relationship with your father than he had with me. In fact, I was often jealous that he treated James more like a brother than his own blood.

                I suppose it was because he was rebelling against Mother. Walburga Black did not hesitate to set her children straight with the help of an Unforgiveable, if necessary. I was still trying to gain my family’s approval. Mother simply vented the wrath of Sirius’ rebellion on me; he never seemed concerned about any of that. He was stubborn and selfish and only saw what he wanted to see. He saw his family as evil, and he cared more for his best friend, James Potter, than anyone else.  

                I didn’t lose my love for my brother. Ultimately, I stopped looking to him to protect me. He thought he was so proud to have become a Gryffindor. It was a slap in the face to my mother. With her wand pointed at me, it was a hex in mine. Sirius was no different from her, really, just a snake in a lion’s clothing. Just like Mother tortured her sons at home, Sirius tormented various Slytherins in school – under the guise of a joke, of course.

                Sirius lost all the respect I had for him the day I saw his picture in the Daily Prophet all those years ago. He was nothing more than a hypocrite. Because, if I’m frank, I never saw it coming. Sirius always made out that Potter meant everything to him. I was not in the Dark Lord’s Inner Circle, and yes, we wore masks, but I would have recognised my brother anywhere. He never could resist showing off. But that does not mean that he did not turn on everything he claimed to have believed in. Turned on you, his godson.

                Mark my words, Harry Potter. My brother is tenacious and persistent. He will not stop until he gets to you. And when he does, you are the one who must be prepared. If you get the chance to shoot first, take it. Do not hesitate. He won’t give you a second chance.

                Take care, Harry Potter.

                                                Regulus Black

 

ooOoo

 

Harry continues to exchange letters with Regulus. He surprises himself with this. Upon learning his brother has escaped from Azkaban, Regulus has returned to Grimmauld Place, where his family home in London is located. Although Regulus writes about hating his brother, Harry still thinks he loves him.

                Harry uses various school owls as well as Hedwig. Flying from Scotland to London and Surrey, which is not far from London, is not a short journey, and he does not want to tire his familiar.

                It has taken Harry two weeks to conclude that he does not care that Iris and Eileen are the same person, that Iris is really Snape’s mother or that Snape is really Holly’s father. Harry has known Iris and Holly since he was eight and they have always been there for him. Snape had mistreated Jasmine so badly that she gave up her magic and left the Magical world forever.

                He has looked up Jasmine Pierce in Hogwarts’ student records. She was a pretty witch back then, with red hair like the Weasleys and olive-green eyes. She had been a Ravenclaw and finished Hogwarts with nine OWLS and nine NEWTS, and she had gone on to work for the Ministry just after a few years: she must have still been young when she was pregnant with Holly.

                Whatever Snape had done to her had hurt her so badly that she passed that hurt to Holly – sweet, innocent Holly, who is nothing like Snape.

 From the letters he is exchanging with Regulus, he realises that Harry’s dad and Sirius Black tormented Snape – with help from Lupin and Pettigrew, too. From what Harry can tell, James and Sirius were the worst, even after his mum and dad started dating. He struggles to understand why his mum had agreed to date his dad after everything he had done.

                Regulus had told Harry that James had changed enough to make Lily believe he was a better person. Harry is astonished to read from Regulus’ letters that even though James was such a horrible bully, after Hogwarts, he took responsibility for himself and took care of Sirius when he had nowhere to go.

                It hurts Harry to discover that his parents were like that. Harry does not know what Snape was like as a teenager, despite Regulus telling him some things from their school days. He does know what Snape is like now: as an adult, he is no better than a teenage James Potter. Harry has no respect for teenage James, though he still loves his dad. Harry has acquired enough memory from being near the Dementors to know that James Potter sacrificed himself to protect him and Lily and tried to give his wife and son time to escape. He had failed, but he had tried nevertheless because he loved them.

Harry wishes he knew enough about adult James and Lily. He could ask Lupin, but since he found Lupin’s part in bullying Snape and others they didn’t like, he has lost respect for his once favourite teacher. He is glad he has mastered the Patronus Charm. He no longer needs to visit Lupin in his office.

                According to Regulus, Lupin might not have been an active bully like Sirius and James, but standing by and letting it happen is just as bad despite being a prefect. It briefly occurs to Harry that Regulus could be lying about it all, yet, he chooses to believe him because he still told him that Snape and Lily had been friends for years, since before they even started Hogwarts – like Holly and Harry. They stopped being friends because Snape called Lily a Mudblood when she tried to stop James and Sirius from bullying him.

                Harry knows what it is like to lash out in anger. He likes to think he would never call Hermione a Mudblood, regardless of the provocation. Hermione may be bossy and uptight and a know-it-all, but she has a kind heart, and she has always stood by Harry. Even though he still thinks it’s wrong that she went behind his back to McGonagall, he decides he would rather be friends with her again than stop being friends over a broom. He knows enough about Hermione to realise that she had no friends before coming to Hogwarts like Harry. To lose one forever over something so silly would be wrong. Harry values his friendship with Ron and Hermione, and now Neville.

 

ooOoo

I always knew Neville was good at Herbology, but, honestly, I didn’t quite realise how brilliant he was. Hermione is book smart, but Neville… has a natural gift.

                I told Neville, you have your herb garden, Oma, and he’s sent along these cuttings and magical growing powder.  I’ve included the instructions Neville wrote for you, and he told me he has lots more as his family have a massive greenhouse at home, so there’s always extra growing powder to hand out.

                Thanks for the advice on Sirius Black and my dad. The Dursleys always told me that my parents were useless layabouts who died in an accident. Everyone always kept saying how brilliant they were. My dad might not have been the kindest when he was my age, but I’d like to think he grew up.

                And Regulus has been good as well. I’m surprised every time I get a letter from him, but I think he’s just lonely. He might have been a Death Eater at one point, but I can tell he regrets it. I still wonder why Sirius turned against my dad. He’s supposed to be crazy because of Azkaban and the Dementors. Maybe we’ll never know. Maybe he was never my dad’s friend at all. It would be a long time to pretend, though, wouldn’t it?

                In other news, we tried to help Hagrid with Buckbeak. Hagrid lost his head at the appeal, but Dumbledore intervened and said his friend Newt Scamander took Buckbeak away. Hagrid is devastated that he’ll lose him, but at least Buckbeak won’t get executed. And Hagrid already knows Scamander will take care of the hippogriff.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry and Hermione rush into the tunnel from the Whopping Willow, following the route of the big black dog. Ron is injured, and they don’t have time to call for help.

 

ooOoo

If you get the chance to shoot first, take it. Do not hesitate. He won’t give you a second chance.

                Harry recalls Regulus’ words from his first letter. They run through his head the whole time, but Harry is not able to do it. He cannot kill Sirius Black as much as he would like to. He simply isn’t capable of it.

 

ooOoo

They listen to Lupin and Black in stunned silence. Werewolves. Animagus. Secret Keepers. Pettigrew is a rat. Black is a dog. His dad was a stag.

Snape is lying unconscious on the floor. Pettigrew is lying bound in ropes. Even Ron has temporarily put aside his pain. They watch as Black and Lupin force Pettigrew to change back into human form.

                Part of him is happy that his dad’s friend never betrayed him. He wouldn’t know what to do if Ron or Hermione ever betrayed him like that. He wouldn’t do it to them. But Pettigrew was James’ friend too.

                Harry believes Sirius and feels a little sorry for him. He still thinks the man was an idiot as a teenager, but twelve years in Azkaban is more than enough punishment. No matter what Snape reckons.

                He also thinks that Sirius needs to grow up a bit and tells him to stop when he purposely hits Snape’s unconscious head against the wall as they levitate him out.

                Lupin uses a spell to split Ron’s broken leg and levitates him through the tunnel; Hermione does the same with Pettigrew. Only Harry is left without anyone, so he follows Sirius, who is levitating Snape.

                “You know, Harry, your parents made me your godfather,” Sirius begins to say. “I don’t know if anyone told you that.

                “Yeah, I know,” he responds.

                “Well, your parents appointed me your guardian,” Sirius says stiffly, “you know if anything happened to them…”

                He waits for Sirius to complete his sentence. Does he mean what Harry is thinking?

                “I’ll understand, of course. If you don’t want to leave your aunt and uncle, I mean,” Sirius continues. “But… just think about it. Once my name is cleared, if you wanted to… you could stay with me.”

                Harry’s breathing stops at that moment. His brain freezes. Getting away from the Dursleys. For years and years, he had dreamed of leaving the Dursleys behind. This could be it. He could be living with Sirius.

He realises that he cannot do that as his eyes land on Snape in the same instance. He cannot leave Iris and Holly behind. Iris isn’t aware that Harry knows about her real name, and he will wait for her to tell him. If she ever decides to. Because if she chooses not to, he is okay with that too. Iris and Holly could have left him behind so many times, yet, they didn’t. They come to see him off every year when he leaves for Hogwarts; Iris helps him with his homework and gives him books on everything she thinks he will need to learn better; she has taught him Occlumency. He won’t leave them behind.

And besides, Sirius needs help. He has been in Azkaban for twelve years, and he needs to fix himself first. And if he ever finds out that Holly is Snape’s daughter, will he ever take Harry to see her?

                Not really believing himself, Harry says the words he never thought he would ever say, “I’m sorry, but I would rather stay with my aunt and uncle.”

                Sirius’ face falls in disappointment but nods in acceptance. Harry is relieved.

                It is at the exit of the tunnel that everything happens at once.

                “Oh, no. Professor! You forgot to take your potion,” Hermione exclaims, dropping Pettigrew from loss of concentration.

                They all freeze. Ron is helpless, his face a picture of horror. Lupin doesn’t have time to levitate Ron downwards gently but drops him abruptly, causing him to feel pain as his injured leg hits the ground first.

                Lupin stiffens, and his limbs begin to shake. Sirius drops Snape to the ground none too gently and transforms into his dog form, charging at Lupin, who has now shifted into a terrifying creature.

                Harry reminds himself that he has faced a troll, a three-headed dog and a basilisk. He swiftly thinks about what he has learned of werewolves, even as his mouth dries up: learning Occlumency has certainly helped him pull information out of his brain faster.

                “Hermione, you take Ron,” Harry manages to hiss. Ron is still lying on the floor, grimacing in pain. “I’ll get Pettigrew.” That still leaves Snape, who is still unconscious.

                Sirius yelps in pain as he is thrown to the side by the angry werewolf, while the now transformed Lupin makes his way towards Harry and the others. A werewolf will always go for a human target. Wolfsbane is like poison to them – as is silver. They are strong, mindless beasts and cannot be reasoned with, nor can they be tamed like most other animals. However, Harry’s mind promptly hit upon a solution: like most animals, they still deal with survival; they can still be afraid of fire.

                “Incendio!” Harry casts, pointing his wand towards the ground as the wolf aims for him.

                Hermione, catching on, copies Harry’s spell. Even Ron manages to cast it, however feebly, before falling unconscious. Harry steps closer to him, intending to shield his injured friend.

                Still in his dog form, Sirius feebly gets back on his paws.

                “Pettigrew’s escaping!” Hermione shouts.

                Somehow, whilst everyone is distracted by the werewolf, Pettigrew has managed to undo the binds on him.

                Harry grits his teeth in anger as Pettigrew transforms into a rat and scurries away while Sirius leaps to chase after him. He wishes he could do the same, but he is still busy handling werewolf Lupin. Also, he can’t leave Hermione alone with an unconscious Snape and Ron.

                “Let him go!” Harry roars at Sirius, but he does not listen.

                Harry cannot help but feel betrayed once again. Catching Pettigrew is the reason why Sirius had ended up in Azkaban, the reason he escaped, and here he is leaving Harry and Hermione to defend themselves against a werewolf. He can’t deny that this hurts him. It feels like Sirius will never make him a priority: he now knows he made the right decision about living with Sirius.

                He begins to feel cold, and a distant scream echoes in his head.

                “Dementors,” Harry yells a warning to Hermione, who pales even more since she does not know how to cast a Patronus like him.

                “Take Ron. Go. I’ll stay with Snape,” Harry shouts to her.

“I’m not leaving you, Harry,” Hermione stubbornly stands with him, coming to his side.

He casts a powerful fire charm at the werewolf, which hits him. Harry didn’t mean it to happen, but as it singes the werewolf and scares him, he howls and runs off towards the Forbidden Forest.

“Come on,” he says grimly.

He hears Sirius coming in the distance, bounding back into his dog form. Harry cannot see if he has Pettigrew with him. Perhaps, he has decided to kill him, after all, and leave his body in the forest, despite Harry asking him not to.

Hermione has already levitated Ron, and Harry is about to do the same with Snape when the cold increases rapidly and the screams become louder. Together, they look up and see a cloud of Dementors descending on them.

Hermione shrieks in panic while Harry tries everything to focus on his happiest memory.

                “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry roars.

                Prongs, as he decides to call it, leaps out of his wand and chases the Dementors away. Stunned, Sirius transforms back to his human form and stares in awe at the silver stag.

                Harry can feel his energy draining but maintains the Patronus.

                “Pettigrew?” he queries.

                “He got away,” Sirius answers, looking at Harry sadly. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed with you.”

                Harry’s heart warms at Sirius’ apology. He is glad he came back, that he realised where he was supposed to be. Maybe there is hope for Sirius, after all.

                Still holding the Dementors back, Harry turns to his godfather and utters, “I need you to promise me something.”

                “What? Anything.”

                “I’ve been in touch with your brother. He’s still living in Grimmauld Place. Go to him. He’ll help you. Promise you’ll go to him.”

                Sirius looks at Harry, confused.

                “Promise,” he insists.

                Sirius nods. “Al-all right,”

                “Now get out of here. I’ve got the Dementors. Go!”

                “Thank you,” Sirius manages to convey.

He gets up, swiftly gives Harry a hug, nods in Hermione’s direction and transforms back into Padfoot, slinking off towards the tunnel leading to the Whomping Willow, just in time as its branches snap back to life.     

“You can’t keep holding them back, Harry,” Hermione states, her voice exuding panic.

“Watch me.”

 Harry refuses to let go of his Patronus until the Dementors have turned away. It only takes a few seconds after that for Harry to lose consciousness, and Hermione is left alone with three knocked out wizards.

 

ooOoo

“I heard Snape outed you as a werewolf,” is how Harry opens the conversation once Lupin allows him into his office.

                The professor has already started packing.

                “Parents won’t be pleased to find out that their children are being taught by a werewolf, Harry,” Lupin sighs. “After last night, I could well understand their fears. I could have bitten any one of you.”

                “I don’t care that you’re a werewolf.”

                Lupin’s eyes light up at Harry’s words, and he feels guilty about what he’s about to say.

                “Did you know Sirius was innocent?”

                Lupin mentioned last night that he had confiscated the Marauder’s Map from the Weasley twins, which is how he knew to get to the Shrieking Shack. He had seen Sirius’ name on there. And Pettigrew’s.

                “No,” he shakes his head.

                “But you knew he knew many passages in and out the castle. Passages you didn’t tell Dumbledore about,” Harry continues, seeing Lupin’s face lower at his words.

                “Dumbledore took a risk with you. Not once. Twice,” Harry says coolly. “You betrayed his trust. You didn’t know Sirius wasn’t a danger to me or anyone else in the castle. You knew he had a good disguise. You protected him all year. Yet, you didn’t even question why he might have betrayed my dad twelve years ago.”

                “I know I should have told Dumbledore,” Lupin stammers, shocked by Harry’s words. He thought his relationship with Harry was good because he had spent so much time in his office throughout the year.

                “Yes,” Harry cuts him off. “You should have.”

                Lupin turns away in shame. “I’m sorry,”

                “I’ll miss you because you’re a good teacher. But, you’re not a good friend. You don’t know how to do the right thing. I can see why Snape hates you. You don’t know how to stand up to your friends. You don’t know how to be a friend.”

                Harry knows his words are harsh, but, deep down, he also knows that Lupin needs to hear these things. He might have had a hard life as a werewolf – he doesn’t pretend to understand what that’s like, though it certainly isn’t an easy one –Dumbledore had given Lupin an opportunity, and instead of using it wisely, he is still squandering it.

                “I’m sorry if I sound cruel,” Harry apologises, “but I believe everything I’ve just said. It wouldn’t surprise me if you used the fact that you’re a werewolf as an excuse never to contact me again.”

                He walks out without waiting for an answer.

 

ooOoo

“So you’ve been using a time turner the whole year?” Ron gapes at Hermione as she tells them her secret of how she attended all her classes.

                Hermione flushes.

                “I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. But now I’ve handed it back to Professor McGonagall. I’ve decided to drop Muggle Studies and Divination.”

                “Well, it’ll be a bit awkward if you decide to re-join Trelawney’s class next year after you walked out,” Neville snickers.

                Harry joins in.

                They are interrupted by a tapping on the window of their carriage. Harry gets up to let in the tiny owl, who allows him to take the letter and then settles on Ron’s shoulder, much to the redhead's surprise.

                Exchanging a curious look with his friends, Harry opens the letter and scans it.

                “It’s from Sirius,” he explains briefly. Turning to Ron, he states, “Sirius said the owl is yours because he’s sorry you lost a pet through him. He said he sent me the Firebolt to make up for thirteen missed birthdays, and he also gave me a note of permission to give Dumbledore to go to Hogsmeade. And that he’s safe at the place I told him to go and that they’re planning to lead the Dementors away from Hogwarts.”

                Hermione snatches the letter out of Harry’s hand to read it for herself. He exchanges an eye roll with Neville and Ron, who begins to stroke his new pet, a huge smile on his face.

Harry and Hermione have filled Ron and Neville in on what had happened, though he still wouldn’t tell them where he told Sirius to go. He knew Hermione had heard, but for Harry’s sake, she is keeping quiet. Harry appreciates this.

                Then, casually, Ron points out, “You know, if you’d used your Time-Turner to go back and do your homework and even get some extra sleep, you could have kept it for next year and still manage without losing your mind.”

                Hermione loses her mind.

 

ooOoo

 

Summer 1994

“Oh, look at you, Harry,” Iris exclaims, welcoming him inside. “You’ve grown up so much. What have they been doing at that school of yours? Stretching you over the rack?”

                Harry laughs but is pleased with his growth spurt. He is still shorter than Ron, who is a foot taller than him. At least, he is now catching up to Neville and, even better, to Hermione.

                “Harry!” Holly comes running up to him, throwing her arms around his middle for a hug, waiting for Harry to pull her close. He has missed her. His arms tighten around her as she looks up at him with black eyes. Snape’s eyes, he realises. Thankfully Holly has never looked at him with malice.

                “Did you miss me, Harry?”

                “Sometimes. When I was running out of chocolate and kept thinking of all the Chocolate Frogs, I kept owling you,” he jokes.

                “Did you me bring me anymore?”

                “No,” Iris puts her foot down. “Enough sweets and chocolates for you, little miss. Harry, you seriously need to stop spoiling her.”

                “All right,” Harry agrees. However, when Iris turns around to go to the kitchen, he pulls out a Liquorice Wand and hands it to Holly with a wink.

                They are caught by Iris, who gives them a look between a stern glare and fond exasperation.

                “I’ve brought you some Cauldron Cakes,” Harry says sheepishly, pulling three out from his shirt pocket.

                Iris shakes her head and walks away, muttering, “I give up. Let all your teeth fall out.”

                Holly giggles and follows Harry into the kitchen.

                Several hours later, Iris has eaten all the Cauldron Cakes as Harry catches her up with the things he didn’t tell her in his letters and the events.

                “And Dumbledore believed you? Without proof?” Iris asks in disbelief.

                Harry nods. Truthfully, he was a little surprised at the time as well.

                “Unfortunately, Fudge didn’t. Snape told him we had been Confunded, and the Minister believed him. Still, it’s enough that Dumbledore trusts us and Sirius is somewhere safe.”

                Harry observes Iris at the mention of Snape. It might be his imagination, but he thinks she might have leaned forward slightly. He wishes, for the first, that he had something nice to say about Snape, at least for Iris’s sake.

                “I expected Snape to deduct points for attacking him,” Harry mentions casually. “It was … unexpected that he didn’t.”

                “Perhaps Dumbledore had intervened and refused to let him, given that it was your professor who said you were all under Confundus. Hardly fair to punish you if you weren’t responsible for your own actions,” Iris points out.

                Harry grins. That is precisely what Dumbledore had done. He just realises that Iris has referred to all other professors by their names, apart from Snape. She calls him “your professor” or “the Potions Master”.

                He studies Iris as they fall silent. Her dark hair, black eyes, and sallow skin – even worse because she is still ill – are all the things he usually sees in Holly. Now, he sees Snape.

                Catching Harry staring at her, Iris arches her brow at him, reminding him once more of another Snape characteristic.

                “What is it, child?”

                Thinking quickly, Harry says the first thing that occurs to him but has nagged him all year.

                “I wish you would tell me what’s making you so ill, Oma,” Harry pleads softly. “I could help you. To find a solution – a magical one.”

                Iris pins him with a stern look.

                “Do you think I haven’t looked at all possibilities, Harry? I have a library full of books downstairs.”

                Harry flushes, realising she is right.

                “Oh,” he says smartly, looking away and then back at her. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

                “No one lives forever, child,” Iris tells him gently. “I’m an old woman. Who knows when my time will come to an end.”

                “Not for another hundred years,” Harry says fiercely. “Witches and wizards have long lives. And you… you’re still a witch.”

                Iris gives him another kind smile, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand reassuringly. It’s a smile he can never imagine receiving from Snape.

                Then, clearing her throat, she pulls back and asks in a business-like voice, “How are your Occlumency shields coming along?”

                A little startled by the change of subject, Harry is slow to reply, “Er, fine. I think.”

                “There’s something I need to tell you, but I’d like to test your barriers first.”

                Cautiously, Harry nods with permission.

                Quickly shoving all thoughts of Snape deep into the back of his mind, he instantly pulls up his barriers.

                “When you’re ready, Harry.”

                He looks Iris in the eyes and lets her test his barriers. They’re not perfect. He is still working on them, but Harry already has a memory lined up just in case they fail. One of the first time he cast the Patronus successfully.

                It takes Iris several minutes to break his barriers, and Harry is disappointed that he can’t keep her out completely.

                When she exits his mind, he is left with a pounding headache.

                “Well done,” Iris praises. She is pleased, which makes Harry relax. She gets up from the table to fetch him some paracetamol and a glass of water.

                “Thanks,” Harry mumbles. Opening the tub of painkillers, he takes two and throws them back, followed by the glass of water.

                “You’re progressing well,” Iris compliments. “Are you still doing your exercises every night?”

                Harry nods.

                “Yeah, they’re getting easier now.”

                “And it’s helping you with your lessons?” Iris prods.

                “It is.”

                Before Iris asks her next question to stall the actual conversation, Harry softly turns it around on her, “What did you need to tell me, Oma?”

                Whatever it is, it cannot be worse than Snape being her son, he thinks.

                She takes a deep breath whilst Harry holds his own in anticipation.

                “It’s about Arabella Figg.”

 

ooOoo

 

“Aw, I wish I could go to the Quidditch World Cup with you,” Holly pouts.

                “I do, too,” Harry says, feeling genuinely upset that Iris will not allow him to take Holly. “But I’ll buy you lots of souvenirs.”

                Holly perks up slightly.

                “Only for the winning team,” she stipulates. “I don’t want the losing team’s rubbish.”

                Harry laughed and promised that he would get souvenirs for both teams and give her the winning one.

                “We’re making demands again, aren’t we?” Iris comes in, giving Holly a stern look which she returns with an innocent one.

                Turning to Harry, Iris hands him a package of new clothes: it has become a tradition for Iris to give him them for Hogwarts every year.

                “If you outgrow these, send Hedwig, and I’ll send you some new ones,” Iris instructs him. Then, running her hands through his hair to try and tidy it, she mumbles, “Teenage boys grow likes weeds.” Then, “You need a haircut, child.”

                Harry grins and allows her to pull him into the bathroom, where she directs him to sit on the edge of the bathtub and orders him to take his t-shirt off whilst she fetches a towel to wrap him in.

                She returns, holding a towel and a comb and a pair of scissors. As she goes around to wrap it around his shoulders, she freezes.

                Harry knows what she is looking at – the collection of scars she has healed since he was eight.

                “How have they been?” Iris asks in an odd voice.

                “I told my relatives that my escaped convict of a godfather saw my scars and would come back to hurt them if they tried anything,” he replies nonchalantly.

                Holly, who is watching from the doorway, giggles. Iris snorts. Harry is forcefully reminded of Snape once more.

                “You should have let the Hat put in you Slytherin, boy. You clearly belong there.”

                “Perish the thought,” Harry snarks with mock indignation.

                “Careful boy,” Iris shakes her head, tapping him gently on the nape. “Or I’ll cut your scalp with a razor.”

                Harry feigns innocence and sits still as she begins to snip away with the scissors.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry buys two large rosettes and two scarves in both teams’ colours and a flying Firebolt miniature for Holly; for himself, a pair of Omnioculars, adding two more to his order for Ron and Hermione.

                He lets the excitement overtake him as he follows the Weasleys to the Top Box.

 

ooOoo

Harry takes the lunch that Iris had packed for him and accepts the hug from Iris and Holly. Holly is pleased with her gifts but pouts when Iris stows them away in her handbag, saying she can have them when she gets home.

                As Harry gets onto the train, he wonders if Iris’s pinched look is due to what he told her happened at the Quidditch World Cup. They did not have a chance to talk properly.

He almost decided not to tell her but was afraid she might find out from Mrs Figg. Harry previously had no idea that Mrs Figg is really a squib. Harry rarely goes to see Mrs Figg anymore, but in the month Harry was still at Privet Drive, Harry went over to visit as often as possible.

                Mrs Figg was apologetic that she hadn’t told Harry earlier about being a wizard. She made many excuses, but Harry found he was not angry; though he has to deal with brushes of danger every so often, he knows he has a good life. He has Iris and Holly. He has Dudley, more or less, who is still being nice to him. Last year he even received a gift from him. Harry had laughed when he saw it was a smelly bath set but sent Dudley a blue monogrammed towel that turned black when it was in needed washing. He has his friends. He has Regulus, who still send him letters, and now, he has Sirius. He thinks he might have Lupin.

                His ex-professor had owled Harry once during summer to explain that the Map belonged to him, now, and reveal the nicknames' meaning. Harry is pleased to have another keepsake of his dad – it went nicely with his Invisibility Cloak. If Harry were the mischievous sort, like Fred and George, he would make trouble whenever he had the chance.

                Harry sends back a letter to Lupin thanking him and phrasing it so that he can still owl back if he wants to.

Harry has not had a reply yet.

               

ooOoo

Fourth Year

 

THEY’VE CANCELLED QUIDDITCH!!

                Do you know what a travesty that is?

                Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year, and we have two schools coming over to compete. They didn’t need to cancel Quidditch for that!

 

ooOoo

 

There’s a Quidditch shaped hole in my heart, Regulus, and you’re laughing at my pain.

                How’s Snuffles doing? Is he enjoying the sun?

 

ooOoo

 

They drew my name from the Goblet of Fire. I have to compete. They’re making me compete. Hermione and Neville are the only ones who believe me when I say I didn’t enter. Ron, too thinks I’ve put in my name in the Goblet, even though I already told him I wasn’t going to compete: now, he thinks I’m a liar, the git.

                Hermione believes he’s jealous because his brothers or I always overshadow him. How’s that my fault? I never ask for trouble. It follows me around.

                I just wish he would believe me.

                                                                    

ooOoo

All the Gryffindors think it’s great that I’m in the tournament, while all the Hufflepuffs support Cedric Diggory, which is fair because he is their Champion, and he deserves it. But they hate my guts. I understand why but I don’t have to like it.

                Malfoy’s got all the Slytherins wearing POTTER STINKS badges, and most of the school bought them from him.

                Ron is still not talking to me.

                Seriously, Snuffles, Regulus, I’m surprised that he’s not got a POTTER STINKS badge as well.

 

ooOoo

 

DRAGONS!

                Dragons!

                Oma, what do I do?

 

ooOoo

Don’t the Blacks have some enormous libraries?

                Is there nothing you can tell on how to get past one?

 

ooOoo

 

… so, in the end, I decided to use my Firebolt and outflew the dragon. It was brilliant.

                Don’t worry, Oma, I didn’t get hurt.

                I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard what creature screams when it speaks? It’s the ghastly sound that comes out of the egg.

 

ooOoo

 

My Firebolt was terrific, and I flew circles around the dragon. My shoulder got stung by its horned tail, but I still managed to get the egg.

                Krum was impressed as hell: he and Bagman told me I could have a career as a Quidditch player. I wouldn’t mind. Quidditch is great.

                Anyway, the egg contains the next clue, which shrieks or screeches instead of saying words.

                Ron and I are friends again. I made him apologise properly for not believing me.

ooOoo

Regulus, you’re a genius.

Snuffles, your suggestions were less helpful but still appreciated. You’re as bad as Fred and George. They said it sounded like it was Percy in the shower. Why on earth do you know about your House-Elf warbling in the bath?

 

ooOoo

 

I managed to figure out the next clue, Oma. Regulus helped me work it out, and it turned out to be a mermaid. I have to rescue something I’d miss the most that’s supposed to be at the bottom of the lake: I only have an hour to look for it.

                I hope they don’t take my Invisibility Cloak, my photo album, my Firebolt or that Gobstones set you gave me. I’d miss those the most. Bet that’s what they’re going to take.

                At least that one’s out of the way; now, I have to worry about asking a girl out to the Yule Ball. Why do girls always travel in packs?

                Now more than ever, I’m glad you taught me how to dance.

 

ooOoo

 

Remind me never to ask for advice about girls from an escaped convict and hermit with only a House-Elf for company.

 

ooOoo

 

I had a better time at the Yule Ball than I expected to –  Better than Ron and Hermione, at least.  

I asked Cho, the girl from the Ravenclaw team. I told you about last year to be my date, but she’d already agreed to go with Cedric. I didn’t realise they were dating.

                It was upsetting, I suppose. Instead, I asked out Parvati, one of the girls from Hermione’s dorms.

                Ron attempted to ask out Fleur, but he came back shocked that he’d even tried. I don’t remember if I mentioned this, but she’s a Veela, so the allure probably played a part. I’m glad I wasn’t there –  I would have laughed my arse off.

                He then tried to ask Hermione out – you know, in typical Ron fashion. He actually said to Hermione: “You’re a girl. You can go out with one of us.”

                Even I knew that was the wrong thing to say. Hermione already had a date, anyway: she had agreed to go with Viktor Krum.

                Conversely, he ended up going with Padma, Parvati’s twin sister, who was Sorted Ravenclaw.

                I would have been happier not going, but, unfortunately, I had to open the Ball as a Champion.  

                Ron acted like a miserable sod the whole evening. He was totally jealous that Hermione went with Viktor, so he tried to drag me into it by saying that she was fraternising with the enemy. That’s a direct quote, by the way.

                Padma ended up having a miserable time because of Ron – The only good thing that happened to her all evening was when some of the boys from Beauxbatons asked her to dance. Parvati permitted me to dance with her sister as well, mostly out of pity. Suffice to say, Ron ruined many people’s evening that night.

                Ron can be thoughtless sometimes. Things are a bit frosty between Hermione and Ron at the moment.

 

ooOoo

You know this is my fourth year at Hogwarts and, even after all this time, I didn’t expect to make another friend.

                I met this girl, Luna Lovegood, sort of by accident. She’s pretty unique. She was walking around barefoot one evening; at first, I thought it was strange that she was walking around with no shoes in a draughty old castle in the middle of winter.

                Then she told me that her shoes had been taken. Now,  I’ve gotten to know her the last few weeks, so I can tell she doesn’t like to say anything outright, despite her bluntness, but I gather that her dorm mates torment her a bit.  More so than just her dormmates, in fact.

                People always like to isolate those who dare to think differently, and Luna is about as peculiar as you can get.  

                I like her, in any case.

                I’ve taught her some of those security spells you showed me, so now her belongings are as safe as mine.  I just wish I could hex those idiots who still keep picking up on her. I know a few good ones now—the advantage of training for the tournament.

 

ooOoo

You know, Oma, I think I do like her that…

 

ooOoo

Albus follows a nervous Arabella to a well-kept house one street away from Privet Drive. Most houses in this part of Surrey all look the same, and the one Arabella leads him to is no different. The house is detached, and the property is kept fenced. From the outside, it looks smaller than the Dursley’s residence, the garden is well maintained, and everything seems in its place.

                It is the middle of the school day, and Albus has left Hogwarts in Minerva’s capable hands.

                Arabella taps lightly on the white-painted door. Albus holds himself off to the side as he examines the ceramic garden gnome with interest.

                The door opens, and Albus straightens up towards the residence.

                “I’m sorry, Iris. He seemed to know already,” Arabella says in place of a greeting.

                ‘Iris’ looks at Albus, paling slightly, but seems to gather herself.

                “Come in, Albus, Arabella.”

                Iris moves aside, allowing them entry. They follow her to the kitchen, where she gestures for them to sit at the dining table. Albus pulls out a chair for Arabella first and then seats himself. Iris needs time to collect her thoughts, and he allows her to do so as their host moves around the kitchen with deliberate grace, gathering the items she needs to make tea for her unexpected guests.

                Albus looks around the kitchen with great interest: there, on the fridge – a muggle cooling box – there is a picture of Harry and the little girl, Holly, whose information he has come to enquire about.

                Finally, after a fraught ten minutes in which Albus waits serenely and Arabella sits fidgeting. Iris sits opposite him, having placed a plate of biscuits, a teapot, sugar, a small jug of milk and three cups.

                 Iris makes no further move, so Albus pulls out his wand slowly and taps the teapot to begin pouring tea for everyone.

                “Sugar? Milk?” he asks pleasantly.

                “Two, please,” Arabella states.

                Iris shakes her head at the sugar but adds a splash of milk.

                She is the one to break her silence. “How did you find me?”

                “A curious little spell,” Albus tells her. He takes a sip of his tea and reaches for the plate of biscuits, picking up a delightful looking one with a heart cut into the top layer showing a gooey red centre. He bites into it and is surprised at its pleasant raspberry flavour. “How long have you known Harry?”

                “Since he was eight.”

                Albus studies her critically. She is suffering, he realises. He wonders what illness is afflicting her. He listens as she explains how she met Harry and how close they have become over the years. It does explain how well-adjusted Harry is, given what Arabella has told him about his treatment at the Dursleys. He allows the sadness of that to wash over him. He has asked Arabella for proof in the past but now realises that only Iris knows the whole truth because Harry didn’t trust the older woman. He will have to get Harry somehow away from the Dursleys. Iris has to tell him exactly what the boy has suffered, and he will deal with Petunia and Vernon himself.

                Once she falls silent, Albus asks, “Harry has told you about his participation in the Triwizard Tournament?”

                Iris nods.

                “The second task will take place this Saturday under the Great Lake. I used a spell to determine which person each Champion would miss the most: Holly Pierce was the name revealed by the spell. I did not know any Holly Pierce currently attending Hogwarts, nor was she a student from the other visiting schools. I checked the school registry to confirm.

                “Once I started looking up her location, I realised that her address was close to Harry’s home. I decided to check with Arabella first, given that she has been a resident for as long as he has been here.”

                Arabella had blanched at Holly’s name but refused to say anything further. Instead, she asked Albus to follow her to the address in question.

                Looking around at the pointedly muggle kitchens, Albus begins his questioning.

                “How much does Harry know?”

                “He knows I’m a witch. He figured it out last year and asked me about it.” Iris looks proud of Harry as she says this.

                “Does he know your real name?” Albus looks at her intently.

                “No. I haven’t told him.”

                “Are you going to?”

                Arabella sips her tea in silence, observing the two.

                Iris doesn’t reply.

                “Tell me about Holly,” Albus invites, taking a sip of his tea. “She is Severus’ daughter?”

                The Headmaster listens with hidden astonishment at how Severus treated Jasmine. He remembers the Ravenclaw: she was a bright girl, ambitious in her own right. He is distraught to realise that her kindness has turned to bitterness given the treatment she received at the hands of Severus.

                “And Harry does not know Holly belongs to Severus?”

                “No,” Iris sighs. “That is another truth I have hidden from him. I don’t know how he will ever forgive me when he finds out.”

                Albus is glad she said when and not if. He is guilty of many truths he has hidden from Harry. He knows, yet, he is still not as close to him as Iris is. It will hurt him greatly to find out that she has kept the truth about herself for so many years.

                “I have noticed Harry is much kinder than he should be capable of, given the trials he has endured.”

                “I won’t let you take Holly and have her participate in the tournament. Severus can’t see her.” Iris sits up and looks Albus straight in the eyes, who is pleased to see some spark of fire in her eyes. “You should not have let Harry participate at all.”

                Albus nods his head in acknowledgement of the truth of this.

                “I am here because I was curious, and now, I am not. Worry not, I won’t take Holly anywhere,” he assures her again.

                The spell was performed for the other champions as well. They all came up with a personal connection, and their Headmaster (or Headmistress) spoke to their families. After outlining every safety measure they will take, only the Delacour's have consented to use their youngest daughter as a hostage.

                Mr Krum’s family is unwilling to travel the distance, and Mr Diggory’s cannot spare the time, so they have had to resort to their Yule Ball dates. Fortunately, the spirit of the tournament is still met.

                “I will choose another hostage for Harry,” Albus tells her. For Harry, he will take Ron. They are best friends and have gone through much together.

                “There’s something else I must tell you,” Iris confesses, darting a glance at Arabella.

                Albus catches the underlying tension this statement provokes.  

                “What is it?” He feels a coldness descend upon him as Iris describes her illness and the effect of the medications she is taking.

                “Oh, Eileen,” Albus says sorrowfully, closing his eyes in dejection.

 

ooOoo

The final task is tomorrow, and I can’t wait for the whole circus to be over.

                I can’t wait to come home, Oma, and bake some shortbread with you and Holly.

 

 

ooOoo

 

Tobias needs the aid of a cane to get around. His knee pains him and stiffens when he sits for too long. He tries to take a short walk every day, but he knows not to venture too far from home.

                He heads for the park and enters through the side gate. He sees her already sitting on one of the benches, watching the little children play. Tobias cautiously limps towards her.

                She sees him coming and calmly turns back to the playground as Tobias sits rigidly beside her.

                “Never thought I’d see you again, love,” he greets her gruffly.

                Her reply is icy, like her tone of voice. “You were never meant to.”

                “Is that any way to welcome your husband?”

 

ooOoo

 

Harry and Cedric do not expect the Cup to be a portkey.

                They land – Merlin knows where – but it’s definitely not Hogwarts. Harry’s leg hurts, bleeding from the giant spider’s pincer, and when the beast dropped him, he sprained his ankle.

                “Avada Kedavra!”

                Harry stares in horror as the flash of green fades and Cedric’s life is taken from him.

 

ooOoo

“I can touch you, now,” Voldemort laughs coldly as he traces the scar on his forehead. Harry screams in agony.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry watches in dread as Voldemort uses Wormtail’s Mark to summon his Death Eaters.       

 

ooOoo

“You’re not going to go back to him,” Narcissa reminds Lucius.

                Lucius is clutching his Mark in pain. They have been discussing this all year since the Quidditch match when the Dark Mark was released into the sky. They saw the signs. They knew this day would come.

                Narcissa does not care one whit for muggles; she does not want to lose her family. Lucius has already gotten rid of the cursed Diary the Dark Lord gave him. He was almost caught for possessing it as well, though there was no evidence to tie him to it, rightfully. Once the Dark Lord finds out that Lucius lost his possession, his life will be forfeit.

                Narcissa cannot lose her husband.

                The pain fades away. Lucius straightens up, cupping Narcissa tenderly and pressing a kiss to her brow.

                “I’ll come back, darling,” he promises, leaving his study to fetch his Death Eater garb.

                “I hope so,” Narcissa whispers to the void.

 

ooOoo

“Reg!”

                Sirius has no idea how to help his brother, assisting him into a chair. They are in Dumbledore’s office. Harry met them here before the task, and although Regulus can be seen in public, Sirius is still a hunted convict.

                “The Dark Lord is back,” Regulus tells him urgently, clutching desperately at his brother’s robes.

                Sirius feels the blood drain from his face.

                “Harry,” he mumbles, knowing in his heart that his godson is in danger.

                “I need to go.”

                “He’ll kill you, Reg,” Sirius snaps.

                “You know Harry is in trouble. The timing is suspect.”

                Sirius reluctantly nods.

                “Go find Dumbledore first.”

                Sirius can only wait, hidden away.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius is waiting for a chance to interfere.

“Bow down to death, Harry Potter,” cackles the Dark Lord.

The boy has been subjected to multiple Cruciatus Curses, is bleeding from his arm and leg, and can barely stand, but can still break through the Dark Lord’s Imperius Curse.

Lucius feels a reluctant admiration for the insolent whelp. He knows he is a strong player in this war that has started today. However, he is still a boy.

Lucius catches Petrus Parkinson’s eyes, who will do anything to protect his daughter. Then there’s Thadeus Nott, who was already planning to run away with his son. Crabbe and Goyle are on his side as well. It will be a difficult summer. They will always live in fear if the Dark Lord is not defeated this day.

Lucius knows of Severus’ Vow to Dumbledore. The idiot plans to return to his spying duties; he wishes he could stop his friend somehow.

                He watches in awe as Potter’s and the Dark Lord’s wand connect. The boy is only fourteen, the same age as Draco, but he faces the Dark Lord and holds his own. Draco could not do that. Lucius admits to himself that he could not do this either. If he were not already planning to betray the Dark Lord, he would certainly change his mind after this.

               

ooOoo

 

Severus approaches Albus.

                He can tell by his pinched face that Severus is in pain. As casually as he can, he raises his left hand to brush down the front of his robes. Only Albus can detect the almost imperceptible tremor. Severus’ Dark Mark is active.

                Regulus Black rushes up to Albus at the same instance.

                “I’m going to him,” Regulus says, eyes blazing. “We think he has Harry.”

                Albus nods. The thought has occurred to him as well. Two of the four Champions had to be pulled to safety, and the spectators are getting antsy waiting for Harry Potter or Cedric Diggory to emerge as the winner.

                “I shall go with you,” Severus says in a firm voice.

                The Headmaster is surprised, but the choice belongs only to Severus. He was his spy thirteen years ago when Albus demanded that he do it. Over the years, as Albus has got to know the younger wizard better, he has explored other ways to utilise Severus besides allowing him to continue his spying ways. His main reason for staying in Hogwarts is to protect Harry, and Severus does not need to be a spy to do it.

He still does not know he has a daughter, and Albus has promised Eileen that he will not reveal her secret. She has a year before her illness overcomes her.

                Albus cannot justly stop Severus right now. If he did, he might suffer the consequences of the Vow, as Harry’s life is on the line. Albus does not doubt that Harry is wherever Voldemort is now.

                Albus turns away from Severus and Regulus as they discreetly make their way towards the school gates, from where they could apparate. He needs to find Alastor to see if his friend can locate Mr Diggory.

 

ooOoo

 

Albus is sitting behind his desk in his office, his head in his hands.

                Lucius is standing behind his wife, who is sitting in an armchair near Albus’ bookshelf. Albus confesses that he is surprised that Lucius is here, having betrayed Voldemort, especially given the event two years ago, when he attempted to use his Lord’s possessions on innocent children. Albus plans to speak to Lucius and Narcissa in further detail regarding this, but later. One mess at a time.

                Harry lies in the Hospital Wing, several floors up, resting from his ordeal. Albus is sorry for forcing Harry to voice his ordeal since he had just been through it, but he needed to know as much as he could. Time is of the essence, and they need to begin planning as soon as possible. Harry is not alone. Sirius has elected to stay up there in his dog form, and Albus has given Poppy his guarantee that ‘Snuffles’ is tame.

Regulus sits in the farthest corner while Severus is leaning on the mantle above the fireplace.

                Severus has outed himself as a spy, barely escaping with his life. Albus is not sad that he can no longer be a spy for him, though he can tell that the other wizard regrets this more. The Headmaster fears that Severus will think he is no longer helpful if he cannot spy.

                Albus finally breaks the silence. “Voldemort will remain hidden whilst he gathers his forces.”

                “Fudge is already on the verge of denying it all,” Severus murmurs.

                “Yes. That possibility cannot be denied,” Albus agrees.

                There are some things Cornelius cannot deny: Barty Crouch Senior broke his son out of prison, who had masqueraded as Alastor Moody for the whole year and put Harry’s name in the Goblet of Fire.

                Any further discussion is disrupted when one of Albus’ gadgets suddenly begins blaring and smoking on his shelf next to the Malfoys. He immediately rushes up to it and plucks it up. It stops as suddenly as it started, and Albus returns it to its place, staring at it unseeingly, even as he is aware that his guests are watching him, waiting for answers. He had enchanted it in March after visiting Eileen.

                Albus ignores them as he realises that Eileen has lied to him: she had assured him that she would live for another year and is looking for some hope of a better solution with her medication. It seems Eileen already knew she only had a handful of months.     

                “Albus? What is it?” Severus asks in concern, pushing off from his position and stepping towards Albus’ desk.

                Knowing he will be unable to brush this off, Albus settles for a half-truth given his reaction. He pushes the truth behind his Occlumency shields but is still unable to look Severus in the eyes.

                “I cannot speak of it at this time. This gadget is enchanted to inform me of the death of…” he cannot come up with a false name, so he simply says, “someone important.”

                There are rare occasions when Albus would like to indulge in teenage tantrums of throwing and breaking things. This is one of those occasions. Sensing his feelings, his familiar, Fawkes, flies up from his perch and lands on his desk in front of him, then hops into his lap.

                His guests exchange puzzled looks with each other, wondering who else could have died. They already have a grieving Diggory family upstairs in the Hospital Wing.

                Before anyone could say anything else, they are further interrupted by the arrival of an owl that flies through Albus’ open window. He can make an educated guess as to the contents when the owl lands on Severus’ shoulders, dropping off the letter to the impatient Potions Master and then leaving the way it came.

                Albus schools his face into something calm, knowing that he must react as if he does not know what information that letter contains.

                “Well?” Narcissa prompts. She stands up from her seat and steps towards Severus when he does not immediately speak. “What does it say?”

                “I have a daughter,” Severus replies faintly, continuing to stare incredulously at the missive.

                 

               

               

               

 

>

Chapter 4 - A Tumbleweed Moment

 

“You have a what now?” Regulus asks dumbly.

                Severus does not repeat it, still staring at the letter in his hand. It’s from his father. Even if Tobias Snape didn’t sign it, he still recognises his handwriting. He does not even know how his father got a hold of an owl.

                It could be a joke, Severus thinks furiously, though Tobias lacks a sense of humour.

                Lucius snatches the letter from Severus’ hand so that he and Narcissa, who has stood up from her chair, can read it also. The letter does not contain much, just a few simple lines – another indicator that the letter is written, bluntly and coarsely, by Tobias: he has never been one for diplomacy.

               

                You need to collect your bastard child. Her grandmother passed away. For Christ’s sake, boy, don’t your kind have birth control?

                                                                Da

A chair appears behind Severus and moves forward, bumping into the back of his legs: he falls back into it without thinking, still lost in thoughts about whether this is a joke.

                Having taken it from Lucius, Regulus quickly reads the letter – not that there is much to read – and passes it on to Albus, who also skims through it.

                “Eloquent,” the Headmaster murmurs. Then, in a louder voice, “Well, Severus, it seems you have one more task to resolve before your summer begins.”

 

ooOoo

 

Summer 1995

 

Dudley surprises Harry by helping him carry his trunk to his room. Dudley has already been home two days since his school broke up for the holidays.

                “You need to go to Mrs Figg’s tomorrow morning. First thing,” Dudley whispers urgently.

                Harry is confused. Had something happened to Mrs Figg? Iris hasn’t mentioned anything. He had written Iris the day after the Final task to tell her he had won the Tournament but wanted to tell her about Voldemort’s return in person. He is concerned that Iris hasn’t written back, but perhaps she is waiting for him to come and talk to her face to face.

                Dudley looks upset, and Harry cannot understand why.

                “Is she okay?” Harry asks.

                “You need to talk to her,” is all Dudley says.

                “Do you think I could sneak out and see Oma and Holly?”

                Dudley looks even more distressed but cannot answer when Petunia calls Harry down. Though the Dursleys have been better since Harry mentioned Sirius, they still expect him to do chores whenever they say so.

                Harry cannot shake the antsy, itchy feeling under his skin. He wishes he could just forget about the chores and leave. He wants to see Iris and Holly: Iris has a way of making him feel like he can fight anything, and Holly gives him the hope to fight for something. Dudley keeps looking at him like he wants to say something, but Petunia or Vernon constantly interrupts him. Finally, Dudley gives up and goes upstairs.

                It is several hours later that Harry collapses in bed. He walks past Dudley’s open door and sees that his cousin has fallen asleep playing his NES console, still on top of the covers. Petunia has made him cook the whole evening’s meal, organise the cellar and clean out his old cupboard.

                He is still recovering from the events in the graveyard, both physically and emotionally. He falls asleep, exhausted and doesn’t even change out of his clothes, only having enough presence of mind to kick off his shoes.

                He is awakened the following day by a distressed-looking Dudley.

                 “Come on, Harry, we need to go to Mrs Figg’s right now,” Dudley is saying.

                He is still feeling exhausted and pushes Dudley away, but turning the clock, he is shocked to see it is almost ten o’clock.

                “Get your shoes on, come on. I fell asleep waiting for you and forgot to set my alarm,” Dudley says.

                “What are you on about?” Harry asks, irritated, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

                “We need to go to Mrs Figg’s right now. They’re going to take Holly away,” Dudley explains with tears in his eyes. Harry does not immediately register the other’s words. He is astonished at how upset Dudley is.

                Then, as his brain catches up, Harry jumps up from bed, jams his feet back into his shoes and races out ahead of Dudley.

                Pulling the front door harder than he intended, Harry flings it open and dashes out onto the street. He hears Dudley slam the door shut behind him, but he doesn’t stop for him. Dudley is much fitter than he used to be and can keep up with Harry without panting like he used to. It’s a good thing he doesn’t play Harry Hunting anymore.

                Harry doesn’t understand why they have to go to Mrs Figg’s instead of Iris’s, but he doesn’t waste time questioning Dudley as he pelts down Wisteria Walk.

                He is still four houses away when he sees Holly being seated in a battered, old white Ford. Harry picks up speed as the woman gets into the driver’s seat, starts the car and begins to drive away.

                “HOLLY!” Harry screams for her.

                “I’m sorry, Harry, I tried to delay them for as long as I could,” Mrs Figg calls to him as he runs past.            

                Harry does not even stop.

                “HOLLY!” He screams for her again, desperate to reach her.

                Holly is in the back seat: as her name is called out, she turns and sees Harry through the rear window.

                Just as it looks like the car is about to pick up speed, it comes to a sudden stop. Holly has opened the passenger door, the one closest to the pavement. When the car stops in its tracks, and luckily no vehicles are coming behind, she jumps out and runs to Harry.

                Sweating and panting, Harry falls painfully to his knees in front of her. The woman driving the car looks angry at first, but her expression changes to something closer to sympathy. Holly throws her arms around his neck and buries her head on his shoulder. He can feel her tears seeping through his shirt while her whole body shakes from the frantic sobs, and he can’t help but pull her tighter to him.

                Dudley and Mrs Figg catch up to him, standing there and looking at both of them with great sorrow.

                Holly tries to say something to him, but Harry cannot understand her through her sobs. He knows it’s about Iris, in any case. He only distinguishes that she is trying to say Oma.

                The woman gives them a few minutes, but Harry can see that she wants to get moving. She walks forward and leans in slightly, placing a gentle hand on Holly’s head, and says in a soft voice, “I’m sorry, son. We need to go now.”

                She reaches over Harry’s shoulders and lightly tugs on Holly’s hand, who is trying to resist and tighten her hold on him.

                Harry looks up at the Social Worker because that’s what she must be and says, “It’s okay, sweetheart, it’ll be okay.”

                The Social Worker backs off and gives the two of them some space. Unwillingly, Harry pulls Holly and looks at her forlorn face, using the hem of his t-shirt to clean the tears away, and then cups her face as Iris did with them.

                He has to swallow the lump in his throat and take a deep breath before he can speak.

                “I promise I’ll find you again. I’ll find you again, and I’ll write, okay? I promise.”

                Holly nods but throws her arms around Harry again, who reluctantly pulls away, not without one last squeeze, and gets back to his feet. He takes Holly by her hand and walks her back to the car, ensuring she’s seated and buckling her belt.

                Before he closes the door, he leans over and whispers, “I promise,” one last time.

                As he pulls himself out of the car, he sees that she has the bag Harry owled her for her birthday: it’s from Hogsmeade and had many spells on it. He hopes she was able to use of the magical expansion and packed as much as she could.

                Harry closes the car door and nods toward the Social Worker without really looking at her. He stands there until the car drives off and becomes a speck in the distance. When the car is out of sight, Dudley puts a hand on his shoulder and leads him back to Mrs Figg, who walks back with them.

                “Let’s look at that knee, Harry,” the woman says softly.

                Harry follows along like a zombie, letting himself be led into Mrs Figg’s house and directed to a chair in her kitchen. He doesn’t even register his leg being lifted and placed on the other chair or the hem of his jeans being rolled up to expose his bloody knee: the sting of anti-septic as Mrs Figg dabs on the scrape brings Harry out of his daze.

                “What happened?” his voice is dull.

                “Iris passed away,” Mrs Figg explains. She doesn’t look at him, concentrating on cleaning his cut instead. Dudley looks stunned as well, though he knew before Harry did. “She was on new medication for her heart, but I’m afraid I’m not sure entirely. Iris lay down to rest, and Holly said she wasn’t waking up. She was scared, the poor little mite. So, she came running over to me.”

                Mrs Figg breaks down into tears and gently pushes Harry’s leg away. She gets up and turns her back on Harry and Dudley, trying to hide her pain.

                Dudley takes charge of cleaning his knee and then puts a plaster to cover it.

                Collecting herself but still not looking at the boys, she fiddles with a dishcloth, which she picks up and puts back down.

                “I – er – called for an ambulance – and they tried to – tried to – ” Mrs Figg is unable to finish her sentence as she bursts into sobs once more. Harry cautiously stands up and goes over to her: he realises he is now taller than her, and he pulls her close to hug her as he had done with Holly. Iris and Mrs Figg have been friends for years: he knows she has been placed here by Dumbledore to look over him, even though he didn’t know Mrs Figg was a squib until that year. She and Iris had become close, and she and Dudley are the only ones left, apart from Harry, who know that Iris was a witch.

                “Oh, I’m getting your t-shirt all wet,” Mrs Figg groans, pulling back as soon as Harry releases her, and she moves to grab her tea towel again, patting at the boy’s damp tee ineffectually.

                “When is the funeral?” Harry forces himself to ask.

                Mrs Figg freezes, and he knows he is not about to hear any good news.

                “She’s already been buried.”

                His heart sinks. So quickly?

                “Iris already made arrangements. She might have lived in the muggle world for over a decade, but she made sure to have her body buried in her family. Her solicitors claimed her body as soon they found out about her death.”

                At Harry’s questioning look, she clarifies, “Magical solicitors have ways. I think she might have had some help from the goblins, making sure to have her Will updated about her burial preferences for years. Oh, and she left all her books to you, Harry. When her visits to the doctors increased, she knew she was struggling. If muggles ever came to her house, she wanted to ensure no magical items were found. I have everything she left for you downstairs in my cellar.”

                Harry doesn’t care about the books right now.

                “Once her muggle estate is settled, you’ll get a letter about her house. She left it to you and Holly.”

                Harry doesn’t even care about the house but is touched that Iris considered him family enough to do this. He can’t deny he has fond memories of that house, but he would much rather have Iris and Holly back than it. As long they were together, they would have made memories anywhere. Now, they’re both alone in the world.

                “What about Holly? Didn’t Oma have any plans for her?”

                Mrs Figg sighs as she sits back in the chair at the dining table.

                “Iris never told me her plans for Holly. I managed to take her temporarily before Social Services came to pick her up today. I did try to hold them off as long as I could, Harry dear, but the woman… she was in such a rush to go.”

                Dudley, who has remained silent until now, flushes and confesses.

                “I tried to tell you yesterday, but Mum and Dad kept getting in the way. So, you know, I thought I’d wait until I saw you come upstairs to go to bed, so I left my door open, but I fell asleep playing games and then the next thing I know, it’s morning.”

                Dudley looks genuinely upset. Harry can only reassure him that it’s not his fault.

                “Anyway, Social Services will be placing Holly in a temporary home whilst they try to find her next of kin.”

                He almost doesn’t hear Mrs Figg tell him, quite hesitantly, “You won’t be able to write to her, Harry. She’ll be with muggles.”

                He is stunned as the thought occurs to him: Holly’s next of kin is Snape.

 

ooOoo

 

As soon as term ends and the hormone-filled animals, ridiculously named students, board the train, Severus visits his father in Spinner’s End. Lucius insists on coming along with him, but he’s still unsure if this is because he doesn’t want Severus to get arrested for murder or entertainment purposes. Possibly both. Lucius has always had a bizarre sense of humour.

                Severus sweeps inside his childhood home the second Tobias opens the door.

                “What is this?” he hisses, practically waving the crumpled piece of paper in his hand in Tobias’ face.

                “Come in, son,” his father asserts sarcastically. “Lovely to see you, too. I know, son, it’s been a while. I’ve been well. How about you?”

                Lucius manages to slip inside before Tobias shuts the door in his face.

                “Blondie,” Tobias greets.

                Lucius gives the house and Tobias his usual sneer and returns his greeting with a simple, “Wrinkly.”

                “What do you mean I have a daughter?” Severus hisses, following Tobias into the grotty living room.

                His father takes a seat in his shabby-looking one-seater he had before Severus was born: he remembers it when it was cream coloured. Now, it’s just encrusted with dirt and grime. Severus itches to burn it whenever he comes for a visit.

                “How many ways can that sentence be interpreted?” Tobias says unconcernedly, turning his attention to his zombie box, otherwise known as a television.

                Lucius makes a show of looking around and, seeing nowhere clean to sit, pulls out his wand and conjures himself a chair. Tobias glares at the show of magic, but the wizard sits down without a care.

                Severus takes a deep breath, telling himself to calm down.

“Who is she?”

“I don’t know,” Tobias shrugs, reaching for his can of Strongbow from the floor.

“Where is she?” He looks around the room as if expecting her to pop out.

“Dunno.”

“How old is she?”

Tobias doesn’t even deign to answer. He just grunts and half shrugs as he sips his can of cider. Severus blocks his view of the telly, forcing him to look up at his son as Severus.

“What. Do. You. Know?” Severus enunciates clearly, leaning over and placing his hands on either side of his father.

“I’m not one of your pathetic little school children, Severus, that you can intimidate by hanging above like a bat.” Tobias’ voice is cold.

They engage in a silent battle of wills. Severus can feel Lucius shifting, getting to jump between them if things get violent. They certainly have in the past.

“Tell me about my child,” Severus demands as he takes a step back.

“What I told you in my letter, boy. She lived with her grandmother. She’s kicked the bucket, and now the brat’s an orphan.”

Severus exhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

He feels weary. “This isn’t one of your gags?”

“What do you think, boy?”

In response, he glowers at his father.

“How did you find out?” Lucius takes over as Severus gathers himself.

“Well, one of your whores came to me about ten years ago. Told me she was messed up with your sprog and wanted to know how to get you a message,” Tobias explains carelessly, craning his head around Severus to snatch a glimpse of the telly again.

“Ten years ago?” Lucius’ voice is incredulous.

“She came around to tell me some bullshit about you and her having an affair. She wanted to know where you lived and then said she was pregnant. Told her to piss off and not to bother me again.”

“Do you remember her name?” Lucius asks.

“Do you expect me to remember the name of some bird he shagged ten years ago?”

“I expect you to remember the woman who claims to be pregnant with my child,” Severus snaps.

“You should remember who you’ve been screwing.”

“Fair point,” Lucius concedes from his seat.

“She had some sort of flowery name. You’ve always had a thing for them,” Tobias adds slyly, sipping from his can again.

Lucius quickly gets up from his seat to stop Severus from rushing toward his father, who doesn’t even flinch, but struggles to hold him back.

Tobias has never liked Lily and makes sly digs whenever he can: he’s always thought she was an ‘uppity bitch’. Severus has always been sensitive about her. He moves back as he remembers whom his father means.

“Jasmine?”

Tobias shrugs. “Could be.”

“Which one was Jasmine?” Lucius questions.

Severus doesn’t answer. His sallow skin pales as he recalls how, years ago, Jasmine told him that she was pregnant with his child. How she had sent owl after owl. How he had asked Lucius to block her owls and any other unknown ones. Severus had then started getting letters at Hogwarts. He had burned every single one of them. Unread.

Lucius leads Severus to his conjured chair.

Tobias smirks at him. “You remember her now, don’t you, lad?”

He finishes the can, crushes it and lobs it across the room into his bin. Severus distantly hears the clunk it makes when it lands. He lowers his head into his hands, resting his elbows on his knees as he recalls everything. He hears the snap of the tab being pulled and the hiss as the air is released. Tobias has opened himself another can of cider.

“I never believed her,” Severus says to his knees. “She told me she was pregnant, but I thought she was lying to get back together, or that she wanted to use me for my inheritance, or whatever reason I told myself at the time.”

“Never heard from her until a year later when I got a letter and a snapshot in the post. Ugly little moppet. After that – nothing,” Tobias says indifferently.

Severus stands up so fast that Lucius almost trips, trying to back away. He is back in front of his father in two long strides: he slaps the still full can from the old man’s hand and drags him upright by his lapels.

“You knew she had my child,” Severus hisses furiously. “You kept my child from me?”

“Perhaps you should have answered her letters yourself,” Tobias sneers in his face.

“You had no right!”

Lucius tries to step between them. “Severus, you need to stay calm. Let’s discuss this like rational adults.”

“Getting awfully snippy for a child you rejected, Severus,” Tobias mocks. “Should have kept your pecker covered.”

Severus feels himself dragged back and is forced to let go of Tobias.

“You should have told me.”

Lucius is still pulling him back and refuses to let go.

“Calm down, Severus or I’ll Stick you to the chair,” he pants.

Severus forces himself to take a deep breath. Talking to his father always takes away his control, so that’s why he only visits Tobias once a year. At times like this, he wonders why he even bothers.

There is a fraught moment as Severus gathers himself together. Tobias calmly retakes his seat, looking regretfully at his upended can of Strongbow.

“You don’t even know how to be a father,” he mumbles.

                Lucius tenses, ready to intervene.

                “I must have learned from you how not to be a father,” Severus snipes back; then, sighing wearily, sits in Lucius’ chair, forcing his companion to conjure himself a new one.

                “Blondie, too good to sit in on my sofa?” Tobias gripes, getting only Lucius’s grin in response.

                “Tell me what you know. Please,” Severus reluctantly forces the word out.

                “Your bird came to me asking for you,” Tobias begins. Severus holds onto his patience. They have already gone over this part. “I told her to piss off and that I didn’t know where you lived. She left. A year later, a few months after the baby was born, I got a letter from the granny saying the sprog is my granddaughter too and asks if I want to know her.”

                “And?” Lucius leans forwards, looking impatient.

                “And I didn’t bother to reply. I don’t care, do I? Never got another letter until granny wrote me, saying she’s dying, and she told me to tell you to collect her if you want her.”

                “Collect her from where?” Severus and Lucius ask together.

                “Wherever Social Services took her,” Tobias says slowly like they are idiots.

                “Do you know where?”

                Tobias shrugs. “No clue.”

                “What about Jasmine? She never got in contact with you again?”

                Tobias just gives Severus a look. The Potions Master growls in a low voice in his throat.

                “Do you have the letter? Did it have an address?” Lucius prods.

                “It might have,” Tobias says sketchily.

                “Let me see it,” Severus demands.

                “I wrote you that letter ages ago. If you were that desperate for your kid, why didn’t you come to me when you got it?”

                Severus rolls his eyes. Trust his father to think a week ago is ages.

                “I was working. You have no clue what’s going on in other parts of the world. A lot has happened this last week. I had some things to take care of before I could leave. Now, where is that letter?”

                “I’ll have to look for it.” Tobias hides his eyes from Severus, who narrows his own eyes at his father. The old man is prevaricating.

                “I’ll wait.”

                “What’s the girl's name?” Lucius exasperatedly calls at Tobias’ back as he gets up, glares at Severus and then stalks off to the kitchen.

                Severus covers his face once more, realising he should have asked that himself.

 

ooOoo

 

“Have none of them written to you?” Dudley enquires.

                It is late in the evening, and they have the park to themselves. Before Dudley speaks, the only sound they hear is the squeak of the swing swaying gently under their weight.

                Harry comes to this park a lot. It has become a habit since Holly was taken away. It has been almost three weeks since he was forced to let her go. He likes to stare at the slide where he first saw her nearly seven years ago.

                Ever since he has come back from Hogwarts, his temper has been closer to the surface than ever before. He has never been a particularly angry person. Right now, he feels that everything is out of his control. Harry heaves a sigh but answers Dudley anyway: His cousin doesn’t deserve his temper.

                “Dumbledore’s banned owl post. Voldemort’s still out there, hiding or something. All I know is that everyone else is staying somewhere safe, together.”

                Except for me, he thinks. I’ve been left alone. Even Luna is with her father, travelling as they hunt for Snorkacks.

                Harry has taken to doing his homework at Mrs Figg’s house, while Dudley joins in occasionally and flicks through some of Harry’s first-year books. He has stopped hanging out with Piers and his other friends, spending more time with Harry or training for boxing. Dudley has already won a match –  Junior heavyweight or something.

                Dudley doesn’t say anything more. They fall into silence again, apart from the squeak of the chains.

                Harry has been following the Daily Prophet. There have been no deaths reported and no suspicious activity. The Prophet is slowly starting to question his claim of Voldemort’s return.

                “We should go back,” Dudley eventually says hesitantly. “Or Mum and Dad might lock you out.”

                Harry does not answer immediately. He is unwilling to leave but knows that he might have to spend the night at Mrs Figg’s house if he gets locked out. He has no problem with Mrs Figg, but she is not Iris, and there is no Holly to come and cuddle with him.

                Harry nods, and Dudley relaxes as he waits for him to get up first. They walk back to Privet Drive in silence while he ignores Dudley’s looks of concern.

                Harry does not immediately notice the chill. This summer there has been a massive heatwave, and the local council has put on a hosepipe ban. Most people have been walking around with vests and shorts: Harry is wearing jeans as he has no shorts and a short sleeve t-shirt.

                “Is it me, or has it gone freezing suddenly,” Dudley comments somewhat idly as he hugs himself and rubs his arms.

                Harry frowns. He stops and looks up. It’s not just gotten colder than it should, but it has also gone darker than it should be for this time of the day. They should still have another two hours of light left. When Harry hears the distant echoing scream, he realises what is happening.

                Confused and alarmed, he turns to his cousin and urgently voices, “Dudley. It’s Dementors. We need to run.”

                Dudley catches the worried tone and follows Harry as they begin to run home. The screams in his head echo louder. Harry pulls out his wand, hoping he won’t have to use it.

                Dudley trips and falls. Harry does not immediately realise this and only suddenly stops when a Dementor floats in front of him. Looking back for Dudley, he sees his cousin shaking and curled up into a ball on the ground. He remembers that muggles can’t see Dementors.

                Harry summons up his happy memory, thinking about Iris and Holly. He points his wand at Dementor descending over his cousin and bellows, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius is sometimes irritated as he listens to Severus curse Potter for his idiocy. He is willing to confess that he does not know Harry Potter that well. His last encounter with him was in the graveyard at the Dark Lord’s resurrection. He could admit to a certain admiration for the way Potter handled himself in that situation. In fact, now that he thinks about it, almost every encounter with Potter has ended in violence – the bookshop in Diagon Alley, the Headmaster’s office after the diary fiasco…

                In his everyday life, both Severus and Draco have told Lucius that Potter is arrogant, entitled and a reckless rule breaker, and he has no reason to distrust either of them: in his brief interactions with Potter, he has seen nothing that would indicate otherwise.

                Still, as entertaining as listening to Severus put the boy down, Lucius admits that it can also get tiresome.

                Lucius has a headache and finds Severus’ rants tedious on this occasion. He can understand why he is irritated with Potter at this moment, having spent the last three weeks trying to track down his daughter, travelling to various temporary houses. Severus has also been to visit his father more in this time than in over a decade.

                After visiting the fourth residential home, Severus was advised to bring some form of muggle identification before collecting his daughter, Holly. He has spent the last several days rooting around for his muggle Birth Certificate and any other form of muggle identification to prove that he is whom he says he is – He has even had Dumbledore write out a letter of reference. Lucius thinks it is all overkill, but who knows what methods muggles use.

                They have been forced to use magic along the way when the social workers cited some form of confidentiality, but Severus was overcautious with the use of his wand. They could erase memories, but the muggles still had those ridiculous ‘confuters’ – little boxes they store information on. So, they were forced to operate in the slowest way.

                Severus and Narcissa were supposed to leave today for the next residential home with all of Severus’ paperwork, but this latest incident with Potter has scuppered those plans.   

                Potter claims he was attacked by Dementors and therefore forced to use his wand. Severus is now unhappy because he has to help investigate this claim.

                To get away from Severus’ ridiculous rants, Lucius volunteers to investigate at the Ministry. It takes him almost a week to find out that Umbridge sent the Dementors to discredit Potter about the allegations of the Dark Lord’s return.

                 “Look like Potter wasn’t lying after all,” Lucius gloats as he sits back in his favourite wingback chair, sipping his favourite brandy to celebrate his victory of a successful investigation.

                Severus sneers at Lucius: he has never liked to admit when he is wrong.

                “What’s Fudge doing about Umbridge?”

                “Well, he wanted to keep her in charge and sweep her actions under the rung. I might have convinced him that this would only come back to bite him in the backside. Public opinion might be teetering regarding Potter at the moment, casting doubt on his claims of the Dark Lord’s return, but… what if he is right?”

                “Which you could also prove by telling Fudge that you were there that night and helped Potter escape,” Severus points out dryly.

                Lucius gives him a look as if to say, ‘don’t be daft.’

                “All in good time.”

                Severus waits for Lucius to speak again and prompts him with a “Well?”

                “Fudge wanted to send Umbridge to Hogwarts to have her teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

                “Tell me you stopped that plan!” Severus demands immediately.

                Lucius allows him to fret a little before confessing, “Relax. I’ve made sure Umbridge is not allowed anywhere near Hogwarts.”

                Lucius ignores the glare Severus sends his way.

                “Thank Salazar,” Severus mutters. “Dumbledore needs to find a competent professor this year. Or find another Potions Master so that I can finally take over the position, as I’ve been asking to do for the last fourteen years.”

                Lucius cannot resist smirking. He wanted to break this news since he had come back from the Ministry after dealing with Umbridge. That hag has been demoted so far down the line that it will take her a hundred years to climb back up.

                “Dumbledore has found himself a new Defence teacher. I would wager this one is quite competent.”

                Severus narrows his eyes suspiciously at Lucius and asks, “Would you happen to know this new teacher?”

                “Me.”

                Lucius is not amused or flattered by Severus’s incredulous laughter.

 

ooOoo 

 

Harry settles into his new bedroom, which he shares with Ron and Neville. He has been silent since the Order sent a guard to escort him from Privet Drive.

                His back is still aching from the Dursley’s punishment after the Dementor's attack. Dudley was still a little out of it when Harry had made it back to Privet Drive with his cousin. Mrs Figg met them halfway, having felt the effect of the Dementors when she was returning with her bag full of tinned cat food.

                Without Iris’s help, his back has to heal slowly, without magic. Harry misses not just the healing Iris helped him with but also the comfort she offered him. Dudley was upset when he found out how Harry was punished, but he didn’t blame his cousin. Overcoming the effects of Dementor is not easy, and Dudley is still just a muggle.

                Harry is happy that he is not going to be expelled. Apparently, someone in the Ministry wanted to discredit him – Umbridge or some such name. Whoever saved Harry not only stopped him from expulsion but also his trial, which was supposed to take place in front of a full Wizengamot.

                Regulus and Sirius explain what suffering a trial is before a full Wizengamot, and he is glad he avoided that fate.

                Harry’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Hedwig pecking at his window. He gets up and lets her in: she follows him back to his bed as he sits against the backboard and settles into his lap. Harry responds by stroking her head in a way that is soothing to both of them.

                Hedwig squawks at him.

                “I know Hedwig. I miss them too,” Harry says quietly.

                Hedwig gets up and flies to Harry’s open trunk at the foot of his bed while he watches with some confusion as she roots around. After almost a minute, she comes up with his fountain pen, and Harry understands instantly.

                “I can’t write to her, Hedwig. She’s in a muggle area,” he explains patiently.

                Hedwig drops the quill in his hands, moving towards Neville’s bed and grabbing a piece of parchment and bringing that to Harry as well.

                “I told you, Hedwig. I can’t send her a letter.”

                Hedwig keeps nipping at Harry’s hand until he is forced to give in.

                “All right, all right,” he snaps.

                Taking the pen and parchment between his fingers, Harry takes a deep breath and clears his mind, thinking about what he wants to write in the letter.

                Deciding to keep his letter short, he writes,

 

Holly,

I promise I’ll find you. Please, believe me. One day, we’ll be together at Hogwarts, and, when I’ve finished school, I’ll take you away from whoever you’ve been placed with, and we’ll live together in Oma’s house – because that’s where she wanted us to live. She left the house for both of us. I’ll keep writing when I can. I don’t care about muggle areas. Hedwig and I both miss you. If you can’t reply, don’t worry. I’ll tell Hedwig to visit you whenever you’re by yourself – but, please, don’t think you’re alone. I’ll always be by your side, even when you don’t notice.

Harry.

 

Harry admits to himself that just writing the letter makes his heart feel less heavy. He ties the letter to Hedwig’s leg and watches his friend fly out into the distance.

 

ooOoo

 

Severus can feel his heart pounding hard as he and Narcissa approach the front door. After several false leads, which he is sure Tobias has been giving him on purpose, and many delays which erode his limited patience, he is finally outside the door where his daughter is currently housed.

                The door is weathered but clean: It is a large, detached two-storey house with a gated front garden, and Severus sees a garden in the back separated by another gate.

                He hears the laughter of several children coming from the back. One of them is his daughter. Severus has never thought about having children of his own. Indeed, teaching them puts him off from wanting any.

                Yet, even as he had read his father’s letter about his daughter, he could not deny the need to bring her home. Holly. He repeats the name to himself. His daughter, Holly. Holly Snape. He knows that she probably has her mother’s name on her birth certificate, but she is his, and she will take his name.

                He has yet to find out what happened to Jasmine. His priority has been looking for his daughter and bringing her home. Jasmine’s mother raised Holly, though he does not know why Jasmine gave her up.    

There is no good reason to abandon your child, Severus thinks.

Severus does not even think about letting his daughter get carted off to an orphanage, even with the war that has just begun and the return of the Dark Lord. Also, he cannot allow his child to think she is unwanted. If Severus had known about her ten years ago, if he had believed Jasmine when she first told him, then he would have raised Holly himself. Somehow. Instead, he has lost the first nine years of her life.

                Narcissa knocks firmly on the front door. Severus has been out of sorts ever since receiving his father’s letter. Since the end of term, he has been meticulous and organised; except with anything regarding his daughter, he has been (not that he would admit it) a nervous wreck.

                He does not even know what she looks like. He recalls Jasmine’s red hair and green eyes. He cannot help but imagine his daughter with red hair and green eyes.

                Severus clears his mind and straightens his spine. Both he and Narcissa have donned the full muggle garb: she is wearing a long sundress, royal blue with white trim, and her hair tied up in a neat bun.

                He pats down the suit he is wearing today, all black, to Narcissa’s exasperation. He discreetly checks that he still has all the relevant paperwork.

                They are not sure if Holly is aware of magic, so they have decided to travel by muggle means, having hired a car and driver for the day; as slow as it is still better than public transport. Severus had not used it since before he went to Hogwarts (he does not include the Hogwarts Express as public transport) –just remembering it makes him shudder. He cannot ever imagine Narcissa on anything primitive as the bus or the London underground. So, Lucius has thoroughly researched the matter and decided to have a private luxury car waiting for them outside the Residential Care Home.

                A car and driver show them as people of means, which will help alleviate any concerns that Holly will not be taken care of.

                The door is finally opened to reveal an elderly woman with a broad, welcoming smile.

                Severus forces his face into a facsimile of a smile. Narcissa’s is more natural, though not genuine: she is the queen of manoeuvring people into where she needs them to be. A perfect foil to Lucius, an expert at charming people into doing his bidding. Together they are formidable, and why Lucius has so many connections and favours owed to him.

                “Oh, hi. Oh, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I was on the phone in the other room about… oh, well, you’re not interested in that, I’m sure,” she laughs in what is supposed to be an inviting manner. “You must be Mr and Mrs Snape?”

                Narcissa gives a polite smile as she leads them through to a room towards the back of the house. It seems to be a cross between a living room and an office.

                Severus understands that the children who pass through here do not stay permanently. Their stays last as long as a week or two at most, whilst the state looks for a next of kin or a place is found for them in an orphanage. Holly has been moved three times, inexplicably, but this is not unusual. Sometimes they need extra room for siblings, so anyone who is by themselves might get moved. Had it not been for magic, Severus has no doubt he would have spent the whole summer (or possibly longer) roaming all over Guildford looking for his daughter.

                “Please, have a seat.”    

                Severus and Narcissa take a seat next to each other on the larger sofa. Severus attempts to look like he knows how to be a part of a couple. He is tense as anything.

                “Oh, dear, I’ve forgotten to introduce myself. I’m Sylvia Ross.” Then, she sits down on the smaller sofa in front of her guests.   

                “Pleased to meet you,” Narcissa gives another polite smile.

                “So,” Sylvia Ross begins in an overly bright voice, “you’re here about Holly Pierce?”

                Narcissa and Severus look at each other for several seconds.

                “Well, Severus, of course, is her biological father,” Narcissa begins, placing a hand on Severus’ upper arm in a familiar gesture. “We were amazed to receive a letter informing us that he has a daughter.”

                “I was never told about her, Miss Ross,” Severus begins quietly, not knowing how to refer to their hostess since she hasn’t expressed any preference, so he falls back on formality. “My separation from Holly’s mother was not amicable. Then I went away for work purposes, and my new address was unavailable to her. It never occurred to me to let her know, as I had no reason to, given that we had parted ways.”

                Severus is telling the truth, but the way he has phrased it makes it sound less bitter than the actual events. This way, it sounds like it was just a tragic accident.

                Sylvia Ross eats it all up and gives them a sympathetic, syrupy glance.

                “Oh, that’s so sad,” she comments, putting a hand on her chest.

                “What can you tell us about Holly? Narcissa questions. “Can we see her?”             

                “Yes, of course. Come on, let’s go through to the kitchen. I’ll have someone fetch her in. The children like to be outside in nice weather, and Holly goes outside every chance she gets. She sits alone at the far side of the garden, away from everyone else, and stares at the sky. It’s like she’s trying to see her grandmother in Heaven.”

                They follow Miss Ross into the kitchen, where she points out to them to a little girl in the distance. Severus is surprised at how big the garden is. He sees a girl lying in the grass, looking up at the sky. He and Lily used to lie down on the grass like that. He cannot see if she has red hair.

                “Hold on a moment. I’ll have someone bring her on.”

                Miss Ross steps outside the back door and calls for an older boy. Severus cannot hear what she is saying to him, but he runs off towards the back end of the garden and stands over Holly, his daughter, and passes on Miss Ross’s message.

                “Let’s get the formalities out of the way,” Miss Ross says as she returns. “I’ve sent Gavin to ask Holly to pack her things.”

                Going back into the living room, Severus pulls out his paperwork. He uses a discreet bit of magic to make her think all is in order when it looks like she is about to question him on some things. Miss Ross hands him a copy of Holly’s records, including her Birth Certificate.

                Severus snatches it up, startling Miss Ross with the abrupt movement. Narcissa smooths away the moment with a comment about his eagerness to know more details about his daughter. She is not wrong.

                Severus skims over the Birth Certificate whilst Narcissa reads it over his shoulders. He relaxes as he sees his name recorded on it, feeling some of the tension drain from him. Jasmine has not denied his name on his daughter’s Birth Certificate.

                He offers a quiet “Thank you” as he looks back up at Miss Ross and sees an understanding look in her eyes.

                “There are a few things you should know about Holly,” Miss Ross says, inviting them to sit back down as they wait for Holly to come back. Severus listens with half an ear as he strains to hear Holly’s footsteps coming in and walking up the stairs. Has she even come inside yet?

                “I’m not sure how much you already know, so please, bear with me if it’s something you’ve heard before. Holly’s mother passed away five years ago. A house fire. Miss Pierce had given custody of Holly to Mrs Iris Pierce in the event of her death, Holly’s grandmother…”

                Knowing Jasmine didn’t abandon their child to be raised by someone else makes Severus feels better, yet, her hesitation catches Severus’ interest and gets his full attention.

                “From what I understand, Miss Pierce was not the most… dedicated… of mothers,” Miss Ross finishes delicately. “There was never sufficient evidence, unfortunately, to look into it further.”

                Severus can feel himself getting livid at the implication that Jasmine had abused his daughter. Narcissa places a calming hand on his wrist, and he works to clear his mind again.

                “Mrs Iris Pierce was a very devoted grandmother to Holly, though; by all means, they were happy together. Holly cries herself to sleep every night. She’s been quiet most of the time, but getting her to fall asleep is difficult. I think it’s because she’s afraid she won’t wake up like her grandmother.”

                At their questioning look, she clarifies, “From what I’ve read in the reports, Mrs Pierce was feeling unwell and lay down for a rest. Holly was home at the time. She tried to wake her up, but when Mrs Pierce didn’t get up, she ran off to a neighbour for help.”

                Severus feels Narcissa’s fingers dig into his wrist.

                “Thank you for telling us,” he says stiffly.

                Miss Ross nods.

                “I think she misses her friend too. There was a boy she was fond of. The Social Worker who went to collect her told me Holly almost threw herself out of a moving car to get back to him.”

                “A boy?” Severus repeats incredulously. “At her age?”

                He conveniently forgets his own obsession with Lily at that age.

                Miss Ross gives him a bemused look.

                “You’ll have to forgive Severus's outburst. He teaches teenagers,” Narcissa excuses, putting a hand on his arm again.

 

ooOoo

 

“Hedwig!” Holly whispers happily as she abandons her packing to open the window. Hedwig comes in and carefully settles on the girl’s shoulders, nuzzling her head affectionately.

                Holly has been watching for Hedwig every day. Every chance she got, she was outside, looking at the sky for signs of the white owl. Every night, she tries to stay awake as long as possible, looking for Hedwig and thinking of Harry and Oma. She doesn’t know if Harry will send her a letter because she is staying with muggles. Until Hedwig came, she was despairing that Harry would never be able to contact her again. She is afraid that he will forget her and move on, and it will be years before she gets her own Hogwarts letter and can see Harry again. Even then, they would only have one year together at Hogwarts before Harry graduated.

                “You’re so clever,” Holly whispers again, giving Hedwig a rub.

                She knows Miss Sylvia is waiting for her to come downstairs with her bags packed. Gavin told her that people were waiting for her and needed to get her things: she thinks she’s being moved again. She’s getting used to it, and it won’t take her long to pack. So, she rips open the letter and reads through it. By the end, she is smiling.

                Harry hasn’t forgotten her. Holly puts the letter into her bag and gets the rest of her stuff as well. Hedwig gives her one last nuzzle and an affectionate peck with her beak and flies out the window again.

                Holly descends the stairs, feeling less disheartened but still wary. She clutches her bag, a gift from Harry, possessively in front of her as she walks into the front room that Miss Sylvia likes to use as an office.

               

ooOoo

 

Severus hears the tiny footsteps only because he has been listening for them. He gets up from the sofa and turns to the door, anxious to get the first proper look at his daughter.

                His first thought as she walks in is that she doesn’t have red hair. Instead, it is black like his but silkier and tied back in a braid. She looks so much like him, but a prettier version, thank Salazar – Severus had been an ugly duckling when he was Holly’s age. Her black dress is old but clean. She is wearing a baby blue puffer jacket and clutching a school bag tightly to her chest.

                Severus is not even aware that he is walking to Holly until he crouches on one knee in front of her. Sylvia Ross and Narcissa watch in silence.

                Holly looks at him blankly, waiting for him to speak.

                “I’m Severus. I’m your father,” he manages to keep his voice even. “You’re coming home with me.”

                He finds that he’s holding his breath, waiting for her to speak.

                When she does, he is shaken by her words and the fire in her eyes.

                “I don’t know who my dad is. My mum was just a bed-hopping slut.”

                Holly backs out of the room and turns away, clutching at her school bag even tighter.

                Severus can feel his face burn as he abruptly straightens up. He is reluctant to turn back to Narcissa and Miss Ross, who gives him an unreadable look and follows Holly in the hallway.

                This is not the way he expected his first meeting with his daughter to go.

                “You said those exact words to Jasmine.” Narcissa’s tone is smooth, but Severus hears the censure anyway.

                He gives the tiniest of nods.

                “At least we know she’s definitely your daughter.”

               

                               

>

Chapter 5- That Old Chestnut

 

Harry knocks on Regulus’ bedroom door and waits for permission to enter. He does not want to be seen by Sirius: he is the least helpful person he can talk to about this. Having just sent his first letter to Holly, Harry has decided to try and do something more. He can’t wait another two years before he sees Holly again. Perhaps he is afraid she will forget him and settle down in a new family; perhaps he is worried she will adopt a new big brother.

            Regulus opens the door and expresses his surprise to see Harry standing there.

            “You all right, Harry?” he asks in concern, opening the door to let him in. Harry glances around to see if someone is coming and ducks into the room.

            Regulus immediately realises something is wrong and closes the door firmly. He is not surprised when Harry asks him to put on a Silencing Charm. The same one the Order utilises to keep out unwanted listeners.

           

ooOoo

Regulus can see that Harry is nervous about something and cannot help but be concerned, having become fond of the boy. He had not expected this when he had replied to Harry’s letter two years ago. He had not expected to keep writing to the boy. However, he does not regret doing so: Harry gave him his brother back, and for this, he will always be grateful.

            Regulus makes Harry sit on his bed whilst he takes his chair and angles to see Harry and rest his legs on his desk simultaneously. It is his casual way of getting Harry to relax and open up to Regulus about what has been bothering him recently. Apart from the obvious, witnessing Voldemort’s resurrection and the subsequent wand fight that followed (that he had witnessed the end of), the death of a classmate and being attacked by Dementors.

            Regulus is somehow honoured that Harry has chosen to confide in him rather than Sirius. He waits whilst the boy gathers his thoughts.

            “I need your help,” Harry starts. “But you can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. It’s essential that you don’t.”

            Regulus cautiously agrees.

            “As long as it doesn’t put you in danger,” he stipulates.

            Harry is quick to assure him, “It doesn’t.”

            “All right,” Regulus nods.

            Then, Regulus listens with mounting incredulity to the whole tale. Meeting Holly and Iris in the park. Getting to know them. Finding out he was a wizard, Iris telling him she knew about Hogwarts. Finding out Iris was a witch, that she was Eileen Snape, and that Holly was Snape’s daughter. Regulus waits until Harry is finished before focusing on some things that Harry is purposely leaving out.

            Regulus takes his feet off the desk and turns to face Harry properly. Some things that Harry hinted at but didn’t outright state. Regulus has been through something similar to know the signs. 

            “Harry, I’m going to ask you one question, and I want you to answer honestly. Promise?”

            Harry gives him a confused nod.

            “How badly do your relatives hurt you?”

            Regulus has purposely asked an open-ended question so that Harry cannot give an instant denial. He can already guess, given how the boy’s face has blanched.

            “Answer honestly, Harry. Please.”

            He does not say anything as he seems to weigh up his decision. Regulus patiently waits it out. He knows how difficult it is to trust something with a secret of this magnitude.

Seeming to have come to a decision, Harry stands up and turns around. He pulls his t-shirt up, exposing his back to Regulus, who clenches his fists in anger and slowly gets up from his chair to approach him. Gently, he tugs down his t-shirt’, turns the boy so Harry faces him and puts his hands on the boy’s shoulders, pulling and pulling him into an embrace.

            “Thank you for trusting me,” Regulus says into his hair. “I won’t let you go back there. Okay? No matter what. I won’t let you stay with them ever again. You understand?”            

            Harry slowly puts his arms around Regulus and nods into his chest. He holds the boy for a moment longer and then lets him go, sitting down on the bed, patting it for Harry to sit next to him.

            Harry does so. Regulus does not push any further about Harry’s relatives at that moment, though he wants to ask a million questions – Questions like, How long has this been going on? How often? How is he still a good person?

            Regulus’ mother was not the kindest of people and often cursed her sons when they did not comply. Regulus and Sirius carried their own scars – Not all were physical. When his mother passed away, Regulus made sure to burn her bloody portrait. Kreacher had been devastated by this, but he had managed to win his House-Elf around. It helped that Regulus saved Kreacher’s life once, the same way he later saved his master’s life.

            Regulus pushes all this aside to focus on the problem Harry came to him with. A part of him wants to laugh at the irony of life: Harry Potter has managed to befriend Severus Snape’s daughter. Only Harry could have this sort of luck.

            “I suppose the reason you came to me with this, instead of Sirius, is because of his irrational hatred of everything Snape-related?”

            “Partially,” Harry admits. “You were friends with Snape.”

            Regulus nods.

            “How did you find out about Iris and Eileen being the same person?” he questions curiously.

            “When I was researching about Sirius in third year. I just found it weird when everyone kept telling me not to go after Sirius. I just didn’t understand why they kept saying it like that – Like there was something personal. So, I started doing some research and found out it was because Sirius was mates with my dad. Then, I kept looking for other things, like people’s families, and that’s how I found out about you. Then I looked up the Malfoys because they were related to you. Then I read that The Malfoys fostered Snape. And then I found out that Snape’s mum was a Prince – I recognised her from her old picture. I knew it was Oma.”

            “You never told Iris you knew?”

            “No.”

            “Why not?”

            Harry turns to face Regulus properly, propping one leg on the bed.

            “Oma helped me more than anyone else on Privet Drive. When I got hurt, she healed me. When I was hungry, she made sure I had something to eat. She gave me my first birthday present and my first Christmas present. She made me feel like I wasn’t an orphan. It was the happiest feeling in the world for me when I found out that I didn’t have to hide being a wizard from her.

            “I remember when I asked her if her son was Holly’s father and, Regulus, I’ve never seen her look so afraid. She said one day I would find out the whole truth. I know she was planning to tell me about Snape. I truly believe that. When I found out that he was her son, I didn’t care. I cared about Oma and Holly: They were more important than Snape.”

            Regulus heaves a great sigh and stands up. Harry turns on the bed to follow his movements.

            “What do you want to do then?”

            “I sent Holly a letter with Hedwig before I came here, give or take a couple of hours ago. I know, I know. I shouldn’t have done that. She’s probably with muggles, and Dumbledore still has an owl ban,” Harry repeats this as if he is afraid that Regulus will tell him off, but he has no intention of doing so.      “Regulus, she’s all by herself,” Harry’s tone turns imploring. “Oma’s gone. I’m not there for her. She has no one to turn to. I had to send Hedwig to let her know I’m still thinking of her. She’s… she’s all alone.”

“You care about her?” Regulus asks.

Harry’s answer is simple and doesn’t take long. “She’s my sister.”

Severus’ daughter is Harry’s sister, Regulus thinks. He cannot help but snort at the thought. Then, all at once, the laughter begins to bubble out.

“What?” Harry asks warily.

“Severus’ daughter is your sister,” Regulus shakes his head once he can control himself. “That makes Severus your dad as well.”

Regulus can barely get the sentence out as the giggles overcome him again.

He is rewarded with a face full of pillow. Regulus catches it before it falls to the ground, still laughing, and throws it back at Harry, sinking back into the chair by the desk.

“It’s funny, Harry,” he insists while Harry snarls half-heartedly.

Harry waits impatiently for Regulus to get a grip.

Regulus clears his throat but still smiles as he asks, “What do you want me to do?”

“Is there no way to bring Holly here? She’s a witch, so it’s not like we’d be breaking the Statute of Secrecy. And, maybe… she can stay with you?”

When Regulus does not immediately answer, Harry quickly carries on, “Or – or you can tell Snape that he has a daughter, and maybe he’ll go get her.”

Regulus is on the verge of revealing to him that Severus already knows but holds back. Instead, he looks at Harry sympathetically, “If Severus goes to her, you’ll most likely never see her. It’s not like she can stay at Hogwarts during term time. And if Severus finds out you two have known each other from before, do you truly think he’s going to let you see each other?”

Severus and Regulus may not be the greatest of friends, but he is not blind to Severus’s irrational hatred of Harry Potter, as unfair as it is. In that sense, Severus and Sirius are no different from each other. Neither are Harry and Severus, in some ways, Regulus reflects, thinking of the scars on Harry’s back.

“You’re worried about her, aren’t you?”

“I told you. She’s alone. She has no one to trust. If people keep annoying her, she’ll lose her temper: it’s hard for her.”

Regulus finds himself snorting in laughter again. “She definitely sounds like a Snape,”

Harry rolls his eyes at him but shakes his head in amusement as well.

This time, it doesn’t take Regulus long to calm down.

“I’ll try and bring her here, but I’ll have to explain everything to Dumbledore. He is the Secret Keeper, and he’ll need to know,” Regulus points out.

Harry looks like he will argue but concedes that Dumbledore’s assent is essential.

“Thanks.”

After Harry has left, after giving him all the information he could, Regulus wonders about where Holly was supposed to be taken and why he didn’t just tell him that Severus has already received a letter informing him about his daughter. It would relieve his mind greatly to know that. Regulus knows that Severus has been looking for his daughter since the end of term, but he doesn’t know how Severus is progressing in his search. Perhaps he should find out.

First, he needs to speak to Dumbledore.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius is sitting in the family parlour with a book titled Breaking down a syllabus for Idiot Teenagers Who Think They Know Everything, preparing to be a teacher, when the Manor wards alert him to the arrival of Narcissa, Severus and his daughter. Lucius’s lips twitch every time he thinks of Severus’s daughter.

            He can’t wait to meet her.

            He immediately snaps his book shut and places it on the table piled with books next to him, all selected on how to be an effective teacher. He needs a different persona to Severus but manage to scare his students into fearing him.

            “Hokey,” Lucius calls, standing up.

            The House-Elf appears immediately.

            “Go to Draco’s room and tell him our new guest has arrived,” he orders.

            “Yes, Master,” the Elf bows and pops away.

            Lucius makes his way to the Guest entrance. It’s not used all year round, only on occasions when the Malfoys throw a party for Christmas or whatever other special occasion they wish to celebrate. For security reasons, anyone who arrives via apparition would appear at the gates, and a carriage would be waiting to take them to the Hall. Only people keyed into the wards could Floo anywhere in the Manor; otherwise, guests Flooing in would be directed to the specially prepared Conservatory. Lucius had spent many days unkeying several people from his wards after the betrayal of the Dark Lord.

            They do not know if Holly is aware of magic, so she is being brought by car to a location not far from the gates; from there, it is a deceptively short walk to the gates, where a carriage is already waiting for them.

            Severus has already made up a room for Holly in the self-contained apartment he has lived in for years. He has refused to buy any clothes or toys yet, preferring to take the girl with him and shop for things together – an element of pragmatism that Narcissa is vexed about. Instead, she would rather go out and buy anything she thinks is suitable for a young lady, hang practicality, and hang the cost. Lucius had to stop her from strangling Severus for his choice not to spoil his daughter, though it shouldn’t surprise him, given that he is never one for indulgence or waste. Lucius believes it is due to his upbringing with his brute father, Tobias.

            Lucius gets to the Guest entrance first. The carriage comes into sight just as Draco comes up behind,  dressed in his best formal clothes: smart black trousers, a white button-down shirt, and a black waistcoat. His father is similarly dressed, but his button-down is a pale blue.

            Draco is smirking.

            “How old is she again?”

            “Nine,” Lucius answers.

            “At least he won’t have to worry about nappies and nightly feedings,” Draco chuckles. “Pity. I would have liked to see Uncle Sev change a nappy.”

            It seems like Draco, too, is looking forward to having fun at Severus’s expense.

            The carriage draws near. Lucius and Draco walk down the steps to meet it, and as it comes to a stop, the older wizard moves to the door and opens it, holding out a hand for Narcissa to alight first. She lifts her skirt with one hand and carefully steps down whilst using her other to support herself with Lucius’ hand, who watches her sombre expression worriedly.

            Ah, he thinks, things have not gone well.

He and Narcissa take a step back as Severus gets out of the carriage, then turns around to reach for his daughter. He beckons for her hand and tells her in a low voice to come to him.

Lucius has not seen her yet.

“What’s happened?” he whispers. “Did she not react well to magic?”

“Quite the opposite – She was fine with magic. In fact, she knows she’s a witch, just like her mother. She did not, however, react well with Severus.”

Narcissa keeps her voice soft.

Lucius is about to speak again, but, seeing Severus turn away with a frustrated look, he steps aside and looks at Narcissa for help. He can feel his eyebrows rise at this. Narcissa switches places with Severus.

“Skittish, is she?” Lucius drawls in a quiet tone.

Severus shakes his head but does not look at him. Lucius, instead, exchanges a look with Draco, somewhat confused.

“Come on, darling. You can’t want to stay out here all night. Soon, it will be cold. We’ll go inside, where it’s warm. We have your room ready, and we have a huge feast waiting for you. You can tell us all about yourself.”

The girl remains stubbornly inside the carriage, and it takes Narcissa several minutes to coax her out. Then, she steps back, and Lucius thinks she has finally succeeded until Narcissa drops her hand.

Holly steps up to the carriage door, looking fragile and miserable, clutching her bag to her chest as if she is afraid it will be snatched away. Lucius is forcibly reminded that the girl is grieving. They might be excited that Severus’s long lost daughter is joining their family. Still, Holly has lost her grandmother, her only guardian in her old world, and she’s been thrust into a literally different world with a father she has never met.

She looks like Severus in his first year, a little lost and overwhelmed: she has his black hair and dark eyes, though thankfully, she does not have his hooked nose.

Lucius feels an overwhelming need to take her in his arms, hold her close, and protect her from harm. He wants to whisk her into the Manor and never let her go again, to wipe that desolate look from her eyes and see her smile.

Holly ignores Narcissa and jumps from the carriage, landing lightly on her feet on the hard ground. She waits there and tenses when Narcissa places a hand on her shoulder, touching her lightly.

Lucius does not like the sad look painted on his wife’s face.

Draco steps forward to close the carriage door and then presents himself before Holly, leaning down to her level and introducing himself.

“I’m Draco.”

            He even attempts to smile, though he is unnerved by the whole situation.

            Apart from looking at his face, she ignores him, preferring to lower her gaze to her shoes.

            “I can carry your bag for you,” Draco offers, reaching out to take it from her.

            Holly instinctively backs away from him, turning to the right to avoid his hand.

            A little frustrated, Draco moves away, looking at Lucius in askance.

            He takes his son’s place, and pasting a smile on his face, he gets down on one knee in front of her.

            “Pleased to meet you, Holly. I’m glad we found you at last. I’m your Uncle Lucius. If you ever have problems with your father, you come to me.”

            Holly whispers her first words with desolate determination. “He’s not my father.”

            Severus clears his throat.

            “We’ll go inside. Come, Holly, I’ll show you your room.”

            Lucius stands up, offering his elbow to Narcissa, who takes it. No one moves until Severus takes the first awkward step towards the entrance.

            “Dinner will be served in half an hour,” Lucius tells them.

            He wants to join them as they show Holly her new room. Although Severus’s apartment is entirely self-contained, it can still be accessed from the Manor. When Severus does not want visitors, even from the family, he simply raises the wards so that no one can access them. He still has this option, but since Holly is moving in, her bedroom will technically be in Malfoy Manor rather than Severus’s space: Narcissa intends to be a big part of Holly’s life, whether Severus plans for it or not.

Draco follows Lucius into the Dining room. There is still time before the evening meal is served. Lucius and Draco sit in their usual seats a little earlier than they normally would.

            “What was that about?”

            Lucius looks at his son, who seems perplexed.

            “I’d wager it was the result of an acrimonious breakup,” Lucius offers.

            Draco looks partway through, hesitant and incredulous. “Was it really that bad?”

            “This is your godfather we’re talking about, Draco. What do you think?”

            He grimaces in understanding. Severus has never been the easiest of people: if he can tolerate someone, he will make an effort to be polite – he has never been able to network like Lucius. He tries to recall when was the last time Severus attended a party where he needed to make connections: around 1986, he thinks. Not long after he broke up with Jasmine. In fact, Severus might have only dated one or two girls before he gave up altogether.

            Lucius only met Jasmine a handful of times after he had searched his memories to place her. Curiously, she was also the one who had lasted the longest – Months instead of Severus’ usual weeks. Lucius thinks this was because of her looks: Red hair and green eyes, which seems to be Severus’s signature. He isn’t aware of this, but Lucius always investigates any girl Severus dates to ensure there are no surprises in the closet. Not just on their family line: they have to watch out for anyone who wants to use Severus just for his money. Gold diggers or mud rakers.

One witch was a budding journalist who, after Severus had gained his Mastery and published his first essay on the uses of Wolfsbane, had begun to look into the wizard’s past for a scandal. Lucius had ensured that the witch would never attempt such a thing again. In fact, after Lucius had dealt with her, she had abruptly decided that journalism was not for her.

            There was nothing in Jasmine’s background that screamed gold digger or user, despite her ambitions to work in the Minister’s office. Lucius might even have approved of Jasmine Pierce if she hadn’t been a Mudblood. However, he should dig into her file: something odd tickles Lucius’s mind about Holly and Jasmine. Maybe reading her file, which he will have to look for, will jog his memory.

            Draco sits there looking bored as Lucius tries to remember where his files are placed. He is confident he has not destroyed them: his father had taught him never to destroy even the most innocuous of information. One never knows when the need might strike.

            Lucius is mentally walking through his study, trying to place each location, when Severus walks in alone. This jolts him back to the Dining room while Draco sits up with interest: he knows not to disturb Father when he is mentally on the hunt for something.

            Draco gives Severus an impatient look. “Well?”

            Studying Severus closely, Lucius sees the strain in his friend’s eyes.

            “Where is the rest of her things?” Lucius chooses this topic as it seems safer at the moment. “Surely, everything she has cannot be in that bag.”

            Holly might have indicated she knew about magic, but Narcissa and Severus could not have used their wands whilst still in the muggle areas. It is feasible they could have shrunk her things whilst in the carriage, but Lucius recalls the possessive way she held her bag.

            “When children are taken away from their home, they usually are only allowed to pack one or two bags, especially until they are permanently placed. Whatever she has in that bag is what she was allowed to take with her,” Severus explains. “Her grandmother’s estate is still being handled. Most likely, I’ll get a letter about what to do with the rest of her things.”

            “She’s been moving from house to house for close to four weeks,” Lucius points out. “She can’t have much.”

            Severus sighs.

            “I’ll have to buy her a new wardrobe anyway.”

            “So, what has been her reaction to magic?” Draco interrupts. “She seems to be okay with it.”

            “We brought up the topic of magic on the walk to the gates. She already seems to know. She told Narcissa that her ‘Oma’ already told her about it.”

            “She told Narcissa?” Lucius picks up on this point.

            “She hates me,” Severus says miserably. “She won’t look at me or let me help her. She barely acknowledges me. Narcissa is helping her freshen up for dinner. I thought it best to make myself absent.”

            Lucius nods. Severus will have to work hard to win his daughter’s trust. To reverse whatever damage her mother had inflicted. Lucius would also have to pay attention to his words around the girl. He gives his son a sideward glance: he, too, would need to watch what he says.

            “Draco, you will sit next to Severus today,” Lucius suggests. “Given her aversion to you, Severus, perhaps it is best to let Narcissa act as mediator.”

            Draco gets up from his seat and moves across the dining table to sit next to his godfather.

            “Have you managed to get much information at least?”

            In answer, Severus pulls out a small manila folder, shrunken to the size of a deck of cards. With his wand, he unshrinks it and pushes it towards Lucius.

            “Have you read through it already?”

            Severus nods. “In the muggle car. I sat with the driver whilst Narcissa and Holly sat in the back. I took the opportunity to review it then.”

            Lucius does not doubt that Severus has already memorised it. He flips it open and studies the first page: It is Holly’s Birth Certificate.

            It has all the usual information.

            Name of child: Holly Pierce

Gender: Female

Date:  5 May 1986

Place of birth: Maternity Unit

            Mother’s name: Jasmine Pierce

            Place of birth: Manchester Royal Infirmary.

Occupation:  Unemployed

Father’s name: Severus Snape

Place of Birth: Spinner’s End

Occupation: Teacher

Lucius is surprised that Severus’ place of birth is listed. Then again, Jasmine knew enough about him to try and see his father, Tobias. He peruses the other documents: Jasmine has a Death Certificate dated 30 April 1990. The Cause of Death is listed as smoke inhalation from a house fire.

            Something about it stirs Lucius's memory. Putting it aside for now, he looks through the rest of the paperwork: Jasmine’s mother, Iris Pierce, gets custody of her granddaughter. Lucius finishes inspecting the documents and snatching one Draco has stolen.

            “I was reading that,” he protests vehemently.

            Lucius clouts him and hands it all back to Severus, who, ignoring Draco’s scowl, shrinks it down and puts it away in his pocket.

            Hokey pops into the room and bows down.

            “Mistress Narcissa and Missy Holly have left Missy Holly’s room, sir. Does Master want dinner to be served now?”

            “Yes, Hokey. Start bringing up the food,” Lucius dismisses.

            Hokey does not disappear straight away. Instead, he turns to Severus and asks, “Is Master Severus still wanting-”

            “Yes, yes, Hokey. Just do as I asked,” Severus snaps impatiently.

            Hokey nods and leaves.

            “Special dish?” Lucius queries in interest.

            “Something like that,” the other says vaguely. His attention is on the door, waiting for Narcissa and Holly to enter.

            A few minutes later, the duo walks into the Dining room and take their seats. Seeing the change in seating, Narcissa gives Lucius a discreet nod of approval. First, she pulls out Holly’s chair for the little, ensuring she is seated but sitting in the chair next to her. Lucius still sits at the head of the table as the family patriarch and his wife sits to his right.

            Lucius is disappointed as Holly shows no reaction to the food suddenly appearing, aside from a slight jump. She’s muggle raised, he thinks. Where’s the wonder?

            Holly stares at the food in front of her without interest, her hands resting on either side of her plate.

            Lucius begins to serve himself, leaving Narcissa to look after Holly. Severus does not move to eat, but Draco starts to serve himself, watching everyone hesitantly. Narcissa asks Holly what she would like to try first.

            “Here, try some of this Shepherd’s pie first,” Narcissa continues when Holly does not acknowledge this.

            The meal is spent in awkward silence. No one is eating much. Hoping to arouse her curiosity, Lucius deliberately engages Draco in conversation.

            “How have your Potions classes been this year, Draco?”

            Draco jumps to fill the uncomfortable silence.

            “Good. Really good. Uncle Sev has been giving extra pointers on how to improve my essays for next year since it’s OWL's year,” he begins to ramble.

            Narcissa interrupts smoothly and begins to explain to Holly, “Potions is one of the core classes offered to Hogwarts school. You will attend there yourself. You receive your letter on your 11th birthday. Draco has a natural talent for Potions that Severus has nurtured since he was your age. Your father, of course, is the Potions Master at Hogwarts. No doubt one day he will begin teaching you the subject himself soon.”

            “He’s not my father,” Holly states in a cold voice, not looking up from her plate, which she has yet to touch.

            Lucius catches Severus’s flinch at Holly’s words.

            Narcissa does not let this deter her and continues as if the interruption didn’t occur, “OWLs stand for Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations, that every witch and wizard must pass at the end of their fifth year. They are essential qualifications.”

            Lucius resumes the conversation again. “I hope your Transfiguration marks have improved.”

            “Theo said he would tutor me,” Draco responds in a smaller voice.

            “Charms?”

            “Borderline E.”

            “Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

            “A.”

            “Herbology?”

            “A.”

            Lucius and Draco continue back and forth until he has interrogated his son on all his subjects. Of course, Lucius had already seen his son’s results. Unlike OWL's and NEWT’s scores, usually sent out during the middle of summer, final examinations marked by teachers themselves are announced before the year's end.

            “I do hope you have already started your summer homework,” Lucius says in strict tones.

            He can tell by the pinkening of his cheeks that his son has not. Glancing surreptitiously at Holly, he can see she has not started eating.

            “No more flying until your first two assignments are completed,” Lucius announces.

            Draco splutters in irritation. “That’s not fair.”

            Lucius raises an imperious brow at his son.

            “Is the food not to your liking?” Severus ignores Draco’s attitude. He has barely touched his own, taking no more than a few forkfuls before returning his full attention to his daughter.

            “You’ll have to let us know what you like to eat most,” Narcissa smiles down at her.

            Holly reaches for the juice Narcissa poured for her, taking a few sips. No matter how much she tempts her, Holly refuses to eat her food.

            “Can I go upstairs?” the girl asks several minutes later.

            Narcissa instantly agrees, abandoning her food and taking her back upstairs.

            The second they clear the door, Lucius looks to Severus and demands, “Why is Narcissa upset? What else has happened?”

            Severus looks like he is going to refute this, but Lucius glares him down.

            Draco spears a roasted carrot and slowly brings it to his lips as he stares between his father and godfather.

            “Holly might have mentioned something that has offended Narcissa.”

            “What is that?” Lucius presses.

            Severus remains stubbornly silent, and Lucius can feel his ire rising. They continue their meal in silence. No doubt Narcissa will tell him later what else has transpired. He has noticed that Narcissa has been quiet towards Severus, but, at first, he attributed it to Holly’s reticence. However, he began to notice her cold tone when she referred to Severus earlier regarding his position as a teacher.

            When Narcissa returns, almost ten minutes later, she looks concerned and fatigued.

            “She’s already fallen asleep,” she announces, resuming her seat. She picks up her fork and then puts it down again. “I find it curious that she fell asleep so quickly, in a new environment to boot, when the woman from the Care Home told us Holly struggles to sleep.”

            Lucius notices her gaze on Severus, and his heart sinks as he realises what he must have done.

            Severus fidgets under Narcissa’s blazing eyes: she is a sight to behold when in a temper. Despite only knowing her a few hours, she is interested in Holly, but her protective instincts have awakened, and very little can calm her down. Lucius can try, but his methods are not suitable for an audience.

            “I asked Hokey to add a few drops of Milk Thistle to her juice,” Severus confesses reluctantly and visibly braces himself for the consequences of his actions.

            Narcissa’s voice is artic cold. “You drugged your daughter?”

            Lucius stays silent, torn between wanting to slink away so as not to be caught in the maelstrom and watching as she is ready to shred Severus like a goblin strips gold from a wizard. He also admits to getting a little aroused at the sight of her flashing eyes.

            “For Morgana’s sake, Severus, I warned you dosing children is not the way when you drugged Draco so he would leave you alone.”

“WHAT?” Draco cries in indignation but is unceremoniously ignored by his mother.

“That child already does not trust you, and you think slipping her Milk Thistle will help?”

“She needs rest. It wouldn’t have worked so quickly unless she didn’t need sleep,” Severus tries to defend himself.

“What was your plan? Hope she wakes up well-rested in the morning, forgetting that she hates you?”

“I just wanted … I just wanted to help her,” he replies, defeated.

“You are far from doing anything for her, and drugging her against her will, will do you no favours. What if she finds out? She hasn’t even touched her food. What if she stops eating entirely because she’s afraid you’ll dose something again? Where will you stop? Today it’s just Milk Thistle: if she continues in her aversion for you, will you dose her with some sort of Compulsion Potion?”

            Severus pales at the accusation but dares to argue back.

            “I would never do that,” he bites out in an icy tone.

            “So you say, Severus, so you say. You already have fences to mend with your daughter. Who knows what else her mother has told her about you.”

            Lucius finds himself holding his breath: They are getting to the fundamental matter now.

            “Care to venture what else Jasmine might have said to her daughter about you?” Narcissa asks pointedly.

            She seems to have found the words so abhorrent that she does not want to repeat them. Lucius finds himself impatient to hear them.

            Severus darts a glance at Draco, but Narcissa promptly catches this too.

            “No need to hide something from your godson,” she derides.

            “I didn’t mean it,” but his protests are weak.

“You’re a liar, Severus Snape. And since you’re so ashamed that you can’t bear to repeat it, though you were not ashamed to think the words in the first place, let alone say them out loud, I will tell your godson precisely what you said about the witch who bore your child.

            “Severus, apparently unable to break up with a witch without hostility, told Jasmine that she is nothing more than a bed-hopping slut. A phrase that she had no issue with repeating to her daughter. A phrase that has impacted that innocent child so much that it’s the first thing she says to her father.”

            Lucius winces, grasping the reason for Narcissa’s fury and the seriousness of the situation. She had never approved of his temporary relationships, not because she was a prude, but because Severus could never end any of his relationships without creating a spiteful atmosphere – Come to think of it, it was probably why he backed off from dating. The wizarding world is small, and bitter words spread faster than a Niffler after shiny trinkets.

            “And you,” she turns her attention to Draco, who is startled at the sudden attention of his livid mother and gives her a panicked look.

            “If I ever hear you have treated a witch that way, I will yank out your tongue and feed it to hippogriffs,” Narcissa threatens.

            Draco squeaks in terror and nods frantically.

            “Now, go to your room,” she orders.

            Draco pushes back his chair so fast that it falls backwards with a loud crash. He runs away without a back glance for fear of more threats.

            Severus is too ashamed to look them both in the eye and too frozen to dare make a move. Lucius himself dares not breathe.

            The three sit there for several minutes as Narcissa composes herself. She stands up abruptly and pushes her chair back with slow, deliberate movements, excusing herself in a distant voice and leaving the room once more.

            The food the House-Elves have prepared is practically untouched; Holly was not the only one without appetite tonight.

            Lucius finally lets the tension drain out and lets out a weary sigh, eyeing critically Severus, who has slumped back in his chair in misery: he is so withdrawn that he does not dare let anyone see his vulnerability. On one level, Lucius and Narcissa are honoured that Severus drops his guard for them, given everything he has been through; on another level, he exposes himself to criticism that he only lets Narcissa get away with. They have mutual respect in that regard.

            Lucius often finds himself biting his tongue to keep peace with his best friend and brother in all but blood.

            Still, Lucius will occasionally hand out little gems of wisdom such as, “You sabotage yourself, friend.”

            Wisdom delivered, Lucius also leaves and goes to his bedroom, where Narcissa is already getting ready for bed, despite the ridiculously early hour.

            He spends the rest of the evening and half the night calming his wife down. Evidence of this can be found over his body the following day.

 

ooOoo

 

Albus is very rarely caught off guard. Even when he is, he has learned to understand, adapt, and move on. Balancing education and politics has not been easy, but he has succeeded, though he is aware that he has made many mistakes and dropped the quaffle more times than he should have.

            Eileen’s unexpected death has been a devastating distraction. One more thing to juggle. On top of looking after the school, dealing with Cornelius, bringing the Order together, devising a plan of action and attempting to thwart whatever plan Voldemort is putting in place.

            Albus does not doubt that Voldemort is currently licking his wounds, so to speak, from the double blow of not only failing to kill Harry Potter (for the third time) but also losing half his forces before his second reign of terror has even begun.

            Gaining Lucius Malfoy as an ally is not what Albus expected. He knows that Severus trusts the man to look out for himself and his family and agrees with this assessment. Lucius has always been a slippery snake, slithering back to his den when danger is near. In fact, the Malfoys have a habit of landing on their feet. Albus welcomes them as allies, but he does not necessarily have to trust them. Now, having Lucius as a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is an unpredicted, but not unwelcome, surprise. If Lucius plans on surviving the war with his family intact, he will certainly need to train this generation with the crucial skills. Thwarting Umbridge’s attempt to harm Harry and the school further – Lucius has undoubtedly proven his worth.

            At least, Albus does not have to worry about recruiting for the position yet again –until next year, he thinks wryly.

            Finding out that Eileen has been alive all these years was a boon. Finding Eileen with Severus’ daughter was a surprise. Finding Eileen living so close to Harry Potter and knowing that she practically raised him was a shock that Albus is still trying to assimilate.

            It would have been a delicate balance, but Albus had already started the beginning of a plan to make Severus aware of the fact that his mother was alive and taking care of his daughter. When Eileen told him she was dying but estimated she had a year, Albus had first enchanted one of the gadgets to monitor her health. Albus’s first instinct that Eileen had lied about her health had been correct. However, he had momentarily doubted himself until he had seen Severus’s letter informing him of his daughter's existence. Then, Albus had received his letter from Eileen that evening: she had certainly explained a few things to him and made a few requests of her own, including delaying Severus’s attempts to find his daughter. Albus is usually better at predicting human nature; Eileen had momentarily turned him upside down.

            And now, he discovers that Harry has done the same.

            The boy has been so very different from what Albus expected him to be. When Arabella had informed him over the years of the Dursley’s treatment of Harry, he had asked for proof to get him out of there permanently. Arabella had never done so, so Albus had dismissed her concerns as being overprotective.

            Harry was better adjusted than Albus had anticipated, despite Arabella’s claims. He was intelligent, charming, easy-going, and one of the kindest souls Albus has seen in one hundred and fourteen years. Despite what Severus thinks, Harry is not James.

            Once Harry entered Hogwarts, Albus has kept a closer eye on the boy than he ever imagined. Albus never accounted for Eileen, and he has been glad for her influence on Harry; though he could be wrong, he also feels the boy influenced Elieen.

            Harry has a way of bringing people together, a power he is endearingly unaware of. A natural leader. Also, a master researcher and keeper of secrets, apparently.

            “So, Harry is fully aware that Eileen and Iris were the same person?”

            “Yes.” Regulus accompanies his affirmative with a nod.

            “And he also knows that Holly is Severus’s daughter?”

            “That too, yes.”

            “He wants Holly to be brought into Grimmauld Place?”

            “Or for Severus to find her and take her in,” Regulus adds.

            Albus falls silent as he cogitates on it all.

            “Harry said Holly already knows about magic,” Regulus adds when the silence lingers longer than Albus intends for it to.

            He still doesn’t answer as he ruminates on it all again.

            “I know Severus has started looking for his daughter. Has he had much luck?”

            Severus had, in fact, found his daughter and retrieved her earlier that day. Albus knows this because he had allowed him to. Eileen had requested that Albus have Holly moved around to distance the young girl from where she and Holly had resided. Although Albus knew this was only delaying the inevitable, he acquiesced, silently apologising to the little girl suffering due to his decision. He hoped Eileen knew what she was doing.

            “Severus has not confirmed that he has found her yet,” Albus answers. Which is true. “From our last brief meeting, he told me he was having trouble locating her.” Because of me, he thinks.

            Albus can see that Regulus is getting impatient, so he finally answers the younger wizard's question, “I do not see why Holly cannot come to Headquarters. However, Severus is also looking for her, and you know he has little reason to bring her to your home.”

            “Well, yes. He’ll take her to Malfoy Manor,” Regulus agrees, and Albus can see the beginnings of a smile.

            “The important matter is that young Holly is taken away from wherever the muggle services have placed her. Eileen would much prefer her granddaughter not to suffer. For the moment, Severus shouldn't find out that Eileen was alive and her relationship with Harry.”

            Regulus agrees with this instantly: Severus’ dislike for Harry Potter is not something the Potions Master is quiet about.            

            “Do you think Severus will keep her hidden away? To protect her?” he asks.

            “We cannot deny that possibility,” Albus admits, causing Regulus to frown.

            “It’ll devastate Harry if he can’t ever see her again.”

            Albus heaves a sigh.

            “So far, the only people who know the existence of Holly’s connection to Severus are you and I, Severus himself, of course, Harry and the Malfoys. I would say that Draco is included in that, as he still resides in Malfoy Manor. Harry’s friends do not know of the connection?”

            “Harry says he hasn’t told them, and I get the feeling he’s reluctant to tell them that angle. They know she exists. They have met her in the past,” Regulus explains.

            Albus reaches for a piece of parchment and a quill which he dips into the inkwell. He jots down the address for Arabella with a little guilt: he knows he is sending Regulus on a wild Snorkack hunt.

            “This is Arabella Figg’s address,” Albus hands over the parchment. “She will provide you with the information you’ll need to track Holly down. Once you’ve located her, we will begin making plans to get her away from the muggle services she is with. We will deal with what we need to tell Severus if you locate her before he does, though bear in mind he has an advantage. If she is with Severus before you find her, then you’ll have to leave her, I’m afraid.”

            Regulus nods but is pleased that Albus has allowed this.

            “One more thing, Headmaster,” Regulus says, turning before reaching the door. “Harry’s not going back to the Dursleys. Ever.”

            “How bad is it?” Albus asks, feeling a rare shiver of fear.

            “He has scars. They whipped him until he was left with scars,” Regulus says grimly. “I’m not letting him go back.”

            “I already promised someone else that I will not allow Harry to return,” Albus confesses. “I have unfortunately already had to break that promise given Voldemort’s return. I regret the time he had to spend there whilst grieving the death of Mr Diggory and Eileen. It was unavoidable until I managed all other … I promise you, Regulus. Come the end of summer, Harry will not be returning to Privet Drive.”

            Regulus leaves, relieved and satisfied. As soon as he leaves his office, Albus quickly writes another note to Arabella explaining she will be receiving a visit from Regulus and what actions she needs to take.

            “Fawkes,” Albus calls as he folds up the parchment.

            His familiar appears in a flash.

            “I need you to deliver this to Arabella, my friend.”

            Fawkes squawks and disappears in another flash of fire.

            “Oh, Eileen. Am I only making a mess in supporting you?”

 

ooOoo

Harry is happy to see Hedwig return with his letter to Holly.

            “You found her, Hedwig?” he checks.

            Hedwig gives him a happy bark, flying around his head before settling in his lap.

            “You’re brilliant, Hedwig,” Harry praises, and his owl preens.

            “I won’t always have a letter. Just go out any time you need to – You know, to check on her. To let her know she’s not alone.”

            Harry is happy that Hedwig found Holly and managed to give his letter. He spoils her by feeding her more owl treats than he usually does.

            “We’ll bring her back,” he vows fiercely.

            Hedwig nips his fingers in agreement.

 

>

Chapter 6 - Grasp the Nettle

 

Severus has been feeling out of sorts since last night. Actually, since the night of the Dark Lord’s resurrection. Since catching a glimpse of the shade of Lily Potter protecting her son that night at the graveyard, Severus felt like he took a bludger to the solar plexus. Since that night, Severus feels like the bludgers have not stopped coming for him.

His first meeting with his daughter did not go according to plan, he thinks, dropping the towel from his waist at the foot of his bed.

            Holly categorically refuses to look at him, let alone accept or talk to him. The whole car and carriage ride was spent in awkward silence. Even Narcissa spoke to him the bare minimum after Holly’s first disastrous words.

            “I don’t know who my dad is. My mum was just a bed-hopping slut.”

            Severus always felt all his relationships ended in anger and harshness. Every time he parts from visiting his father, his last words to his mother, that one harsh word that drove Lily away forever and no amount of begging made up for it – it all supports the same conclusion: that he is terrible at ending relationships.

            Severus’s breakup with Jasmine was worse than any other. After getting the letter from his father, he had borrowed Albus’s Pensieve and looked through his memories of Jasmine, managing to find out the exact date of Holly’s conception. The one time he did not use a Contraception Charm to protect himself.

            Before the Pensieve, he barely remembered that night, but he couldn’t forget it after viewing it. The whole time Severus had babbled about Lily. He still remembers what drove him to drink that night, almost to the point of oblivion. He wanted to forget, and so he sought out Jasmine. Their drunken fumbling that night was nothing remarkable, but it had shamed him at the time. Ashamed because he had realised he was trying to replace Lily with a substitute. Jasmine could never replace Lily, and so his attraction to her had left him cold.

            He had only spent one more night with her after his regretful drunken night and then avoided her for weeks, using Hogwarts as an excuse. Several weeks later, when they met again, she had practically thrown herself at him, and Severus had decided to indulge one more time. For the last time. He didn’t know how to gracefully back out of a relationship.

            “I think I’m falling in love with you, Severus,” Jasmine says to him, reaching out to embrace him.

            Severus feels panic at the words. Jasmine is just fooling herself. He only ever wanted the love of one person. She was dead.

            “What would a bed-hopping slut like you know of love?” Severus sneers cruelly.

            If Severus had slapped her, Jasmine could not have looked more shocked.

            They argue for several minutes, as Severus is desperate to leave while Jasmine frantically tries to convince him that she wants to be with him.

            “But I’m pregnant, Severus. Are you really going to leave me?”

            He laughs. Harshly. In her face. Her tears do not sway him. They must be fake.

            “A liar’s last little ploy,” Severus throws at her. “I could never love you, and you could never be pregnant with my child. Are you trying to pawn someone else’s bastard off on me?”

            Severus apparates away after delivering that line. He has had enough.

 

What else had Jasmine told his daughter? he thinks as he buttons up his shirt.

            Now Narcissa is angry with him, and no doubt he has Lucius’ censure as well. Last night, Severus was only trying to help when he had added Milk Thistle to Holly’s juice. He can tell that Holly has not slept in a while. Narcissa was right to reprimand him, though he resents that she accused him of wanting to use Compulsion Potions to make her like him.

            Severus finishes dressing quickly, making his way to Holly's room. Narcissa has already beaten him there, standing inside Holly’s room and helping her select an outfit from her meagre choice of garments.

            There will be a shopping spree at some point today, he is sure. Severus lingers outside Holly’s bedroom, waiting for Narcissa to come out with his daughter.

            Holly sees him standing there as she steps out of her room and pauses long enough to cast a hard look that makes his heart sink, though he keeps his expression neutral.

Still, he offers a “Good Morning,” though it is ignored as expected.

Narcissa follows Holly out directly and pauses like Holly but gives him a nod.

            “Morning, Severus,” Narcissa greets him.

            Severus is relieved to find Narcissa has calmed down since his gaffe last night. She might not have forgiven him, but she is willing to move on. Lucius has done an excellent job in soothing his wife.

            As they enter the Dining Room again, Severus sees Draco in the same seat as last night and decides to sit next to him so that Narcissa and Holly can sit together.

            It is as awkward a breakfast as last night’s dinner. For Holly's sake, everyone is overly bright and energetic, who stares blankly at them before turning back to her plate after taking her seat.

Narcissa dishes some scrambled eggs for her while everyone else begins to serve themselves.

As Narcissa reaches for the pumpkin juice, Holly speaks up, “Water, please. The juice tastes weird. Like grass.”

The Malfoy matriarch shoots a knowing look towards Severus, who suppresses a sigh. It seems like Lucius will have to work hard to soothe Narcissa again today.

Holly only takes a few bites of her eggs and nibbles on her toast, but it’s still enough for Severus to be relieved to see her eating. He knows he is not the only one keeping an eye on her eating habits – Narcissa is making sure she is eating well, ready to fill her glass or plate again, and Lucius, too, is watching her, though, like Severus, he is not obvious about it.

Lucius hides behind his copy of the Daily Prophet after clearing his plate and sips his morning coffee whilst everyone else is still eating. Severus prefers to read the newspaper in the privacy of his own room. Having already moved on from the night’s events, Draco reaches for his third helping of bacon rashers and fried eggs.

Severus notices Holly watching the front page of the Daily Prophet with curiosity.

“Have you ever seen the Daily Prophet before?” he asks, attempting to make conversation.

Holly darts a quick startled glance at him but returns her attention to her plate.

Severus finds himself frustrated by her lack of engagement. Everyone else at the table politely ignores him, though he sees the newspaper twitch slightly.

Lucius is still reading when Artemis, his owl, flies in and drops off a bundle of letters. Artemis hoots impatiently at Lucius until he lowers the paper and unties the letters from his familiar.

“Blasted owl,” he scowls. “Behave.”

“What’s her name?” Holly asks, looking at the owl in fascination and trepidation.

“His,” Lucius corrects, glaring at his owl. “Artemis.”

“He’s beautiful. Can- can I pet him?” Holly asks hesitantly.

“Artemis is very territorial,” he answers. “He only lets me near, and even then, he can be very irritable. I should have turned your egg into an omelette when I had the chance, owl.”

Very few people know that Lucius has an ongoing feud with his owl. He was initially bought for Draco when he was due to leave for Hogwarts. He is a sensitive bird – Severus has scars from where Artemis scratched him for whatever he did to offend the owl... Lucius kept the bird for himself, seeing he was the only one Artemis would tolerate.

As if to purposely prove Lucius wrong, his familiar rises, spreads his wings, deliberately hits him in the face and flies over to Holly, who raptly follows his movements. Landing in front of her, Artemis gives off a little squawk and stares intently at the little girl, who cautiously reaches a hand to pet the dark feathered owl. Everyone is frozen, waiting to intervene in case Artemis loses his temper.

They all exchange looks of astonishment as Artemis allows Holly to stroke him carefully. The dark owl has never been this docile, even with Lucius, to whom he belongs.

Holly ignores her food to devote her attention to the owl. Still, Severus sees her filch a piece of bacon from Narcissa’s plate (which the witch pointedly ignores, though she continually admonishes anyone else who does it) and feeds Artemis little bites.

“Don’t overfeed the ball of fluff, child. He’ll get fat,” Lucius says, clearing his throat, but he is taken aback when Artemis turns and glares at him before carefully turning back and nuzzling Holly’s now empty hand. He flies out with an uncharacteristically friendly peck, but not before spilling the last of Lucius’ coffee.

Holly watches Artemis fly away before turning back to her plate. It doesn’t escape anyone’s notice that she has started eating more.

“Once we’re finished with breakfast, we’ll take a walk around the Manor to show you around,” Narcissa informs Holly.

They have yet to introduce her to the House-Elves. Though she has accepted everything with more aplomb than expected, seeing a House-Elf for the first time will be jarring.

 

ooOoo

Severus feels like a third wheel as he trails along with Narcissa and Holly, who barely acknowledges his presence. They only bring one House-Elf, to begin with. Holly startles a little when Roker appears, but she nods and moves on after studying the creature in silent contemplation.

            Severus is surprised at how unresponsive Holly is to magic. She was only four when Jasmine died, and Iris, her grandmother, took over custody. How Severus wishes he had known about her then. Perhaps he might have been able to make up for the damage Jasmine had done. Had Iris continued to speak ill of Severus after Jasmine? She was her mother, so of course, she would take Jasmine’s side.

            Jasmine would have told her mother all about magic, and Holly seems to know more than Severus and the Malfoys expected, which was good for not having to deal with a hysterical child thrust into a completely new world after the death of her last remaining family.

            After a tour of the Manor and Severus’s apartment's main areas, Lucius leaves, heading straight for his study, and Draco drifts back to his room.

           

ooOoo

 

Lucius locks himself in his study, leaving Narcissa and Severus to look after Holly. They will be going off to Diagon Alley soon to buy everything they need for the girl. They do not plan to take Holly yet, though that is what they originally intended. No doubt, Narcissa will have her way when it comes to spoiling the child. He is unsure if Draco will follow them or go off and do his own thing, but Lucius is now doing what he should have done when he had heard about Holly and her mother.

            Lucius has not needed to look through these files for years, but he meticulously manages them. After securing his study door, he uses his wand to open the trapdoor to a hidden room under his floor.

            Lighting it up, he strides to the back corner where he stores all the things related to Severus, not that the wizard is aware of them.

            It does not take him long to find what he is looking for. First, he locates the investigations regarding Severus’s girlfriends, if they can be called that: more like companions, although even that sounds like a kind word. Bed warmers, more like.

            Then he locates Jasmine Pierce’s folder.

            Lucius debates going up and reading it in the comfort of his study but then decides to conjure himself a chair and read it while still in the secret room. There is a reason he has kept these things from Severus, and even Narcissa doesn’t know that he is keeping tabs on Severus and his bed warmers.

            Settling into his chair, he flips the folder open from the beginning, carefully reading through each page, patiently committing it to memory, no matter how insignificant it might seem.

            He has been using his investigator for years. Though Lucius himself very rarely ventures out to the muggle world, his PI can navigate between both worlds without issue. She is a well-kept secret and knows how to ferret out information - for the right price.          

            His PI has found a copy of Jasmine’s birth certificate and muggle school records. The only child of Owen and Iris Pierce – bright by all means: there are even accounts of Jasmine’s accidental magic. Lucius is, as always, impressed by his PI’s thoroughness as he reads through all of it.

            He reads with interest the concise summary of Jasmine’s years at Hogwarts. According to the death certificate in his hand, the passing of her father, Owen Pierce, during her fourth year at Hogwarts: Cause of death was pneumonia. He also has copies of her OWL and NEWT scores, all previous addresses she had lived, and the jobs she held in various Ministry departments until she settled in the Department of International Magical Co-operation. Her last known residence before she was in a relationship with Severus.

            Lucius almost misses it, dismissing it as her father’s death certificate that he has already seen before, taking a good look and reading with more interest than he has given the rest of the file.

            The Death Certificate does not belong to Owen Pierce. On the contrary, it belongs to Iris Pierce. According to the piece of paper Lucius is holding, Iris Pierce died of something called diabetes-related complications. In 1984. Almost a year before Jasmine and Severus got together.

            That begs the question: Who is this Iris Pierce who had taken care of Severus’ daughter all these years?

 

ooOoo

 

“Come on, Harry,” Ron cajoles. “Mum’s getting worried. You’ve not been eating properly. She’s ready to tie you down and spoon-feed you.”

            Harry sighs and nods, giving in and following Ron and Neville back to the kitchen. He still doesn’t seem to have much of an appetite. He knows his friends have been worried about him because he has been quiet since arriving at Grimmauld Place. There is not much to do.

            Mrs Weasley spends most of the day in the kitchen, keeping a supply of food and snacks ready for the steady stream of Order members coming in and out of Headquarters.

            Harry spends most of his time in his bedroom with Ron and Neville. To distract himself, he has thrown himself into completing the rest of his summer homework – to Hermione’s delight and Ron’s dismay. Harry may not enjoy homework, but he enjoys learning about magic. Iris has always taught him to put every effort into his studies.

            Currently, homework is a distraction from his worries about Holly. Harry had sent two more letters since his first successful attempt almost a week ago. Each time, Hedwig comes back with his letter unopened. Harry is worried about what this means. Is Hedwig unable to deliver the letters because Holly is not alone? He doesn’t know.

            When Regulus told him that Dumbledore agreed to bring Holly to Headquarters, Harry was deliriously happy, though it was tempered by the knowledge that Snape was also looking for Holly. If he found her first, then Harry could do nothing. Harry’s trying not to think what Snape would do if he found Holly already in Headquarters and took her away. He feels terrible that he wishes Snape didn’t want anything to do with his daughter so that Harry can have Holly all to himself: he only hopes that she doesn’t forget him or hate him if Snape makes her hate Harry as he does. It is a big fear if he is honest. It is one more thing to worry about. He does not want to lose Holly. Especially not to Snape.

            Regulus has spent the whole week trying to find Holly, alongside Snape. When Regulus comes home without her, Harry’s heart sinks in deeper every day.

 

ooOoo

 

“Why does she stare up at the sky all the time?” Draco asks his mother.

            Holly has been keeping away from them all. Narcissa wants to spend as much time with Holly as possible but is wary of smothering her. Severus often can be found flouncing away in frustration: The little girl knows how to give everyone the silent treatment. Draco glimpses life in the girl when Lucius’s owl flies in every morning to visit Holly, even when he does not have any post to deliver.

            “The woman at the care home said it’s because she’s staring at her grandmother in the sky,” Narcissa admits. They are watching Holly from the window overlooking their vast garden. Holly barely speaks to them, and when she does, she is polite except when she talks to Severus: then, she is cold, bordering on rude.

            Draco is impressed that Severus has managed to keep his temper so far. He has a bet with his father that he will explode at any time.

            “Do you believe that?”

            Draco is about to turn away when he sees his father crossing the expanse of the garden. He is surprised when he sees Lucius lower himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged next to Holly. Looking at his mother, he sees her frowning in puzzlement at Lucius’s behaviour. Lucius has barely left his study for the first part of the week unless for meals. Then, for the last two days, he has been out of the house all day, returning only late in the evening.

            “I’m not sure,” Narcissa finally answers as she watches Lucius engage Holly in some way. “She is certainly looking for something.”

 

ooOoo

 

Hedwig. Holly is looking for Hedwig. She has not seen her since Harry’s last letter. She knows Harry hasn’t forgotten her already. Not after a week. Maybe she is impatient. After all, It’s only been a week.

            Holly hopes Harry’s relatives haven’t hurt him again. There’s no Oma anymore to help him heal– what if he’s so badly injured that he can’t even send Hedwig anymore? What if they have locked him and Hedwig up again like they did last time?

            Holly has no way of knowing. She misses Harry so much. He said Hedwig will always try to deliver his letters when she is alone, so Holly tries to spend as much time alone as possible.

            Over the last week, she has spent more time in her bedroom reading all the letters Harry has sent to her and Oma since his first year at Hogwarts. She had found them already in her bag as if Oma had hidden them there. Holly is glad that she has them; she also made sure to get her photo album. Harry sent it for her birthday a few years ago: It has some photos of Harry and his friends, though there are more from his second year onwards because Colin Creevey, a boy in Harry’s house, started at that time, and he liked to take pictures all the time. Harry wanted her to have a family album as he did of her parents. But this was just for Holly, Oma and Harry.

            Holly did not have many clothes. She did not care about them as much as she did about Harry and Oma’s presents.

            Rereading Harry’s letters, Holly realises precisely where she is and with whom: Draco is the boy who always tried to bully Harry and make him feel bad; Mr Snape (she refuses to call her his dad) is even worse. They are very rarely mentioned, but none of the news is good when they are. Harry does not mention Lucius or Narcissa at all. Holly feels very trapped.

            Harry compares Draco to Dudley in his letters, back when he was a bully. Holly even misses Dudley.

            She hears footsteps approaching her and stiffens as a tall figure puts down a cloak like a picnic blanket and then lowers himself next to her. It is Mr Malfoy. He looks up at the sky with her.

            “Enjoying the sun, child?” Mr Malfoy asks.

            Holly looks at him briefly and then back at the sky. She is not alone. Hedwig won’t come now.

            “We’ve been very remiss in our attentions to you, darling,” Mr Malfoy says softly when Holly doesn’t answer.

            She takes her eyes off from the sky and stares into the distance instead.

            “We’ve all been so happy to find you that we forgot about the circumstances that brought you to our attention in the first place. Allow me to correct that now. Please, accept my condolences on your grandmother’s passing,” Mr Malfoy continues. He is observing Holly. “Will you tell me about her?”

            Holly can feel her eyes about to water and looks away.

            “Oma- ” is the best she can manage before her voice breaks. “She was my Oma.”

            Holly wipes her tears with her fingers, rubbing her eyes in a futile effort to stop more. A white handkerchief is dangled in front of her. Startled, she looks hesitantly at Mr Malfoy before reaching out to take it.

            It takes some time for Holly to stop, though she cannot stem the odd sniffle.

            “Tell me about your house,” Lucius prompts.

            “It was home,” Holly answers. “Oma filled it with pictures of us.”

            She slowly begins to talk about life with Oma, being careful not to mention Harry. In his letters, he spoke about perils at school and the presence of dangerous people. She knew Harry always talked to Oma about some stuff that they didn’t tell her. She didn’t mind. She knew that she would figure it out for herself when she was old enough to go to Hogwarts.

            “You’ve impressed us with your reaction to magic,” Mr Malfoy comments.

            “Oma already told me about it. After…” Holly almost says after Harry got his letter. Instead, she trails off, saying, “She said I would get a letter like Mamma did. When I turn eleven.”

            “Do you remember your first accidental magic?”

            Holly has to think about it, looking down at her wrist.

            “I hurt my wrist,” she states, holding it out as if Mr Malfoy could see where she hurt it. Mamma had pulled her too hard. It was scary when she did that. Holly remembers a window breaking at the same time she screamed when Mamma did it. It was an accident. Holly knew her Mamma didn’t mean it. It was the first and only time Mamma had ever done anything like that: Even she had been shocked by what she had done. All Holly had wanted to do was go back to Oma’s house and spend time with her and Harry. She had refused to get out of the car, not wanting to go to Creepy Carl’s house. Holly is unaware of the haunted look she is wearing and how much this alarms Mr Malfoy.

            “Holly?” he prompts carefully.

            “I broke a window when it happened,” she finishes in a whisper. She had to wear a cast for six weeks. It itched. Oma made her take some yucky medicine, though she now knows it was Potions of some sort. It helped her with the pain.

             “I know it’s a difficult period for you. We can’t replace your … Oma or bring her back. I know you must miss your home, your friends, your neighbours, your whole life where you were before. But… This is your home now. We want you to be comfortable here. We can be your new family.”

            “I just miss my brother,” Holly lets slip out before she realises. She bites her lip and looks away, playing with the handkerchief in her hands.

            “Your brother?” Mr Malfoy is startled. Then, in an amused voice, “I wasn’t aware Severus had more than one child.”

            Holly sneaks a peek at Mr Malfoy. He is smirking. She doesn’t know what he finds hilarious about that.

            “You don’t have to be related to be family,” Holly says more sharply than she intends.

            “No. You’re right, child,” Mr Malfoy agrees solemnly. “Tell me about your brother.”

            “He’ll come for me one day,” Holly announces abruptly. She cranes her head to look towards the windows as if she can see through them. “He’ll take me away from here. Away from him.”

            There’s a funny look in Mr Malfoy’s eyes when she says that.

            “He’s your father, child,” he chides softly.

            Holly gets up to her feet.

            “He’s not my father,” she shouts, suddenly furious. “He didn’t want me. He called Mamma a liar and told her to leave. He called her mean names and yelled at her. Because of him, she didn’t want me. He’s not my father! He wasn’t there. Ever. Oma was there. And H-”

            She chokes back the name before saying it out loud. Turning around to face the Manor, she begins to scream.

            “I hate you! You’re not my father. You’ll never be my father! I hate this place! I hate you!”

            Holly begins to feel warm. Like the sun is shining too brightly. She wants to scream again, but her throat hurts, and there’s a burning smell; and why is it so hot?

            “Holly! Watch out!”

            Mr Malfoy grabs her, pulling her away from the fire into his arms, holding her close to his chest. She throws her arms around his neck as he picks her up, gasping and heaving for breath.

           

ooOoo

 

Lucius picks Holly up, holding her tightly with one arm and pulling out his wand to extinguish the fire with the other hand.

            His fishing expedition indeed yielded some results. He is impressed by the strength of the girl’s emotions and the bright fire burning Narcissa’s roses. Holly is gasping against his neck: once the fire is out, Lucius uses both hands to hold her to him, comforting her by stroking the back of her head. He is not angry with the child. She didn’t do it on purpose.

            After finding out everything he had over the past week, he came out to coax some information from the young girl. He didn’t get as much as he would have liked, but he got more out of her than expected.

            “Are you hurt, darling?” Lucius asks, pulling back so he can see her properly. Her face is streaked with tears, snot dripping from her nose. He fishes another handkerchief from his pocket and calmly wipes her face.

            At the same moment, Narcissa and Severus run out of the Manor: Lucius knows they were watching.

            Holly shakes her head and hiccoughs out, “I’m sorry.”

            Wiping her face gently, he says, trying to comfort her, “I know, darling, I know. I am not angry with you.”

            In fact, he cannot help but be proud of her accidental magic, as if she were his daughter, not Severus’s.

            She hides her face in his neck as she sees Severus approaching, clinging to him tighter as he tries to take her from Lucius, who shakes his head at him when he tries again. He sees the hurt frown that Severus attempts to hide when Holly lets Narcissa touch her instead.

            Lucius carries Holly back to her room, passing a concerned Draco who is still inside, leaving Severus and Narcissa to follow but wait outside as Holly falls asleep before he has even laid her down.

            “One day, Holly, you’ll realise how much you truly mean to Severus,” Lucius whispers, stroking her hair as she snuggles deeper. “And how hard he is trying for you.”

 

ooOoo

            Later, the Malfoys and Severus are sitting in the Family room. Or rather, the Malfoys are sitting, and Severus is pacing on the rug.

            He cannot deny the feeling of jealousy that has kept bubbling since the moment he saw Lucius sit next to Holly in the garden. It was the last sight he had expected to see when he arrived behind Draco and Narcissa as they stared out the window.

            Then, even from a distance, he had seen Holly actively engage with Lucius, cling to him after her bout of accidental magic. Refused to let go of him as he took her upstairs to her bedroom, hiding from Severus, not even willing to look at him.

            Yet, at that moment, Severus hates how Lucius can charm his daughter. His daughter. He knows that Lucius is hiding something: just by looking at him, he can tell that he is strengthening his Occlumency shields.

            “What else did she tell you?” Severus snarls as he whirls around to loom over Lucius.

            Lucius knows his tricks too well and refuses to be intimidated.

            “More than I will tell you, Severus,” Lucius sighs. “You want to know what she said? Go earn her trust and inveigle it out of her yourself.”

            “And how do I do that, pray tell, after all the vitriol Jasmine has spewed?”

            “Is there anything about what she reported to Holly that isn’t true?” Narcissa enquires in a calm voice that does not fool Severus: she has never approved of the way he has ended any of his relationships.

            Severus can feel the same ugly flush crawl up his neck that he had when they had picked Holly up from the Care home.

            “No,” the word reluctantly leaves Severus’ lips. He turns around and steps to the empty armchair, falling into it in a way he would never do in front of anyone else. He lets his head fall into his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. “I treated Jasmine abominably at the end, and she took all that anger out on my child. But what kind of person treats a child in such a way? What kind of person misplaces their resentment on an undeserving target?”

            It angers him that Jasmine treated an innocent child like that. Did she look at Holly and see Severus? Did she want revenge on him and, in his absence, use Holly as her target instead?

            Severus looks up from his hands to see Lucius observing him with a curious twist of the lips. Not quite a smirk, not quite a smile.

            “Does my situation amuse you?” Severus snaps.

            Just like him, Lucius is slouched in a way that he will never do in front of anyone but his family – leaning back in his chair, legs stretched out, and ankles crossed. One elbow is on the armrest, his temple resting on his fist, whilst the fingers of his other hand drum out absently on the opposite armrest.

            “You are so blind right now, Severus,” Lucius says indolently. “It is almost humorous how you don’t understand what is happening. Perhaps, you will remember your words from today when you do.”

            Narcissa gives Lucius a puzzled look.

            “I am not in the mood for riddles. Will you speak clearly?” Severus bites out.

            “You are my entertainment, my friend.”

            Before Severus can retort to that, not that he knows how, Lucius stands up and says, “I’ll be in my study. I’ll be down for dinner later, Narcissa darling. Hopefully, Holly will feel well enough to join us.”

He walks away without waiting for an answer.

            Draco, who has been sitting there silently, pretending to read his book, follows his father out with his eyes while Severus swings his gaze back to Narcissa.

            “What is that about?” he demands.

            Narcissa stares at the chair Lucius has vacated and absently replies, “Lucius does not share everything with me, Severus. I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

            He lets out a frustrated breath.

            “How am I supposed to bond with my daughter?”

            Narcissa’s eyes are sympathetic as she finally looks at Severus.

            “Show her she is wanted. Be patient with her, Severus. She has lost her mother, grandmother, and home, and she has lost her peace with it. She has spent three weeks getting bounced from one house to another until we found her. Then, she is confronted with the man who did not want her in the first place, as far as she knows.

            “Lucius is right, Severus. Look at what we’ve done. We have forgotten about her loss and tried to have her fit right with us as if nothing had happened. We were so busy congratulating ourselves on finding her and her knowledge of magic that it did not even occur to us that she is still grieving.”

            Severus looks down, ashamed. They have done that. Narcissa is usually much better at these things than him, yet, even she treated Holly’s loss as if it was of no consequence.

            “Did you tell Dumbledore you found her?” Narcissa asks after the silence continues.

            “Why would you need to tell Dumbledore?” Draco speaks up, tired of being ignored.

            “Because he was there when Severus got the letter and is probably wondering what’s happening,” his mother explains patiently.

            “Why do you need to tell that crazy old fool? It’s none of his business,” Draco drawls.

            Narcissa takes a deep long-suffering breath.

            “It seems we have not explained the situation to you sufficiently, Draco,” Narcissa begins in an enduring voice. “Your father has denounced the Dark Lord’s services in such a way that it now means we are in danger. We have sided with Dumbledore. He might be a blood traitor, but remember, Draco, he is a powerful wizard beneath that doddering old fool act. He sees more than you’ll ever know, and he still has much influence.”

            “Does that mean I have to play nice with Potter?” Draco mumbles resentfully.

            Severus feels a familiar irritation that always arises at Potter’s name.

            Narcissa surprises them both by snapping, “What is your obsession with that boy?”

            “I’m not obsessed with him,” Draco protests hotly, earning a look of disbelief from his mother.

            “When you go to school in September, Draco, remember to keep your head down. Whether you believe it or not, Harry Potter holds great power, and he is on Dumbledore’s side. War is brewing, despite what the majority of the Wizarding World believes. Your father is doing what is necessary to survive and see our family safe on the other side. If you cannot keep a civil tongue around Potter and his friends, I suggest you stay away.”

            Draco nods sullenly.

            “In the meantime, try to engage with Holly. Try to talk to her about Hogwarts. I’m sure you’ll find a topic. She is part of our family now.”

            Draco’s nod is a little less surly this time.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius stares at the copies of the letters and photographs littering his desk, as he had been doing since he found them days ago. While Holly had been distracted with Narcissa and Severus earlier in the week, Lucius had snuck into Holly’s room looking for her bag, finding it hidden under the bed. It only contained the letters and photos. Rather than risk being caught in the little girl’s room, he elected to make copies of everything and take them to his study to peruse at his leisure and with great privacy.

            Lucius has never bothered about invading someone else’s privacy before: he is a man who coveted knowledge in the name of power — blackmail, extortion, bribery, corruption, coercion. Lucius has experience in all these. Knowledge is power. Malfoys have always held it in some way.

            It began the same day when Lucius finished reading the file containing details about Jasmine’s life. And Iris’ death.

            It was the only time he had ever felt regretful, guilty even, for invading someone’s privacy. She is just a child. Nine years old. He still feels like a creepy pervert when he thinks about how he rooted through her every drawer, including where her underwear is stored.

            He convinces himself that he is doing it to protect Severus, Holly, and his own family.

            After reading the letters, a considerable part of Lucius is satisfied. He has solved the puzzle. The real Iris Pierce died in 1984, before Holly was born. Before Jasmine and Severus even met.

            Yet, in 1986, suddenly, there is a record of Iris Pierce again: Lucius’ PI has unearthed the address of where Iris has been these past nine years, pretty much since Holly was born.

            From the second he sees the picture, he recognises her — Eileen Snape nee Prince. Eileen had disappeared when Severus was still in school. Suspicion had fallen on Tobias at the time, but nothing could be done without proof. However, Lucius had been tempted to enact his own brand of revenge.

            His father, Abraxas, had stopped him. Lucius thought he should have worked harder to convince his father to give Severus a place to stay. Instead, seeing Severus’ potential, he had taken the dark-haired wizard as his ward, helped him gain his Prince inheritance, and got him a Master to complete his Potions’ apprenticeship with. He gave him independence and directed them both towards the Dark Lord. The last one turned out to be a mistake for both of them.

            Back then, the Dark Lord had been more persuasive and charismatic. Towards the end of his reign, before he was defeated, he had become obsessed with immortality and news of his possible defeat after hearing some prophecy. Lucius wanted to eliminate mudbloods and blood traitors, yet even he had not expected the level of violence the Dark Lord inflicted. However, one does not walk away from the Dark Lord’s services. Not if one wants to live.

            When the Dark Mark darkened over the past year, Lucius was gripped by the fear of having to prostrate himself before the Dark Lord once more. He was convinced there was no way out until Narcissa had persuaded him that they would have to ally with Dumbledore – not a prospect Lucius was looking forward to.

They were not blind: after all, Severus had lived with them for years. They knew he trusted Dumbledore, and no matter what he said about staying in his post because that is what the Dark Lord wanted: Severus was not loyal to the Dark Lord.

            Lucius knew all too well of Severus’ loyalty to Lily. His lips twist into a grimace as her memory enters his mind: Severus and his senseless devotion to a dead woman.

            He looks at the letters again. He already suspected Iris was Eileen and the photographs confirm that. What he did not expect to see in the pictures was Harry Potter. Then, reading through the letters, he now knows of the connection: the affection and attachment Potter has had with Holly and Eileen over the years.

            His heart sinks a little when he sees mentions of Severus and Draco in his letters. Not many references, but enough for Holly to make the connection. Lucius wonders how much Severus’s bullying plays a part in Holly’s antipathy towards her father. Indeed, she wouldn’t be fond of a father she never knew when he tormented the brother she had admired since childhood. He wonders how they ever met.

            He feels laughter bubbling inside him. Severus will not be happy when he finds out his daughter loves Harry Potter. Lucius picks up the latest letter from Potter, where he states that one day he will find her and they will live together because that is what Eileen wanted.

            Lucius finds he does not doubt Potter’s words. After witnessing how he has stood up to the Dark Lord in June past, he knows that Potter is the determined sort.

            Lucius is now committed to Dumbledore. He has burned his bridges with the Dark Lord and all the Death Eaters on his side. Still, the Dark Lord has suffered a massive blow: he has lost not only Lucius but also Petrus Parkinson, Thadeus Nott, Titus Crabbe and Victor Goyle.

            Crabbe and Goyle have already fled the country. Lucius is not surprised. Their children are not the smartest: like their fathers, they were nothing more than muscle, all brawn and no cunning. Salazar knows what ambitions those boys had besides filling their stomachs with as much food as possible.

            Crouch Junior has been Kissed. He only has Macnair, Pettigrew and some of the less competent members who managed to escape incarceration. The Dark Lord was probably trying to find a way to recruit. No doubt he already has animals like Greyback on his side.

            Closing his eyes, he presses his fingers to his forehead as he ruminates through it all. He does not regret breaking all ties with the Dark Lord, especially after witnessing how Potter held his own. At only fourteen years old. In the safe space of his Occluded mind, Lucius admits that even he could not stand up to the Dark Lord in such a way.

            Severus does not recognise the irony of how he treats Harry Potter because of his father, James, compared to how Jasmine treated Holly because of him.

            Severus is no less than a brother to Lucius. However, he needs to recognise that he must do everything he can to help his child survive. Lucius will protect Holly because she is Severus’s daughter. He will also protect her because she is crucial to Harry Potter. And Harry Potter is more powerful than Severus is willing to admit.

            Lucius has not missed the mentions of Regulus Black in Potter’s letters.

            All of this now begs the question: how much did Potter know about Iris? Does he know Severus is Holly’s father? Should Lucius tell him?

            Pulling out a spare bit of parchment, he quills a quick note to Regulus. They have an overdue meeting.

 

ooOoo

 

“What are you hiding, Lucius?” Narcissa asks as they get ready for bed that night.

            Lucius watches as she strips off her dress, pausing in the act of unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it out of his slacks.

            “Something that will piss Severus off,” he admits.

            Narcissa freezes, realising Lucius is serious.

            “What is it?” She asks as she presses herself against Lucius so that he finds himself distracted by her body against his.

            He pulls her close and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

            “Let me keep this to myself, Cissa. Just for a little bit longer.”

            Narcissa looks like she will argue but backs down as Lucius tightens his arm around her.

 

ooOoo

Regulus opens the letter that comes for him. He recognises Lucius’s temperamental owl, although he has rare occasions to exchange an owl with him. Though he supposes they are meant to be allies now, he must regularly exchange words with his cousin’s husband.

            What Narcissa sees in Lucius is beyond him.

 

Regulus,

I would be much obliged if you could meet me at Malfoy Manor at 11 am tomorrow. I have an urgent matter to discuss with you that is better resolved in person.

Lucius.

            Regulus sighs and quickly replies with his agreement. He does not know what Lucius wants to talk to him about, but it’s not like he’s having luck with his other task of finding Holly. He wonders how Severus is fairing. Regulus has not seen the other wizard since they were summoned together after the Dementors attacked Harry. Maybe he could use this opportunity to talk to Lucius and see where Severus is in his quest.

 

               

               

>

Chapter 7 - Olive Branch

 

Dealing with Lucius Malfoy always requires finesse, Regulus thinks as he settles into Lucius’s study. There is already a tray of refreshments, and Regulus helps himself to some pumpkin juice. He doesn’t believe Lucius will try to poison him: if he did, it would be the fastest betrayal the other wizard has enacted. Regulus can’t rule out Veritaserum, though, cautiously taking a single sip and then leaving the juice aside. Even one sip can cloud the mind and is the only way to tell if he has been drugged with an odourless and tasteless potion.

            Lucius does his usual dance of social niceties.

            “You are not cautious of venturing into Diagon Alley?” Regulus asks with hidden surprise as Lucius talks about the changes in seasonal robes already on display at Twilfit and Tattings.

            He pauses. Of course, Regulus refers to the danger of betraying the Dark Lord. Though he is hiding, his loyal ones are still free to do his bidding or even take matters into their own hands.

            “I would not allow Draco or Narcissa to visit the Alley without protection,” Lucius admits. “There are restrictions we must all follow.”

            “It is important that care and attention are taken, given current circumstances. We cannot afford to sleep,” Regulus says. He might not like Lucius – the other wizard comes from a long line of wizards who only look out for themselves – but Regulus has never found fault with his dedication to Narcissa and Draco.

            “Indeed,” Lucius agrees.

            Then, changing the subject completely, Regulus decides to chance his question. He was present when Severus received Tobias’s letter about his daughter. He does not know about Harry’s connection.

            “How is Severus doing in finding his daughter? Is he looking for her? In fact, was the letter even telling the truth?”

            Lucius holds a look of triumph.

            “We have found her,” he states, observing Regulus, who allows his surprise to come through. He must ask as if he does not know anything.

            “When?”

            “A little over a week,” Lucius confesses.

            Regulus nods, studying the other man carefully.

            “Is she here?”

            Lucius inclines his head in affirmative.

            “Was it wise?”

            He gives Regulus a questioning look.

            “Severus has been outed as a spy, Lucius. You have allied yourself with Dumbledore as well by bringing a child into our world. Did you not put her in danger by dragging her into this?”

            Regulus knows this is a hypocritical question, given that he has already arranged with Harry to bring Holly to Grimmauld Place. He knows Harry will be happy that Holly is no longer alone, but despite his earlier words that he would be fine with Severus finding his daughter too, he will be disappointed. Regulus agrees with Harry: Severus will never allow him to have anything to do with his daughter.

            “Would you leave your child alone, with muggles, once you discovered her existence?” Lucius asks in a cold voice.

            Regulus’ answer is equally icy, “I would never put myself in the position of losing my child in the first place.”

            He might not know the full details of how Severus conducted his relationships. However, he knows him well enough that none of the witches he has bedded have ever been considered more than a substitute for a long-dead woman.

            Lucius tenses, watching Regulus coldly. He is like a coiled snake, ready to strike. Regulus wonders why Lucius has requested this meeting in the first place. It is several seconds before Lucius allows the tension to drain from him.

            “Do not judge him too harshly,” he says quietly. “He is still wounded.”

            Regulus knows he is severe in his words, but he believes this has gone on long enough.

            “By indulging his self-pity, you are doing him a disservice. Hopefully, his daughter will mellow his bitterness.”

            Regulus leans back, giving off the air of someone who is not concerned.

            “How is dear Severus taking fatherhood, anyway? Has he taken a leaf out of your book and indulged her every whim, or is he ruling with an iron rod?”

            Bizarrely, Lucius wears a smirk as he says, “Severus is floundering like a flobberworm.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Regulus listens in fascination as Lucius describes Holly’s attitude – Harry has described her well.

            “Well, it seems Severus has to grovel a lot if he wants Holly to accept him as her father,” Regulus comments, reaching for his juice once more.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius lets a victorious smirk escape: Regulus has made a mistake. The other wizard realises this too.

            “I have not told you the girl’s name,” Lucius drawls, rising languidly to his feet. He stares down at Regulus, seeing that the other is hiding behind a mask, no doubt debating whether he should bluster about it or not.

            “No, you didn’t mention it,” Regulus concedes quietly.

            Lucius, feeling vindicated, moves towards his desk, where he has everything set up. He hears the chink of glass on glass as Regulus puts down his juice and follows him quietly.

            Lucius taps his desk with his wand and dispels the charm that conceals the pictures from those he doesn’t want to see.

            He waits silently as Regulus meticulously examines each photograph with a carefully blank face.

            “Severus has not seen these,” he pronounces assuredly.

            “What makes you so confident?”

            “You would not have needed me here if Severus had known about Harry and Holly. You would have had no reason to invite me.”

            “Would I not?” the other challenges.

            “Enough dancing, Lucius. I’m getting tired of it. Tell me, what do you want from me?” Regulus asks.

            Lucius debates how best to formulate what he wants from him.

            Finally, he says it in the most straightforward way he knows how “I need Potter’s goodwill.”

 

ooOoo

 

“Regulus?” Narcissa greets her cousin in surprise. “What brings you here?”

            “Boredom, cousin. Perhaps a bit of curiosity,” Regulus answers. “Where is Severus?”

            “Sulking in his room, I expect,” Narcissa tells him as she gets up to embrace Regulus. He is her favourite cousin, not that she had much choice; Regulus was always more tolerable than Sirius.

            “Yes, I have heard he is having trouble relating to his newest relation,” Regulus jokes.

            Narcissa shoots a look at Lucius, who returns it with a bland expression. Lucius didn’t tell her of his intention to invite Regulus. Severus has not allowed them to talk about Holly to anyone else, but it seems Lucius has divulged enough already.

            “What is she like?” Regulus asks more seriously.

            Narcissa graces him with an arched gaze. “Didn’t Lucius tell you already?”

            “I wanted your perspective, Cissy.”

            “She is … moody, morose, sullen and lonely. She is grieving,” Narcissa answers with a sigh.

            “I asked you about Holly. Not Severus,” Regulus teases.

            Draco, who walks in at that time, snorts with laughter. He quickly stops when Narcissa gives him a stern look.

            “Afternoon, Uncle Regulus.”

            “Draco,” he greets him with a smile. “Where is mini-Snape?”

            The boy chuckles again.

            “Draco,” Narcissa admonishes.

            “What? He’s not wrong,” his son points out.

            “She’s out in the garden,” Narcissa answers, ignoring Draco.

            “Do you mind if I introduce myself?”

            Narcissa looks between Lucius and Regulus. Both of them are up to something, and she will make sure she finds out what it is.

            “Near the rose garden,” Narcissa tells him. What is left of it, she laments.

            Regulus waves and walks towards the kitchen entrance to cut through the gardens.

            “What are you up to, Lucius?”

            “There’s more than one way to skin a kneazle, darling,” Lucius responds. “Your cousin will show us how.”

            “You’re going to let Uncle Reg go talk to Holly? Alone?” Draco asks incredulously. “Why?”

            “That is a good question,” Lucius inserts smoothly before Narcissa can say anything. “Your uncle thinks he is more charming than me. Shall we see if he is telling the truth?”

           

ooOoo

 

Regulus walks confidently out towards the rose garden. He falters a little as he sees the scorched remains of what used to be Narcissa’s blue roses. Lucius mentioned the accidental magic that resulted in a fire, but not this result. He is impressed.

            Turning back to look at the Manor, he sees Lucius, Narcissa and Draco watching his walk to Holly as if he were some sort of entertainment. Looking a few windows over, he sees Severus looming over another balcony. Pity stirs in his heart as he realises that this is the only way Severus can watch over his daughter.

            When Holly comes into view, he finds that he is looking forward to talking to her, and his steps quicken in anticipation. She is lying on the ground, staring up at the sky.

            “Hello, darling,” Regulus greets as he stands over her, blocking her view of the sky. “Looking for an owl?”

            Holly jerks up, startled, and turns around, crouching on her knees.

            “What?” There is a look of panic in her eyes.

            “I asked if you were looking for an owl. Waiting for a letter? Perhaps from a lovely white owl named Hedwig?” Regulus baits, though not maliciously.     

            A wary look settles in her eyes, and Regulus wishes he had a letter from Harry to offer. He came to Regulus a few nights ago, upset that Hedwig came back with his letters unopened. Considering Holly has been hidden behind Malfoy Manor wards for a little more than a week, it explains why Harry has not been able to send a letter. Unfortunately, given that he has been discussing with Lucius for the last hour and a half, allowing access to Harry’s owl would be too risky. She is too distinctive an owl.

            “I’m Regulus, little darling,” he kneels on the ground in front of her, offering his hand for her to shake, “I think Harry mentioned me in his letters.”

            Slowly, cautiously, she places her hand in his to shake back.

 

ooOoo

 

“No way,” Draco gasps. “She didn’t even shake my hand.”

            Lucius cannot help but smile as he watches the scene unfold before him.

            “Who invited Regulus here?”

            Severus quietly approaches them, but his question is harshly thrown out.

            “I did,” Lucius answers carelessly.

 

ooOoo

 

“You know Harry? And Hedwig?”

            Regulus releases her hand carefully and sits down properly, crossing his legs, watching with satisfaction as she copies him. He has positioned them so that she cannot look up and see the others watching them. Severus has now left his own window in favour of joining the Malfoys.

            Regulus nods.

            “Prove it,” she demands.

            He is amused by her caution and approves of it also.

            “In his last letter to you, when you were still at the care home, Harry told you he will find you. He said your grandmother left her house to both of you, and when he finishes Hogwarts, he will take you away from whoever has you and how you’ll live together in your old home. Harry promised he would keep sending Hedwig to you, so you would know you’re not alone.”

            Holly looks up reflexively as if checking to see if Hedwig will come swooping down.

            “Harry’s been trying to send Hedwig to you,” Regulus says gently.

            “I haven’t seen her,” Holly confesses, still looking up to the sky.

            “There are wards around the Manor that prevent unknown owls from delivering post. Do you know what wards are?”

            Holly shakes her head as she looks back at him.

            “In this case, they are protective barriers.”

            “Oh,” Holly whispers. “So I’m not going to get a letter from Harry?”

            “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Lucius’s wards won’t allow it since Hedwig is unknown to him.”

            She lowers her gaze to the ground in a dejected manner.

            Gently, he reaches forward to tilt her chin with the crook of his fingers.

            “I can give him a message for you.”

             She lights up immediately, “Will you?”

            Regulus smiles at her, pulling his hand away.

            “Do you know where he is? Is he staying with you?”

            “Yes,” Regulus nods.

            Instead of giving him a message, she immediately launches several questions at him.

            “He’s safe, isn’t he? Did you take him away from the Dursleys? They didn’t hurt him, did they?”

            It saddens Regulus to find that she knows about Harry’s treatment by the Dursley’s.

            “Did you see them hurt him a lot?”

            Holly gives him a sorrowful look that should not belong to such a young girl.

            “Oma used to heal his hurts when they used the belt on him,” Holly answers, tears forming. “Sometimes, there was a lot of blood.”

            Regulus isn’t quick enough to hide the look of anger on his face, but Holly understands that it’s not her he’s angry with.

            “He’s not going back there,” Regulus says in a firm voice. He is not sure if he is assuring her or himself. He will fight Dumbledore on this point if the old man tries to backtrack.

            “Really?” Holly beams so widely that the sullen look disappears completely, changing her features to something more suitable for her age.

            At Regulus’ nod, she throws herself at him, surprising him with her strength as her bony arms trap his own.

            “Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” she repeats gratefully as if she were the one Regulus has promised to remove from the Dursleys.

 

OoOoo

 

Lucius assures himself that he could have gotten a positive reaction like that if he had been allowed to mention or even known of her connection to Harry Potter.

            He tells himself he is not jealous of Holly hugging Regulus Black.

            Severus, on the other hand, looks apoplectic. He clenches his teeth so hard that a nerve ticks in his jaw.

           

ooOoo

 

Later that evening, when Regulus is long gone, and Holly is in her room in a curiously chipper mood, Severus has spent the whole day sulking in his room.

            He is fuming at everything – at Jasmine for turning his daughter against him, at Regulus for connecting with his daughter much better than he could. At Lucius for the temerity of inviting Regulus over.

            Later that night, he waits for her to fall asleep before quietly sneaking into her room, as he has done almost every night since they have fetched Holly. She still has trouble sleeping, and Narcissa often spends much of the night soothing her for a peaceful slumber. Without the aid of potions.

            He feels like she is a sleeping Cerberus that he is constantly afraid to wake up for fear she will bite off his limbs. He is struggling to connect with her, to get close to her. He longs to know her. If Severus is truthful, he knows he was not ready for children when Jasmine first told him she was pregnant, even if he chose to believe her. Now, he is drowning. He has lost so much time. Would he have been a good father back then? Could he be one now?

            All he knows is that, since he has found out about his child, he has done everything he can to bring her to him. Now he needs to do everything he can to show her he is worth knowing – to show her he can be a good father to her.

            He just wishes he knew how. He cannot change the past – if he could, he would change so many things. He only needs to forge a better future. He has wallowed enough. He needs to make plans.  

 

ooOoo

 

“Harry, can I see you?”

            Harry jumps up from his bed. Regulus would knock on his door straight after breakfast because he must have news about Holly.

            “Neville, would you-”

            His roommate waves him off.

            “I’ll tell Ron and Hermione you’re with Regulus. Hope it’s good news, mate.”

            Regulus is already walking to his bedroom, and Harry has to move quickly to catch up. The older wizard is curiously reticent but understands. Since the beginning of summer, Harry himself has been in a morose mood: his mood had improved slightly only when Regulus had told him Dumbledore would allow Holly to move to Grimmauld Place. The waiting, however, has been painful.

            Harry sits on Regulus’s bed again, as the other sits in his desk chair again. By the look on Regulus’s face, Harry already knows that the news isn’t good.

            “You haven’t been able to find her?” he asks before Regulus can speak.

            The other gives Harry a small smile.

            “I did find her,” Regulus corrects softly. “Alas, Severus found her first.”

            Harry’s heart sinks. His face falls for a moment, but he pastes an insincere smile on his face.

            “That’s good, right?” he states in an overly bright voice. “She’s not alone. That’s better than being stuck in a care home or an orphanage or a-a family that doesn’t know she’s a w- witch. She wouldn’t – she wouldn’t want to get st-stuck with a family like the – the Dursleys.”

            Harry is not usually a stutterer, but he desperately tries to hold back tears. He feels like he has lost Holly.

            “Harry,” Regulus begins in a sympathetic voice, getting up to come to sit next to him. He immediately stands up and turns his back to Regulus.

            There is odd rattling noise: Harry is startled by the display of accidental magic and tries to stop. He has just dodged a bludger with the Ministry due to his Patronus.

            Regulus follows Harry, gently turns him around and pulls him close to his chest, one arm over his shoulders and the other over his head. It almost feels like when Iris embraces Harry, but he doesn’t move, keeping himself stiff. Regulus is not Iris. The rattling eventually stops after several minutes, though Regulus does not let go of Harry. He is not worried about getting hurt by accidental magic.

            “He’s going to turn her against me, Regulus. She’ll hate me like Snape, and then – and then I’ll have no one,” Harry’s voice is muffled against Regulus’ chest once he manages to speak again.

            “No, she won’t,” Regulus gently disputes. “Now, come on. Sit down. Let me tell you what I know.”

            Harry allows him to guide him back to the bed.

            “I got an owl from Lucius a few days ago,” Regulus begins.  

            “Malfoy?” Harry asks, then flushes for interrupting. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

            Regulus continues with a kind smile, “Yes, Malfoy. You know Severus was fostered by Abraxas when he was still in Hogwarts.”

            Harry nods, listening intently.

            “Severus still lives with the Malfoys when he’s not at Hogwarts during term time. He has his own apartment in one of their wings.”

            Harry nods again, though his heart, which he thought couldn’t get any lower, is down to his knees. It is bad enough that Snape has Holly and could turn her against Harry. Now, she also has the Malfoys whispering in her ear against him. It doesn’t matter if Holly hates him, though, he tells himself resolutely. She’s still his sister, and he can still look out for her.

            He bites his lip so as not to interrupt Regulus again.

            “I saw her yesterday. When I was at Malfoy Manor, I spoke to her.”

            The words leave Harry before he can stop them.

            “You did? Was she all right? Have they been treating her well? Has she been eating properly? Did she say anything about me?”

            Regulus laughs at the barrage of questions and answers them in order, “Yes, I spoke to her. She’s fine, and Severus and the Malfoys have been treating her well, although she could eat better: Narcissa is trying to correct that. She misses you, Harry. Every day she goes outside and looks up to the sky for Hedwig.”

            Harry has to swallow the bludger sized lump in his throat before he can speak. She’s thinking of him. Even though she has a dad now, she’s still thinking of him.

            “I send Hedwig every day,” he tells Regulus. “She can’t seem to get her letter to her.”

            “It’s because of Lucius’s wards. No unknown owls can get through their wards –a security measure from years ago. I told Holly the same when I spoke to her and that you hadn’t forgotten her. She has a message for you.”

            “What is it?” Harry asks eagerly.

            “She said she’ll always be waiting for you.”

            Harry lets out a warbling laugh, happy that she still wants to know him.

            “She was worried about you too, you know,” Regulus says casually, placing his arm across Harry’s shoulders once more. “She was concerned about your relatives hurting you.”

            Harry looks away from Regulus. She constantly worried about him when he was with the Dursleys.

            “There’s something else I need to tell you,” Regulus declares, prompting Harry to look back at him: he is surprised and concerned to see the wizard so anxious.

            “What?”

            “Lucius is aware that you know Holly.”

            Harry frowns in confusion.

            “How?”

 

ooOoo

 

Regulus is still annoyed with himself for his mistake yesterday. He cannot even say that Lucius tricked him. Truthfully, Regulus’s social skills are rusty since he’s been trying to stay away from people in general: for years, he’s only had Kreacher for company. He has not spent the last thirteen years honing his negotiation and networking skills like Lucius.

            Regulus does not tell Harry that Lucius snooped through Holly’s things – there’s no point in upsetting the younger boy. He is impressed and alarmed by the display of accidental magic at Harry’s age.

            “Lucius saw the pictures with you and Holly,” Regulus says instead. Then, hesitating slightly, he adds, “He recognised Eileen.”

            Harry’s eyes widen in alarm.

            Fearing a worse bout of accidental magic, Regulus hastens to assure, “He didn’t tell Severus. In fact, Lucius thinks telling him about Eileen is a bad idea.”

            Harry calms down slightly.

            Regulus explains everything Lucius knows about Elieen raising Holly. And how Holly and Harry are close. He also holds back Lucius having read the letters Harry sent. The Malfoy patriarch is not stupid enough to divulge that to Harry, and Harry would not be happy to have his (or Holly’s) privacy invaded in such a way.

            Harry’s thoughts turn inwards, and Regulus waits patiently for everything to sink.

            “How did you manage to explain why you knew Holly’s name?”

            “Well, after I accidentally let it slip, I had to think quickly. Lucius wasn’t included in the Order, but he does know I’m a part of it. Also, he’s the one who investigated the Dementors and got Umbridge caught; he’s the one who managed to convince Fudge to cancel your trial. He’s gathered you and I are close and it was better to admit it.”

            Regulus expects Harry to burst into questions about this and is surprised when Harry’s reaction is nothing more than eye-widening. Sometimes, he forgets that Harry is not the typical Gryffindor: he has spent too much time with Sirius, who needs to yell at each new surprise as if he’s getting bitten by a snake. Also, he needs to remember that Eileen, a Slytherin herself, practically raised Harry. She would have cultivated certain traits in Harry. It backfired if only she knew that Harry was clever enough to find her original identity.

            “Why would he do that?” Harry probes shrewdly. “What does he get out of it?”

            Regulus cannot deny the pride he feels at Harry’s question, proving his assessment of his abilities correct.

            “I’m glad you realised that Lucius has his own agenda,” Regulus praises. “Listen, Harry. The Malfoys have always been thirsty for power. They excel at making money and at surviving. He has forsaken the Dark Lord – worse; he’s convinced many people to forsake the Dark Lord.”

            “But why? Because of the graveyard?”

            “Before that even, Harry,” Regulus says dryly. “Something about your second year. Oh, and you never told me you fought a basilisk.”

            “Dumbledore tell you that?” Harry gives him a sheepish shrug. “Malfoy wouldn’t have known about the basilisk. Also, it’s not exactly a topic I can casually slide into conversation,” he points out defensively. “I’m not Lockhart.”

            Regulus laughs. He finds it hilarious that Harry has mentioned Gilderoy Lockhart several times for his inability to teach without coiffuring his hair, but he can’t even bring himself to talk about his own formidable accomplishments.

            “You impressed Lucius with your ability to thwart him. At twelve years old,” Regulus tell him.

            “He didn’t look impressed at the time,” Harry sounds disbelieving. “If Dobby hadn’t been there, he would have cursed me.”

            “He too was impressed by your cunning in freeing his House-Elf,” Regulus relays. “Once he nursed his wounded pride, that is.”

            Harry still looks like he does not believe any of this.

            “Suffice it to say, Harry, you did what many others were unable to do at a young age. Whether he can admit this or not, you’ve done what Lucius could never do. He recognises you as a power worth following. All the Marked Death Eaters have heard that the Dark Lord will come back,” Regulus enlightens, his hand going to his own Mark. “They might spout that they would follow him if he should return, but even they have changed in the last thirteen years since his defeat. Most of them have children now.

            “Glory is different when their children are old enough to be ready to take the Dark Mark themselves. To know that their children will be tortured as they were. To remember that it was not all about glory. Most of those who managed to escape imprisonment in Azkaban live pretty comfortable lives now: those lives will be forfeit if they go back to bowing and scraping like we had to.

            “During the Dark Lord’s first rise, everyone feared for their lives, Harry. But, believe it or not, none were more afraid than his own followers. We were all just one mistake away from a Crucio.”

            Regulus trails off, trying to keep the memories of those dark days at bay – of finding the will to escape, to survive. The will to live.

            Shaking off his gloomy thoughts, he continues, “Lucius will always look out for his family.”

            “What’s stopping him from going back to Voldemort?” Harry challenges.

            “The punishment will be far worse for those who deserted him. And Lucius knows it will not be him who will bear the brunt of it. It will be his family.”

            Harry thinks this over and nods.

            “All right. Let’s say I believe you about Malfoy being on our side: why, then, wouldn’t Malfoy want to tell Snape about his mum being alive?” Harry questions.

            Regulus sighs.

            “That’s a story that I’m not prepared to reveal. It’s not for me to tell. Lucius has always looked out for Severus from the moment he became a Slytherin. After Eileen’s disappearance, whatever the reason, Lucius and Abraxas treated Severus as one of their own.

            “I won’t lie and say it was utterly altruistic. Severus has always been clever and ambitious. He was the youngest Potions Master of the century and the youngest wizard to ever become a professor at Hogwarts: he was an investment.

            “Which isn’t to say that Lucius doesn’t care about Severus. You’ve known Eileen for years, Harry. You tell me. She might have told Severus via Tobias that he had a child, but she could have simply sent a letter in her own name, letting him know what she’s been doing for so many years. Why wouldn’t she do that? Because it would have hurt him.”

            Regulus watches as Harry thinks about it: he has never been the vindictive sort – not like James. He would never use that against Severus.          

            “We keep getting off-topic, Regulus. So, what does Malfoy know?”

            “Lucius knows that Eileen was alive and taking care of Holly. From the pictures, he knows how close the three of you were, but not that you are aware of Iris and Eileen being the same person. I told him you knew Severus was Holly’s father because Eileen told you. It was difficult to explain how I knew Holly’s name. When Severus got his letter, I was there, but I’ve not contacted him since. I had to tell him that you had sent me pictures of Eileen and Holly of the years, and I recognised Eileen but told him you didn’t know about her.”

            Harry nods as he listens.

            “You said Malfoy saw pictures of me, Holly and Oma. If he has seen them, then what’s not to say Snape will see them as well?” Harry points out logically.

            “Lucius and I will take care of that.”

            “What does Malfoy want?” Harry asks as he mulls everything over.

            “Lucius is on your side, Harry. He thinks you’re powerful, and people will look up to you once they pull their heads from their arses. He wants you to give him a fair chance. In return, he will keep Eileen’s secrets for her, and he won’t allow Severus to find out about you and Eileen.”

            Harry shakes his head. “He will, sooner or later.”

            “Yes, that’s true. Lucius just wants to protect him for as long as he can. Severus is like a brother to Lucius, which you might find hard to believe. Lucius has protected Severus from many things; he considers him family, after all. A Malfoy will always look out for himself and his family.

            “Severus might have fooled everyone else who stood by Dumbledore, following orders and waiting patiently until the Dark Lord rose again, but Lucius knows Severus better than he thinks: Severus is a Malfoy in all but name. Lucius could have outed him at any point – he certainly has the money, power and influence to back him up.”

            “You trust him?”

            “I trust Lucius to look after his family. Severus has always been his family. Now, Holly is too. Don’t get me wrong, Harry. Lucius is a bastard, and he will use you for his own purposes. You will have to be careful around him. When you speak to him, be careful of what you agree to. If it’s too good to be true, it’s because he’s ready to drown you like a kappa once he’s used you all up.”

            “Why would I speak to him?” Harry latches onto the sentence.

            Regulus sighs and braces himself.

            “Lucius will be your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in the fall.”

            “WHAT?”

            “When he outed Umbridge as the one who sent those Dementors after you, Fudge wanted to distance himself from her and came up with the brilliant,” Regulus cannot emphasise the contempt in the word enough, “idea that she should be sent to Hogwarts to fill the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. Lucius dissuaded Fudge from that lurking disaster and managed to talk himself into getting the role.”

            “How can he be better than this Umbridge woman?”

            “Lucius knows a lot about the Dark Arts. What better teacher than someone who used to be a Death Eater?” Regulus points out.

            Harry sighs in reluctant agreement.

            “Will Holly be safe with them?”

            Regulus knows the answer to this will mean a lot to Harry: he and Holly are so similar in so many ways. Holly’s primary concern when he spoke to her was that she wanted to make sure Harry was safe from the Dursleys; now, Harry wants to make sure Holly is safe with Severus and the Malfoys.

            “She will be very safe, Harry,” Regulus assures him.

            “What about when Snape and Malfoy come to Hogwarts to teach?” Harry asks in a small voice, not looking at Regulus at all.

            “They are at the Manor at the moment, but I believe Lucius will not want Narcissa and Holly to be alone. I’m trying to convince Lucius to allow me to bring them here after he and Draco leave for Hogwarts.

            “Perhaps, for Christmas this year, you can leave Hogwarts and come here?”

            Regulus is pleased to see Harry’s face light up at that suggestion. He vows to do everything he can to make that happen. After everything they have suffered, Harry and Holly deserve a happy Christmas together.

            Harry does not throw himself at Regulus as Holly did, so he embraces the younger boy instead. He wishes he had been a better person when he was Harry’s age—watching how Harry is now makes him think how he was a crueller person then. A lot of it was growing up with a mother like his. Regulus does not understand how Harry could be a kind person when he only had the Dursleys as examples.

            Yet, he corrects himself; Harry also had Eileen, who showed him that adults could be benevolent. If Eileen ever had an agenda for showing Harry such kindness, Regulus hopes he never finds out. It would shatter the boy to find out that the woman he loved as a mother might have used him.

            Eileen was a Slytherin, after all. If she didn’t have a scheme, then why the song and dance of using Tobias to send a message to Severus about his daughter? Yes, Regulus thinks, tightening his arms around Harry protectively: he prays that Eileen had no agenda when it came to Harry.

 

ooOoo

 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Harry,” Sirius says in a soft voice, standing over the library's threshold.

            Regulus looks up from his book with a smooth expression.

            Sirius knows from the year he spent with Regulus that his godson and his brother wrote to each other for most of the year after he escaped from Azkaban. He was surprised that Harry sent him to Regulus back then, and even more when Regulus allowed him into their home on the word of a thirteen-year-old boy. Regulus would not have allowed him in if Sirius had decided to show up on his own accord.

            He cannot deny that he is jealous of their closeness: he should have a better relationship with his godson than Regulus has with Harry.

            “There are simply a few more things he feels comfortable sharing with me,” Regulus discloses to him in a mild voice.

            Sirius marvels at the change in their relationship. The two brothers had drifted away from each other when the Sorting Hat had placed Sirius in Gryffindor. He had always defied their mother and paid the price:  any rebellion Regulus showed, as a result, was therefore met with even harsher punishment. Sirius had looked down on his brother back then for giving in and following their mother like a good little House-Elf.

            Yet, Sirius ended up in Azkaban for twelve years, accused of being a Death Eater, while Regulus, the real Death Eater with a Mark, got away with it. Despite their light-hearted letters to Harry over the past year, Sirius and Regulus’s relationship was strained.

            The house is so different from how Sirius remembered it. After their mother’s death, Regulus had completely renovated it, getting rid of most of the Dark objects, overhauling and updating the library, and removing the ugly House-Elf heads that adorned the walls downstairs. He had even burned their mother’s portrait before it became part of the house: it was undeniably a much better place than the one Sirius had grown up in.

            “Do you think he’ll ever feel comfortable sharing them with me?” Sirius asks in a casual voice, stepping into the library. Though the house is different from what Sirius remembers, it is not home for him: he has not made any changes to it; he has not made it his home. He still feels like a stranger, even though he has the same rights to the House of Black as his brother.

            Regulus leans back in his chair and stares at Sirius with blue eyes so similar to his own.

            “Perhaps one day you will,” he replies in the same mild voice.

            Sirius takes two more steps into the library and then walks over to the shelves, making a show of studying them.

            “Do you know why he’s been upset?”

            “You mean aside from the fact that he was kidnapped at the end of a tournament he was forced to participate in, saw a classmate die, forcefully participated in a ritual to bring back his parents’ murderer, was sent to his muggle relatives and denied permission to communicate with his friends, was attacked by Dementors – who, I stress, were sent by a Ministry official – and was threatened with expulsion for defending himself, all while the Ministry drags its feet on whether or not he should be believed?”

            A dull flush starts at Sirius’ neck and works its way up to his cheeks as he lists the things Harry has been through.

            “Good point,” he mumbles, not looking his brother in the face and going back to pretending to study the shelves.

            “Is that what you came to ask?”

            “No,” Sirius denies instantly as he picks a book randomly. “I just thought I’d pick a book to read. I’m allowed to do that, right?”

            “Of course,” Regulus answers with amusement.

            Sirius purposely sits down across from Regulus, opens the book to the first chapter and pretends to read it. He ignores his brother, who watches him for several seconds before going back to reading his own.            

            Still not looking up from the book he’s not reading, Sirius speaks up, “There’s something else bothering Harry.”

            Regulus does not confirm this, but Sirius knows it’s true.

            “Do you think he’ll ever tell me?” The question escapes Sirius’ lips before he even realises he wants to know the answer.

            “He will,” Regulus responds quietly.

            Sirius believes him. His words lift the heaviness from his heart; Regulus wouldn’t lie to him about something like this.

            “How do I get with Harry what you have?”

            “Time. Trust. Hope.”

            Sirius nods. He knows all this. Time seems skewed for Sirius: he was twenty-one when he was thrown in Azkaban, at a point when he thought he was invincible and arrogant. Losing James made him lose all that. He had lost hope every day he spent in Azkaban when he realised that the people who should have known him better really believed he would betray his best friend – the one he loved more than his blood brother. He was innocent, but he felt guilty – he thought he was better off in Azkaban. As far as he knew, Harry was safe with Dumbledore when Hagrid took him away to his aunt and uncle’s house. He had already screwed up and cost James and Lily their lives: he couldn’t risk hurting Harry too.

            Until he saw Peter once more, alive, in his animagus form on the front page of the Daily Prophet two years before, and all his anger came rushing back. His animagus form, which had become his refuge when the Dementor’s effects became too strong, turned out to be his salvation. He had slipped through the bars of his cell, swam to shore and headed for Harry’s last known address, wanting to check on his godson before he began his hunt. It had not occurred to him that the Dursleys might have moved; he was lucky that they had not.

            He knew he had scared Harry that night. It was only last year that Harry told him why he was out that night. It hurt Sirius when he offered Harry a place to live with him, which he refused. He knew he deserved it –not to have Harry wanting to live with him. Why would he leave his aunt and uncle, who have raised him with a practical stranger like Sirius?

However, Harry has not told him everything, but Sirius has learned that his aunt and uncle aren’t the best guardians. So, he is confused about why Harry wanted to return there. Regulus knows the reason. Harry trusts him. In a way, he still does not trust Sirius.

“I’m glad he has you, Reg,” Sirius says in a quiet voice.

“He always will, Sirius. Harry will always have both of us.”

Sirius smiles. They sit in silence for a few more minutes until Regulus gets up and leaves.

“Enjoy your book, Sirius,” he wishes him on his way out.

Sirius is confused by the delight in his brother’s voice as if there is a joke he is not aware of.

“I am,” he replies with a swagger.

Sirius hears the snort of laughter and shakes his head. He actually begins to read the book and gets quite engrossed while sitting in the library. It’s one of the few fiction books.  

It’s Harry’s voice that interrupts him. “Hey, Sirius.”

Sirius greets Harry with a broad smile, “If you were looking for Regulus, you just missed him.”
            Harry gives him a weird look.

“I know. I was looking for you when I passed him in the hallway, and he told me you were here reading.”

Sirius feels a rush of pleasure that Harry came looking for him.

“Is the book good?”

“Yeah, it seems all right,” Sirius shrugs.

Harry glances at the title and bursts into giggles.

“Didn’t know you liked that sort of thing, Sirius,” Harry snorts.

Sirius turns over the book and looks at the front cover: Dick Pound Punishes Michael Toris by Craven Moorehead, says the title.

No wonder Regulus walked out laughing. How did he even have a book like that in his library?

“Do you want to borrow it after I’m done?” Sirius asks shamelessly.

“Ron might,” Harry answers without skipping a beat, making Sirius laugh.

“What did you want, Harry? Or did you just come to interrupt me when I was getting to the good bit?” Sirius wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry rolls his eyes.

“Can you tell me how you and my dad became animagus?”

Pleased with the topic, Sirius enthusiastically launches into the research they did before they could become animagi.

>

Chapter 8 - Leave the Field Open

 

Holly’s mood has vastly improved since Regulus’ visit: Severus notices this the following day as he waits for Holly to come downstairs, having chosen not to walk down with them this morning. Severus takes the seat he habitually occupied before Holly arrived at the Manor so that Narcissa can sit in her usual chair next to Draco when she arrives for breakfast.

            Severus can see Lucius’ brows quirk at the change but doesn’t comment. Draco also seems to refrain from stating the obvious. Narcissa and Holly arrive as they generally do and freeze at the change in seating: the woman gives him a glance over the top of Holly’s head, which he recognises as her ‘I hope you know what you’re going to start’ look.

            Holly looks at him with a glare while Narcissa walks calmly to her seat next to Draco, with Lucius to her right like every day before they changed for Holly.

            Holly darts a glance at Narcissa’s chair, like she is tempted to run over her and sit there instead. Dragging her feet, she finally sits next to Severus.

Breakfast is served, and everyone begins to help themselves. Severus calmly pours Holly a glass of orange juice, as Narcissa has done for the little girl several times since her arrival. Holly looks like she is tempted to knock the glass over out of spite but grudgingly reaches for it.

            Draco engages Severus in conversation about his homework on the properties of Moonstone – he is already thinking about his OWL years.

            Narcissa adds her comments from time to time, and the conversation continues to progress where the atmosphere is no longer awkward.

            “How’s the preparation of your syllabus coming along, Father?” Draco asks, spearing a mushroom with his fork.

            “I completed it for first through third years,” Lucius answers, sipping his coffee.

            “Have you selected all your books yet? Minerva will be asking you for them soon,” Severus advises him.

            Lucius sighs. “I have selected those for OWL and NEWT years. I am afraid that they might be a little too advanced, given the sporadic education they have had so far. Isn’t it sad that the best education the students have had is probably from a werewolf and a Death Eater in disguise?”

            “Pots and kettles, Lucius,” Severus points out dryly while Narcissa clears her throat emphatically.

            “What’s a Death Eater?” Holly asks.

            It is the first time she’s ever voluntarily asked a question, and Severus curses in his head at the slip. He has forgotten that she is next to him. Usually, speech has to be dragged out from her; now, she’s watching them all with more interest than anything else so far, and Severus is panicked that this is the first topic she chooses to involve herself in.

            “Something you will stay away from,” he snaps because he’s flustered –not that he will admit it.

            He instantly comprehends he has made a mistake: Holly’s face closes, and he has lost the opportunity to connect with his daughter.

            “They are bad people,” Narcissa smooths over in a gentler voice, making Severus feel worse. “Most of them, at least. They follow a Dark Lord who believes some people are inferior to others and will hurt those who disagree. Obviously, there’s more to it than that, darling: It’s not something easily explained or a conversation fit for breakfast.”

            Lucius and Severus look suitably chastised.

            They wait as Holly digests this information. Severus dearly hopes she does not push; however, the next question is barely any better.

            “What about werewolves? Are they bad too? Like Death Eaters?”

           

ooOoo 

 

Lucius knows that this is a test. He has read all the letters Potter sent to Holly and her grandmother and doesn’t doubt that Holly knows the contents quite well. Potter has mentioned Lupin and his status as a werewolf: he talks about him on a personal level. Lucius has read between the lines well enough to surmise that Potter thinks Lupin is a coward in personal relationships but doesn’t mind that he might turn into a bloodthirsty beast once a month. Lucius is paraphrasing, of course.

            Tread carefully, my friend, he thinks. He suppresses a wince as he feels Narcissa’s fingernails digging into his thigh. He is sure this is a combined punishment for bringing up the topic of Death Eaters in the first place and his wife’s anxiety over it. Of course, by now, Lucius has told Narcissa everything: she is not happy that they must keep this whole thing a secret from Severus, but even she agrees that Severus is not ready to work with Harry Potter the way Lucius is willing to do. Once Lucius was forced to reveal his secrets, Narcissa insisted on reading the copies of the letters and looking through the pictures.

            Potter has not mentioned Death Eaters in his letters, but werewolves and other creatures he has come across. Lucius feels a reluctant admiration for Eileen: she has taught her granddaughter well. Holly might appear to be a sweet innocent child who grew up in the muggle world, but her knowledge of the magical world gives her an advantage and the fact that Potter shared the most important events of his life with her.

            Draco and Severus always complain about Potter acting like the pampered prince, but through reading the boy’s letters, he has learned that he has a hidden facet that his friend and son have either missed or are too blind to see. Eileen has effectively raised Potter and has undoubtedly taught him much more than the boy lets on. Lucius is still surprised that he started learning Occlumency at only thirteen years old: he marvels at the boy’s proficiency in the art and vows to test him when they are at school. Lucius is almost thrilled to be a teacher.

            Recalling Slughorn’s networking parties, the Slug Club, Lucius debates following the same path. Potter is the most valuable asset, but that does not mean he should not take advantage of other opportunities that will come his way. This is his chance to mould children’s minds to his way of thinking. Really, instead of being a governor, he should have become a teacher sooner.

            He holds back another wince that brings him out of his dreams to hear Severus disparage werewolves. He sees Holly’s withdrawal. She knows Severus made Lupin lose his job: Potter mentioned it in his letters home, and Holly is firmly on his side – not that Severus is aware of this. Nor is Holly aware of Severus’s fear of werewolves after Sirius Black's hideous prank. Lucius sees the way Severus’ hands tighten around his knife and fork: the whiteness of his knuckles is visible, and it looks like he is ready to stab something.  

            Lucius hastens to do some damage control for both their sake.

            “Werewolves are indeed dangerous, Holly. Some more than others. You should never venture out into unknown areas when it’s a full moon. Your father is not wrong about that, and you should stay away from people who are confirmed to be werewolves,” Lucius clarifies in a more controlled voice.

            Holly holds back her retort when Lucius refers to Severus as her father, and he considers it a win: however,  she still does not accept it.

            Severus also needs to learn to control his anger better, but Lucius can acknowledge that he, usually better at this, has been out of sorts since the end of term.

            “Perhaps, this is an opportunity to help Holly learn more about our world,” Narcissa picks up effortlessly. “I understand you have been educated at muggle schools, but the wizarding world works slightly differently. I appreciate that it is summer now, but as  September progresses, we can put together an appropriate curriculum to give you an  introduction into your new world, and a head start when you are ready to attend Hogwarts – like Draco.”

            Draco perks up at the attention. He has been curiously silent all summer –out of his element with the return of the Dark Lord, Lucius’s shift in loyalties and the news of Severus’s daughter’s arrival. He has been trying to help the young girl fit into their world, but she has been resistant, and only Lucius and Narcissa know it’s because of Potter.

            Lucius is aware that he will need to speak to Draco about his attitude towards Potter before they return to school. He and his wife have spoiled Draco shamelessly: Lucius can afford it, and usually, he would not care, but also, he is unaware of the extent to which Draco goes out of his way to antagonise Potter and his friends.

            He understands much of his rivalry because he is jealous of Potter's attention from school. Draco should not be jealous of Potter, however, not when all he has to do is ask when he wants something. He recognises that Draco needs to grow up: he is lucky Lucius broke ties with the Dark Lord; otherwise, his son would have fallen from his broom and landed quite badly once he witnessed what service under the Dark Lord actually entails. His son’s opinion means a lot to him, and Lucius might not have been able to take the look of betrayal in Draco’s eyes when that happens: it is similar to the one Holly is giving Severus right now.

            Narcissa and Lucius glance at each other. They will need to work hard to make Severus and Holly’s relationship the way it should be. He hopes Potter won’t come between father and daughter, though, from what Regulus has told him, he was pretty willing to let Severus find Holly – as long as the girl was not left alone in the muggle world.

            “What will I learn?” Holly asks with interest.

            “Oh, it won’t be until summer is over,” Narcissa says dismissively, going back to her grilled tomatoes. “You should enjoy the next few weeks whilst you can.”

            Any further discussion is halted by the arrival of Lucius’s owl, Artemis. Lucius reaches for the letters Artemis holds, but the owl releases them from his talons and drops them directly onto his half-full plate; he is splattered with eggs, flyaway sausages and hash browns. Artemis ignores Lucius’s threats and flies to Holly, where he is lavished with cuddles and pampered with bacon strips and sausage pieces.

            Lucius cleans up with a glare at the blasted owl, vowing to wring its neck.

            “Now you know how the rest of us feel,” Narcissa tells him sottovoce.

            Pushing his plate away, he is done with breakfast, reaching for his letters first.

 

ooOoo

 

Holly is bored. She wishes she could practice her gymnastics and briefly wonders if Harry is practicing his too: she had not practiced since before Oma died. Unfortunately, it is raining outside right now, and the wet grass would not be suitable for cartwheeling.

            She leaves her room, abandoning her vigil by the window – something she doesn’t do that often now, not since Uncle Regulus, as she has taken to calling him, told her Hedwig would not be able to go through the wards.

            She has received a letter from Harry once. It had been left on her bed, and she did not know how it got there. He didn’t tell her where he was, only that he was glad she was not alone and that he would still see her again one day. He knew she was with her dad, but his letter didn’t say he knew who he was. She is afraid that he will not want to talk to her again once Harry finds out that her dad is the “dungeon bat” who constantly picks on him and bullies him in class.

            He also said that Hedwig misses her: Holly misses them both as well, and she hopes to see them soon.

            She wanders into the library. Aunty Cissa told her that she would not be learning anything until after the summer, but she still wants to look through the library. Harry always talks about Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration, making her impatient to learn about them. She knows she will not get her wand until she is eleven: it’s unfair that Harry’s wand is made of holly, but she won’t get one made of harry.

            Mr Snape is supposed to be good at Potions, and Holly purposely stays away from that subject. She briefly looks through Charms and Transfiguration, but, to her disappointment, she finds them difficult.

            Instead, she picks up a history book, beginning with Modern Magical History and flicking through the chapters. She starts as the words ‘Death Eater’ grab her attention through her half-hearted perusal. She frowns as she reads through the chapter again, paying more attention.

            There are some things she does not understand: an evil man, a Dark Lord – his name is not used, and the author always calls him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – thought muggles should be killed, and many people who followed his orders were called Death Eaters, who used to go around hurting, and even killing, people. He had werewolves on his side, giants capable of annihilating everything, and something called Dementors. Holly remembers Harry mentioning them in his letters: they are awful things that would suck the happiness out of a person.

            The book talks about how You-Know-Who was defeated in 1981 by a baby. Holly is shocked when she reads that the child is Harry Potter, James and Lily’s son.

            That’s her Harry. Her jaw drops as she realises Harry is famous. She finishes reading the book and then looks for another one – The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. She reads through this as well, looking at the information carefully, and afterwards, she picks up a third, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.

            The last one speculates that Harry is living away from the magical world in the mountains somewhere, getting trained by mages or something, or sent away under the protection of unicorns or something even more ridiculous. None of that happened to Harry. He was sent to live with the horrible Dursleys, who hurt him because he had magic.

            She races back to her room, putting the books away and not seeing Draco in her haste, who went into the library after she left.

            Closing her bedroom door firmly behind her, she digs out her bag and Harry’s letters and spends the rest of the afternoon reading through them: he doesn’t mention that he is famous anywhere.

            Holly is hurt, at first, that Harry kept this from her. Then, as she reads through the rest of her letters again, she realises that he has not told her because it is unimportant to him. Harry had written about the essential things– things that mattered. She knows some of them he has spoken to Oma about in person; she would have told Holly if Harry was famous.

            She decides that it doesn’t matter that Harry hasn’t told her that he’s a celebrity. He’s still Harry to her, and if it doesn't matter to him, then it doesn't matter to Holly.

            Still, finding out that Harry is famous makes Holly smile. She can’t wait to see him again – she’s going to tease him by asking for his autograph. Her smile fades. She aches to see Harry again.

 

ooOoo

 

“Enter,” Lucius calls as he looks up from his parchment. He has spent the day looking at the information McGonagall has sent him from past teachers and what books they assigned, and he has also located his old school books and is cross-referencing them with recent editions.

            He hopes to send off a book list for all seven years in the next day or two so that he can get back to planning his syllabus.

            He looks up from his work when the door opens wide enough for Draco to enter. Draco firmly closes the door behind him, and this gesture alone makes Lucius aware that he wants to talk about something he doesn’t want anyone else overhearing. Lucius straightens up in his chair.

            “Come sit, Draco,” he beckons, carefully placing his quill down.

            “Holly knows about Death Eaters,” Draco begins abruptly as he takes a seat in front of Lucius’s desk.

            “I know,” he retorts pointedly. “I was there this morning when the topic came up.”

            And I have your mother’s fingernail marks to prove it, Lucius thinks silently.

            “No,” Draco says with a frustrated look. “I mean, she knows more now. I was just in the library. I checked what books she was reading.” Then, he rattles off the names of the history books.

            Lucius can feel himself paling. He has read those books: they are pretty accurate in their accounts, apart from suppositions of where Potter was sent to after the defeat of the Dark Lord. Though the books mention Death Eaters who claimed Imperius, no names are mentioned. For this, they are lucky. He cannot imagine Holly’s reaction if she knew her father was a Death Eater – she could lose what little trust she has for Lucius, and Regulus might suffer more since she trusts him more, given that he has come as a messenger on behalf of Potter.

            “What was her reaction?” Lucius questions carefully.

            Draco thinks about his answer before giving it.

            “She might have been a little anxious. She ran away really quickly and shut herself in her room.”

            Lucius nods.

            “Those books don’t mention names, Draco. Just watch what you say around her, and we might be able to avoid disaster as long she remains ignorant.”

            Draco does not look placated.

            “Draco, she has been raised as a muggle, for all she knows about the magical world. It will hurt Severus and Holly too much if she finds out that he and I were part of a group that looked down on people like her mother – that we were part of a group that did not think twice about subjugating them.”

            Or killing them, Lucius thinks silently.

            “Mudbloods,” Draco scoffs unthinkingly. “If she hadn’t taken Holly away from Severus, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

            Jasmine had not taken Holly away; Severus had rejected her. However, Lucius does not bother arguing this point with Draco.

            “Watch your tongue, Draco,” Lucius says in a cold voice. “You are not a child, not anymore. I have told you that we have changed sides, and that also means you need to pay attention to your vernacular.”

            “Potter’s not here,” Draco complains.

            “If you cannot change your thinking in private, then you cannot change your thinking in public. The word might not mean much to you, but it means a lot to Severus, and do you remember his reaction the last time he heard you use that word?”

            Draco flushes at Lucius’s pointed look. He looks up to Severus a lot. Lucius is careful not to say the word around Severus and has taught his son the same. He cannot deny that he has not thought it himself on multiple occasions. To him, it is simply a way of referring to muggle-borns, albeit in an insulting way. Though he is better at hiding his thoughts than Draco, he knows he will have to work hard to curb his tongue.

            When a powerful ally makes themselves known, it is convenient to forget about blood. Or even when it comes to Potions Masters, who are practically brothers.

            “Have you finished your homework?” Lucius changes the topic.

            “I have one more assignment left,” Draco mumbles, somewhat resentful, but Lucius decides to ignore the tone. Teens can be tedious; then, he remembers he’s agreed to teach at a school full of them.  

            “No flying until it’s done,” Lucius states in a firm voice. “I’ll talk to Severus about the books Holly read. Leave it to me.”

            With his son dismissed, Lucius turns his attention back to his syllabus.

            Draco leaves in a slight huff. He is upset that his father scolded him for his language, but Lucius stands by what he says. Times are changing, and the Malfoys have always been known to be adaptable to change. One doesn’t survive as they did without knowing which direction the power flows.

            Potentes Virtute Sequuntur. Mighty are those who follow the power.

 

ooOoo  

 

“She’s doing it on purpose,” Severus comments while watching his daughter outside with Narcissa.

            They are replanting the damaged roses together.

            Over the last several days, Holly has come out of her shell and began to converse in what could be deemed civilised … with everyone except Severus.

            Lucius, the cretin, finds this amusing.

            “Of course, she is,” he agrees.

            Severus does not need to turn around to see that Lucius is smirking at him. They are standing at the window overlooking the garden from Severus’s apartment. Lucius rarely ventures into Severus’s personal space, and thanks to this, Severus has slowly become accustomed to considering the apartment truly his own. Undeniably, Lucius likes to make Severus come to him instead, giving him a position of power. He is still trying to understand why Abraxas allowed Severus into his home, practically adopting him.

            Abraxas was by no means a warm man. He had high expectations and was strict in his views and outlook. Still, he cultivated Severus’s intelligence and always managed to remind him of the favours bestowed, albeit in a subtle manner.

            “She’s a delightful little child,” Lucius continues when Severus does not speak again. “Quick-witted with a sharp tongue. Uncannily familiar.”

            Severus scowls. Lucius loves to point out their similarities: however, when directed towards the child, it is a compliment, whereas, with Severus, it is insulting.

            “Has she mentioned Death Eaters again?” he is forced to ask.

            Given her reticence in speaking to Severus, Lucius seems to be her favourite library of information.

            “No,” Lucius tells him, peering outside the window as they see Draco approaching Narcissa and Holly. “She seems to have exhausted all the books regarding that matter. She is now dividing her time between books on cats or owls.”

            Severus is relieved that she has not brought up that topic again. When Lucius had informed him of Holly’s interests in those books, Severus had been on the verge of demanding that those books be removed. Common sense quickly reasserted itself when he realised that the damage was already done; he is simply glad that the book mentioned no names. However, Lucius did remove the catalogue of Daily Prophets from the last twenty years, just in case, the child got it into her head to look at previous articles. Severus is still surprised that Lucius thought to do so: it pains him to admit that it would not have occurred to Severus. At least, not as swiftly as Lucius did.

            They watch Draco kneel and help Holly pick the next rose bush to plant. Holly only started warming up to Draco last night around dinner time. As with Severus, she is slow to trust the younger wizard, but she seems willing to take a step forward.

            “I saw Dumbledore’s owl leave,” Lucius mentions offhandedly.

            Severus flicks him a glance. The other wizard is still looking outside, seemingly interested in what’s happening outside.

            “A summoning,” Severus admits. It is an Order meeting to which he has been invited. Severus cannot deny the feelings of inadequacy in being asked to attend: he is no longer a spy and, therefore, no longer feels useful. Had he not gone to rescue Potter, he might have been able to salvage his role. However, seeing Lily’s apparition had disturbed him at the time, unhinged him, even. He had interfered. He had given himself away.

            Receiving Tobias’ letter had been a distraction and a convenient excuse to justify his absence over the last few weeks. Severus had only informed Dumbledore of Holly’s homecoming because Regulus had come to Malfoy Manor.

            “When?”

            “Tonight,” Severus informs him, seeing Lucius nodding peripherally in acknowledgement.

            “When are you going to announce the happy news of your daughter?”

            Severus grimaces.

            “I will not be,” he replies sharply.

            Lucius is surprised at his declaration and turns to Severus with disbelieving eyes.

            “You are afraid it will make her a target?”

            Severus does not deny this.

            “I expected my death to be at the hands of the Dark Lord. I expected to place my life in danger every time I would get summoned to his side. I believed I would be in mortal peril every time my Mark burned,” the Mark that had been curiously quiet since the first night it burned in June. “I may no longer hold my position as a spy, but being labelled a traitor has not lessened the danger. I am still in mortal peril. She will be in danger too if people find out about our connection. You know as well as I do, Lucius, that the Dark Lord neither forgives nor forgets.”

            “What is your plan?”

            “Once we return to Hogwarts, I shall have Dumbledore send her to … Headquarters,” Severus tells him. Lucius knows that the Order of the Phoenix meets up somewhere, even if he does not know the exact location, primarily due to the Fidelius Charm. “She will be safe there. I can visit her every weekend I am not on patrol.”

            “Does Holly know?”

            Severus shakes his head, accompanied by another grimace.

            “You had best speak to her sooner rather than later, Severus. The First of September will roll around faster than you think,” Lucius warns.

            “I am aware,” Severus acknowledges, looking again at the planted rose bushes.

            “Do you think Dumbledore will be amenable to including Narcissa in the secret?” Lucius asks. Though his voice is smooth, Severus can tell the answer would mean a lot to his friend.

            “You do not want Narcissa behind the safety of your formidable wards?”

            “I will be at Hogwarts, Severus,” Lucius points out. “As will Draco. If you are sending Holly away behind the Fidelius, it will make sense for the girl to have someone she knows with her, apart from Regulus.”

            Severus glowers at Regulus’ name. He has always been a good friend, though they have drifted apart over the last several years. Severus is simply jealous of the ease with which the other wizard has won over his daughter. Still, he acknowledges Lucius’s unspoken words. He does not want Narcissa to be alone in the Manor. Without him.

            “Do you regret taking on the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts?”

            “No,” Lucius denies instantly. “I am looking forward to the challenge.”

            Severus allows a smirk of his own and looks at Lucius.

            “I wager you’ll lose your enthusiasm after your first lesson,” the Potions Master predicts, making Lucius chuckle.

            “My patience is greater than yours,” Lucius points out.

            “Teaching requires a different kind of patience,” Severus says with a glower, folding his arms across his chest. “Besides, your position is Cursed. There is every chance that you will not last the entire school year, regardless. ”

            “Perhaps I will break the curse,” Lucius challenges.

            Severus snorts. Many have tried to do that very thing.

            “You only stayed on as Potions professor to spy on Dumbledore for the Dark Lord. As you no longer need to spy, you can simply take your daughter and leave,” Lucius surprises Severus with the change in topic.

            He is tempted for several minutes as he mulls this over. Teaching has never been his greatest ambition: he always wanted to open his own Apothecary, research potions and create new spells. He could leave, take Holly and move somewhere far away from the war. Create a new life for both. Only one thing stops him: Lily. He has to stay for Lily and protect her son.

            “There is more than the Dark Lord holding me back, Lucius,” Severus speaks coldly, finding himself resenting Potter for yet another reason.

            Severus has never told Lucius about Lily, always made sure not to mention her since her death, though the blond was aware of his and Lily’s friendship in school. She was his secret – a secret he is determined to take to the grave.

            Lucius gives him a considering look but does not push.

            “We are on the same side now,” he says softly when the silence stretches. He turns away from Severus once more to see Narcissa, Draco and Holly walking away from the newly planted roses.

            Severus is glad of Lucius’s change in loyalties. He cannot deny that he owed the other wizard his life. Everything Severus has made for himself can be traced back to Lucius’s influence in his life. Had they continued to be on opposite sides of this war, Severus would have been forced to fight Lucius. Now, he is relieved that this is no longer the case. A Malfoy always knows how to survive, and the fact that he has sided with Dumbledore shows that Lucius believes he will be on the winning side. Dumbledore does have that effect.

           

 

ooOoo

 

Draco knocks on Holly’s door, Nimbus 2001 in hand. He has been a little put out by the fact that Holly didn’t want to hang around him – he’s always had people who wanted to be around him. Really, she should be happy to be a witch and live in his home. It was practically a palace, no doubt better than the hovel she was with her muggle grandmother.

            Her whole attitude towards Severus was deplorable and disrespectful. Severus is brilliant, even if he is strict. Draco has always idolised the Potions Master: he is intelligent in a different way to his father and challenges him to be a better student. Holly needs to learn how marvellous Severus is and how he will be a good father to her.

            He has always been an only child and never really wanted any siblings. He loves having Mother and Father all to himself. Severus deserves a good daughter as well and an heir. Now that Holly has started to talk to Mother and Father and him, he can use this to get closer to her. Then, he can use the opportunity to talk to Holly about how wonderful Severus is and how she should be happy that he is her Father.

            Holly opens the door after so long that Draco starts to get annoyed. When she appears, he must remember to smile as he looks down at her.

            Lifting his broom to get her attention, he says, “I’ve done all my homework so I can go flying again. Do you want to go with me? I have a spare broom.”

            He still has his old Comet 360: it’s in good condition and a good broom for Holly to practice on. He begins to lose his smile as she continues to stare at him unblinkingly, as Severus sometimes does when he thinks Draco has said something senseless.

            “Okay.”

              Draco is surprised by her agreement.

            “Er, you should put your shoes on,” he tells her, pointing to her bare feet.

            Leaving the door open, she races back towards her dressing table; opening the bottom drawer, she pulls out a fresh pair of socks and walks back to her shoes by the window. Plonking herself on the floor, she begins to pull her socks on first.

            Draco, who has hesitantly stepped inside her room, is curious to see what it is like. Her bed is made but slightly ruffled, probably because she was sitting on it. Draco tentatively perches on the edge of her bed and looks around, noticing that there are no personal touches. The room looks a lot like the unoccupied ones in the rest of the Manor; only the slightly messy bedcovers and her shoes thrown near the window indicate that she resides here.

            Draco’s room has a disorganized desk and a shelf overflowing with various books and knick-knacks. He has posters of two of his favourite Quidditch teams, the Appleby Arrows and the Holyhead Harpies: they are placed side by side, and the players in the posters give each other threatening looks – which amuses Draco greatly.

            He spots a picture frame peeking out from under the pillow and, curious, reaches to pick it up. It is snatched from him before he can touch it, and he is startled at the glare he receives from Holly.

            “You shouldn’t touch my things without permission,” she snaps at him, and Draco is forcibly reminded of Severus when he sees the way her eyebrows furrow. A part of him finds it very cute: she’s like a bristling little kitten.

            Draco doesn’t usually apologise, but he forces one out for Severus's sake, though he must keep the amusement out of his voice.

            “I won’t do it again,” he promises lightly, although he cannot help but ask, “What makes it so special?”

            “It’s my Oma and me. It’s my favourite picture of the two of us,” she tells him, holding the frame against her chest possessively.

            “Ready?” he says in lieu of anything else.

            She stuffs the frame back under her pillow and waits for him to get up.

            He does, slowly, and they walk out together.

            To fill the silence as they head downstairs, he offers, “My grandfather died a few months before I started Hogwarts. He never got to see me with my Hogwarts letter. When I was going around Diagon Alley, I kept thinking of him. Especially when I was getting my first wand, I wished he was there for it.”

            “I’m sorry,” she says in a quiet voice.

            “It was dragon pox,” he tells her, though she didn’t ask. At her confused look, he explains, “It’s when you have a green and purple rash. It turns your skin green, and you have these nasty looking spots. When he sneezed, his nose sparked.”

            “Oh,” she says, looking sorry. They head for the entrance to the garden, in the opposite direction of the rose bushes they planted earlier.

            “Were you close? What about your Oma?”

            “She died when I was still a child. I don’t remember her much,” Draco explains as they head towards the pitch.

            “I never knew my Opa either. He died before I was born,” Holly opens up.

            “I was close to my grandfather, though,” Draco answers her first question. “He was my father’s father. He taught me how to fly and made sure I could write properly with my quill.”

            “What about your Mamma’s parents?”

            “I wasn’t very close to them,” Draco admits. They arrive at the pitch, and Draco stops there. There are no spectator stands like at Hogwarts, but there are seats that float up when needed: at the moment, they were locked away in the shed. Draco leads Holly towards the shed so they can take his Comet out.

            Continuing their conversation as they walk, Draco says, “Mother didn’t like her parents very much. They … went a little mad and barely talked to anyone outside the family. Mother said there’s a lot of history there.”

            Draco doesn’t tell Holly about his Aunt Bellatrix, who is currently imprisoned in Azkaban, or mention his Aunt Andromeda, whom the Blacks cast out for being a blood traitor. He knows that his cousin Nymphadora is an Auror, but he has never met her. He does know his mother misses her sister.

            “I never met my other grandparents,” Holly admits. “Oma never talked about them. I think that it upset her. Only Mamma talked about… him.”

            Draco knows from the slightly revolted tone she is referring to Severus, and it hurts him deeply, not expecting Severus to be talked about like that. Uncle Severus has always been alone. Draco has never seen any of his girlfriends. Until his parents and Severus started talking about Holly, he didn’t even know Severus had girlfriends. He has never given it much thought: he was always in the manor, by himself.

            Draco opens the shed and brings out his old Comet 360 in silence, not wanting to bring up Severus again. This is the most extended conversation since she arrived in the carriage a little over two weeks ago. It’s just under halfway through the summer, and he still has a few weeks left before Severus and his father leave for Hogwarts. Severus always spends the last two weeks of summer back at Hogwarts preparing for his class and helping Madam Pomfrey brew potions for the Hospital Wing. He also takes up the opportunity to complete the inventory of the stockrooms and attend any staff meetings.

            This year, Father would go and prepare for his first year of teaching. Draco is happy to have his father on staff: he will be like Severus, always on his side. He can’t wait to see Potter’s face. Father lost his position as governor of the school board because of him. Now, Potter will regret it when Father takes points from the stupid prat every day and takes points for not doing homework, as Severus does.

            He pushes these thoughts from his head and places both brooms on the ground.

            “Now, you have to stand over your broom with your wand hand out,” Draco instructs, showing her by standing over his Nimbus and holding his hand out, palm side down. “Then you have to say ‘up’ in a firm voice. Up!”

            The Nimbus jumps up instantly and slams into his palm. Draco grabs it immediately and waits for Holly to do the same.

            “Up,” Holly repeats, though her voice is slightly unsure: the broom moves more sluggishly than Draco’s and then falls back down.

            “No, no,” Draco says, reaching out when she moves back. He grabs her hand gently and positions it palm side down again. “Try again, but you have to be confident. You know, you have to mean it. Try again. Go on.”

            Holly gives him an uncertain look but dutifully repeats once more, “Up.”

            The Comet slaps into her palm much faster than before, causing a delightful shriek from her, but she manages to catch it. Draco finds himself smiling at her, proud to have taught her this.

            He shows her the proper way to mount the broom, correcting the grip as Madam Hooch taught him in his first lesson four years ago. He pushes off and completes a circuit slower than he usually would for her sake. He hovers a few feet off the ground and urges her to do the same.

            Holly’s nerves seem to get the better of her, and she drops the Comet instantly, backing away with a fearful expression.

            “I – I don’t want to,” she tells him. “You go. I’ll watch you.”

            Draco almost pushes her to try but decides to back off.

            “Flying’s great,” he enthuses. “It’s the best feeling, especially when you’re going high and fast. I’ll show you.”

            He completes another circuit of the pitch, this time a little faster, though still not pushing the Nimbus to its limits. When he stops next to her again, he finds that she is clapping and smiling admiringly at him, so much that Draco puffs his chest out and preens. He is a good flier, much better than Potter. Potter only looked good because of his Firebolt. He is still trying to persuade his parents to buy him one: his father has promised him the latest broom as long as he passes all his OWLs with at least three O’s. With his father as his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Severus teaching Potions, he knows he already has two easy O’s. He’ll have to work hard for his third, but he figures it’ll probably be Charms or Astronomy.

            “Come on,” Draco pushes, trying to get Holly to mount the broom. “Your turn. Don’t worry; I won’t let anything happen to you.”

            Holly shakes her head, eyes wide and moves out of reach.

            “I just want to watch you. I don’t like heights,” she bites her bottom lip.

            “We don’t have to fly,” Draco says, though he is disappointed: this is his first chance to fly his broom since the beginning of summer. “I have a few games in my room we can play.”

            “You don’t need to do that for me,” Holly insists, giving him an earnest look. “You should fly. You like it. I just want to watch you.”

            “You can sit on my Nimbus with me,” Draco offers.

            “No,” she says quickly, shaking her head once more. “Please, Draco. You should fly.”

            Still feeling disappointed that she didn’t want to fly with him, he mounts his broom and flies off again, this time going much faster. He is bolstered when he passes her when he sees her smiling at his skills. Draco finds himself showing off once more in no time, doing several twists and turns and different stunts, much like how he saw Potter do when he was outflying the dragon. Draco could have done that. Saint Potter, always showing off, and everyone constantly lapping it up.

            When Draco turns around to see Holly’s reaction to his flying, he is disgruntled to see she is no longer paying attention. Instead of seeing her jump up and down, like an excited Krum fan, she is doing handstands, cartwheels or something, just like what Potter has been doing on his broom for the last several years. In the third year, Draco tried to do that, hovering no more than five feet from the ground: he attempted a cartwheel and a somersault but broke his ankle the first time and his wrist in two places before giving up bitterly.

            He realises that he never tried it on the ground first while watching Holly do a backflip. He zooms back towards Holly and abruptly stops a few feet away from her. She straightens up quickly and smiles at him.

            “Are you getting bored?” He can’t help the sullen tone it comes out with the question.

            The smile slips from Holly’s face, and Draco attempts to look less annoyed.

            With more effort to sound natural, he says, “What’s that you were doing?”

            “I was practicing my gymnastics,” she tells him in a quiet voice, watching him carefully.

            “Will you show me?” Draco asks in what he hopes is a sincere voice.

            Holly nods, and with another uncertain look, she moves back. Draco also takes a step or two backwards to give her space.

            He is surprised to see her take a step away, then a little run and then launch into a series of cartwheels, backflips, and another weird flip thing in which her feet point up to the sky; conclusively, she lands gracefully on her feet, her hands in the air, almost as if she’s about to start an odd dance.

            She looks at him expectantly.

            “Wow,” he exhales. He probably looks like an excited Mudblood on their first trip to Diagon Alley. He has seen Potter do those same tricks on his Nimbus 2000 and then on his Firebolt. The Chasers of the Gryffindor team also do similar tricks, though admittedly not as gracefully as Potter does: he is muggle raised, and Draco thinks he is good at them because he has learned them as Holly had.

            “What do you call that?”

            “Gymnastics,” Holly answers, walking back. She has managed to flip herself over ten feet away from her original position.

            Draco is happy to see her smiling widely and realises he has not seen her smile like that with anyone except for Uncle Regulus. He cannot help but feel proud that he has made her smile like that as well.

            “Can you show me again?” It is more like a demand, but Holly does not argue with his tone.

 

ooOoo

 

“Did Draco just drop his broom to roll around on the ground with Holly?” Lucius asks incredulously.

            As always, when Holly is involved, the Malfoys and Severus have resorted to stalker-like behaviour. This time, they are not watching from the windows inside the Manor, but instead, they are near the outdoor Conservatory, which gives them a good vantage point of the Quidditch pitch.

            After planting the rose bushes, Draco had informed Narcissa that he was going flying, something he had longed to do since the beginning of summer. They watched Draco show Holly how to summon the broom from the ground, pleased and astonished at his patience. Then, Severus tensed when he saw Draco demonstrate the mount, but Holly seemed to have backed off. Even from this distance, Severus saw Draco’s disappointment at not being able to go further. They all exchanged puzzled looks at Holly veering off to do some cartwheel type stunts on the ground.

            Severus, for one, expected an explosion of some sort or for Draco to leave in a huff when he would have seen he no longer had an admiring audience in Holly. He is pleasantly surprised to see Draco abandon his broom and watch Holly do … whatever she is doing and even attempts to copy her movements, though in a clumsier manner.

            “I need to take a closer look,” Lucius mutters, standing up from his seat. “Are you joining me?” He looks at Severus and Narcissa expectantly.

            “Sit down, darling. I’ll go. We don’t want to overcrowd them,” Narcissa admonishes, getting up from her chair.

            Lucius reluctantly sits back down.

            “She’d only storm off if I went anywhere near her,” grumbles Severus. She’d probably kick him in the face on purpose doing her flips or something.

            Narcissa walks away, but not before giving Severus a sympathetic look. Lucius and Severus exchange glances, bringing their Omnioculars, that Lucius purchased at the Quidditch World Cup last year, back to their eyes.

 

ooOoo

 

Draco knows his face is red from the efforts of his contortions, his clothes are filthy from rolling around in the dirt, and he is sweating like he has been sitting in a sauna with a fire generated by a Horntail, but he is determined to master this.

            Holly is only nine, yet she can perform her ‘gymnastics’ with grace and elegance, while Draco can’t even balance on one foot without wobbling like a newborn kneazle. He literally falls on his face when he attempts a handstand, and Holly walks around on her hands with her feet pointing towards the sky as if that’s her natural manner of mobility.

            “Do you know where you keep the skipping rope?” Holly asks, still upside down.

            Draco tumbles down again.

            “A what?” he pants from the ground.

            Holly right ways herself up and looks down at him.

            “A skipping rope,” she repeats patiently.

            Draco puffs and sits up, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his elbows.

            “It’s a long rope, and you swing it around you and jump to avoid it at the bottom,” Holly explains when Draco looks confused.

            He sees his mother approach with a curious look and knows he should get up, dust himself off and make himself look presentable, but he simply does not have the energy.

            “Mother,” he groans when she is within earshot so he does not have to shout. “What’s a skipping rope?”

            Narcissa pauses with a politely puzzled look.

            “A skipping rope?” she repeats dubiously.

            Holly patiently explains, “It’s a long rope with handles on each side, and you jump up and down. It’s good for footwork and exercise.”

            Draco still hasn’t gotten back to his feet and watches with curiosity as his mother conjures a thick rope for Holly, holding it out for the little girl to take, who can barely wrap her fist around the circumference of the rope.

            “That’s too big,” Holly exclaims. “It needs to be thinner.”

            Draco listens as Holly has Narcissa magically adjust the rope to the right length and circumference with continuing bemusement. It doesn’t have the handles that Holly is trying to describe, but she just wraps it around her hands once and begins jumping up and down, swinging the rope over her head and under her feet with perfect coordination. She is light on her feet. Draco exchanges a look of astonishment at the grace with which she jumps up and down!

 

ooOoo

 

“Why is your daughter jumping up and down and swinging that rope?” Lucius asks with perfect confusion, peering through the Omnioculars. “Bizarre.”

            “It’s a muggle thing,” Severus mutters, Omnioculars jammed to his face. He vaguely remembers Lily and Petunia doing something similar in the park when they were little girls.

            “Muggles have odd –” Lucius cuts himself off as they stare at Narcissa, taking her turn. “Perhaps they have some practices that might be worth looking further into. I need a closer look.”
            The blond drops his Omnioculars on the table beside Severus and walks away as Narcissa had done a few minutes earlier – minus the backward glance.

           

ooOoo

           

Draco’s jaw drops as his mother takes the rope offered by Holly and, after a few missteps and uncoordinated swings, skips as Holly demonstrated. Where she has switched from skipping on both feet to hopping on one leg and then the other, his mother lands lightly on both feet without too much effort. Draco chooses wisely not to point out the glistening sweat on Narcissa’s forehead.

            Feeling emboldened, Draco practically snatches the rope from his mother for his turn. Narcissa conjures two more replicas and hands one to Holly with a scowl that leaves Draco sheepish.

            Holly and his mother begin skipping again, and Draco is left to coordinate swinging the rope and jumping simultaneously. He feels like a troll in a china shop as he stumbles over his own feet, the rope tangling around his ankles, causing him to land in a heap on the ground.

            Holly giggles at him, and even his mother, the traitor, gives a little, tinkling laugh.

            “Maybe you’re only good on a broom, Draco,” Holly teases him, stopping skipping the rope to talk to him.

            The little show-off starts to move forward as she jumps again, stops, then begins swinging the rope backwards, then forward again, then crossing her arms so that rope crosses as well, still managing to jump up and down effortlessly!

            It’s such a simple thing, so why can’t Draco do it?

            He’s determined not to let this little brat mock him. It’s just a little muggle thing: if his mother can do it, so can Draco.

            “Having fun, children?” Lucius calls as he strides closer. Draco catches the admiring look his father gives his mother and rolls his eyes: it won’t be long before they disappear into the bedroom. He represses a shudder. Parents should be banned from stuff like that.

            Draco stubbornly continues to practice his skipping –his shirt already plastered against his back and his hair a floppy mess.

 

ooOoo

 

“Are you going to take a turn too, Uncle Luc?”

            Narcissa and Lucius turn to Holly with surprise. Narcissa is so shocked that she stumbles, but Lucius is there to steady her. An emotion overtakes him unexpectedly: this is the first time Holly acknowledges their relationship and calls him Uncle. She had done it with Regulus almost immediately, and Lucius knows it was because of the other wizard’s connection and message from Potter.

            Even Draco is surprised and trips once again over his rope.

            “I shall give it a try,” Lucius finds himself agreeing. “You’ll have to show me the trick properly.”

            Holly gives him a kind look and slowly demonstrates using her rope.

            “Once more,” Lucius prompts when she stops.

            Obligingly, Holly shows him yet again. Just as he is about to stall once more, she sighs, “Why don’t you try, and I’ll show you if you’re doing it wrong.”

            Lucius smirks at her cunning. He takes the rope proffered by Narcissa, who gives him a daring look; he takes a step back for more space. First, he swings the rope experimentally, feeling self-conscious and knowing that everyone is watching him expectantly. Severus, who is still sitting poolside, is undoubtedly recording all of this with the Omnioculars. Once he has an idea of the weight and speed of the rope, he finally tries the act of skipping part. He manages three consecutive skips before stumbling but considers it a win.

            “How was that?” he asks, giving Holly an expectant look.

            She grins openly at him, and he finds his heart beginning to melt.

            “Better than Draco,” she announces.

            Lucius and Narcissa laugh at this while Draco scowls. Lucius looks at his son appraisingly: Draco couldn’t have looked filthier if he had tried.

            “Now, what was that other thing you were doing?” Lucius asks. “Before the skipping?”

            Holly doesn’t ask him how he knows. Most likely, she knows she is being watched and doesn’t argue the point. He is impressed as he watches her display various flips. He has seen similar tricks performed in the Annual Broom competitions in Sweden. He does not even remember being so flexible as she demonstrates a slow handstand and splits her legs. He is glad she is wearing jeans instead of a dress when she shows that move.

            Taking pity on Draco, who is still struggling with his coordination, Holly tells him: “Maybe it's because you don’t have a real skipping rope.”

            Draco jumps on this excuse like salamanders jump into a fire. Purposely ignoring the fact that Holly, Narcissa and even Lucius did well in their skipping; however, limited Lucius’ display was, only Draco is the one struggling.

            “Can we go to the shops and get a proper skipping rope? Please? I used to have one, but I left it at O…” her voice trails off.

            Wanting to bring the smile back on Holly’s face, Lucius agrees instantly, without thinking twice about what this request implies. She smiles but not as widely as before.

            “Really?”

            “Of course,” Lucius reiterates.

            “I’ve never seen anything like that in Diagon Alley,” Draco puffs out breathlessly, happily throwing his rope to the floor.

            Holly does a few more skips on hers and drops it as well. Narcissa pulls out her wand and vanishes the lot.

            “If there are no skipping ropes in Diagon Alley,” Narcissa says the term carefully, “then we’ll just have to venture out into the muggle world.”

            “What!” Draco snaps, and even Holly looks a little sceptical at the claim.

            The things he does for children, Lucius thinks. Supporting Narcissa, he smoothly gives his approval, “It’s only fair we see a bit of the world Holly comes from when we expect her to settle in ours.”

            He slips an arm around Narcissa’s waist and gives Draco a warning glance when Holly isn’t looking.

            “I’m surprised you agreed,” Narcissa murmurs as they head back into the Manor. Lucius turns and raises his arm to gesture at Severus; the dark figure rises in the distance.

“I am burning my clothes upon our return,” Lucius says frankly. “I’ll also need to make a quick visit to Gringotts to exchange some muggle money.”

            Narcissa nods, and Lucius rapidly makes plans: he’ll take Severus with him.

            “Tomorrow morning?” Narcissa asks.

            “I don’t see why not.”

            “Muggle London?”

            “No,” Lucius swiftly answers. “Let me think on it.”

            And so he does. Muggle London is a massive city, but Lucius would not want to venture out with his family because it is still too close to Diagon Alley, St Mungos and the Ministry. Lucius is wary of exposing his family between those three hot spots, given the current climate: the Dark Lord might not openly attack people, yet that does not mean his loyalists will not take advantage of it should an opportunity arise to hunt down or harm traitors like Lucius. Swiftly, he goes through a mental checklist of places they can visit without fear of being caught.

            Perhaps Manchester or Birmingham. Cardiff is also a possibility. Liverpool?

 

ooOoo

 

That evening, Holly surprises them again by following them, though somewhat cautiously, into the Family room after dinner. Lucius opens a book that he always leaves next to his preferred chair. Severus left before dinner was even served, off to his Order meeting, wherever it was held. Narcissa flips through one of Severus’s potions journals.

            “Do you want to play Wizard’s Chess? Do you know the rules?”

            Lucius’s attention is more on Draco and Holly in front of him rather than on his book.

            “Yeah, I know how to play.”

            Eileen or Potter must have taught her.

            He is unaware of the indulgent smile on his face while watching both children sit down on the floor. Well, Holly plonks herself on the floor; Draco has no choice but to follow her, albeit with a disgruntled look that she laughs at him for.

            Draco is not very good at chess: he starts well but eventually loses patience. He is surprised at how well Holly plays for her age. Watching her is like watching a miniature version of Severus: the same thoughtful expression, the crease between the brows, the pursed lips. In Holly, the look is cute. Lucius probably will not see the same looks in Severus without thinking of Holly ever again. The thought alone is almost enough to make Lucius snort in laughter.

            “It’s not too late to try again,” Narcissa murmurs so that the children won’t hear.

            A pain shoots through Lucius’s heart. They had tried to have children almost as soon as they were married, but Draco’s conception had been difficult in many ways. Using discreet healers, both had gotten themselves checked out: it had taken a strict regime of potions, moon cycles and menstruation cycles before Narcissa had become pregnant. Lucius had been super protective of her during the pregnancy, barely letting her do anything around the Manor, not that they needed to, with the number of House-Elves he had. No unnecessary risks.

            Abraxas Malfoy had fully supported Lucius in this. Apart from wanting an heir, he had his regrets about having only one child. It was in the Malfoy line – perhaps even a curse that had followed them from France many generations before.

            It is not often that Lucius finds himself envying someone. He has wanted for nothing. He has money, power, a massive house. A beautiful wife and child. A surrogate brother in Severus, whether the other wizard acknowledges him or not.

            He only lacks a brood of blond children, siblings to keep Draco company and turn Severus’s hair grey. It is rare for Lucius to admit it, but in the privacy of his mind, locked behind his Occlumency barrier, he will concede that he envies Arthur Weasley. Unlike the latter, Lucius would not struggle to provide for his children.

            “Is it the right time? Even if we decide to put ourselves through that again?”

            Narcissa does not answer straight away. After Draco, Lucius had not wanted to go through the stress of potions and cycles again, not to mention how he hated how controlling he became during the whole pregnancy. Narcissa and Severus had to hex him several times when his behaviour had become too much.

            Most likely, it is due to Holly’s presence that they feel, dare he say it… broody. Barring events like the looming war, wixen live longer than the average muggle, provided they take care of themselves. Former Headmaster Armando Dippet passed away only a few years ago: Lucius is unsure of the man’s year of birth, but he is certain that Dippet was over three hundred years old.

            Lucius is only forty-two – young and virile enough for a wizard.

            “I wouldn’t mind having a Holly of our own,” Narcissa admits, looking at the young girl with a yearning that Lucius wished he could fulfil.

            “She would be as beautiful as you,” Lucius flatters his wife. Closing the book he has not been paying attention to, he reaches for Narcissa’s hand, bringing it to his lip to press a kiss to her fingers.

            “Will you think about it?”

            “I will,” he promises, not letting go of her hand. Then, changing the subject, he tells her, “You looked ravishing when you were … what was it called? Skipping?”

            Narcissa has a habit of wearing tight-fitting robes or dresses: each compliments her slender figure and swollen breasts. Lucius’s eyes drift towards her breasts now. He remembers what they were like when she was jumping over the rope.

            “Eyes up, my love,” Narcissa whispers, her voice husky.

            Lucius’s eyes linger below the neck for a few more beats before rising to meet his wife’s. A wicked grin twists his lips; he plays with her fingers, stroking her knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

            The moment is broken by a louder than usual clatter of the chessboard. Lucius and Narcissa tear their gaze away from each other and turn to the noise: Draco throws them a glare as well, pointedly jerking his head towards Holly, who thankfully is not paying attention.

            Lucius releases Narcissa’s hand, leans back in his seat and pulls his book open in front of him again. Narcissa decides to leave the potions journal on the table, giving her full attention to Draco and Holly.

            “Holly, darling, how long have you been learning your – gymnastics?” she says the word carefully.

            Holly cheerfully abandons her chess game, and Draco looks no less relieved; perhaps the game has not been going well.

            “Oma took me when I was three years old. Ha- I went with this boy from the neighbourhood,” Holly tells them. She gets up to return to sit at Lucius and Narcissa’s feet. Bizarre when she can take a seat on the comfortable sofa provided.

            Lucius is sure she was going to say “Harry”. Given their closeness, it is not unbelievable that Potter also would have attended the same sort of thing with Holly. Lucius remembers seeing similar stunts from Potter in the short Quidditch games he had attended two years ago – it was Draco’s first game on the Slytherin team that he had attended as a proud father.       

Eileen had become a parental figure to Potter. He wonders how Potter’s relatives had taken it. Lucius knows enough that Potter never went home to his relatives for Christmas and Easter breaks over the years. Would he not have gone to spend the holidays with Eileen and Holly?

A glance at Narcissa shows that even she has not missed the reference to Potter.

“What else did you learn there?” she asks with polite interest.

“First, they make you do stretches to loosen up your muscles,” Holly explains. “It’s supposed to help you become flexible,”

She launches into an exciting explanation of lunges, plies, tucks and whatnot, all of which goes over Lucius's head, despite Holly showing each move. Lucius abandons his book once more to observe her flexibility: she is impressive in her grace and the ease with which she performs each stunt. She is a natural athlete. He wonders if she has inherited that particular ability from her mother. Having recently memorised Jasmine’s file, he cannot recall any form of athleticism mentioned by his PI. Indeed, she has not inherited this from Severus: he moves with grace with every step – some are natural, and others have been instilled in him by Abraxas.

Holly is now demonstrating a new move. Lying flat on her back in a straight line to begin, she moves her hands, palms down, fingers pointing towards her feet. Then, she moves her legs, bending her knees to place her feet flat on the floor. To his astonishment, she pushes her stomach and chest upwards; only her hands and feet touch the ground, and even her head is lifted. She holds the position for one breath, two, three breaths before slowly lowering herself back.

Lucius’s back aches just thinking about arching his body in such a way.

“I think that move is called the Wheel,” Holly gabbles, coming back to a kneeling position. “I can’t always remember the names. I just copy them when Coach tells me to.”

Draco looks impressed.

“Show me again,” he demands, but Holly gives him a warning look.

“Please,” he tags on sheepishly.

Lucius and Narcissa exchange a look of amusement. Holly positions herself for the ‘Wheel’ again, and Lucius’s eyebrows rise in surprise when Draco attempts to copy the move. This is the third time now that Draco has laid or sat on the ground for Holly. Perhaps because he is young and still has litheness in his body, Draco has no trouble copying the ‘Wheel’.

Lucius is astonished when Narcissa stands up and then lays herself next to Draco, who looks pleased with himself, and attempts the same move. Slowly, carefully, Narcissa raises her body to arch the same way as Holly’s. She is still wearing her fitted robes; the skirts dangle downwards so he cannot see the ground. Though it is unmistakable that her body is arching off the ground, her head is pointed to the ground. Just as slowly, Narcissa lowers herself to the ground again.

Lucius feels a jolt of desire run through him; a throb begins to ache in his groin. He carelessly discards the book and walks over to stand in front of Narcissa. Her face is pleasantly flushed, her chest heaving from the exertion of the movement, and she groans a little from the effort.

Lucius silently extends his hand for Narcissa to take it, and she reaches for it, her eyes darkening at the desire she sees in his eyes. He pulls her up; she helps by pushing herself up. He hauls her close to him, then bends down to pick her up, her arms inevitably winding around his neck.

“Seriously?” Draco whispers in disbelief.

“I think it is time for bed, my darling,” Lucius purrs. “You must be exhausted after today’s workout.”

            “Make sure you go to bed on time, children,” Narcissa calls over his shoulder as Lucius carries her out of the Family room.

           

 

Chapter 9 Like a Bump on a Log

 

The Order’s meeting is finally over. Severus even manages to speak to Dumbledore in person, finally telling him that he now has custody of his daughter, even though he has already sent him a letter. Having lost his position as a spy, Severus feels as valuable as Sirius Black in updating the Order with the latest news. The truth is that since Holly moved into the Manor, Severus had not left it, apart from that one time when he and Narcissa went to Diagon Alley to buy her clothes and toys.

            He will need to start manoeuvring soon in any case. He is determined to prove that he is still helpful without being a spy. Much like Mundungus Fletcher, Severus knows his ways around the seamy underbelly of Diagon and Knockturn Alley.

            Over the years, he has also managed to expand his contacts to provide quality and quantity of ingredients for potions that might be helpful for the war effort. At the very least, he has time to experiment and brew potions for the Order: he already has several batches of Polyjuice potion and Veritaserum bubbling away. He plans to start brewing various healing and sleeping potions – he is even looking forward to brewing Felix Felicis. It is tempting to try it for himself. Perhaps it will bring him luck in finding a way to communicate better with his daughter: he is sure that nothing will succeed in this endeavour better than Liquid Luck.

            Regulus waylays him before he can make good his exit, dragging him into a private alcove and casting a Privacy ward.

            “How’s your child?” Regulus asks without mincing words, and Severus glares at his erstwhile friend.

            “She asks about you,” he tells him reluctantly. Not to Severus, however: her words are only for Lucius or Narcissa. His daughter has established a relationship with everyone but Severus.

            The smile Regulus returns at the news is not smug, to Severus’s relief. Regulus has never been conceited in such a way, unlike his bastard brother: his smile is genuine.

            “I’ve been thinking about her as well.”

            He reaches into his pocket and withdraws two plushies, a black and a white owl: the plushies are lifelike, while the owls blink at him and spread their wings.

            “Here,” he tries to hand them to Severus. “Give her these from me, won’t you?”

            “Would you not prefer to give them to her yourself?”

             “I wouldn’t mind talking to her again,” Regulus admits, pulling them back when Severus makes no move to take them. “She’s a lovely child.”

“To you,” Severus snarks without meaning to.

            “She’ll come around. Just give her time,” Regulus tells him consolingly, earning a considering look from Severus.

            “Why will you not tell me what made her open up to you?”

            Regulus surprises him with a wink and a grin.

            “That’s no fun for me, my friend.” This time Severus is forcefully reminded of the cretin, Black.

            “Put those away,” he adds, snarling, crossing his arms defensively.

            Regulus, obliging, puts them away.

            “So, when can I come over?”

            It is on the tip of Severus’s tongue to tell him he cannot.

            “Perhaps tomorrow morning.” Severus grudgingly tells him. “Lucius is planning a trip to the muggle world with the family since Holly has requested some things that can only be found there,”

         “I wasn’t aware that Lucius or Narcissa knew their way around the muggle world,” Regulus says in surprise.

          “They do not,” Severus tells him. “Neither do I.”

          “What is it?” Regulus asks curiously.

           “It is something called a skipping rope.”

             Regulus does not look any better informed than Severus, although he has vague memories from his playground days with Lily and Petunia. Until Holly asked him for one this afternoon, Severus had forgotten much of what he knew of the muggle world. Since Abraxas fostered Severus when he was sixteen, he only ventured out to visit Tobias. Anywhere else has been readily relegated to the back of his mind.

            He is not at all looking forward to reconnecting with the muggle world.

            “I’ve never heard of those. Do you even know where to look?”

            “No,” the word drags from his lips.

            “I see.”

            “What would one do with the skipping rope?”

After explaining to his one-time friend what little he knows about a skipping rope, Severus sighs, “I should get going.  I will speak to Lucius and Narcissa at breakfast. Floo over for eleven.”

            “Thank you, Severus,” Regulus smiles as he dispels the Privacy ward.          

Severus is keen to get out of Grimmauld Place as quickly as possible after that conversation: getting away from Molly Weasley, on the other hand, is more complicated than escaping the Whomping Willow unscathed. He is somehow pressed into a seat in the kitchen, with a plate shoved in front of him before he can protest.

Thankfully, the kitchen is not rammed, though Severus has to put up with the likes of Black, who is laughing obnoxiously in the back, studiously ignoring him, with Lupin hanging on his every word. Potter is sitting a little further along the table: he and Longbottom are in the middle of the gaggle of red-heads, while Granger is nowhere to be seen. He is surprised that Potter is not sitting with his flea-bitten dogfather.

Regulus makes sure to sit next to Severus, which the Potions Master is grateful for. The Malfoys have probably already eaten and were probably sitting in the Family room. Severus had intended to have a House-Elf deliver a plate in his quarters, but Molly hadn’t allowed him to leave.

            Arthur sits close by Regulus in a deep, whispered conversation with his eldest son, Bill. Given that half the kitchen occupants are Weasleys, Severus must refer to them individually.

            Severus finds himself surreptitiously observing the Weasley parents interact with their children: they all have an instinctive bond, an implicit trust that they’re not afraid to manifest. There is mutual respect – and everything Severus lacks.  They have raised their children. He is so desperate to connect with Holly that he is trying to find inspiration from the Weasleys. Lucius would laugh himself silly.

            Keeping his voice low, Regulus whispers, “Lucius will spoil her tomorrow, won’t he?”

            Severus cannot deny this: Lucius doesn’t set a good example in spoiling Draco so excessively. He is much worse than Narcissa when it comes to shopping for Draco. Considering how much he has taken with Holly since her arrival, Severus would not be surprised if they returned with half of the store from tomorrow's trip. Then again, Lucius does not have many expectations of the muggle world and what they sell – considering them inferior.

            “Lucius has never been able to curb his excess,” Severus mutters back, forking another bite of the lasagne in front of him. The man did end up buying seven brooms instead of one, a move that benefitted the entire Slytherin Quidditch team. Severus had not cared in the slightest that it isolated him from the other three Houses. An advantage is an advantage, though they still lost to Gryffindor. As this thought crosses his mind, he glares in Potter’s direction without realising it.                

            Unknown to him, Regulus has been watching him. He misses the frown the other wizard gives him, and by the time Severus turns back to his plate, Regulus has smoothed his expression into a thoughtful one.

           “Harry,” Regulus calls across the table casually.

           Severus looks up from his plate, trying to eat quickly so he can leave soon.

            Startled, Potter shoots a questioning look and tears himself away from his riveting – Severus sneers the word – conversation with Longbottom, whose face falls as his eyes skitter away from Severus’s.

             His friends fall into silence as they, too, listen, nosy beggars that they are.

            “You know your way around the muggle world quite well,” Regulus says conversationally, and Severus sees Arthur’s ears prick at the mention.

            “Reasonably,” Potter answers cautiously. His eyes flit to Severus’s for a split second before focusing on Regulus.

            “Where would one buy a skipping rope?” Regulus says it like it is a grand joke.

            “A skipping rope?” Potter echoes with confusion.

            “Harry’s got one in his trunk,” Ron Weasley says through a mouthful of lasagne.

            “Oh?”

            “What’s the fascination with a rope?” Arthur interjects with excited curiosity.

            Potter is still giving Regulus a look of confusion but answers haltingly.

            “We used to use one in primary school, for PE - Physical Education – lessons. It’s just a piece of rope, usually with plastic or wooden handles.”

            “Who would use these? What’s the purpose? Why does Harry have one?” Arthur shoots question after question in every direction. His offspring exchange looks of amusement and exasperation.

            “Well, they’re mostly for fitness,” Potter shrugs, turning his attention to Arthur. “In school, they’re used either by teachers within the classes or children on the playground.”

            For some reason, Potter aims a sharp look at Regulus, who merely smirks at him.

            “My cousin Dudley uses them because he took up boxing a couple of years ago. They’re good for footwork,” he continues, still looking at Regulus.

            “Footwork?” Bill Weasley leans forward with interest, while Arthur asks at the same time what boxing is.

            “Boxing’s a sport where two opponents spar using their hands, you know, like punches and jabs.”

            Severus knows the sport. Barbaric!

            Potter resumes, “Skipping is good for footwork because you have to constantly stay light on your feet to avoid getting hammered by your opponent.”

            “Fascinating,” Arthur smiles. “How does it work?”

            “Well, you swing the rope over your head and jump over it before it gets tangled around your ankles,” one of the twin menaces answers.

            Arthur looks surprised.

            “You know how to do it as well?” he asks his sons.

            “Harry showed us in his first year. He’s been doing it for years and keeps up with the fitness aspect.” The other twin menace replies. “Oliver even integrated it into our Quidditch practice: no one in the team is as good as Harry, though Katie Bell comes close.”

            “Why would you need footwork when you’re riding brooms?” Lupin asks with a frown.

            “You don’t question Oliver Wood,” the twins and Potter answer together, generating laughter all around, apart from Severus. However, Severus has assigned Wood many a detention for bringing his Quidditch diagrams to his Potions classroom.

            “So, this footwork thing –” Bill interrupts, “do you think it’ll work for duelling?”

            Everyone gives the eldest Weasley son a look of surprise, followed shortly by a contemplative silence.

            “Perhaps Harry, Fred and George can show us how it’s done,” Arthur suggests eagerly.

            “After dinner,” Molly states firmly before Potter has a chance to respond. She is speaking for the first time since she thrust a plate full of food in his face.

            Severus is surprised that Potter does not protest. Molly, after all, has curbed his chance to show off like the arrogant creature he is.

            “I got mine in the muggle world,” Potter finally answers the original question. “If you can’t find one in Diagon Alley-”

            “They won’t,” Ron Weasley interrupts authoritatively. His mouth is still full of food, to the disgust of many. Granger, who has just walked in, gives the Weasley’s youngest son a repulsed frown as she takes a spare seat next to Ginevra Weasley.

            “Then, in the muggle world, you can usually find them in sporting shops such as Decathlon or Sports Direct. They’re both good for quality items, really,” Potter finishes, going back to his food – probably pouting.

            “Thank you, Harry,” Regulus says brightly.

            Once everyone has returned to their conversations, Regulus turns to Severus and says, “Do you think it’ll work? The footwork thing Bill alluded to?”

            Severus, at first, almost opens his mouth to scoff at the idea before thinking back to Holly’s skills with the rope, how she effortlessly jumped over it without even looking, trusting her coordination with the swings.

            “It’s feasible,” he admits.

            Regulus smirks at him.

            “I’ll drop by with some muggle money in the morning if you can do me a favour and purchase some of those skipping ropes for this lot as well.”

            “Fine,” Severus agrees. An image flits through his head: the Order at the next meeting, everyone holding skipping ropes to show off their footwork or stumbling blindly and breaking their ankles. He suppresses a snort. The latter is more likely an event.

           

ooOoo

 

“They’re taking Holly out to the muggle world, aren’t they?” Harry asks in a whisper after Snape has left.

            He is surprised that the dinner went as smoothly as it did. He had seen Sirius throw dark looks at Snape, but Lupin had fortunately kept him distracted. Harry had decided to ignore the man, but Regulus was the one who called him.

            Regulus chuckles.

            “Yes, apparently Holly was asking for a skipping rope. Severus says she’s getting more comfortable with them. Well, she’s still resisting him.”

            Harry nods. Keeping his voice low so they’re not heard by everyone else, he probes, “Is she really okay?”

            “Severus has invited me to the Manor tomorrow after breakfast,” Regulus answers, keeping his voice down. “I’ll give her your owls in person, and you can give me a letter as well. I wish I had one last time, but I didn’t know she was already there. At least I managed to send one with Lucius’s owl, though it’s best not to rely on Artemis.”

            Harry gives Regulus a grateful look.                                                             

            “Yeah. Yeah, I can give you a letter.”

He wishes he could see Holly in person, but he knows there’s no way he will be allowed out – not to mention Snape’s reaction if he tries to tag along.

“Holly’s probably trying to get back into gymnastics,” Harry explains.

Regulus nods. The other wizard has seen Harry practicing various exercises in one of the spare rooms. Occasionally, his friends join him, though the twins regularly attend more than anyone else, except Hermione, who watches over them with a book in hand.

“Listen, I’ll give you some muggle money I have and a list of things that Holly will need. Nothing big, just everyday items she’s probably left behind. She’s probably left everything in Surrey. She’ll need a hula hoop, and see if you can convince them to find her an ankle skipper. She loves those.”

Harry explains what all this is.

“I have asked Severus to get some extra skipping ropes for everyone here. I didn’t know your friends had already used them,” Regulus comments.

“Yeah. Me and Dean, another lad from the dorms, like to keep up with muggle fitness. Dean prefers football to Quidditch, so sometimes a few of us kick a ball on the quidditch pitch when it’s free from the House teams practicing,” Harry clarifies.

“The list sounds like a good idea,” Regulus remarks. “In fact, I’ll ask Severus to pick some extra things, tell him they’re for us, and make sure Holly gets one of everything. At least it’ll keep you lot occupied. I know it’s been difficult for everyone being cooped up in here all summer.”

“All my homework is done,” Harry nods. “There’s only so much reading we can do, well, apart from Hermione. I can try to teach the Weasleys a few more things. Actually, listen, I know we’re not technically allowed to use magic, but we can still learn how to dodge spells. It’ll be a one-sided duel, really, with you shooting spells, but we can practice getting out of the way. Do you think that’s what Bill meant by the use of skipping in duelling?”

“The idea has merit. I would like to see you do some skipping to get an idea.”

Harry smiles in agreement.

 

ooOoo

Severus apparates back to the Manor with relief. He checks on Holly, who is asleep but restless. Severus creeps quietly over her bed, carefully adjusting the covers over her again, tucking her in once more. He is about to leave when he sees her hand clutching something: it looks like a photograph, but it is too dark to tell who is in it.

            He tries to gently pry it away from her, but her grip is too tight, and he does not want to disturb her. She is still ratty with him, so, despite his curiosity, he decides not to use his wand to shine a Lumos over it. He can wait until the daytime to see who is in the picture.

            Severus heads to his bed and changes into his pyjamas pants and grey shirt. Clearing his mind, he allows himself to drift off to sleep.

            Feeling like he has not been in bed for long, an insistent buzzing has crept into his consciousness. He jerks abruptly awake as he realises it is the nightmare ward placed around Holly’s room. He scrambles out of bed or tries to but ends up falling to the floor as he gets tangled in the covers.

            “Oma!” He hears his daughter scream as soon as he opens the door. He heads towards Holly’s room, but she is already outside.

            “Oma!” He turns at the sound. Striding rapidly to the stairs, he looks over the bannister and catches a glimpse of black hair in the soft candlelight.

            “Holly, darling,” he hears Narcissa’s voice.

            Narcissa must have wards for Holly’s room as well, he thinks, as he rushes down the stairs.

            “Aunt Cissa, I saw Oma! Oma… Oma’s here!”

            Severus hates the desperation and despair soaked in Holly’s voice.

            “Darling, there’s no one there,” Narcissa’s voice drifts gently in the silence.

            “She is,” Holly insists. “She’s outside. Please, please, I need to go to her.”

            “Hush, darling. There’s no one out there,” Narcissa continues soothingly, and Severus follows the voices towards the Conservatory.

            “She’s out there. Let me go,” Holly shrieks. “Let me go! Oma!”

            Severus rounds the corner and sees Narcissa on the ground holding on to a frantic Holly, trying to escape her grip. Narcissa has her arms wrapped gently around her, desperately struggling to get outside; the woman lifts her head and catches a glimpse of Severus in the reflection of the windows.

            “Hush, my sweet. There’s no one there, Holly,” Narcissa keeps her voice low and soothing. “Your Oma isn’t there.”

            Slowly, Holly ceases her struggles and looks up at Narcissa.

            “She isn’t?” Severus hates hearing the way her voice breaks. “No Oma?”

            “No, my darling.”

            Severus can only stand frozen as Narcissa comforts Holly, heedless of the cold floor she is kneeling on.

            “Oma wouldn’t wake up,” Holly’s words end on a sob. “I tried to wake her up.”

            Severus is surprised that it took so long for Holly to break down: he’d expected this moment to come much sooner. He desperately wants to step forward, reach out, and comfort his daughter, but the memory of the resentment painted in Holly’s eyes is such that he desists. There are too many unsaid things, secrets withheld, and too many unexpressed emotions.

Holly is still sobbing. “I miss Oma,”

            “I know, my darling,” Narcissa whispers, gently running her hand through Holly’s dark hair.

            Narcissa’s long hair is dishevelled. She is wearing a simple robe that she must have thrown on quickly. He has never seen her in this state –unkempt: it spoke to the speed and urgency with which she responded to the wards around Holly.

            Holly’s weeping dwindles to some sniffles; now, she clutches tightly at the front of Narcissa’s robes.

            “Will you stay with me?” the little girl croaks.

            “Of course, my sweet,” Narcissa agrees. She does not move to get up yet but starts humming softly, still caressing Holly’s head gently.

Severus hears a slight movement behind him. He turns and sees Lucius coming down, looking similarly dishevelled. His long hair is tousled, but it looks like he has attempted to smooth it out by running his hands through it. He has also thrown on a robe, legs and feet bare, though he clutches his wand.

Neither Severus nor Lucius leave. Holly’s sniffles have quietened down to regular breathing. She has fallen asleep in Narcissa’s arms, though the latter remains on the floor for several more minutes before cautiously getting up.

Severus walks over and places a hand on Holly’s back, her head resting on Narcissa’s shoulder.

“Let me take her,” he offers quietly.

He is hurt when she tenses under his hand and clings closer to Narcissa, even in her half-sleeping state. He turns away from the other woman to avoid seeing her look of pity.

“Go,” he whispers harshly, moving to allow them to pass.

“Give it time, Severus,” Lucius assures him, and he nods jerkily.

Narcissa’s footsteps fade as she climbs the stairs. Lucius stays with Severus until he collects himself together, waiting until he is ready to go back upstairs. Severus pinches the bridge of his nose: he is ready to start screaming himself. He just wants to be her father.

Lucius leads him to a nearby chair, and Severus lets himself be guided to it. He buries his face into his hands, hiding his emotions from the other wizard, concentrating desperately on clearing his mind, shielding himself from his emotions. 

It takes Severus the better part of twenty minutes to compose himself. Lucius waits with him the whole time, not commenting on the silently shaking shoulders of the Potions Master.

Narcissa has left the door open. She has made herself comfortable on Holly’s bed, still holding his sleeping daughter. Severus seethes with envy as he watches them briefly before heading to his bed, where he spends the night staring at the ceiling.

 

ooOoo

As soon as Regulus Floos into Malfoy Manor, he can sense the subdued atmosphere. He picks up the pace with concern, not waiting for his hosts to greet him. Roker, one of Lucius’ many elves, appears in front of him before he leaves the Floo room.

“The masters and mistress are waiting in the dining room,” Roker advises him.

“Thank you, Roker,” Regulus nods at the House-elf and makes his way to the room in question, holding back the urge to grill the creature about what might have happened last night. He can sense the tension all the way to the dining room.

“Morning,” he greets in a voice that mirrors the sombre atmosphere.

“Regulus,” Narcissa rises from her seat to welcome him and surprises him by pulling him in for an embrace. Lucius and Severus give him subdued nods.

Regulus automatically returns it.

“What’s happened?” He follows her to the dining table, taking the empty seat next to her.

“Would you like something to drink?” Lucius asks mechanically.

There are still leftovers from breakfast scattered over the table. Regulus declines but asks, “Is anyone hurt?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Lucius dismisses his concern.

They all look like they’ve been up all night.

“Has anyone slept?” Regulus asks when there’s no other answer.

Narcissa takes the floor again: “Holly had a… difficult night.”

Regulus looks at her carefully: she is pale.

“She was calling for her grandmother,” Severus admits stiffly.

Regulus instinctively glances at Lucius, who subtly shakes his head: Severus is still unaware of Eileen’s connection.

“Is she still asleep?”

“No, she is awake,” Narcissa answers, reaching for the cup of coffee Lucius has poured for her.

“Is it all right if I go up to see her?”

Severus sighs and nods: he looks like he has not slept the whole night either.

            He gets up from his seat to leave. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves Andromeda’s missive, placing it in front of Narcissa.

            “Your reply.”

            He walks out without another word.

Holly’s door is open, so Regulus hears the murmurs of Draco’s one-sided conversation. It seems he’s trying to cheer her up, with little success – Regulus sees that as he stands in the doorway of the bedroom. He gives a firm knock on the door and smiles gently at their startlement.

            “Uncle Regulus,” Holly perks up. Getting out of the bed, she runs towards him, throwing her arms around his waist. He wonders if he would have received the same greeting if she had not known his connection to Harry. He picks her up, feeling warmed by the way she trustingly rests her head on his shoulders despite thinking her friendliness is only due to Harry.

            “Draco,” he greets the young wizard with a nod.

            Draco nods back, giving them a cross look between grumpiness and happiness: he had probably been trying to improve her mood all morning.

            “I’ll, er, leave you to your visit then,” Draco says awkwardly before walking stiffly out the door. He has the foresight to close the door on his way out.

            “How’s Harry?” It is the first question that erupts from her lips once Draco is out of earshot.

            “He misses you, thinks of you,” Regulus tells her. “He knew I was coming today, so he gave me something to give you.”

            Still carrying her, he walks to her bed, arranging himself so he can lean against the headboard and place her in his lap.

            “I miss him, too. I dreamed of Oma last night. I dreamed she was here and coming to take me away. I thought it was a dream, but it was like she was still here when I woke up, calling for me, and I got up to follow her. Aunt Cissa said she wasn’t really there.”

            Regulus does not know what to say to that, so he just pulls her close instinctively. Having never had children of his own and having minimal contact with either Draco or Nymphadora, he is unsure if he should say anything.

            “I wish Harry had been here last night,” she continues forlornly.

            “Harry had a nightmare last night too,” Regulus admits. He noticed it this morning when Harry came down for breakfast with Ron and Neville, casting worried looks at him.

            Holly does not respond to that, laying her head on his chest trustingly.

            After perhaps a minute of silence, he pushes her away gently and says in a conspiring voice, “I have a letter from Harry.”

She smiles widely, sitting up with more energy than before. “Really?”

            Regulus reaches into the inside pocket of his robes and pulls out a thick envelope. He is more amused than offended when she snatches it from him.

            “Go ahead,” he prompts when she hesitates to open it.

            She tears it open without further encouragement, pulling out the letter tucked inside. She also pulls out the white feather Hedwig gifted her, holding it tightly in her fist as she silently reads her letter. Regulus pulls out the black and white toy owls from his other pocket with a growing smile.

            ooOoo

 

Draco walks into the dining room feeling upset. He slept through the whole night, missing the disturbance caused by Holly’s nightmare.

            No one would tell him anything except that Holly had a night terror. Due to this, everyone, bar Draco, slept in, delaying breakfast by about an hour. Holly just picked at her food, and Draco’s appetite deserted him in the face of the sombre atmosphere. Something other than Holly’s nightmare happened – he can feel it.

            Then, after breakfast, she sullenly retreated to her room. He spent the last hour trying to get her to talk or play with him but ended up talking about his classes and his dorms, attempting to tell funny jokes and did not get as much as a twitch of lips from her.

            Then Uncle Regulus walked in, and all her teeth were on display. He is jealous that he did not get that reaction from her.

            He does not immediately notice his mother’s expression, so lost in his wounded pride. At first, he attributes it to the earlier atmosphere but then sees the letter she is looking at with trepidation.

            “Whose letter is it?” The attitude that comes with the question is due to the firm belief that they will once again exclude him from whatever is happening.                       

            “My sister,” Narcissa answers faintly.

            “The one who married the mudblood?” Draco says without thinking, instantly paling as three sets of eyes turn on him, varying from anger to disappointment. His father is giving him a hard look: it is only recently that Lucius has warned him about using his language.

            “Sorry,” he mumbles and reaches for an apple from the fruit bowl.

            “We told you, Draco,” his mother says in an icy tone that is rare for him to hear from Narcissa, “times are changing. We must change with them or fall into decay.”

            Draco nods.

            “Are we still going to the muggle world?” he asks, trying to divert attention from his rebuke.

            “We will if Holly is up for it,” Lucius answers in a calmer voice.

            Draco is not looking forward to it at all. Why do they need to go out to the world of the inferior ants? The wizarding world is much better – the fact that he doesn’t know what’s in the Muggle world at all doesn’t even cross his mind for a second. Still, not wanting to get snapped at again, he takes a bite of the apple.

            “You do not have to go with us if you choose not to,” Narcissa says with a knowing look.

            Draco does not want to go to the muggle world, but he does not wish to be excluded either. He had already made concessions to Holly by rolling on the ground with her while practicing her gymnastics. He doesn’t know what came over him to do that.

            Perhaps, he’ll go along and see what the fuss is about. Get that bloody skipping rope thing.

            “You should open the letter, Narcissa,” Lucius encourages softly.

            “What if she doesn’t want to meet up again?”

Draco doesn’t like the lost look in his mother’s eyes. So, what if the mudblood lover never wants to meet his mother again? No big loss. They’d managed without speaking to her for… Draco pauses his thoughts. Well, it must be more than fifteen years. Probably more than twenty, he thinks. He knows Andromeda has a daughter older than him.

Draco takes another bite of his apple to stop himself from commenting about Andromeda again. He doesn’t think his parents or Severus will be happy with what he has to say.

“It is better that you know her answer and save yourself the turmoil of what if,” Severus states in a firm voice.

Narcissa takes the letter and slowly opens it. They are all watching her as she reads it, not showing the slightest sign of self-consciousness. Draco tries to chew quietly as they wait for her to tell them what it says.

“She is willing to meet,” his mother declares, at last, folding the letter neatly and replacing it carefully into the envelope. “She’s suggested a parlay.”

“You should write back with a time and place, perhaps see if she is willing to come here,” Lucius suggests.

Narcissa nods. Draco knows she is already planning. He takes another bite of his apple and chews thoroughly to stop himself from making another thoughtless comment.

 Looking a little lighter, Narcissa puts Andromeda’s letter away.

“Severus, you need to have a frank conversation with Holly,” Narcissa begins, giving  Severus a stern look. “Don’t think we have not noticed how you avoid talking to her about Jasmine. The longer you leave it, the harder you will struggle to communicate with her.”

“She barely looks at me,” Severus sighs. “How am I supposed to have a conversation with her?”

“She can deny it all she wants, Severus,” Narcissa says, speaking gently, “but you are her father. You need to take control of the situation. You are allowing whatever guilt you feel to cloud the issue, which only permits her to drift further away from you.”

Draco listens intently as he bites into his apple again.

“You are leaving for Hogwarts soon,” she points out. “If you do not take steps to resolve this tension now, it will only fester. I know you said you would be back every weekend as long as you are not on duty, but those weekends will only be filled with hostility, resentment and frustration. Then, think about Christmas: if you haven’t made any progress, then you will dread the holidays.”

“You are right,” Severus concedes. “I will speak to her. Today.”

“So soon?” Draco blurts out in surprise. Then again, Severus is never one for delaying.

“I do not want to let this strain between us grow,” Severus admits. “Whatever happened between Jasmine and I, it is in the past. Jasmine should not have taken it out on Holly, but she did, and I’m going to have to deal with its consequences. The sooner, the better.”

“A word of advice, Severus,” Lucius offers in a serious voice. “Do not confront her in her bedroom. That is her space, where she retreats to feel safe. If you try to talk to her in her room and things escalate, she will forever think of her bedroom as a place where she will not feel secure.”

Draco frowns as he thinks about the reprimands he has received. He gives his father a speculative look; his parents have never scolded him in his room. Thinking back, he realises he has always been summoned to the room next to his father’s study, not to the study itself. It dawns on him that the room in question is somewhere he already associates with a thorough reprimanding: if he is summoned to that room, he knows he is in trouble for something.

“You should take her to your apartment,” Lucius says in a bright voice, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

“So she can forever associate a telling off with my rooms?” Severus pronounces in a dry voice.

“Then she can run to her dear Uncle Lucius to complain about her cruel father,” Lucius states, calmly taking a sip from his cup.

Severus snorts in amusement.

“And spoiling her silly, no doubt,” Severus shakes his head.

“That is what uncles are for,” the other waves off nonchalantly.

“Uncle Severus never spoiled me,” Draco can’t help but input.

“Your parents spoiled you enough,” Severus argues, glaring at him.

“Very true,” Lucius concedes.

 

ooOoo

 

It is almost lunchtime when Holly and Regulus enter the dining room. Severus notices straight away how trustingly Holly is holding Regulus’s hand. He clenches his jaw, jealousy ripping through him like a werewolf’s jaw at a human jugular. He looks away. Whatever magical words Regulus said to her on their first meeting had Holly conversing with him in an easy-going manner.

            He hates the easy familiarity everyone has with his daughter. He is treated as if he doesn’t even exist. It is a miserable feeling. However, he might be able to resolve it today after their trip from the muggle world. Narcissa is right: he needs to take control.

           

ooOoo

Draco attempts to straighten his expression as he wears his best muggle style clothes. None of his friends has ever been to the muggle world, and after venturing out today, he can go back and tell them it’s not worth it. He doesn’t have high expectations of the experience.

            Personally, he thinks his parents are taking this whole thing too seriously. So, what if Holly grew up in the muggle world: the Magical World is her new home now. She doesn’t need to go back there ever; she just needs to accept that Severus is her father and her new life.

            Heading back downstairs, where his family is waiting at the Entrance Hall, they all take a carriage towards the gates. Narcissa takes a firm hold of Holly, who scrunches her eyes shut in preparation, and they disapparate with a small pop. His father holds on to Draco securely while Severus apparates by himself.

            They appear between two buildings, but Draco does not recognise where they are, disoriented by Muggles that bustle around them without a second glance.

            Ignorant morons, the lot of them, Draco sneers.

            They all glance around curiously. Apart from Holly, none of them let their uncertainty show, though Draco does notice his parents exchange a look.

            “Where are we?” Draco asks, trying to keep the contempt from his voice.

            “Manchester,” Lucius answers absently, studying the small patch of gardens across the street intently. “This is the muggle area of Piccadilly Gardens. My contact told me this is a popular shopping destination.”

            He fishes out a piece of paper, muggle from the colour of it, and reads aloud, “Arndale Centre. It is one of the largest Arndale centres in the UK, a huge shopping district with indoor stores.”

            Draco attempts to peek at the paper Lucius is holding, glimpsing carefully drawn boxes.

            “A very detailed map,” his mother comments as she studies the paper as well.

            Lucius smirks at his wife. “My PI is paid well for information,”

            “Where to first?” Severus asks.

            “We’ll start with that one,” Lucius points at the vast white building directly in front of them. They cautiously begin walking towards the building, crossing the expanse of the garden. Draco’s head swivels in all directions, trying to catch everything.

            To his left is what looks like the Knight Bus. Draco has never travelled on the Knight Bus, though he knows it is a triple-decker bus, a ghastly purple colour. These are all a bizarre mix of colours: brown and cream, orange and white, green and yellow, red and yellow. Craning his neck slightly, he can see names in huge lettering at the front with random numbers.

            “What’s that?” he asks curiously.

            “A bus station,” Severus answers after a glance.

            “What’s the writing on the front mean?”

            “The names and numbers of the bus,” Severus explains. “This seems to be the main bus station in the city centre. I believe the buses travel from here to various locations across the city. That one says Oldham, which is another town within Manchester.”

            “Intriguing,” Lucius murmurs.

            Draco notices his mother holding on tightly to Holly’s hand; he wonders if this is for Holly’s sake or her own. They are in a new world, after all. He resists the urge to cling to the back of his father’s jacket. He is not a child, and he is not afraid.

            He is so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice he has lagged. He almost misses the giant yellow monstrosity bearing down on him, blaring its horn blindly. 

“Draco!” Holly lets go of his mother’s hand and darts forward to pull him out of the way. His heart is beating rapidly.

He’s barely been here for five minutes, and already the muggle world has tried to kill him. Barbarians! He opens his mouth to ask what the hell this was, but Holly beats him to it.

“Are you an idiot? That tram could have killed you. Why didn’t you move? Didn’t you hear it? Twit!”

His jaw drops from being yelled at by a nine-year-old. He sees his parents exchange amused glances. Narcissa steps forward to appease Holly.

“We’ve never seen one of those yellow things before,” Narcissa says gently, pulling Holly back again.

Draco flushes as people walk by, laughing at his getting told off by a child.

“That bus thing should have stopped,” Draco mutters, embarrassed.

“It’s not a bus,” Holly corrects him like he’s an idiot.

Even Severus’s lips are twitching.

“It’s a tram,” she says slowly as if he is a dunce.

“What’s a tram, my darling?” his father asks, thankfully averting her intense gaze away from Draco.

Holly gives Lucius a look of patience and elucidates, “It’s like a bus, but it travels on those rails. It’s just another method of transport, like a bus or a taxi. I think it’s more expensive than a bus. But it’s faster.”

“It almost killed me,” Draco bursts out.

“You did walk across the tracks like a snail,” Holly points out, still looking at him like he’s a dimwit.

They all dutifully look at where she is pointing: there are metal lines in the ground.

“Well,” Narcissa says, hiding her smile, “Draco will certainly be more careful from now on, won’t he?”

Draco scowls but nods.

His mother retakes Holly’s hand. “You’ll have to be our guide.”

Holly looks up at Narcissa again, studying her to see if she is being patronised.

“Are we going in there?” Holly points towards the white building called Lewis’s they were walking towards.

“Yes,” Lucius nods. He takes the lead, and the others follow.

They enter through what seems to be the main doors, colossal floor-to-ceiling glass doors giving a view of the main foyer. Displays show a discreet sign overhead with mannequins and row upon row of white shirts, black trousers and skirts on show.

“Is this all they offer?” Draco asks with a funny look, and Holly shrugs in response.

“It’s probably their back-to-school offer. It happens throughout summer so parents can buy their kids school uniforms – at least the more common clothes. I had to wear black skirts for my uniform, so Oma used to get those for me.”

The store is more extensive than Draco expected. They walk past the foyer and into the main store. Menswear is on display, and he is confused when no one approaches them to offer service. Where are the assistants? Why aren’t they being catered to? A quick look at his parents shows that he is not the only one confused.

Severus seems the most at ease and begins to peruse the merchandise. Draco heads cautiously towards the first row: they seem to be button-down shirts, hanging oddly shaped black sticks.

His parents drift off together to the next display, and Draco gingerly handles the clothes while Holly stays with him and looks at him with amusement.

“The blue one looks nice,” she offers with a smile.

“The blue one?” Draco frowns at her.

He follows the direction she is pointing at: there is a blue shirt hanging from a black stick, the top part a curved metal that hooks on the spike that sticks out.

“They should have changing rooms if you want to try it on,” Holly tells him.

“Changing rooms?”

His parents have come over and are looking down at her curiously.

Giving them a funny look, she explains, “Where you go to try on clothes to see if they fit.”

They all exchange glances.

“What do they do with the clothes that don’t fit?” his mother asks.

“They hang them back up out here.”

“You mean, someone is allowed to try clothes on, and if they decide not to buy them, they’re brought back out here for someone to try on?” Lucius asks slowly.

Holly nods.

“So, these clothes out here are just for people to try on? Where are the clothes if you want to buy them?” Draco demands.

“You’re holding them,” Holly says.

Draco lowers his gaze to the shirt in his hand, at first in confusion, then in disgust. He quickly jams the hook on the nearest spike and wipes his hands on his front, feeling contaminated.

What a barbaric practice!

            Severus comes back to them and finds their disgust amusing as well.

            Dropping his voice, he comments, “Muggles tend to mass-produce. They do not make everything to measure like Madam Malkins or Twilfit and Tattings.”

Draco appears horrified. “They don’t?”

            “It’s more cost-effective to mass-produce. Not everyone can afford to have their clothes tailored.”

            Draco shudders.

            “We’ll use a Refreshening Charm if we decide to try on the clothes,” Narcissa pronounces, though her voice is dubious.

            “We shall scope out the rest of the store, see if there is anything that might catch our interest, and then move on to the next place. Today is simply out the first foray into the muggle world.”

            Draco is careful not to let any of the clothes touch him as they continue to explore. It’s simply not hygienic to buy clothes someone else has tried on – he’s not a Weasley looking to purchase second-hand rags. He is pleased when they leave the store, exiting through the door on the opposite side of the building that leads out to another minor road. He carefully looks around for signs.

            Market Street, he reads. The street is wide enough to fit several carriages side by side. With the weather as good as it is, the street is heaving with people, busier than Diagon Alley when it was time for parents to take their kids to buy school supplies.

            Draco begins to feel uncomfortable but has to hide it. Slowly, they make their way from store to store. The Malfoys are all stunned when they realise that the muggles seem to have more than one dress shop. Even Diagon Alley only has the two that Severus mentioned earlier. Draco shudders at the thought of people trying on clothes in each store: so far, he has counted nine stores for just clothes — Lewis’s, which they have just left. Debenham’s store is located across from Lewis’s; further up, there is an H&M (though he doesn’t know what the H or the M stands for), Selfridge’s, Marks and Spencers, Topshop and Top Man… Next, BHS! Why do muggles use initials? So lazy… Then, several shops just sell shoes!

            Holly laughingly tells him that Clark’s and other shoe shops like that also allow customers to try on shoes, even if they decide not to buy them. However, he is confused as to why a store called Boots does not sell shoes. Holly says that they stuff like shampoos, medicines and make-up, but this does not clarify his confusion at all.

            Then, inside the Arndale Centre, there are other clothes and shoe shops – Draco counts three jewellery stores and two for perfumes and colognes. His parents don’t seem to be able to resist visiting the jewellery stores, so the others are forced to follow.

            Unlike the clothes stores they visited, Draco himself finds more at ease when an assistant approaches them with a fake smile. He has no intention of buying their inferior trinkets. His family always buy their jewellery from Madam Adalhard’s Trusty Trinkets, or, if they are really in need of something, they get something custom made from the goblins. However, they do have to be careful if they buy from the goblins – greedy little beasts!

            Draco is surprised when his father is seriously considering buying jewellery made by muggles. The shop assistants are falling all over themselves, trying to make a sale to his parents, as Lucius and Narcissa are studying gold and something called platinum very seriously.

            Beaverbrooks is one of the few stores where the way they are dressed works for them. Draco, his parents and Severus are dressed formally, making them stick out like a bowtruckle among wands.

            Here, in the jewellery store, they look like what they are, people who have no issue with spending money. His mother picks out several rings, and this is one of the few occasions where they do not shudder at trying something on. Even Holly takes a look at the charms bracelets on offer. Severus scrutinises the men’s watches on display, so Draco follows him. They look more complicated than a magical watch. Though Draco is happy with his current watch, he can’t help being attracted to the ones on exhibition. Another shop assistant comes over to him and explains the various features: Draco understands some of them, such as the waterproof aspect.

            He looks at the prices, trying to remember the exchange rates. He doesn’t comprehend the pound sterling very well, so he must calculate everything to galleons to understand it better. Holly wanders over and Draco, without any real intention of buying a muggle watch, involves her in the choice as if it matters to him.

            They end up with three different watches in front of them, with similar prices ranging from two to three thousand pounds. They are not the most expensive watches on display, but, from the looks of the shop assistant, buying them would earn her a hefty commission if Draco understands her gleeful expression. She can see he and his parents can afford their prices.

            “Have you picked something out, Draco?” his mother comes over to ask, as Lucius goes over to another counter where Draco sees several boxes being organised and packed away.

            “I have narrowed it down to these three,” he tells her, showing off the watches in question, though he does not care about it.

Narcissa waves her hand negligently, “Get them all.”

            Holly and the shop assistant both give her an incredulous look.

            “Really?” they both ask together.

            Holly gives the prices another look again and then back at Narcissa, who has already turned away to speak to Severus, who is observing them silently. Draco wonders why Severus hasn’t tried to engage Holly in conversation yet; he has seen the older wizard sneaking glances at Holly the whole time she talks.

            After a quick word with Severus, Narcissa takes Holly away for something and sends Draco after him.

            “Mother said to come with you,” Draco says, approaching Severus.

            “Holly was looking at the charms here earlier,” Severus tells him. They look down at the tiny pendants on display just as another shop assistant follows them.

            “You were speaking to my daughter earlier… she was attracted by these accessories,” Severus explains.

            “Oh, you mean that little cutie?” the assistant gushes. “She looks just like you.”

            Draco wants to laugh at Severus’s effort to bite his tongue. He is not usually the kind of person to make small talk. He would rather complete his transaction and leave. He has no patience for the spiel he is subjected to for others to earn their commission.

            “Did you happen to see which charms she paid the most attention to?” Severus inquires with masked tolerance.

            “Oh, yes,” the idiot assistant nods sycophantically. “Such a delightful child. She was looking at the owl charm, and that one, the little deer charm here – and I think… maybe the little cat. She seemed interested in the animals. And, of course, the little unicorn. All little girls seem to be interested in unicorns.”

            Severus smiles politely (rather, it is an awkward show of teeth) as the assistant laughs.

            “Will you wrap them all up … please,” he tags on. “Also, could you …” Severus clears his throat.

            Studying his godfather, Draco realises he is embarrassed.

            “Could you also add the one with the baby’s footprints on it?”

            “Yes, of course. I’ll bring them to the counter and meet you there.”

            “Please, do not let my daughter see them. They are a surprise,” Severus says self-consciously.

            “Oh, got you,” the twit winks. “Does she already have a charm bracelet?”

            Severus gives her a blank look.

            Taking pity on the dark-haired man, he is led to the charms bracelets display, where Draco helps him choose a sturdy bracelet.

            They leave Beaverbrooks fifteen minutes later with several bags. Finding somewhere discreet and where they do not see any of the muggle security cameras, Lucius casts a spell to shrink it and slips it into his pockets.

            Draco is fascinated against his will at the different shops and is even persuaded to buy several jackets by his mother and Holly.

            Both Draco and Lucius wrinkle their noses in identical expressions of disgust when Holly tells them they should try on jeans. In one of the shops, they find an assistant who helps them find their measurements for the jeans, just to appease Holly, which they do end up buying.

            Severus buys a pair in black, but Draco sees his mother sneaking in a blue ‘denim’ trouser for the Potions Master as well.

            They eventually go to a shop called Sports Direct, where they can purchase the skipping rope – the whole reason for this excursion in the first place!

            His father grabs all the skipping ropes, placing them in one of the baskets provided at the store entrance, placed there specifically for shopping purposes.

            Draco watches, staggered, as Lucius then buys at least three of everything in what Holly tells them is the sports and fitness section. Not many people know this, but Lucius is a closet tinkerer, and when something catches his interest, he can be found locked in his Toy room –as Narcissa calls it – fiddling away with his gadgets and trying to figure out how they work. Regulus has provided Severus with a list of things for Bill Weasley, and they’ve emptied the shelves for those things.

            The staff at Sports Direct are astonished at the number of items bought and have to be Confunded when asked how they were going to carry all the weights and dumbbells and whatever else Lucius has added to the basket.

            Draco thinks his father has gone mad as they turn to a discreet alcove away from the security cameras and summons Hokey to take everything away and place it in one of the spare rooms until they get back home to sort it all out.

            Draco thinks they are done until his mother spots a store called Waterstones: a muggle bookstore. Intrigued, they all walk in and end up spending another hour in there just browsing the books on the shelves, then another hour selecting various books. His parents end up in the sports and fitness section, where Lucius purchases a copy of every book while his mother purchases a dozen or so on something called Yoga. Even Severus ends up buying several (dozen) books in the muggle science section. Draco sneaks a few dozen of his selection of comic books, just out of curiosity. He’s not interested in muggle comics. Whatever the Hulk is about can’t be more interesting than anything he can find in the wizarding world. And Batman? It’ll be a laugh to read about a man dressed as a bat, fighting with an entertainer named Joker. The things muggles came up with…

They have to use another Confundus and Featherlight spells to carry them all out, summoning Hokey once more to take everything away.                          

It is several exhausting hours later when they have finally finished exploring the shops. Thank Morgana, it’s all over. Draco is so hungry that he could eat a dragon.

            Then his father gets the bright idea to eat at a muggle place. Was he trying to poison everyone?

            “We can go to the food court,” Holly suggests. She looks worn-out too. They make their way up the es-cal-ators – moving staircases, like at Hogwarts, except only the steps move on these and not the whole staircase - up to the Food Court. Draco instantly banishes the thought that creeps into his mind that these are better than the Hogwarts staircases.

            The smell of the various foods has Draco’s mouth-watering, and he assures himself it’s because he’s so hungry that he could kill a hippogriff – lunch seems like yesterday to him.  Yet, he still looks around with trepidation. They don’t really mean to eat here, do they? Even his mother looks wary.

            “What do you recommend?” Lucius asks.

            “Going home,” Draco inserts.

            “Maybe McDonald's?” Holly says uncertainly. “Oma didn’t like it, but she treated me sometimes.”

            “We’ll try this then,” Narcissa says instantly. “Which one is it?”

            Holly points to a sign with the word McDonald's in a bright yellow sign, where there is a life-size statue of a clown in red and yellow. Draco gives his parents a horrified glare.

            “Holly and I shall go get the food. The three of you should find yourselves … somewhere to sit,” his father says.

            Holly takes Lucius by the hand and leads him away, while Draco promptly begins his litany of complaints.

            “Do we really have to stay here? Eat in this dump? What if we get food poisoning? This place does not look hygienic … What abou-”

            “Call it an experiment, Draco,” his mother interrupts tiredly. “Everything else went well; perhaps the food will be better than you think. Now, let us find somewhere to sit. My feet are killing me.”

            “I hope you have Stomach Soothers at home, Uncle Severus,” Draco can’t help but snarl.

            “I do,” his godfather assures him. “Enough for all of us.”

            They find an empty table, and Severus casts a privacy ward and a muggle repelling ward on the area and casts Cleaning Charms on the chairs and table before gingerly taking their seats. The court is slowly emptying; there are fewer people around now.

An almost uncomfortable silence falls as Narcissa peers around anxiously awaiting the return of Lucius and Holly, and Severus’ eyes glaze over as if he’s Occluding. Draco, in a desperate attempt to make conversation, prompts:

            “Why did you buy all that junk from the sports store?” Draco asks.

 

           

ooOoo

 

Lucius picks Holly up, balancing her on his hips, and carries her to the small queue in front of the yellow and red monstrosity. He is beginning to regret suggesting eating in the muggle establishment. He should have cited exhaustion and taken them all home. The afternoon has been more productive than he had anticipated, and his inner Ravenclaw (indeed, that Hat had considered him for that House) is itching to look through all his purchases.

            Lucius’s interest in the muggle world is only due to Potter and Holly, as they seem inextricably connected. Severus had an upbringing that made him deny his muggle roots. Ironic that Eileen was the one who continued to instil muggle values in her grandchild and Potter, using her influence to ensure that they could survive in both worlds if necessary.

            He realised throughout the day that Holly was quite comfortable navigating her way through the various stores; though she might have been bored in more than a few, she still comported herself like an adult and took her role as guide seriously. She was not knowledgeable about everything they came across, but she showed enough interest to remain patient with them. Still, that did not stop her from needling Draco when he showed his aversion to certain muggle aspects.

            “Next, please?”

            It is their turn to order.

            “Have you decided, darling?” He gives her an indulgent look as if he is humouring a little girl’s appeal to order.

            The assistant’s polite smile becomes something akin to amusement with more energy than before.

            “Can we have four cheeseburger meals and a happy meal, please?” Holly requests politely, giving the assistant a beaming grin.

            “Sure, sweety,” the boy tells her. “And what drinks would you like with your meals?”He adds, pressing some buttons in his cash till.

            Lucius looks at Holly expectantly.

            “Two diet cokes and two lemonades, please,” Holly says with a nod. “Can I – I – ”

            To Lucius's surprise, she falters and looks at him uncertainly.

            “What is it?”

            “Can I get a milkshake, please?” She gives him a pleading look.

            With a start, he realises it is the only request she has made all day, apart from asking for a skipping rope.

            “Oma used to treat me and H – we used to get milkshakes.”

            “Of course,” he agrees, falling into the same trap that made Narcissa agree to stay. This little Snape could have them twisted around her fingers if she truly wanted. He ignores the slip like he usually does when she almost mentions Potter. “We’ll all have milkshakes.”

            Might as well drown in them – whatever milkshakes are.

            Beaming, she turns back to the assistant, who has frozen, waiting for them to finish.

            “Five milkshakes, please. Two chocolate and three strawberry shakes. The ice cream machine is working, isn’t it?” she tacks on uncertainly.

            “It is, sweety,” the boy reassures her. “Your order will be ready in five minutes.”

            Lucius pays the paltry amount the boy requests, instructing him to keep the change, and moves to the side. It is closer to ten minutes when Lucius moves back to the counter. He lets Holly carry the one with the … burgers and fries. The burgers are some sort of round bun wrapped in paper, whilst the fries, thinly sliced pieces of fried potatoes, are spilling out of a thin cardboard type thing. He carries a tray of drinks, whatever Holly ordered for them: they come in tall cups made of cards or something. Food that is wrapped in paper. The mind boggles!

            If they were not in the vicinity of so many muggles, Lucius would have whipped out his wand and levitated both trays towards the table where the others were waiting for them.

            He places his tray on the wobbly table first before reaching down to get the other from Holly.

            Once they are seated, the adults and Draco look at each other uncertainly whilst Holly picks up the square box with her… a Happy meal.

            “Is that what we’re eating?” Draco asks with a disgusted look at the round things wrapped in paper.

            They watched as she opened her colourful box and pulled out her small burger, a smaller packet of fries, a chocolate chip cookie wrapped in some sort of transparent - … plastic paper, and a small bottle of chocolate milk.

            She opens the wrapper of her burger and eats it with great enjoyment.

            Narcissa is the first one to open her burger and display it for all to see: it is a sloppy sandwich, squashed, but with some sort of orange cheese oozing out.

            “What’s the meat?” Lucius asks though the word meat would be a questionable term.

            “Beef,” Holly answers before taking her next bite.

            Then, seeing as no one is eating, she puts down the rest of the burger.

“If you don’t want to try it, then we can go back,” she says a little forlornly.

The adults all exchange glances; only Draco looks eager at the announcement.

“Let’s do that,” he exclaims impatiently.

“Sit down, Draco,” Lucius says sharply. He hates to see the look of disappointment on Holly’s face. He is a soft touch when it comes to disappointing looks: it is how Draco managed to get his way most of the time, less so now that he has lost the cuteness of childhood. Teenage petulance has made Lucius more immune to his son’s pleading expressions.

Holly looks at Draco with wariness. “You’re being a baby, though.”

“I – What? I am not!” Draco splutters.

“I think you’ll like it,” she says, picking up her burger. “You’re just close-minded.”

“I am not close-minded,” he denies indignantly.

“Spoiled,” she taunts him.

Lucius and Narcissa exchange amused glances. Holly has been using this trick all afternoon, fooling the boy into getting more muggle things. Draco thinks he is above all this, but their son will be shocked when he realises how many bags he will find in his bedroom once they sort through everything at home.

Draco pulls his burger towards him and unwraps it with a wrinkled nose. Lucius and Severus slowly do the same, hiding their expressions.

“I bet you’ll like it once you stop acting like a baby,” she calmly pulls out her fries and chomps down on them, and Lucius decides to take one of them as well. He cautiously nibbles on the end: it is greasy, salty and crispy, but he is surprised at how good it actually tastes. With more confidence, he bites it in half, chewing thoughtfully.

“Where’s the knife and fork?” Draco sneers.

“It’s like a sandwich, Draco,” Holly points out with a laugh. “You don’t eat a sandwich with a knife and fork.”

Draco flushes and scowls, looking down at the burger with trepidation.

“What do you bet?”

“What?” Holly asks, surprised, a fry halfway to her mouth.

Lucius is absently consuming his own. He nudges Narcissa and offers her one. She looks at him with a questioning look, ignoring her unwrapped burger. He waves the fries at her, and she warily takes one, nibbling with the same apprehension Lucius had seconds ago.

“You said you bet I like it,” Draco scoffs. “What’s the bet?”

Holly smiles at him like she has a secret.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll ride your Nimbus with you,” she eventually announces after a thoughtful expression fades from her face.

They all look at her in astonishment.

“You’re afraid of heights,” Draco points out.

“You’ll like the burger, so I’m not worried.”

Lucius smirks at her confidence. He decides to wait for Draco to try the burger; in the meantime, he happily works on his fries. Narcissa has started on her own, overcoming her initial resistance.

“It’s good with sauce,” Holly says, looking at Lucius and Narcissa with a gentler smile than she gives Draco.

She pushes several little tubs in their direction; she grabbed them and dumped them on their tray whilst waiting for the rest of the orders.

Lucius reads each one carefully – ketchup, barbecue, sweet and sour.

Narcissa delicately opens each little tub and dips the end of her fry into the red one first. Lucius does the same. The ketchup is good, a little tangy. He tries the sweet and sour one next and decides he likes this better but tries the brown barbecue anyway. It is sweet as well but has a smoky flavour. He still likes the sweet and sour sauce the most and pulls it towards him. Narcissa sticks with ketchup.

Severus looks at them both as if he does not know whether to be amused or disgusted. Lucius ignores his friend and turns back to the entertainment of Holly teasing Draco. He is preparing to take a bite out of his burger, holding it in his hand as if it were a Blast-Ended Skrewt. He scrunches up his face, reminding Lucius of when he was concentrating on filling his nappy as a toddler.

“Well?” Holly asks.

Draco has taken his first bite and is chewing with a grimace. There is red sauce smeared on his lip. He swallows and glares at Holly but darts another look at the burger.

“I like it,” he admits grudgingly as if confessing to murder.

Holly bursts out into giggles.

“I won the bet,” she announces happily, reaching for the small cup of her chocolate milkshake.

Lucius decides to pull the strawberry towards himself. Copying her, he picks up two straws, unwraps the paper, sticks it in the lid of the milkshake and hands it to Narcissa before taking one himself.

“What do you want me to do?” He gives her a wary look.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she tells him unconcernedly. “I’ll think of something.”

Draco opens his mouth to protest.

“You should have set some conditions before you agreed,” she points out, biting into her burger with a happy smile.

Lucius chuckles. Clever little girl. He sees the proud look Severus hides behind his cup of black liquid – coke.

“What drinks did you get us?” Narcissa enquires, looking curiously. “Is the black one coffee?”

“Diet Coke and Lemonade,” Lucius dutifully repeats.

“Why diet?” Narcissa asks.

Holly shrugs.

“Oma always asks for diet, so that’s what I got.”

No one at the table showed any sign of noticing her slip of the tongue, or, if they did, they pretended not to.

“What does a diet coke mean?”

“It means there’s no sugar in it.”

Severus sips it after taking the lid off completely.

“It’s sweet,” he grimaces.

“Regular Coke has more sugar,” Holly answers, but without the same warmth she would have if she were talking to Lucius or Narcissa.

“Why does it have bubbles?” Lucius asks to cover up the awkward moment.

“Gas,” Holly shrugs again. “It makes it fizzy and sparkly.”

Mimicking Severus, he decides to take the lid off the black drink and tries it. He has to stop rubbing his nose when he feels like bubbles are swimming up his nostril. Narcissa tries a sip from the same cup as Lucius and then tries the lemonade, preferring it, so she takes several more delicate sips. Draco tries both as well. From his expression, Lucius can see that his son is pleasantly surprised. However, he enjoyed the chocolate milkshake. Looking at his strawberry, Lucius feels it is nothing more than melted strawberry ice cream. This realisation does not stop him from slurping the straw, to his guilty pleasure.

Muggle food has undoubtedly exceeded his expectations, though why they need bubbly drinks, he is not sure. It is not like this is champagne.

He exchanges a glance with Narcissa once more before they decide to tackle their… cheeseburger.

Holly has the humility not to gloat when Draco asks for another burger. Lucius and Narcissa also go back for more crispy, salty fries.

When they finally get home, Lucius immediately heads for the kitchens to summon Sorrelly, the Kitchen Elf, to recreate the fries.

 

ooOoo

 

Severus does not have his semi-planned talk with Holly until the next day. He has been floundering since the first letter from Tobias, who has also been sending him letters demanding to bring over his granddaughter – how does he still manage to get an owl, and why is Lucius allowing it to come through?

             He was desperate to meet his daughter and, if asked, could not explain why - given he has never liked children. Yet, from the moment Tobias confirmed knowledge of his child, Severus has been driven by the need to bring her home. To him.

             Holly, on the other hand, is content to ignore his very existence. Yesterday, in the muggle world, was the closest he had come to being acknowledged: she had given thought to whether he would like the same foods as Lucius and Narcissa. He considers this a step in the right direction and is tentatively hopeful that this conversation will have a positive outcome.

             For the sake of consistency, Lucius has offered the same room he uses to reprimand Draco on some occasions: they have flippantly dubbed it the “Discipline Room”.

             He takes a deep breath as he waits for Holly to arrive. Narcissa will be accompanying her. She might be younger than his students at Hogwarts but needs to be given the same guidelines and rules as them. He needs to lay out strict consequences – not that she seems to be a rule-breaker: she is pretty well behaved, he thinks proudly.

             He shuts down the other voice in his head that tells him he has had no part in her upbringing to be proud of that.

             He gets up and paces, waiting for Holly’s arrival. He needs this… encounter to go well. He idly glances at Lucius's books in the Discipline Room, holding back a snort as he sees an entire shelf lined with Lockhart books.

             A soft chime alerts him that there’s someone outside, and the door handle is depressed within seconds.

             Narcissa enters first, beckoning Holly through. His daughter steps through with a curious smile, which immediately disappears when she lays eyes on him.

             “I think there’s a talk overdue,” Narcissa tells Holly gently, pushing her further into the room. Holly gives her a betrayed look until the door closes firmly as she leaves.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius is sitting in his study, staring absently at the decorative crystal ball he uses as a parchment weight. There is the shadow of an Ouroboros inside, a snake eating its tail.

             The door to his study opens, and Narcissa enters. She is the only one who can walk in without knocking and not be chastised for it. It is a good thing Lucius has always been a loyal husband.

             “How may I help you this evening, my darling wife?”

             Narcissa arches a brow at him.

             “I am here for the same reason as you, my meddlesome husband. We need to know how badly Severus needs our support. Holly will be ready to take her OWLs if we wait for him to come out of his pool of self-pity.”

             Lucius smirks at the possibly accurate assessment of Severus’ character. The Potions Master does not handle personal rejection well.

             “How did she react?” he asks.

             “From the brief look I got before I closed the door in her face? As if I had wrung Artemis’s neck in front of her.”

             Narcissa walks around his desk as Lucius lifts his arms welcomingly, allowing her to sit on his lap. She wriggles her bottom, deliberately, to ostensibly find a comfortable position on his thighs. Lucius holds back a groan.

             Bringing out her wand, she points at the crystal ball and gives him a questioning look. She is asking for his password.

             With a looking of meaning, he whispers in her ear, “I am your Echo.”

             He knows she has understood his reference by the searing glance she sends over her shoulders. She taps the centre of the Ouroboros and repeats it in a clear voice.

             Severus’ voice comes through as vibrant as if he were in the same room. Narcissa leans back against his chest and encloses his arms around her waist.

             “You cannot avoid me forever,” their friend is saying.

             They settle in to listen, telling themselves they are doing this for Severus and Holly.

 

ooOoo

 

Holly whips her head to glare at him when it is clear the door won’t open again. She rattles the door handle, but Severus knows Narcissa has spelled it shut, so only he can open it with a spell of his own.

             “You cannot avoid me forever,” Severus begins quietly.

             She does not speak. With her back against the door, she sits cross-legged on the floor, ignoring the chairs that Severus has set for them both.

             Severus debates whether to sit on the floor across from her or take his original seat, deciding, in the end, for the latter. He is her father, and she will accept his position.

             “We’re not leaving this room until we’ve resolved the tension between us,” he says into her stubborn silence.

             She draws her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around her shins, resting her chin on her knees and staring at him unnervingly.

             “You cannot ignore me forever, child,” he continues with more snap in his voice. He takes a deep breath, sighing and leaning forward in his chair.

             “I’m going to explain a few things to help you understand. I’m not sure what your mother or grandmother told you,” Severus declares. “I never realised your mother gave birth to you. My father told me he received some pictures of you when you were born but never forwarded them to me. If I had known about you, I would have come for you sooner.”

             She changes position, letting go of her legs and sitting cross-legged once again. He has her attention, at least, and feeling bolstered by this, he resumes.

             “I admit, your mother and I didn’t part on the best of terms at the end of our relationship. I may have said some hurtful things to her, and I regret every single one of them,” Severus assures her.

             At the time, he really meant them. To be perfectly frank, once Jasmine stopped sending her letters begging to get back together, he never gave her another thought. He only regrets that Jasmine used his last words to hurt his daughter. He hates her for this, but cannot let that show, not when his relationship with his daughter is already so fragile.

For the first time since she entered the room, Holly responds.

             “Are you a liar?” she asks in a trembling voice. He can’t tell if she is upset or angry.

            “Pardon?” He is confused by the question. Has she sensed his evasion?

             She gets up from the floor and walks to the chair across from Severus.

             “You want me to trust you?”

             “Yes,” he nods, trying not to show his eagerness.

             She sits cross-legged in the chair, placing her hands on her ankles and pulling them closer to her body.

             “So, if I ask you some questions, you’ll tell the truth? No lying?”

            

 

ooOoo

 

Narcissa tenses against Lucius; his arms tighten in response.

             Be careful, my friend, Lucius warns the Potions Master silently.

 

ooOoo

 

“I won’t lie,” Severus promises solemnly, hoping it does not backfire on him.

             “Mamma said you called her a bed-hopping slut. Did she lie?”

             Severus cannot hold back the flinch at those words. She pronounces them calmly, but there is a fierceness in her eyes.

             “No,” he says remorsefully. “She didn’t lie. But… I regret it.”

             “She said she told you she was pregnant. Did Mamma lie?”

             “No. I’m sorry I didn’t believe her.”               

             She ignores his words of regret and looks at him ferociously.

             “She told me she sent you loads of letters asking to talk to you. Did Mamma lie?”

             “No.”

             “She said you never replied to a single letter. Did Mamma lie?”

             “No.”

             “She tried to go to your dad, and he sent her away. Did she lie?”

             Each negative answer was drowning any chance of repairing his relationship with his daughter. Jasmine has done a thorough job of ensuring his daughter hated him forever.

             “No,” he replies heavily.

             “She said she loved you. Did you love her?”

             Severus finds he cannot look at her when he shakes his head negatively.

             “She loved you more than she loved me,” Holly whispers with a trembling chin, the weight of what she’s revealing so heavy it almost saps her strength. “She told me that. She said I was a mistake that should never have happened.”

            

ooOoo

 

Lucius can feel Narcissa’s upset at those words. They had tried so long to conceive that they were grateful for Draco’s birth. He can feel his wife’s anger that Jasmine took the precious gift of a child and trampled over it like a Lethifold smothering a victim.

             He kisses her shoulder compassionately. It does not quell her trembling.

 

ooOoo

 

“She should not have said that to you,” Severus says as calmly as he can. If Jasmine were not already dead, he would have strangled the life out of her.

             Holly shrugs. “She only told the truth.”

             “No, no,” Severus jerks up, reaching out as if to draw her into an embrace that tastes of longing and fondness, but Holly recoils, inhaling sharply. “I am here for you. I am here for you, now.”

             He is hurt when she pushes him away.

             “I don’t need you.” Her words are measured to upset him. “I don’t-” A sob breaks her whisper.

             “You do,” he insists. The ache in his heart makes his temper rise.

 

ooOoo

 

“He’s going to lose his temper,” Narcissa snarls.

             Lucius does not argue with her about that.

 

ooOoo

 

“Why?”

             “I am your father,” Severus tempers his voice. “You will always need me.”

             “You’re not my father! I’ll never need you!”

Tears furrow her cheeks red with anger: she feels powerless, facing an adult she doesn’t know and who can’t understand her.

“If it were not for me, you would still be in the care home,” Severus says through gritted teeth. He is practically looming over her – not that she is intimidated.

             “Am I supposed to be grateful that you remembered me after nine years?”

             “I spent weeks looking for you the moment I found out about you!”

             “I didn’t ask you to do that,” she snaps back.

            

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius grunts as Narcissa accidentally elbows him as she scrambles to get off of him. He stands up, still holding her tightly.

             “Cissa, darling,” he pants, trying to keep hold of her. “We can’t interfere. They have to work this out between themselves.”

             Narcissa pushes against his arms, squirming desperately like a mother dragon protecting her eggs.

             “Severus doesn’t know how to handle a child. His people skills are worse than a troll’s. He will say something that will alienate her, and I need to get Holly out of that room before he says something he’ll regret.”

             Lucius knows that if he wants to sleep in the same bed as his wife tonight, he must refrain from pointing out it was her idea in the first place for Severus to have a frank discussion with his daughter to set boundaries and resolve any issues.

             Bracing himself, he lifts her off her feet and pushes her against the side of the desk. He must also refrain from pointing out how turned on he is by her body writhing against his.

 

ooOoo

 

“You are here now, and here you will stay,” Severus growls. “I am the only family you have left.”

She leaps to her feet, standing on her chair, forcing him to step back.

“You’re not my family!” Holly yells.

“You will do as I say,” Severus hisses back at her. “I will no longer tolerate your sullenness. You will no longer ignore me. You will speak to me in a civilised manner.”

“Or what?” she challenges.

“Or you will suffer the consequences,” he replies. “And believe me, child, you do not want to cross me.”

“I hate you,” she spits at him venomously.

Severus hides the pain the words elicit.

“You still have to obey me. After all, legally, I am your father,” he sneers, not letting her see how her words affected him.

“You’re not my father. You’re just a sperm donor – You’re my warden.”

He freezes as he hears those words.

 

ooOoo

 

They halt as they hear Holly’s words. They both expected Severus to say something atrocious that would upset her but did not think of the horrible things his daughter could say to distress him.

            The honesty of a child can often wound a parent more effectively than a well-placed Crucio.

 

 

 

 

> Chapter 10 - Lose Your Gourd

 

There are days when Regulus feels like smothering his brother with a pillow. He can act like such an entitled git - worse, when he is bored, he feels like everyone has to stop and entertain him. On other days, Regulus can tell that Sirius is trying to be mature: twelve years in Azkaban is not conducive to developing a healthy outlook in life.

       There is a part of Sirius still stuck at age twenty one. Younger even, as sometimes he acts like he is a toddler. Regulus understands Sirius feels even worse, trapped in the house he’s already escaped from once, but Regulus has worked hard to change the place from how it used to be.

   In particular, after the destruction of a locket due to an out-of-control fire, spending a lot of money overhauling the entire house, cleansing it of all the dark objects. To retrieve another item from his cousin’s vault, Regulus had sacrificed every goblin made object the Blacks had ever owned and a significant portion of the more questionable ones to the goblins in exchange for one cup. It had taken years of negotiation and legal documents to enter a vault to which he was not technically entitled. Though the goblins had been happy to destroy the dark object, it had come at a price.

                A price he had gladly paid, as it also meant being one step closer to destroying Voldemort once and for all.

                It hurts Regulus when his brother acts like being caged in his own house, which is practically new with all the work done, is worse than Azkaban. They need to catch Pettigrew as soon as possible to kick Sirius out of the house since he is so miserable here.

                Right now, Regulus feels like tying Sirius up like a mummy with all the skipping ropes they have and leaving him in the dungeon. This will undoubtedly make Kreacher happy. He and Sirius have never gotten along.

                 “Sirius, you need to keep your mouth shut if you can’t keep a civilised tongue,” he warns his brother.

                “I’m just saying that Snivelly isn’t very useful since he’s lost his spy status. He doesn’t need to come to meetings anymore,” Sirius replies.

                The Order meeting has not started yet; they are still waiting for Severus, Dumbledore, Shacklebolt and Tonks.

                “He’s a damn sight more useful than you are, Sirius,” Regulus retorts with a scowl. “He, at least, is ensuring that the Order keeps itself stocked up with all the potions we need.”

                 Sirius snarls at him. “What did you say?”

                There was a time when Regulus was afraid of his brother and his temper: now, he has been through too much in the last fourteen years to be fearful of Sirius any longer.

                “Exactly what you heard.”

                “It’s not my fault I’m trapped here,” Sirius hisses through clenched teeth.

                “Isn’t it?” he taunts while Arthur, feeling the tension rise, attempts to smooth things over.

“We are all contributing to the Order in our own ways, gentleman,” the older wizard says in a firm voice.

                He knows Sirius is itching to do something for the Order but is not allowed out due to his fugitive status. Kingsley is leading the investigation to capture Sirius but is using the manpower to try and track down Pettigrew instead. So far, the rat remains hidden. Unfortunately, they no longer have a spy in Voldemort’s camp; at least Severus might be able to give hints as to where Pettigrew might be hiding, and they could have done something to lure him out.

                It is a tense ten minutes before the other members arrive. Dumbledore and Severus enter together, deep in conversation. Severus murmurs his agreement and nods before winding around the table to sit next to Regulus, as is his custom.

                When Sirius glares at them both, Severus simply raises his brow unconcernedly. After Sirius has looked away, Severus turns to Regulus with a questioning look.

                He shakes his head; now is not the time to go into it.

                It took two months for Sirius to go back to his old ways. After Harry had sent him to Grimmauld Place at the end of his third year, both brothers had spent an awkward week or three, or the whole summer, vacillating between guilt, joy, contrition, blame and reproach. He thought they had worked out the problems on both sides, but it also helped that they spent very little time in the home they had both grown up in.

                Despite the changes at Grimmauld Place, Sirius finds it hard to let go. Regrettably, he is stuck, and everyone else is suffering the brunt of his temper. It is only a matter of time before Harry experiences it directly, which will undo all of Sirius's progress in gaining the boy’s trust over the past year.

               

ooOoo

 

“What is your problem with Severus?”

                The Order meeting ended half an hour ago, and most members have left. Today, Severus managed to escape quickly before Molly had a chance to get to him. She has a weird fixation on trying to fatten him up: come to think of it, she seems to take anyone’s thinness as a personal affront. Since the end of term, she and Kreacher have spent the past few weeks swapping recipes and cooking enough food to feed a herd of dragons. Per meal. Regulus has already had to buy new trousers as his old ones are tight around the waist.

                “I don’t see why he has to come here,” Sirius says in an aggravated voice, reminding Regulus of the times when their mother forced them to dress up for parties and greet their guests, like good little hosts.

                Regulus has followed his brother to the library and now is staring at Sirius’s back with an inscrutable look.  “You need to start behaving like the adult you are, Sirius.”

                Sirius spins around to face Regulus directly.

                “Yes, Mother,” he mocks, eerily gathering the thoughts from his head.

                A nerve ticks in Regulus’ jaw. He tightens his Occlumency shields regardless.

                “You’d think twelve years in Azkaban would teach you some humility, Sirius,” Regulus retorts quietly.

                A look of mockery quickly turns into fury.

                “Watch your mouth, Reggie,” Sirius seethes.

                “You’re not a child anymore. We are on the cusp of war, and you’re dicking around like this is still the playground with someone who is on our side,” Regulus continues.

                Sirius steps close enough to get into his face.

                “Don’t call me a child, Regulus,” he warns.

                “Then don’t act like one,” the other replies, his voice equally dangerous.

                “You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Sirius pushes Regulus back, then shoving him again, adds: “Whilst you were off swanning around the world, spending family money to renovate the Manor, I was living my worst life with only Dementors and the demented for company!”

                Regulus is no longer the timid little boy wary of his brother’s displeasure, so he has no qualms about pushing Sirius backwards.

                “You were in Azkaban because you put yourself there, Sirius. Just like everything else in life, you gave priority to all the wrong things.”

                “Priority like taking the Dark Mark?” Sirius taunts.

                Regulus knows Sirius expects him to flinch at those words, but he has long since made peace with the Dark Mark scarring his arm.

                “I might not have been as brave as you, Sirius,” he clenches his fists and stares at his brother with a look of disappointment, “to be able to leave. But you, on the other hand, weren’t brave enough to take me with you. So, I protected myself the only way I knew how. I complied.”

                Sirius pales at his words but points a finger to his own chest. “Are you blaming me? You took the Dark Mark, and you have the balls to blame me because you were too weak to get away? To fight for the right side?”

                “Did you think about me for a second, Sirius? After you left, did you even think about what kind of hell you were leaving me to? But then, you stopped caring the day you got sorted in Gryffindor, didn’t you? Am I right? As far as you were concerned, nothing else mattered.”

                “You could have followed me there! I would’ve never rejected you!” Sirius roars.

                “Follow you? Did you think you were setting a good example? Being a Gryffindor was better than anything back home, right? Who do you think she took it out on when you oh – so gleefully - wrote home to tell her the good news?”

                “You chose to stay, Regulus,” Sirius shouts, pointing at him accusingly. “You chose to stay when you could have been better than them.”

                “Don’t you think I tried? Don’t you think I argued with the Hat, begged it to put me anywhere but Slytherin? Do you know how close I came to becoming a Ravenclaw? I was sent to Slytherin because it told me I would have learned all the needed skills to survive - and I did survive, Sirius. I damn well survived even without you!”

                Only he and Kreacher know how close he came to giving up. When he had no one else except for his devoted House-Elf, who was kind to him despite the crap he got from Walburga. After all, every creature craves just that little bit of kindness.

                “I wanted to do more than survive,” Sirius raises his voice even more. “I wanted friends, and I wanted to get away from that harpy who thought she could torture me into being the perfect little Death Eater. If I hadn’t left, I would have been just like you, little brother.”

                “But you didn’t escape it, did you?” Regulus shouts back. “Do you know why it was so easy for people to believe you were a Death Eater the whole time?” He pauses, laughing bitterly at his brother’s incredulous face. “Because you acted like one. You despised our upbringing so much, but that didn’t stop you from using what she taught you to torture other people, did it? Oh, you might have called them pranks, but were they that different from what the evil Slytherins did,” his voice becomes sarcastic, “simply because you were from a different house?”    

                “I was nothing like our mother,” Sirius denies, paling even further.

                “Weren’t you?”

                “Take it back,” Sirius gets in his face again.

                “No.”

                “Take it back, Reggie,” Sirius shoves him. “It’s my last warning.”

                “You and that bastard Potter were no different from any Death Eater, Sirius. Do you think you were proving to be better than Slytherins?” Regulus shakes his head in disbelief. “You weren’t. Neither you nor your best mate Potter was any better than us. You just wore different colours, and the teachers accepted you because of it. If you had done any of that shit you did while wearing green, you would have realised you hadn’t escaped far enough.”

Sirius swings a fist in his direction with an angry roar, but Regulus sees it coming and steps to the side: sticking out his leg, he trips his brother, but Sirius manages to tackle him from the ground. Losing his balance, Regulus hits the floor with a thud. They grapple for several moments, each trying to get the upper hand. They don't even bother reaching for their wands, so absorbed in the fight.

A noise from the door catches their attention, and Regulus releases Sirius from the headlock. They both scramble to their feet and see Harry and his friends with varying looks of shock and dismay. Regulus only catches Harry’s look of hurt before he brushes past the twins.

“Severus is my friend,” Regulus breathes angrily, stepping back from Sirius. “He is more welcome here than you are. If you even try to look funny in his direction, you’ll regret it. This isn’t your home: you’re here only because Harry sent you here, and you had no other choice. You wanted to be a Potter so badly? Then you should have changed your name when you had a chance.”

With that venomous closing, he leaves to find Harry.  He hopes the boy is not angry with him.

 

ooOoo

 

Narcissa believes it is an improvement over his previous treatment; Severus is still ambivalent about it.

                Holly still ignores his presence unless he makes an effort to address her directly. When he does get an answer, it comes with a belligerent little harpy attitude. She does not address him as Dad, or Daddy or even Father, or anything close to familial. If she deigns to acknowledge him, she calls him Mr Snape in the most impersonal, detached way possible.

                Lucius finds this all amusing, while Narcissa prudently laughs behind his back rather than in his face like her husband. Even Draco likes to show off his marginally better relationship with Holly.

Still, Severus has only two weeks left before he has to go back to Hogwarts to prepare for the following school year, so he determinedly ignores her antagonistic demeanour and sets to spending some one-on-one time with her: two hours every day, one hour every morning and one in the evening. The tense atmosphere feels like torture.

                To offset this, Lucius and Narcissa do the same individually. Both of his friends refuse to tell him what they do in their time together, although he suspects they are learning more about the books and other sports paraphernalia they bought in the muggle world. Contrary to Severus and Holly's time together, where they both walk out with disgruntled expressions, Holly’s time with Lucius and Narcissa ends with a smile - if it ends at all.

                So, he decides to use the time more productively. He was planning to have Holly start her schooling to coincide with the school term; therefore, he decides to get a head start, assess her education, and put together a syllabus.                

                Having spent the past week gathering all the curriculum notes he could lay his hands on from Draco’s younger days, Severus now sits in Lucius’s library with a recalcitrant Holly. After what felt like a token argument, she begins filling out the various tests.

                It is all taken from the age-appropriate educational books he bought from Waterstones during their trip to muggle Manchester - mathematics, muggle history, sciences, English Language and Literature. Severus had even picked up extras for those muggle tests called SATs. Had she stayed in the muggle world, Holly would have had two more years of muggle primary school. In the end, she would have taken her SATs, the qualifications that all children take before joining muggle high school. However, Holly would not have attended it. Instead, she would have entered her first year at Hogwarts. His heart clenches at the thought of seeing his daughter for the first time at the Sorting ceremony: would he have recognised her?

                Had her grandmother not passed away, would she have approached him at Hogwarts, even if it was to offer recriminations? She looks just like him... Would he have noticed and done something about it?

                Severus looked down at the science test he is marking while she works on her English literature book.

                She is clever. He is proud of her, despite having played no part in his education so far. Jasmine had been a Ravenclaw, and Severus himself was a good student. Transfiguration was his only weakness, but he excelled in all other subjects.

Holly’s maths work is quite good too - she seems to have a head for numbers. She’ll probably take Arithmancy when it comes to choosing electives in her third year. Severus knows Lucius will agree to tutor her in advance, being much better with numbers than him. Severus is not worried about Muggle History since she will move on to Wizarding History once she starts Hogwarts. However, he has already made sure she gets a head start for her first year: Binn’s history program had not changed since before his death some thirty years ago.  

                Instead of listening to his droning voice, his Slytherins all have notes they studied from. Severus has his own set of notes which he will include in Holly’s History syllabus that he will construct for her for the coming year.

                Her written skills need work, though, he thinks as he moves on to her English assignment. Riddled with spelling and grammatical errors, he knows he will have to push her to do better when writing her essays. Still, he has two years before she starts Hogwarts, so he has time to educate her in those matters; he will also teach her Latin as his mother taught him.

                Thinking of his mother, absent for so many years, sends a pain through his heart. He never discovered what happened to her: his owls have never found her, nor has he ever been able to track her down. Lucius tried for him once, using his PI, but the woman came up with nothing. Severus never met Lucius’s PI: he is highly secretive about the woman, but apparently, she is very good at what she does and had never let him down - except for this one thing.

                Still, thinking about his mother leads him to think about his father and their upcoming meal. Family dinner, as Lucius sneers at it.

                The latter refused to let Severus take Holly alone, insisting that they all go together or not at all. He does not have a high opinion of Tobias, and they both wonder at his sudden insistence on meeting his granddaughter after having known about it since her birth - unlike Severus.

                Severus has not told Holly about her grandfather yet: he has been avoiding the topic for the past few days, but the appointment is tomorrow.

                “We are having lunch out tomorrow,” Severus announces abruptly as Holly passes back the last of her history work to him.

                “McDonald’s?”

                Severus holds back a grimace. Draco has been begging (not that the boy would agree with that word to describe his behaviour) to return for more burgers. Lucius’s House-Elves have tried to recreate the meal at home, but they all agreed it didn’t taste the same.

                “No,” he clears his throat. “We will visit my father.”

                The look on her face becomes thunderous: she is aware that Tobias has turned her mother away.

                “Didn’t know he was still alive,” she mutters, looking away.

                Against his will, he is darkly amused, often thinking the same on occasion.

                “He is eager to meet you,” Severus continues, pretending he did not hear her.

                “He didn't bother before. Why now?” she scowls. She still has not looked back at him.

He has no answer to that but says instead: “He is curious about you. Lucius, Narcissa and Draco shall be going with us.”

                “Right,” she replies sharply.

                Severus is still mentally scrambling to say something more while she scrapes her chair back noisily and walks out. Her gait is just shy of stomping.

                His lips twitch into a small smile. He is looking forward to Holly meeting Tobias.

 

ooOoo

 

“So, Luna’s coming today,” Neville comments, sending a sly glance toward Harry.

                He pretends to be engrossed in his Charms book as he sits cross-legged on his bed. He has already done all his homework ages ago and is now reviewing all his old books. He needs to upgrade his trunk to fit all the stuff he is struggling to get in: even with all the Space Expansion Charms. He needs to speak to Regulus about getting a new trunk, maybe one like Moody’s. He can have his clothes in one compartment, books in another and cauldron and equipment in another - he would even have extra space for Holly’s things.

                He briefly fantasises about travelling around with Holly, joining Luna during the summer holidays, hunting down creatures only she and her father believe in.

                He has been reading the Quibbler since he met Luna. Hermione thinks it’s rubbish, but he enjoys the conspiracies.

                “Harry,” Ron catches his attention.

                “Hm? Yeah?” he says, snapping out of his imagination.

                “Any news about Holly?”

                His friends know that Iris passed away, and Holly is in some muggle care home, but he has not told them yet that she is Snape’s daughter and is with him and the Malfoys. He keeps telling himself he should tell them, but they know how bad his relationship with Snape is. Hermione might respect Snape as a teacher because they might clash on a topic once a year, but Ron and Neville both hate him: he doesn’t want to hear how they think Snape will never let him see Holly again. He already knows that.

                Neville has never met Holly but has seen pictures of her and Iris that Harry keeps in his photo album, the same one Hagrid gave him at the end of his first year. Harry has been adding his own pictures of Holly, Iris, and even Dudley in his boxing gear. He has shown photos of his friends to Iris and Holly in the summer. Unfortunately, there aren’t many from the first year, but after Colin Creevey came to Hogwarts, Harry paid the other boy to take pictures of him and his friends. He always refused to sign them, but he allowed Ron to take a handful with Colin and a few more last year when his brother Dennis entered Hogwarts.

                He gives a sad look at Hedwig’s empty perch. Even though he told Hedwig that Holly is hidden behind wards, it doesn't stop his owl from flying off every now to try and see her for herself. He sends her off with letters to deliver to Dudley instead to keep her occupied.

                He has received some letters from Holly, delivered via Regulus, but Harry hasn’t divulged those contents.

                They look at Hedwig’s perch as well.

                “Hedwig still out for her?” Ron asks sympathetically.

                “Yeah.” It is probably one of the few truthful things Harry can tell them about Holly.

                “Harry,” Ron begins hesitantly.

                Neville gives him a sharp look and leans back from the chess game he is playing with the redhead.

                “I know Holly means a lot to you,” Ron continues haltingly, “but, you know, she’s not really your family. She’s not really… your sister. Don’t you think that – with everything going on – maybe – you should leave her alone?”

                Harry has to hold back his first instinct to punch Ron in the face at those words.

                “Are you saying that because of Voldemort? Or because you think I shouldn’t care just because she’s not my sister?”

                Ron flinches at Voldemort’s name.

                “Well, she isn’t,” Ron insists. He looks at Neville for support, but the blond shakes his head. “I just don’t want to see you upset because you can’t find her. And... you know I’m right. She’s not related to you in any way. You don’t have to take responsibility for everything - especially not some orphan.”

                Harry stands up brusquely from his bed.

                “I don’t mean it like that,” Ron scrambles to his feet, only now sensing that he’s overstepped the mark.

                “Harry,” Neville tries to intervene. Perhaps he is afraid they will start fighting like they saw Regulus and Sirius did several days ago. Maybe they are getting the same thing Sirius has - cabin fever.

                “What did you mean then?” Harry snarls, stepping towards Ron.

                Ron’s comments wound him. They don’t know what life is like at the Dursleys: they know they are horrible people who starve him and lock him up. He’s aware his friends look out for him and always grab him food like some fruit or bread rolls or sandwiches from Great Hall, even if he has sat and already eaten with them. They don’t know that the Dursleys have beaten Harry so severely over the years that no amount of spells or potions will ever remove the scars.

                He has always talked about Holly and Iris and called the latter Oma since he stepped foot in Hogwarts, and Holly his sister. He may never have said every single kind thing they did for him, but that doesn’t mean he has to for Ron to understand why Holly means what she means to him.    

“Why did you come to rescue me from the Dursleys back in the summer before Second year? You risked a lot back then. Why did you do it?”

                “Why wouldn’t I?” Ron retorts vehemently, confused. “You’re my best mate. You didn’t reply to any letters, and I knew something was wrong.”

                “I’ve known Holly since I was eight.” Harry begins to narrate, inhaling deeply. “Did I ever tell you how? It’s because her mum dumped her at the park instead of dropping her off a little further away at her grandmother’s.” He interrupts himself as the weight of memories threatens to suffocate him. “She was two, and her mum threw her away. The Dursleys have never been kind, never. They never thought of me as family. But Oma was always there. She was my family more than anyone tried to be - Holly has always been there for me as well. She never cared that I wasn’t her brother by blood. She just... accepted me. Now I’m all she has. I’m not going to leave her – just because …  I’m not leaving her alone.”

                Ron tries to reach out for Harry, but he bats his hand away, giving Neville a glare for good measure, and the other boy backs away with dismay.

                “You don’t understand the value of family, Ron,” Harry states bitterly, picking up his Charms book. Then, reaching for his photo album, he continues, “You might complain about never having money and wearing second-hand robes or getting crappy dress robes, but you never had to worry that one day you would come downstairs and there’ll be no food for you on the table. You never had to worry about not having a family to look out for you.

                “You have your head so far up your arse about what you don’t have that you don’t realise that you should hold on to what you do have. You’re lucky to have a family. You might be pissed with Percy right now, but he still took care of you in his own pompous way. He never complained about not having money; he just made sure he learned whatever he needed to have the skills to earn it for himself. Now you’re trying to separate me from my only family.”

                “Where are you going?” Ron asks with a scowl that shows how displeased he is with Harry’s comments about his family and Percy.

                Harry doesn’t answer. He struggles to close the trunk, not having packed it neatly, and drags it out, scraping the bottom loudly against the floor.

                “Harry,” Neville calls out weakly. He looks uncertainly between him and Ron. “Don’t – Ron was just – ”

                Harry shakes his head and walks out. He pushes past Hermione and Ginny, who look at him in concern.

                “Harry? What-?”

                “Ask Ron,” he snaps as he storms away, as much as he can with his trunk slowing him down.

 

ooOoo

 

Severus does not usually care to get involved in teenage squabbles, but the hushed voices,  on the verge of a rising argument, catch his attention.

                He hears Potter’s name called plaintively and rolls his eyes. Always about Potter. As he turns the corner, he sees the boy and Granger in a heated discussion of some sort - lover’s spat, no doubt.

                “Harry, he’s sorry. He didn’t mean it,” Granger was pleading.

                A spat between Potter and Weasley, then. The latter walks around with a big chip on his shoulder but is too lazy to actually drag himself out of his family’s poverty. He had heard that Weasley had been jealous of Potter’s entry into the Tournament: he managed to cheat his way through the Tournament, but Ronald would have failed at the First Task.

                “I don’t care that he’s sorry, Hermione. He shouldn’t have said it.”

Typical Potter. He would probably make Weasley beg for forgiveness on his knees. He had probably put his foot in his mouth over something juvenile as insulting Potter’s favourite Quidditch team.

                Severus withdraws from his position. He doesn’t need to stand here and listen to Granger grovel on Weasley’s behalf. The boy is so lazy that he can’t even be bothered to make his own apology.

                Potter and Granger move away. Severus is about to leave, too, intending to escape before being accosted by Molly Weasley, when a book catches his eyes. It is a copy of a Potions text, probably belonging to one of the Weasleys, judging by its battered state. Only they tend to buy second-hand – but something about it looks familiar to him. He walks into the room to take a closer look, but just as he is about to reach for it, he is yanked back. His wand is instantly in his hand as he pivots to face his attacker.

                Of course, it’s Black.

                “What do you think you’re doing, Snape?” Sirius growls, his fists still in Severus’ robes.

                He pushes Black away violently. He should not have let the other sneak upon him in the first place.

                “Trying to steal?” he accuses, and Severus rolls his eyes at his childish attitude.

                “Yes, Black, I came here to steal a student’s potions text.”

                The mongrel glares at him.

                “What are you doing here then?”

                Severus cannot admit he was spying on Potter and Granger. The flea-bitten convict would only tell him that he now enjoys spying on teenagers since he can no longer spy on Death Eaters.

                How did you fall so low? he asks himself.

                “What could Regulus possibly see in you?” Black steps closer to him. “What hold do you have over my brother?”

                Severus allows a smirk.

                “Is the leash around your neck chafing, Black?”

                “You are of no use to the Order, Snivellus,” the mutt pokes him in the chest. “Why do you keep coming back?”

                “I have more use than you, mongrel,” Severus hides the fury he feels at the hated nickname Potter and Black gave him when they were still at school. “It must be relaxing staying inside while everyone else runs around, endangering themselves.”

                Black flushes an ugly red, and Severus knows he has hit the mark: he has never been the kind of person to sit still.

                “I’d go out and help the Order if I was allowed to,” Black says defensively.

                Severus crosses his arms over his chest. “How convenient for you that you are not.”

                “It’s not like you’re able to contribute much either. A few potions here or there, is that all you’re good for now? Going back to scaring more students from taking your subject? Sounds like a safe little hidey-hole for you. Too scared to face your old master that you need to hide behind the formidable wards of Hogwarts, behind school children?”

                The smirk falls from Severus's face. He brings his wand to Black’s face, whose eyes follow it with a cold stare.

                “Have you forgotten, Black,” he spits out the name, “the reason I am unable to spy anymore is because I went to rescue your godson? Weren’t you the one hiding in the safety of the Headmaster’s office, the formidable wards, whilst I risked my life to save Potter’s ungrateful backside?”

                Black scoffs.

                “Harry was doing well enough, from what I heard. Duelling with Voldemort and beating him,” he crows. “Is that the kind of master you bowed to?”

                Severus sneers, “Potter being a braggart about his success? He barely managed to escape with his life. Whatever he did to hold off the Dark Lord was all due to luck. Regulus and I were the ones who saved him. Potter couldn’t hold his own against a bowtruckle. The only reason he got as far as he did was that Crouch paved the way for him.”

                “Harry is worth a hundred of you,” Black pushes his wand out of the way. “Don’t you dare insult what he’s been through.”

                “Just like Potter, taking credit for other people’s efforts. Like father, like son,” Severus scorns.

                “You shut up about James.” Black shoves Severus backwards; then, before he can blink, his wand is snatched from his hand and thrown away. Black brings out his wand, but he lashes out with a kick to his knee. Black moves out of the way, managing to avoid the full brunt of the pressure, but is distracted enough that Severus pushes the wand away from himself. Twisting his wrist, he forces Black to drop his wand and reaches out to catch it but fumbles as it falls through his fingers.

                Black backhands him in the face. They quickly become involved in a brawl, and Severus wishes he had left as soon as the meeting had ended. Damn Potter and Granger.

                “Don’t you miss your gang? Not your style to attack without backup,” Severus pants.

                “I don’t need backup to kick your arse, Snivelly,” the other man snarls. His eye is starting to swell from the punch Severus gave him, while his jaw is smarting from Black’s elbow. He knows it will be bruised tomorrow.

                “Sirius, stop,” a voice calls out.

                Severus doesn’t place it immediately, in the heat of the moment.

                “I said stop it,” the voice calls out again.

                Black doesn’t listen. Severus’s hair covers his eyes as he steps forward, breathing hard. A dark blur places himself between the two disputants. Black is too late to pull back, and the figure goes down with a thud and a clatter; the book Severus was previously reaching for, and the table it was placed on, skid out of range.

                There is a startled scream at the same as Black shouts, “James, you idi-”

                He doesn’t complete his sentence. Everyone freezes in shock.

                Severus is still trying to pull himself together when he looks down at the figure who got between him and Black. For a moment, under the shock of messy hair, he almost believes it is James Potter until Granger screeches: “Harry!”

                He is pushed away before he can get his bearings. Regulus rushes to Potter’s side, who is unconscious, having hit his head on the edge of the table, and gently turns him over: there is already a bruise on his left temple from Black’s fist.

                “H- H- Harry?” Sirius gasps faintly. He drops to his knees to help, but Regulus pushes him away with a vicious look.

                “Kreacher!”

                The House-Elf pops in straight away.

                “Take Harry to his room and then go to Andromeda’s. Ask her to come here immediately for a medical emergency,” Regulus instructs, continuing to cradle Potter carefully. “Get out of my sight, Sirius. Just... go away.”

                Kreacher takes Potter away, and Regulus climbs to his feet. He is still angry and turns his disappointed gaze on Severus. He has never looked at him like that.

                “Go home, Severus,” he tells him quietly.

                “Potter –” Severus begins to defend himself.

                “Go,” Regulus adds more forcefully. “You’ve done enough. The both of you.”

               

ooOoo

 

 “What happened to you?” Draco asks Severus at breakfast that morning.

                After coming back from Headquarters last night, Severus found it difficult to sleep. He and Regulus had not been close for many years, not since the end of the war and the trials; still, the younger wizard is a good friend, and Severus is unsettled to have Regulus upset with him.

                “Was there trouble at the meeting?” Narcissa queries with concern.

                Severus still needs to put some Bruise Paste on his jaw, but he has already taken a Pain-Reliever.

                “Black and I got into it,” he reluctantly confesses.

Lucius rolls his eyes, summoning his Elf to fetch some Bruise paste. Narcissa helps apply it to Severus’s jaw, sighing and shaking her head. They know all about his history with Sirius Black.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius wishes he could go to Headquarters just to curse Sirius Black into ashes - which he would then spread over the rose bushes Narcissa had just planted. He is under no illusion that Severus didn’t give as much as he’s received; Black is most likely still tending to bruises of his own. At least, that’s what he surmises from the state of Severus’s knuckles.

                “What did the bastard complain about this time?” Lucius questions without genuinely caring. Black is the kind of person who could walk into an empty room and start a fight with a chair simply because he was bored. He always acted like a toddler in need of constant entertainment.

                “After the meeting, I heard Potter and Granger arguing. Weasley put his foot down about something. After they left the room, I saw a book,” Severus explains with a wince as Narcissa dabs the paste on his face.

                Lucius believes there’s more to the story than that but does not push.

                “I was reaching for the book – I was merely curious. It seemed familiar, and I thought I would get a closer look.”

                “What were Potter and Granger arguing about?” Draco interrupts with malicious interest. “What did Weasley do?”

                “Never you mind,” Narcissa rebukes sharply as she takes her seat. She wipes her hands clean on her napkin before resuming breakfast. “Carry on, Severus.”

                Both he and Narcissa glance at Holly, paying attention as she slowly cuts up her sausage into tiny pieces but does not eat it. Severus and Draco need to tread carefully here.

                “Regulus has been defending me to Black, and he took offence to that,” Severus finishes.

                They all see Holly perk up at Regulus’s name, and he wonders if she is interested in why Regulus would defend Severus. Indeed, he seems to think so because he straightens up and continues in a casual voice, “Regulus and I have been friends since Hogwarts. He does think well of me.”

                The only thing missing is the sideways glance from Severus to Holly, but the Potions Master has better control over himself than that. Still, Lucius smirks behind his cup of coffee.

                “So, he started throwing punches?” Draco asks, buttering his crumpet.

                With a more cautious glance at Holly, who is paying more attention to her food, outwardly at least, Severus nods.

                “Then, what happened?” Narcissa points out, cutting her toast into triangles. “You managed to get away before doing more damage to each other.”

                It is a logical assumption. If the argument between Severus and Black descended into muggle brawling, then only interference would have stopped it. So, someone must have intervened. Probably Regulus, as he would look out for Severus, even against his brother.

                “Potter stepped between us,” Severus admits, reaching for the bacon. “One punch from Black sent him to the coffee table. He passed out instantly.”

                Lucius does not miss Holly’s look of concern, while Draco snorts in amusement.

                “Ha! Harry Potter. Always thinks he’s so tough. Wait until I tell everyone at school about this,” he announces gleefully.

                “You will do no such thing,” Narcissa admonishes severely.

                Draco is taken aback.

                “Who’s Harry Potter?” Holly asks with casual interest before Narcissa or Draco can speak again.

                Lucius exchanges another look with Narcissa and is about to answer, but Draco is quicker.

                “He’s an arrogant prat at school, walking around like he owns the place, thinking he's something special.”

                Holly has an innocent smile on her face. Lucius wonders how she will handle this since neither Draco nor Severus knows about Potter’s connection with her. He casts a quick look at Narcissa, who only shakes her head to tell him not to interfere.

                “Isn’t he that baby who killed that bad person? They didn’t give his real name in the books I read - only called him You-Know-Who. Harry Potter killed him, didn’t he? The books call him the Boy-Who-Lived - a hero.”

                Lucius has to hide another smile behind his coffee. Narcissa delicately picks up her napkin to dab her lips, but Lucius can see she is hiding her amusement. Yet another thing Holly has unknowingly inherited from Severus: his ability to discern a weakness and use words to injure someone’s pride in the worst way. Holly certainly knows how to rile up Severus and Draco using Potter.

                “Potter should not have interfered,” Severus shakes his head with a sneer. “He always has to act like a hero.”

“He was a baby hero, wasn’t he? That’s what heroes do,” Holly says artlessly, stabbing her sausage piece with a fork.

                “He’s not a baby anymore, but he acts like it,” Draco says sulkily. Then, perking up, he continues, “He’s my age. And he’s not a hero. Serves him right, getting knocked around by his godfather. The prat deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.”

                He follows this with another dark laugh, and Lucius desires nothing more than to smack his son upside the head. It’s like he’s purposely trying to alienate Holly. They might not know about Potter and Holly, but still, they should be more cautious when speaking about him in front of, to their knowledge, an impressionable child.

                 “You’re lucky you can laugh when an adult hurts someone they’re supposed to be taking care of,” Holly snaps angrily at a startled Draco. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

                She scrapes back her chair and runs from the dining room without asking to be excused.

                “What was that about?” Draco asks cluelessly. “She doesn’t even know Potter. Why does she even care about that prat?”         

                “Perhaps, Draco,” Narcissa answers in a cold voice, “because you have forgotten how Holly’s mother treated her. By laughing at the fact that Harry Potter was hurt by someone who should, by all rights, have been looking after him, you are saying he deserved to be hurt.”

                “But… it’s just Potter,” their son mumbles sullenly.

                “By extension,” Narcissa raises her voice, “you are saying Holly deserved to be hurt by her mother too.”

                Draco pales in understanding.

                “Your mother and I have told you many times to curb your tongue regarding Potter, but whatever your obsession with him is affecting your relationship with Holly. If you wish to continue being on good terms with Holly, you need to watch what you say, especially if you think it’s malicious,” Lucius lectures him in a more even voice. Draco, it seemed, had become obsessed with the boy - not unlike Black and Severus.

                “Once you have finished your breakfast, you will apologise to her,” Narcissa orders.

                Draco nods, though not without some resentment.

                Lucius decides that another talk with his son is in order. Soon. They are to be allied with Potter, and Draco must mind his manners. He and Narcissa might know they have indulged Draco quite a bit, even to the point of spoiling him. Still, Draco should also learn to be prudent. He does not know the exact reason why, but Draco has hated Potter from the beginning. At the time, he had been disappointed that Draco had not managed to gain a friendship with the boy; it would have been a good way of getting him under his thumb - a powerful ally he could have moulded to his own purpose. When it did not happen, he moved on to his next plan.

  He gives his son a sharp look as the thought of Draco’s obsessive behaviour towards Potter occurs to him. He is now doubly glad to have the position of Defence professor at the school to keep an eye on the situation.

“What happened next?” Lucius asks, bringing them back to the topic at hand.

“Regulus sent Black away and told me to leave,” Severus concludes.

Regulus telling him to leave probably upset Severus more than he wants to let on.

“And Potter?” Narcissa probes.

“Regulus sent his House-Elf for Andromeda,” Severus relays with a sigh. “He hit his head hard enough to knock himself out - probably has a concussion.”

Draco cannot hold back his snort.

“Leave,” Narcissa snaps, having had enough. “If you still find amusement in someone else's misery, then I cannot deal with you right now.”

Draco puts on a look of hurt. He tries to argue with his mother, but she won’t hear of it, so he walks away with an uncertain glance.

“Was that not harsh?” Severus comments, giving Narcissa a puzzled look.

Lucius silently agrees with this. It was harsh, given that they have never curtailed Draco’s malice in similar situations in the past. Perhaps it is a combination of changing alliances, Holly’s presence, and her inextricable connection with Potter. When Draco does find out about it, he will be shocked. Still, for now, Narcissa and Lucius have decided not to tell him or Severus - partially for the sake of peace during the remaining summer months, but also because Lucius is still working on gaining Potter’s trust.

“Surely, Severus,” Narcissa begins, staring at Severus with the same cold look she bestowed upon Draco, “you do not condone a child being hit by someone who is meant to be protecting them. Especially not after suffering through the same yourself and knowing that your daughter suffered the same fate at the hands of Jasmine.”

Severus’s pallid skin takes on an ugly flush, and he can no longer hold Narcissa’s gaze.

“No doubt Potter has been coddled by his relatives, the same as we have done with Draco. The difference is that Potter has no one to reign him in; he’s been allowed to run amok in our world. Draco has not suffered consequences for his actions in the past because we have looked out for him, perhaps too much. And I know for a fact that you let him get away with a lot more whilst at school. We are in a war now, and Draco needs to realise that.

“I am glad Lucius is no longer a Death Eater. Draco does not have the temperament to make a good one. One Crucio from the Dark Lord would have broken him straight away, and the others would have laughed at his suffering.”

Severus looks at Lucius, both having suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord when he was displeased. In the thirteen years of peace, Lucius had chosen to forget what he had endured, but the darkening of the Mark over the past year swiftly brought it back to light.

Lucius had not argued with Narcissa when she demanded not to return, not just for his own sake, but for Draco’s. He might think he is threatening, but really, he is just a boy trying to act like a man. He still has so much to learn... 

                “Whether you like it or not, Potter is important. Draco needs to learn to get along with him if he can. If not, then he needs to stay away from him. And he has to learn to keep his opinions to himself, especially around Holly. If we want her to think we are kind people, then she cannot see us laughing at other people’s suffering.”

                With her lecture concluded, Narcissa excuses herself.

                Lucius lets out a weary sigh.

                “We still have lunch with your father to get through,” he points out tiredly.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry opens his eyes slowly when he feels something cold on his face. It feels good, despite his pounding head.

                A ray of light manages to pass between his half-lidded eyelids, his eyelashes an inextricable web, but he manages to recognise the blurry visage of Luna.

                “Good morning, Harry Potter,” she hums, gently placing his glasses on his face.

                Harry doesn’t move straight away. Memories of last night’s events flood into his brain: he had gone back to the parlour after arguing with Hermione about Ron to get his Potions book. Iris had given it to him, and he knew it would come in handy for OWLs this year, having loads of valuable notes that he was reviewing before Hermione interrupted him to speak on Ron’s behalf - something that annoyed him to no end. Hermione didn’t like it when he and Ron were at odds, but still, Harry thinks she shouldn’t try to fix everything.

                When he’d come back to get his book, he had seen Snape and Sirius fighting, their wands on the floor. Right or not, his first instinct had been to protect the book, not wanting Snape to recognise it; his second instinct had been to stop the fight from escalating any further. Sirius and Regulus were already arguing because of Snape, and he didn’t want Regulus to be more upset with his brother. The last thing he remembers was Sirius’s fist coming at him when he stupidly tried to step between them.

                “Morning, Luna Lovegood,” croaks Harry, wincing slightly. It seems to him that Buckbeak kicked him several times in the head as he rose to sit. He looks around the room; it's just him and Luna, who backs off to give him space.

                “What time is it?” he asks.

                “Breakfast time,” Luna tells him, looking at him with her protuberant eyes.

                “Is that where everyone is?”

                His throat hurts from the forced and prolonged silence that every word spoken seems to cut into his throat. 

                As if reading his mind or even listening to his croaking voice, she reaches over to his nightstand and picks up a glass of water already placed there, handing it off to him. Her fingers are warm and soft as he brushes them with his own.

                “Any of those for me?” he asks hopefully, taking a sip of water and eying vials of potions next to the water.

                “Mrs Tonks left strict instructions for you to take the blue one first,” Luna says in her dreamy voice.

                Harry obediently takes the potion first, then the green one, as Luna hands it to him.

                “Thanks,” he mutters, handing them back, washing down the not-so-terrible taste with more water. The pounding in his head abates.

                Suddenly, he seems to realise the other girl’s presence in the room and feels shy. Luna has that effect on him.

                “How was your trip to Norway? Did you find any Snorkacks?” he asks with a smile, generating a look of comical disappointment over Luna’s face.

                “No,” she answers sadly. “Daddy and I had no luck with Snorkack hunting, but he said we will try in Sweden next year.”

                “Right,” he nods, still smiling. Then, plucking up his courage, he admits:  “I missed you.”

                Luna looks at him brightly, and it’s as if the sun has come out again after a storm.

                “Oh, that’s… nice. From what Ginny told me, I thought you were too busy to miss me,” she continues.

                “I did,” he quips in a firm voice. “Miss you, that is. Even with everything else going on.”

                Luna gifts him with a sweet smile.

                “I missed you too, Harry,” Luna replies.

                Harry has an urgent need to go to the loo, which can no longer be ignored.

                “I’ll be right back,” he mumbles, knowing his face is going red.

                Luna’s smile widens as she moves from the bed to let him pass. He quickly grabs some things from his trunk and leaves for the bathroom. He is still in the room closest to Regulus’s and shares the bathroom with the other wizard.

                He wishes once again that he had met Luna before the Yule Ball last year so that he could have asked her to be his partner, rather than Parvati. Though his first choice had been Cho, who had turned him down in favour of Cedric, he still had a good time with Parvati, he thinks, as he applies toothpaste to his toothbrush. Certainly, he had a much better time with Parvati than Padma, who found herself with a miserable date in Ron, who spent the whole time glaring at Hermione and Viktor Krum. He could be so thick sometimes... He brushes his teeth vigorously.

                He scowls to himself as he remembers why he’s not speaking to Ron and spits out the suds from the toothpaste. Holly is his sister, no matter what his friend thinks. He strips out of his clothes from yesterday and hops into the shower for a quick wash.

                Less than ten minutes later, he is already back in his bedroom, where Luna is reading the latest copy of the Quibbler.

                “Have you had breakfast yet?” He looks at her questioningly, hoping she hasn’t so they can go downstairs together.

                “I was waiting for you to wake up,” Luna says softly, and Harry’s heart leaps.

               As they walk downstairs together, she whispers: “I’m sorry about your Oma,”

              Harry says nothing but merely nods weakly,  acknowledging her offer with a lump in his throat.

“And Holly?”

He doesn’t want to lie to Luna. Unlike Hermione and Ron, who have always seen how Snape treats him, Luna is new to witnessing that sort of treatment. Everyone at Hogwarts knows Snape hates Harry Potter, but only Gryffindors and Slytherins in Harry’s Potions class see first-hand how much. Still, Snape being Holly’s father is something Harry is not ready to share, not even with Luna, with whom he had begun to share many other things - things he would not even talk about with Hermione, Ron or Neville.

So, he simply says, “She’s waiting for me.”

Luna doesn’t ask anymore. She doesn’t push as Hermione would or give him a look like Ron when he’s confused about why Harry cares about a young girl he is not even related to.

Ron has so many people in his family; he doesn’t understand what it means to be genuinely unwanted.  He doesn’t know what it’s like to find a family and do everything you can to hold on to them. Unlike the Dursleys, Iris never considered him a burden.

“I know you won’t let her down.”

A warmth fills him from hearing Luna’s words.

“I’m sorry you’re going to be stuck inside the house with us,” Harry says before they enter the kitchen.

“You were my first friend, Harry. Being stuck with friends is not the worst that can happen,” Luna waves off his concern. “Daddy and I believe you. I know I’m safe with you.”

Behind them, Regulus’ harsh voice spits out a bitter sentence: “As safe as he can be when he’s not getting beat up by his own people.”

Luna greets Regulus and slips into the kitchen after a quick smile at Harry, leaving them alone.

                “Are you okay to be out of bed, Harry?” Regulus asks in concern. Coming closer, he reaches for Harry’s head, carefully inspecting the wound. Harry saw in the mirror, before showering, that there is still a bruise.

                “I’m fine,” he says automatically.

                Regulus gives him an annoyed look: he doesn’t like it when Harry uses that word.

                “Did you take the potions Andromeda left?” the older wizard asks instead, deciding to let the matter go, at least for the moment.

                “Yeah,” he answers. “They helped with my headache.”

                “Well, one more application of the Bruise paste, and your face should clear up by tonight,” Regulus sighs, letting go of Harry’s face. “Let’s have breakfast, and then we’ll talk properly after.”

                “Is Sirius okay?” Harry can’t help but ask.

                “After, Harry,” Regulus states in a firm voice that admits no reply, pushing the door open to the kitchen and gesturing for Harry to enter first.

                All the Weasleys are already sitting in the kitchen. Luna has taken a seat between Ginny and Neville, and there’s an empty seat on either side of Sirius, as no one seems willing to sit next to him. He leaps to his feet as soon as Harry enters, but one glare from Regulus, who comes in just behind him, has him sitting back down.

                Regulus points him towards the other empty seat between Ron and Bill, which Harry reluctantly takes. Sirius watches this with dismay. Regulus picks one of the empty seats next to his brother but does not acknowledge him in any way.

                Ron gives him a tentative smile, handing him the plate of scrambled eggs.

                “I’m really sorry, Harry,” the redhead offers with a remorseful look on his face.

                “Never repeat it, Ron,” he warns him.

                “I won’t,” comes the promise.

 

ooOoo

 

Draco gives Holly an uncomfortable look, trying to gain her attention, but she won’t even glance in his direction. He had tried to go to her room after being banished from the breakfast table by his mother, but Holly had refused to open the door for him, and he had sat out there for fifteen minutes stewing at the unfairness of it all. Why is he being punished because Potter got beat up? Why does his mother even care? Why does Holly? She doesn’t even know Potter...

                Only after rushing to his own room and thinking about it all, reflecting on his mother’s words, does he begin to understand why Holly is upset.

                He still thinks Potter deserved what he got - in fact, Draco wishes he was the one to knock him out - but he decides he should try to apologise to Holly again.

                She refused to leave her room, even when Severus knocked on her door. Mother had to go collect her when it was time to see Severus’s father. He lives in some house, somewhere called Spinner’s End.

                Holly has been crying - he can tell by the redness around her eyes. Still, she rebuffs any attempts Severus makes to speak to her and doesn’t even look in Draco’s direction.

                She only allows Narcissa to hold her when it is time to apparate from outside the Manor gates. No one speaks the whole carriage ride there.

                Draco takes his father’s arm to be apparated, and they appear within seconds of each other in an alley filled with all sorts of rubbish and overwhelming smells that trigger Draco’s gag reflex. Lucius wrinkles his nose in disgust, the only sign Draco can see that he is affected. Severus begins walking straight away, with Lucius following. With an uncertain look at his mother, they fall into step behind them.

                Draco, Narcissa and Holly all look around with curiosity. He is aghast as he takes in the dilapidated state of the whole neighbourhood. Is this where Severus grew up? In this squalor? This is the sort of place he expects someone like the Weasleys to live; everything around them looks tired and depressed. Positively dreary.

                They arrive at a house, if it even can be called that: it looks more like a shack that needs to be knocked down. Even their albino peacocks have a better home than this. The place looks like it is barely standing: the front door is weather-worn, and the windows look like they have decades of dirt on them. He warns himself not to touch anything.

                A glance at Holly shows he is not the only one who doesn’t want to be here. He tries to catch her eyes again, to try and share a commiserating look, but she is still not looking at him.

                Severus knocks on the door perfunctorily. Just once. There’s a shuffling noise from the other side, and a cantankerous voice yells, “All right, all right. I’m coming!”

                The old man makes it sound like Severus has been banging on the door like a nuisance. The door opens to reveal a white-haired beast of a man: he is overweight, his large belly stretching his wrinkled shirt that is clearly from many years ago. The old man glares at Severus and greets him stiffly.

                “Boy,” he scowls.

                Draco raises his brows. He has never heard Severus referred to as a boy by anyone. Is this boorish muggle his father?

                Severus brushes past the old man with no other words, though he doesn’t venture further than the front door, just standing behind his beastly father.

                Lucius is next.

                “Blondie,” the old man mocks.

                Draco glares at him. How dare that man insult his father in such a way?

                The old glances at Draco, and he smirks at his indignant look.

                “Blondie junior,” he addresses him.

                “My son. Draco,” Lucius introduces in a cool voice, gesturing for him to enter the house.

                He does so, though reluctantly. He doesn’t offer the old man his hand to shake, uncaring that he is rude. He is disappointed that Severus’s father doesn’t offer his hand, just so Draco can rebuff him.

                “My wife, Narcissa,” Lucius continues.

                With a barely polite nod, the old man says, “Mrs Blondie.”

                “Mr Snape,” his mother acknowledges with more courtesy than he deserves.

                The elder Snape’s eyes fall on Holly. With difficulty, he kneels to her level. In response, Narcissa’s hand tightens around hers protectively.

                “Well, well. Aren’t you a precious little doll? Spitting image of my dear son,” he declares in an odd voice.

                With the glare Holly directs at the old man, her grandfather, Draco, can well believe it.

 

> Chapter 11  - Muck or Nettles

 

Tobias struggles back to his feet with his bad knee. Severus could have helped, but he doesn’t care, and his father has too much pride to ask. Especially in front of everyone else.

                He observes as Holly stays close to Narcissa as Tobias firmly closes the door behind them. The house Severus grew up in is small, but it feels even smaller with them all standing in the hallway. Lucius has been here many times. Wherever possible, he refused to let Severus come here alone. For Narcissa and Draco, however, this is the first time. Severus knows they are both judging him - one with sympathetic pity and the other with disgust for his childhood home. He is not sure which is worse.

                “Come on, then. Don’t just stand there like numpties,” Tobias says gruffly, leading the way to the sitting room. Severus instantly sees the changes: the house is cleaner than he has ever seen. Giving Tobias a considering look, he realises his father has made an effort for today. Lucius, too, looks around the house with a hidden surprise and arches an eyebrow in Severus’s direction.

                Tobias takes his regular seat, absent of cans of lager, empty or full. It is an odd sight to see. Even the battered sofas are clean. He sends a challenging glance to Lucius, who usually conjures his own chair to sit on: this time, he simply conjures a large white sheet and flicks his wand to drape it over the sofa before allowing anyone to take a seat.

                Holly continues to observe Tobias throughout. Lucius and Narcissa sit down together, and Severus is surprised when his friend picks Holly up and seats her on his lap, affectionately keeping his hand on her shoulder. Severus feels a shiver of jealousy kiss his spine. He should be the one holding his daughter like that. As Severus conjures a seat for himself, he is reminded of Lucius’s father at that moment: Abraxas was also fiercely protective.

                Tobias’s sharp eyes don’t miss a single thing. He smirks in Severus’s direction, receiving a  scowl in response. Severus partially blames his father for his poor relationship with his daughter: had Tobias contacted him at the news of Holly’s birth, he could have collected her then and raised her as his own.

                “You’ve grown up quite a bit since the last pictures your grandmother sent,” Tobias declares, looking at Holly directly now. “Prettier than Severus was at that age. He was an ugly mug. Took him time to grow into his looks. Not like you. You’ll grow up to be a beauty. Must get that from your Mam.”

                Severus stiffens his spine, flushing in anger.

                “You did not tell me you had more pictures after her birth,” he snarls.

                “Didn’t I mention that?” Tobias gives him an innocent look that Severus does not believe for a second.

                “That you did not,” Lucius mutters in an icy tone.

                “Must have slipped my mind,” his father replies carelessly.

                Severus growls low in his throat. He darts a glance at Holly, who is looking at Tobias through narrowed eyes.

                Even Draco gives Tobias an angry look, and only Narcissa’s hand on her son’s wrist keeps him quiet.

                “Do you speak, girl? Or are you a mute?” Tobias suddenly turns his attention back to Holly.

                “Are you worth talking to?” she responds in a clear voice.

                Severus finds himself relaxing a little. It’s now time for Tobias to experience what he has been going through since they retrieved Holly from the care home.

                He expects his father to get annoyed since he has never liked being talked back to. So, he is a little stunned to see him break into a smile.

                “Prickly little flower, aren’t you?” Tobias laughs. “Your Da been telling stories about his mean old pop?”

                “He’s not my dad,” Holly states in a fierce voice.

                Severus tenses, but he wants Tobias to hear this. It is time for Tobias to see precisely what damage he has done to their relationship by keeping his own daughter from him.

                All mirth falls from his father’s face as he gives Holly a severe look.

                “Why is that, flower?”

                “He wasn’t there,” Holly says in a calmer voice, still not looking at Severus.          

                Whose fault is that, Tobias? Severus silently projects at his father.

                Tobias looks at his son as if he has heard that thought.

                “That’s fair,” he nods. “A father should be there.”

                “It wasn’t Uncle Severus’ fault he wasn’t there,” Draco bursts out, standing up and glaring at Tobias angrily. “You could have told him any time that he had a daughter!”

                Tobias gives Draco a quelling look.

                “This is a family matter, boy. Who are you to interfere with this?”

                “We are family to Severus and Holly,” Narcissa interrupts coolly, getting to her feet gracefully. Placing her arms around Draco’s shoulders comfortingly, she compels him to sit back down without much success.

“Sit down, Draco,” Severus says quietly.

With another glower at Tobias, Draco complies.

                Tension runs high. Lucius will not tolerate any antagonism to his family; at the same time, Tobias is not the kind of person to hold back his contempt. With this in mind, Draco needs to keep a cool head. Severus, and Lucius, by extension, have built up a tolerance over the many years. On the other hand, Narcissa has had her manners drilled into her from a young age: she can handle any venom Tobias throws at her with poise. If anything, her presence is more encouraging than Lucius’s.

                “Your grandmother kept you away, flower,” Tobias finally says. “She had my address but never gave me hers. She sent me pictures of you over the years.”

                “But couldn’t you have forwarded those pictures to Severus?” Lucius asks frostily, his eyes glittering.

                “My prerogative,” Tobias says flippantly.

                Before he can turn back to Holly, Severus gains his attention.

                “Why not?”

                “Mind your tone, boy.”

                “You kept my daughter from me,” Severus snaps. “I’ll talk to you in whatever tone I please.”

                He is on the edge of his seat. Tobias has his palms down on his chair, his body tensed as if he is ready to launch himself towards Severus.

                Tobias gives him a look that he remembers from his childhood. Lucius has seen glimpses of it during visits in the past. In foresight, one arm goes around protectively around Holly; the other holds his wand.

                Narcissa stops Draco, who is only trying to copy his father, from pulling his out.

                Another fraught moment passes. Severus slowly stands up from his seat, stepping towards his father. Equally slowly, Tobias stands up, too, meeting him halfway.

                “You got a woman knocked up,” Tobias pokes his finger at Severus’s chest. “She told you she was up the duff, and you chose to ignore her. I’ve not been the best father,” Severus scoffs in agreement at this, “but when your Mam told me she was pregnant, I still did right by her. Not that you were grateful for it.”

                Severus does not want to air his grievances about his childhood: today is only about Holly.

                “You should have told me about your pictures of Holly,” he says instead. He backs off, realising that everyone has stood up with them. Lucius has backed off, having picked up Holly, holding his wand defensively in front of them. Narcissa places her hand on Severus’s shoulder, while the other is splayed towards Draco, who looks eager to start cursing Tobias, to keep him back.

                “Do you know how her mother treated her?”

                “Maybe you should have treated her Mam better,” Tobias retorts.

                “Pull the other one, old man,” Severus scorns. Ridiculous that the man would lecture him on treating Jasmine with respect when he hadn’t done the same for his wife.

                He is surprised by Tobias’s expression of regret as he tears his eyes away from Severus. He never imagined his father would ever be so remorseful.

                Any further conversation is interrupted by a knock on the door. Apart from Tobias, everyone freezes.

                “Who is that?” Severus hisses. His wand is in his hand instantly.

                “I invited you for lunch, lad. It’ll be the food.”

            Tobias is already walking away from him and back towards the front door, his hand in his pocket, pulling out a fist full of notes.

                Of course, his father isn’t any type of cook. Eileen had been forced to learn how to cook quickly whilst Tobias sat on his backside, waiting to be served. His father must have survived on take-away after Eileen disappeared. Or rather, take away and booze: this explains the size of his gut.

                “Are you okay, darling?” Lucius asks Holly, tucking away his wand but still not letting Holly down.

                “Yeah,” she shrugs. She lays her head trustingly on his shoulder, making Severus jealous once again at their easy relationship.

                They start to take their seats in anticipation of lunch.

               “Sit back down, Draco,” Narcissa sighs whilst taking her seat.

                “I don’t see why we don’t just leave,” he complains. “We don’t need to be in this dump.”

                Severus hides a flinch at Draco’s words.

“I don’t want to go,” Holly asserts.

They all whip around with varying degrees of incredulity.

                “Why not?” Draco demands.

                “None of your business,” Holly tells him acidly, generating a hurt expression in Draco’s eyes.

                “Darling...” Lucius begins in an admonishing tone that finds no response.

                “I want to talk to him,” Holly insists stubbornly. “If you don’t want to stay, you can go and come back for me later, but I’m staying.”

                “No one’s leaving you here alone,” Severus says firmly, meeting with Lucius’s agreement and support.

                Draco, on the other hand, is upset and flops onto the sofa with a sulky look.

                There’s the sound of a chuckle and a loud “Good lad!” Then the door closes. The smell of food hits Severus before his father enters back into the room. He doesn’t stay for long as he walks straight out towards the kitchen.

                “You coming or what?” his voice calls out when no one moves.

                Lucius reluctantly lets Holly down but follows her closely, one hand still on her shoulder as they enter the kitchen.

                The aroma of the food is familiar, but Severus cannot place it until he stands over the threshold of the kitchen and sees the brown paper bags with a memorable yellow logo.

                Tobias blusters, misinterpreting the looks they give each other: “I’m not a chef. I don’t often entertain, so I ordered out.”

He turns around and starts banging the cupboard doors open. He pulls out plastic plates and cups, still in their packaging, a sign that they were recently purchased.

                “McDonald's doesn't do delivery,” Holly points out with confusion.

                “A young lad, Tony, lives a few streets over. I paid him to pick some up for me,” Tobias explains, ripping open the plastic from the plates and placing them around the dining table that would only fit two people comfortably, never mind the six of them. Besides, there are only two chairs, but this is promptly remedied by the Malfoy couple: Narcissa pulls out her wand to enlarge the table with a silent spell whilst Lucius conjures extra chairs.

                Ripping off the wrapping on the cups, Tobias continues, “He likes to have any excuse to show off his new car. Saved up years to buy it. I pay him to run some odd errands for me.”

                Probably buys the liquor, Severus thinks uncharitably.

                Crossing over to the fridge, Tobias pulls out a few different bottles of drink - Pepsi, Sunny D, and Sprite.

                Once everything is set up on the table, he scowls at them.

                “Do you need a separate invitation to sit?”

                Slowly, they all sit down. Lucius makes sure Holly sits between him and Narcissa while Tobias takes his original chair.

                Draco is practically drooling at the McDonald’s aroma filling the kitchen. He has been pleading, not that he would call it that, for another trip to the muggle world for more burgers. Only yesterday, Severus had mentioned it to Holly about it.

                Lucius had tried to get his House-Elves to recreate the fries but had remained unsatisfied. The other wizard will probably not admit it, but he is craving real fries as much as Draco is craving cheeseburgers.

                “Not the kind of fare you toffs are used to?” Tobias taunts when no one makes a move to reach for the food.

                Severus hides a smile behind his curtain of hair. Had it not been for their recent excursion to the muggle world, this might have been the insulting gesture - if that is what Tobias wanted to do - that would anger the Malfoys. Unfortunately for his father, he has chosen the exact meal that will actually please Lucius and Draco.

Draco gives in first. Cautiously reaching for the nearest bag, he opens it with anticipation, pulling out the bag of burgers.

“I asked Tony to bring a selection,” Tobias says gruffly. “Eileen used to tell me that your folks eat more calories because you burn them faster.”

Severus is surprised his father remembers this. They had indeed spent enough time starving that he thought Tobias did not even care. Magic had often angered him, and any accidental magic was punished with the belt.

The different metabolic behaviour that Tobias miraculously remembers certainly explains the numerous bags: besides, when they had eaten at the Arndale food court, they had gone back for a second time with a bigger order. 

Holly grabs the bag closest to her, pulling out Lucius’s favourite: McDonald’s fries, passing it on to him. He dumps the two portions of fries on the paper plate Tobias has provided with an unreadable look.

“Thank you for the meal,” Narcissa adds politely.

“What’s this one called?” Draco asks before Tobias can do more than nod.

“That’s a quarter pounder,” Holly replies.             

  He studies it with interest. “How is it different from a cheeseburger?”

“The one beef patty is bigger than the two in a double cheeseburger,” Tobias answers.

Draco takes a massive bite of his burger; the red sauce oozes out, smearing his lips in the process. Narcissa wrinkles his nose admonishingly at him.

Tobias throws a paper napkin at him with a wicked smirk and chides, “Don’t you have any manners, boy?”

Draco bristles as much as he can with cheeks bulging like a chubby squirrel and wipes the ketchup from his face.

“Tell me about your Mam,” Tobias asks whilst everyone begins to eat.

Severus then realises that the old man has waited until they are occupied with food without touching it himself.

                Holly looks up at him, chewing on her fry.

                She swallows before asking, “What do you want to know?”

                Her eyes are glinting, and she looks ready to fight. Finally, the old man might get a taste of what Severus has been going through.

                After reaching for a burger, Tobias dismantles it, picking out the pickled gherkin before assembling it again.

                “Anything,” he shrugs.

                “She hated looking after me,” Holly starts narrating, not looking at anyone particularly. She begins to play with her food, organising her fries in order of size on her plate. “But she wouldn’t let Oma take me all the time. I liked staying with Oma.”

                “That’s what you called your Gran? Oma?”

                Holly nods.

                “Did your Mam hurt you?”

                At this question, Severus throws his burger violently on the table.

                “You think you have the right to ask?” He bursts angrily. “You?”

                Tobias ignores Severus completely, looking at Holly intently.

                “Why do you want to know?” she demands, determined to get to the bottom of the matter Tobias is sneakily posing.

                Lucius and Narcissa watch them all keenly, ready to interfere if necessary.

                “Tobias,” Severus warns, but his father merely huffs.  

                “Did you ever call your Mam by her name? This one thinks he’s old enough to do that now.” Tobias sneers. “No respect for your father?” 

                “You don’t deserve it,” Severus huffs.

                “I always called her Mamma,” Holly continues, looking from Severus to Tobias. “Even after she died. Oma said she was still my mother.”

                “You miss your Mam?” Tobias asks in a gentle voice that Severus has never had directed at him.

                Holly doesn’t answer.

                “Are you angry with her for hurting you?” he probes, but such a question is the final straw.

                “Enough!” Severus thunders, pushing back his chair.

                “No,” Holly responds in a small voice. Then, in a much stronger one, continues, “Oma said being angry at Mamma won’t hurt anyone but me. Mamma's not around to feel it. She said I don’t need to suffer for it.”

                “Wise woman, your Gran,” Tobias says gruffly, turning back towards his burger.

                Severus, feeling deflated, wonders two things. The first: why does Holly engage with Tobias and insist on staying? The second -  he wonders if his father is thinking of Eileen.

                “What do you think of Severus?” Tobias continues with that sort of interrogation he’s been staging, eyeing Holly with an indecipherable look.

                “He’s a bully,” Holly answers without looking at Severus. “He must have learned that from you.”

                “Rude little flower, aren’t you?” Tobias tuts. “Why so angry?”

                “You’re both still alive.”

                Those words so steeped in poison sound unnatural coming from a child, so much so that Lucius chokes on his Sunny D, coughing and spluttering in a way that will mortify the blond wizard once he recovers. Narcissa’s lips twitch, a smile threatening to emerge.

                Tobias gives her a dark look. “Severus would never have dared speak to me like that, little flower. Didn’t your Gran teach you to respect your elders?”

                “Don’t call her flower,” Severus snaps. “And don’t you dare threaten her.”

                “I thought you liked flowers,” Tobias taunts.

                “Shut up,” Severus snarls.

                “Afraid?”

                “If you’d been a better dad, he wouldn’t need to be afraid,” Holly retorts, and  Severus is startled. Is she defending him? Could this be the first step towards a better relationship?

                “Aren’t you afraid, petal?”

                Severus rolls his eyes at Tobias’s mindful stubbornness. Why did his father need to use a flowery nickname?

                “Are you going to hurt me?” There’s a hard tone in her voice. “Like Mamma did?”             

               Tobias doesn’t answer - what’s more, he doesn’t look anyone in the eye except Holly.

Tobias looks at her curiously.  “Brave little girl, aren’t you?”

                “Oma said there’s no shame in getting hurt,” she states defiantly. “There’s only shame in hurting.”

                 There’s an odd staring contest between him and Holly, and Severus wishes he could know what they were both thinking. The conversation is not going the way he expected or even predicted.

                “Your Gran’s raised you well,” Tobias finally concedes. “My condolences on her passing.”

            A few seconds of silence pass, with the memory of a pain that has not yet been overcome hovering in the air.

               “She told me about you,” Holly declares suddenly, startling everyone with her words.

                “Aye? What did that w- woman have to say?”

                Severus wonders at the sudden stutter.

                “I don’t know what she meant,” Holly answers with a confused look.

                Tobias gives her an impatient look which Severus does not understand.

                “She said – ” she pauses, focusing intently on the memory. “She told me you were too late to try.”

         An astonished silence falls among those present until Draco asks, helping to satisfy Severus’ curiosity: “What does that mean?”      

               Holly merely shrugs.

                “That’s all?” Tobias asks keenly, and she nods.

                “Right,” he clears his throat gruffly.

                There’s an uncomfortable silence before Tobias pushes away his uneaten burger and abruptly stands up.

                “Right,” he repeats, lost in a maze of memories, as if unable to get out.

                Severus thinks he must be mistaken when he believes he sees tears in his father’s eyes. He has never seen his father upset - in a towering rage, angry, furious, indignant, yes, Severus has witnessed all those emotions - but upset was another matter entirely. Not even when the muggle police interrogated him about Eileen’s disappearance.

                “Keep eating,” Tobias orders hoarsely as he shuffles out of the room.

                Holly and Draco turn back to their food. Lucius absently eats a fry as he exchanges a look of significance with Narcissa. Severus makes a mental note to ask what they have noticed that he has missed. He feels like he is floundering in the dark.

                They hear thumps and bangs coming from upstairs, but Severus doubts his father is up there, bawling out his eyes. At Narcissa’s urging, he turns back to the burger, even though he’s not as keen on them as Draco, who has already scarfed down four and is now reaching for his fifth. Narcissa gives her son an admonishing look, which doesn’t stop him from eating his burger. Meanwhile, Holly takes tiny bites of her own, occasionally sending glances toward the door Tobias left from.

         By the time Tobias returns, they have already eaten, vanished the mess and bagged the leftovers. Narcissa is helping Holly wash her hands of the grease and salt of the fries while Severus amuses himself with the image of Lucius licking his fingers if he were alone: that is how much he likes the fries. He simply doesn’t understand the appeal - then again, food is just sustenance to him.

                Tobias doesn’t even mention the tidied table as he staggers in with a box full of wrapped gifts. Severus watches his father carefully, looking for signs of tears.

                Without looking at anyone but Holly, Tobias pushes it in her direction.

                “Your Gran never gave me an address, or I would have sent these directly to you,” he says hoarsely. “You’re too old for some of them now. Take them and see if you still want them.”

                He reaches into the box and pulls out a manila envelope, tossing it to Severus. It bursts open, allowing the various photographs to spill out. Severus's heart stills, but he dares not to hope. Could it be…

                “For you,” is all Tobias says but still does not look at him.

                Severus reaches for it cautiously, pulling it all towards him. Extracting the photos from the envelope, he slowly flicks through them. Draco and Narcissa move to stand over his shoulders, glancing through them with him. There aren’t many - fifteen in total. Losing himself in the photographs, he ignores the conversation around him.

There’s a one of Holly, from the moment of her birth. Though the face is cut off, someone holds her, and the flap of the picture breaks at the neck, making Holly the focus. Another one from the following year, as evidenced by a small cake with a candle number ‘1’.

                Her first birthday - she is smiling at the camera, a toothless but amused smile, as a reflection of the joy surely etched on the face of the person who took the photo. Then, her second birthday. She is starting to look more like him, her hair getting longer. She is not smiling in this picture but has a serious expression as if she is grumpy about something.

                Her third birthday. She’s laughing in this one, sitting on someone’s lap. Not Jasmine or her grandmother Iris, because the arms around her, perhaps tickling her, are too small. Whomever the person is, perhaps the boy mentioned by the woman from the care home, is hidden behind the squirming Holly. There are a few Christmas photos - one of Holly next to the tree with her small pile of presents.

                Severus looks at her sixth birthday photo, comparing it to her fourth. Her smile isn’t as vibrant. He looks at the pictures from her seventh, eighth and ninth birthdays. Though she is smiling, it isn’t the same smile as on her fourth birthday. He wonders why it is so. Why is she sadder as she gets older? Remembering the date on Jasmine’s birth certificate, he calculates that Holly was four when her mother died. Did she miss her?

                By Holly’s own admission, Jasmine wasn’t a good mother, but, at the end of the day, she was the only one Holly knew.

                He carefully flicks through the pictures from the beginning, wishing they were wizarding ones that moved.

                “Are these all the –” he cuts himself off, realising he is alone with Lucius.

                He has been so lost in the pictures that he’s ignored the happenings around him.

                “Where’s Holly?” he asks, alarmed.

                “Outside with Tobias,” Lucius answers.

                “You left them alone together?”

                “Narcissa is with them,” Lucius placates the Potions Master. “We can see them from the window.”

                Severus stands up from his chair so rapidly that it falls back. He storms over to the window to check on his father and daughter, letting out a breath when he sees them sitting on the stone seats at the end of the garden, with their backs to the window.

                Narcissa is close by, and he is relieved to see she has her wand out, ready to intervene despite the respectful distance she allows them.

                “Where is Draco?” he asks, carefully putting away the photos into his pockets and withdrawing the flesh-coloured strings he confiscated from the Weasley twins two meetings ago. He only discovered them accidentally when their mother complained about them inventing nonsense.

                The Weasley twins might not take life seriously, but they were creative geniuses, loathe as he is to admit it.

                “Restroom. What is that?” Lucius asks, looking at the fleshy strings with interest.

                “The Weasley menaces call it the Extendable ears. Useful for spying,” Severus replies, opening a window and allowing it to slither towards the trio in the garden. Narcissa does not notice it.

                Throwing the other one out, he hands the end to Lucius, who copies him when Severus puts his own into his ear.

 

ooOoo

 

“Your Gran sent me three letters in the last nine years,” Tobias begins to tell Holly softly.

                Holly knows Aunt Cissa is watching them closely, but she isn’t afraid of the older man. Oma used to say he was a bitter, angry man, but Holly hasn’t seen that: she sees someone who is lonely but too stubborn to admit any mistakes or changes.

                “Once, after you were born,” he continues, rubbing his knee.

Holly thinks it might be hurting him.

“She sent a letter with those pictures. Told me you were healthy, sweet and loud,” he chuckles. “Said you were a good sleeper but hated being disturbed and let everyone know it.”

Holly listens quietly.

“She was angry when I turned your Mam away and said I would regret it. She was right. I did. She sent me a new picture every year, showing how happy you were, even with everything your Mam had put you through, but she never wrote anything when she sent those. When you were four, your Gran sent me her second letter, telling me that your Mam had died in a fire but that she would make sure you were looked after and that she had custody of you.

“I wanted to get in touch then. Perhaps, whilst your Mam was alive, I was too ashamed after what I said to her about our Severus. Told her she deserved to raise her brat on her own, if she was too silly to protect herself.”

He falls silent, collects himself, and sneaks a glance at her.

“I made her cry - big tears as she left. I know Severus probably didn’t treat her right, having never known how to end an argument without losing his temper. If your Gran had sent me an address, I would have come to see you; but she didn’t, so I contented myself with the pictures and buying you presents, hoping to see you in person one day.”

He falls silent as he stares at the untidy hedge.

“I got a third letter from her just after your last birthday. She told me she was ill and asked to meet up with me - in a little park, not far from here. Told me to send Severus a letter, see if he’d pulled his head out of his arse enough to want to know you. So, I sent him that letter. And here you are.”

They both remain silent, and then Holly asks after a while: “Why did you never tell him about me?”

Tobias doesn’t answer immediately.

“You won’t like the answer, petal,” he warns her, looking at her.

She gives him an imploring look.

“Two reasons, petal,” he sighs, facing her properly. “First, your Gran asked me not to. She didn’t want his influence on you, which brings me to the second reason I agreed with. I know my son as much as he thinks otherwise. He wasn’t ready to be a dad, not back then. He was a mess…”

“Oma didn’t want him to –”

“She didn’t want him anywhere near you, petal,” he says gently. “Maybe because of everything your Mam told her about him or maybe because she wanted you all to herself, I don’t know. She knew it was wrong. When we met, she said she regretted it enough to try to make amends.”

“Oma never said a bad word about him,” Holly admits, biting her lip. “It used to upset her, so she said she would talk to me when I was older. Mamma never stopped talking about him. The only thing she never said was his name.”

“He’s –” Tobias heaves a great sigh and gets emotional. Holly can only see a single tear escaping before he quickly brushes it away, sniffing as he turns his head to hide his reaction from her. “He’s a good lad,” he eventually manages to say gruffly. “I – I was – I was never the kind of father he needed me to be. I was angry all the time, and I’ve never truly accepted his real nature… Like your Gran said – sometimes it’s too late to try.”

                They lapse into silence once again. Holly looks away when he reaches to dash away more tears.

                “He still doesn’t like you,” Holly observes, and Tobias laughs - a low, deep laugh that softens the crease in his lips.

                “I’m not very likeable,” he confesses. “Too much has happened.”

                “Do you think he’ll ever forgive you?”

                “Nah,” he rasps, rubbing his knee again. “And I’m not going to ask. There’s no point. We’re both too – it won’t…”

                He can’t seem to finish his sentence, but Holly thinks she understands. Thoughts of Harry and his Aunt Petunia pop into her head. She’s a horrible person - hurting Harry every chance she gets and letting other people, like her disgusting husband, hurt him as well. She wonders if Petunia will ever regret hurting Harry and whether Harry will ever forgive his aunt when they’re all older.

                Mr Snape was a bully, like Petunia, but Harry is kinder than him, so she thinks Harry would forgive his aunt. But he won’t ever trust her.

                She sees Aunt Narcissa moving forward, catching Holly’s attention and beckoning her.

                “I think we’re going to be leaving soon,” Holly says, turning to see Draco walk out.

                “Yeah,” Tobias grunts. He doesn’t move from the rock he is sitting on.

                Holly gives him a last glance before hopping off the rock, stepping back to Aunt Narcissa.

                “Will you ask your Da to bring you back?” Tobias says suddenly, twisting to see her properly, an almost imperceptible note of hope.

                She stops her first words of denying his paternity. He’s not her father. He was never there, and whatever Tobias said about him not being ready only reinforced that.

                Instead, she pauses and studies him closely.

                “Would it hurt you? If I didn’t want to come back?”

                He cocks his head at her and  answers in a slow, puzzled tone, “I think it would, petal.”

                “I think I might be ashamed,” she answers, turning her back to him.

                Placing her hand in Aunt Narcissa’s outstretched one, she hears a tense silence before there is a burst of startled laughter. Tobias is not angry.

                “You remind me of…” he begins to say, stopping to clamber to his feet.

                Curious, she turns around and prompts him when he doesn’t continue, “Who?”

                “Of Severus’s Mam,” he finishes, a reminiscent smile on his face, like he is thinking of something good. “She would answer like that as well. Take care, petal. Don’t forget your presents. See if they’re any good for you.”

                Holly nods.

                With a gentle tug, Aunt Narcissa leads her away. Draco is waiting, and Uncle Lucius steps out. Mr Snape is coming behind Uncle Lucius, looking pale and upset, and for a brief moment, she wonders why but then decides she doesn't care.

                “Bye,” she says in a small voice, turning to Tobias. “Grandad,” she adds quickly, as if afraid she’ll regret it.

                Tobias is startled at first but smiles genuinely at her.

                “Bye, Holly,” he nods, calling her by her name for the first time.

 

ooOoo

 

“Is Harry okay?” Sirius asks listlessly.

                Regulus gives his brother an unreadable look.

                “He’s healed fine enough,” he answers. “Andromeda did a good job.”

                Staring into his mug of tea, Sirius sniffs, “He won’t speak to me.”

                He has been gazing into it for several hours without a Warming Charm; It is now cold and looks undrinkable.

                “I’ve told him to stay away from you,” Regulus replies carelessly, returning to his crossword puzzle.

                Sirius jerks his head up; a wounded expression settles on his features.

                “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” he replies defensively.

                “I didn’t tell him to stay away from you because you punched him,” Regulus explains coldly. “It’s because you called him James as he went down.”

                Sirius looks away ashamedly.

                “I didn’t mean to do that either,” he sighs, rubbing his head with the palm of his hand. “Did you tell everyone else to stay away as well?”

                “No,” Regulus admits in a harsh voice, though he was tempted. “Harry’s friends will support him, so of course, they’ll stay away as well.”

                “He has good friends,” Sirius exhales. “Not many people would let themselves be locked up for the sake of friends.”

                “They’re better friends to Harry than you were to Potter,” Regulus points out.

                “What do you mean?” Sirius growls instantly. “James and I were best friends. I would have done anything for him.”

                This display of temper does not faze Regulus.

“Except be his Secret-Keeper,” he continues in a calm voice.

Sirius sits frozen, a look of fury etched on his forehead.

“Potter trusted you to be his Secret-Keeper. He asked you, but you didn’t want that responsibility, did you? Because it meant you would have had to go into hiding too. I know what you said last year, Sirius - that it was because Pettigrew was the least likely choice, and that might have been true. But really, you didn’t want to have to hide. I bet you thought it was a cowardly choice to make: you would rather have been gallivanting around the country, fighting Death Eaters, than sitting at home and reading about everyone else doing it. Even for the sake of the man you called your brother.”

“That’s not true,” Sirius denies through pale lips, but it’s a weak denial as if he realises the fallacy of his arguments.

Regulus shrugs, turning back to his paper.

“I would have done anything for James,” Sirius insists, trying to get his brother's attention. “Anything!”

“But not for Harry,” Regulus pronounces. “It didn’t take him long to realise that. He’s smart - has a good head on his shoulders. And… he’s kind - kinder than I was at the age. But he’s not soft.”

“I just wanted to be there for him,” Sirius cries brokenly.

“And I’m not questioning that,” Regulus replies. “You just didn’t want it enough to commit to him. Sirius, you chose Azkaban for a crime you didn’t commit in the memory of a man you claimed to love like a brother, rather than prove your innocence for the boy who is his son. You broke out of Azkaban, not for Harry, but because you wanted to kill Pettigrew for his betrayal. Do you truly expect Harry to be grateful for your crumbs of affection when you feel like he’s worthy of it?”

“Don’t…” Sirius gulps, taking a gasping breath, a plea that goes unheard.

“I thought you were improving,” Regulus admits. “When we were travelling around last year, you seemed like you were going to be alright. What happened?”

“It’s this house,” Sirius jumps on this change of topic. “I’ve always hated it. I have too many memories of it - almost never ones worth reminiscing.”

It is Regulus’s turn to feel the sting of the words.

“So did I, until I made it my own,” he says in a much sharper tone than he has so far. He takes a deep breath to calm himself; it can be considered a miracle that neither of them has lost their tempers thus far. The rest of the house is asleep, and Regulus doesn’t want to wake them up with a shouting match with his brother. Perhaps he needs to put up a Silencing Charm, just in case.

He has just as many bad memories of this house as his brother - if not more. He had spent over a year recovering his health; mental, physical and emotional, after the incident in the cave. Occasionally, he still has nightmares of hands grabbing him and dragging him into the icy depths. His Dark Mark had burned the whole time he had been in hiding, with only Kreacher for company hiding him from even his mother.

Kreacher hid his presence from everyone, letting everyone, including his mother think he was dead while in a coma. He was still too weak upon awakening, and Kreacher had taken him from the house, right under his mother’s nose.

Only Andromeda knew he was alive. Only she had taken care of him.

Only Andromeda had come to visit him at that stage, in secret, keeping his presence hidden while the rest of the world thought him dead. No one seemed to care. Eighteen months had passed in this manner. Six months later, whilst he’d still been in hiding, Harry Potter defeated Voldemort at fifteen months, and the whole world rejoiced.

Regulus had testified against as many Death Eaters as he could, though he had been shocked to find Sirius’s name splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet. He had hated his brother more in that moment than at any other - hated and loved him for many years. The ambivalent feeling didn’t fade even after receiving Harry’s letter detailing everything about Sirius’s innocence. Still, he took his brother back and nursed him back to health, smuggled him out of the country and then back in when Harry wrote to tell them about his entry into the Triwizard Tournament.

Regulus had left the country entirely, not wanting to stay near his screeching mother, only returning after learning about her death. Upon inheriting everything after her passing, the first thing he’d done was knock down the whole wall in a fit of fury and burn his mother’s portrait to cinders. At that point, Kreacher had almost abandoned him, but Regulus was still a kinder master than Walburga.

“You’ve always thought about yourself, Sirius,” Regulus sighs again. “You might think you were better than the rest of the Blacks, but… you weren’t that different.”

Sirius sniffles with his face hidden.

“Why do you have a problem with Severus?” Regulus asks with genuine curiosity.

Uncharacteristically, Sirius doesn’t answer: Regulus would have expected his brother to launch into a litany of real and imagined slights from their school days.

“He had what James wanted,” Sirius surprises him with that answer.

“Lily,” Regulus voices succinctly.

“He said he wanted to be in Slytherin, and I thought: who in their right mind would want to be in Slytherin?  And Lily defended him, and I hated her as well for choosing Sniv- Snape,” he corrects at the grunting noise Regulus makes, “instead of James.”

“Juvenile,” the other man responds disgustedly.

Sirius flinches at the tone.

Regulus always knew that his brother didn’t like Lily because of her association with Severus. He had helped James try to separate the two friends every year, finally succeeding enough in their fifth year. Severus had arrived at the dorms devastated after his failed attempt at apologising: that was when Regulus began to lose respect for his brother. Even after Lily refused to associate with Severus, even when she agreed to date Potter, they both still continued to torment Severus behind Lily’s back. After Severus’s mother disappeared at the end of his sixth year, they showed no compassion: he was a wannabe Death Eater, after all, and as such, didn’t deserve their sympathy.

“You know,” he finally folds up the crossword, feeling fatigued right down to his bones, “you and Severus have one thing in common. You both think Harry is James.”

He gets up, uncaring of the sharp glance Sirius sends his way, bristling at the thought of being compared to Severus.

“Last warning, Sirius,” Regulus cautions in a stern voice. “Stay away from Severus. If you want to be useful, stop wallowing in pity and find something to keep you occupied. You’d be surprised at how much you think you can accomplish just by staying home.”

 

ooOoo

 

Regulus chooses to apparate with the Tonks rather than Flooing like he usually does. He has another letter from Harry to deliver to Holly and some sweets and chocolates Harry bought for the little girl.

                He hopes today will go well. He knows that Andromeda and Narcissa have missed each other since their estrangement, but both are too stubborn.

                Narcissa has always been afraid of Andromeda rejecting her for marrying Lucius - Andromeda has always been wary of Lucius insulting Ted for being a muggle-born. Regulus loves both of his cousins. He has, not secretly, tried to bridge the gap, telling both sisters about each other without either asking. He told Andromeda about Draco’s birth, his first words, his first broom ride. Almost anything Narcissa has confided to him, he has reported it to Andromeda. Equally, he kept Narcissa in the loop about Andromeda’s daughter, Nymphadora, her first year at Hogwarts, her OWLs and NEWTs. Her acceptance into Auror academy, her graduation as a top Auror.

                Both sisters listened to his news of the other with hidden greed but were too set in their ways to do more. Having expected to have to manoeuvre the sisters into a meeting, he was completely surprised when Narcissa had given him the letter to deliver to Andromeda after Lucius’s defection from the ranks of the Death Eater. Fortunately, he had been able to avoid that task.

                The gates open for them instantly. The Tonks take a hesitant step inside, whereas Regulus confidently moves forward.

                “A bit pretentious,” Tonks mutters, climbing into the carriage waiting for them.

                “Nimmy,” Regulus admonishes her warningly.

                She sticks her tongue out at him, and he laughs at her childish behaviour. No one would think she is a formidable fighter by looking at her: he still thinks of her as the adorable little brat who trips over her own feet. She uses her clumsy behaviour to her advantage, allowing the enemy to underestimate her; Regulus often wonders if her clumsiness isn’t just an affectation.

                The carriage brings them to the entrance of the Manor in a short amount of time. The Malfoys are already waiting for them, while Severus and Holly are nowhere in sight.

They might be waiting inside, Regulus thinks.

Ted, the last to climb into the carriage, is the first to alight from it, offering his hand first to Andromeda, then to Nymphadora.

Together, they form a united front against the Malfoys.

Regulus knows Narcissa well enough to see she is nervous about the success of this meeting - not that anyone can tell from the mask she presents. And Andromeda, likewise, is similarly anxious.

They have not met like this since Andromeda had run away to marry Ted. The wizarding world is small, so their paths might have crossed briefly, but as they move in different social circles, face to face like this has never been on the agenda.

Lucius has his hand on Narcissa’s shoulder in a supportive gesture; Ted has his on the small of Andromeda’s back.

Narcissa takes a hesitant step forward. Lucius drops his hand from her, and she descends the steps. Regulus sees Ted give his wife a subtle push, unseen by anyone but him and Tonks.

“Sister,” Narcissa greets in a stilted voice.

“Sister,” Andromeda returns.

They are now standing face to face. They both reach out a hand for the other to shake but end up embracing. Regulus allows himself a smile at the sight. In the end, no magic is so powerful that it can break a family bond.

 

ooOoo

 

Draco wants to roll his eyes at the reunion. He wishes he was anywhere but the Family room right now - anywhere but near the Mudblood and the Blood traitor. Why does his father allow this filth to enter the Manor?

                He has been out of sorts all summer since finding out his father has betrayed all his Death Eater friends. He has barely been able to owl any of his friends, though he is looking forward to seeing some of them in a few days: all who had betrayed the Dark Lord. He knows some of them are planning to flee the country, so this might be his last chance to see some of them.

                However, he is forced to put up with his mother’s sister and husband and their annoying daughter. He hates himself for his envy of the half-blood’s metamorphmagus ability.

                Still, he has to stay for this ridiculous family reunion.

                His father discreetly nudges him and gives him a warning look when his mother’s back is turned. With a repressed sigh, Draco tells himself to make an effort. He reminds himself that when he takes over his family’s business one day, he will have to mingle with plebs. This is good practice for then, he tells himself. Not every donkey at the Ministry will be Pureblood - Mudbloods are suitable for grunt work, after all.

                As it is a warm, sunny day, his parents lead their guests out onto the patio, where seating has been arranged for them all. Draco sees Uncle Regulus looking around and counting the seats: there is only enough for those present here, and he is probably thinking of Holly and Uncle Severus.

                The latter didn’t want anyone to know about Holly yet, so he changed the hours he spends with her to coincide with the Tonks’ visit.

                He would rather be up there with them than down here with this lot.

                A House-Elf appears with refreshments and nibbles, though he knows his mother hopes they will stay for dinner. Draco, contrarily, hopes they won’t.

                Narcissa and Andromeda sit together, Draco next to his father, trying not to look bored - not realising he is not succeeding. He tunes out the polite chatter that takes place between the two sisters.

                To his dismay, his father strikes up a conversation with the Mudblood.

                “How is your practice?” Lucius enquires blandly.

                “Going well,” Tonks replies stiltedly.

                “Busy?”

                “So so.”

                It is very awkward and tedious.

                “Regulus told us you’re a fully qualified Auror now,” Lucius continues, reaching to pour himself some tea, directing his comments at the idiot girl with pink hair.

                “Yeah, since last year,” Nymphadora - what a ridiculous name, Draco sneers to himself - answers in a bored tone.

                He hides a scowl. She has no right to be bored. In fact, she should be honoured that she’s been allowed to step foot in Malfoy Manor.

                Lucius clears his throat.

                “Perhaps whilst the sisters are catching up, Draco and I can give you a tour of the Manor,” his father offers.

                Nymphadora’s look turns wary as if she expects this to be a ruse to divide and attack them. She casts an uncertain eye toward her mother, but Andromeda gives her an encouraging smile and nods, “Don’t worry about us.”

                They reluctantly get to their feet, looking a little more assured when Regulus volunteers to join them.

                Draco drags himself to his feet and follows along. Lucius shows them the pool area, the quidditch pitch and the maze, though they do not enter it. As they are already outside, his father doesn’t miss a chance to show off Narcissa’s precious rose gardens. 

Something catches Nymphadora’s attention, causing her to pay closer attention to the base of the bushes.

                “Careful with my mother’s roses,” Draco snaps as she pushes them aside to take a better look.

                Lucius gives him an admonishing look.

                The Auror gives him a withering look.

                “There are scorch marks here,” she points to the marks in question. “You had a fire recently.”

                “A few weeks ago,” Lucius answers smoothly, exchanging a look of amusement with Regulus.

                “A dispute that got heated, wasn’t it?” Regulus laughs.

                “Indeed,” Lucius agrees to the confusion of the Tonks.

                “Where is Severus, by the way? Is he out?” Regulus asks.

                “He is in his quarters,” Lucius replies carefully, not meeting his eyes.

                “Busy, was he?” Regulus questions with a puzzled look.

                “He wanted privacy for a sensitive matter,” Lucius answers, standing up straight.

                Draco knows he is against hiding Holly away. The news of her existence would come out eventually. Not to mention the fact that Lucius wanted to use her to prove to the Tonks that they were trustworthy. Holly is an innocent child, after all, with a muggle upbringing.

                “So, he has no intention of showing his face… at all?” Regulus queries stiffly.

                Lucius shakes his head and gives Regulus a significant look. “No matter what arguments we’ve made to prove otherwise.”

                The Tonks exchange confused looks.

                “We don’t need old Snape to show up if he doesn’t want to,” Nymphadora says in a bright voice that grates on Draco’s nerves.

                “Dora,” her father chides, though not as strictly as he should have. Rude bitch!

                “Is he allowing visitors?” Regulus persists with his questions.

                “He might be persuaded to do so,” Lucius nods.

                “I’ll pay him a quick visit before we leave,” Regulus states in a firm voice.

                “He’ll be pleased,” Lucius comments ironically.

                They continue the tour inside the Manor. They are shown the Dining room, the Ballroom, the Family Room and several parlours downstairs. The bedroom wing is pointed out, though they are not taken down that way. Lucius shows them his study, the library and the duelling room.

                Draco notices that his father does not show them what has now been converted into the so-called Muggle room - containing the Muggle books his parents bought and the Muggle sports equipment. He wonders why not, given this might have been a good way of showing their embracing of the Muggle way. Still, whatever his reason, he does not interfere with his father’s plans as he trails behind everyone, scowling at their backs.

                They stop at the entrance to Severus’ quarters but do not enter.

                His father points out that the rest of the wings are empty but contain space for more bedrooms.

                “Doesn’t a Manor this big have dungeons?” Nymphadora suddenly asks with interest.

                “We do,” Lucius confirms in a mild tone.

                “I’ve always wanted to see what the dungeons look like,” the Auror comments idly.

                Before Lucius could say anything, a House-Elf appears at that moment.

                “Master, sir, there is an urgent Floo for you,” Roker says anxiously.

                “All right, I’ll be there,” Lucius nods, his face an unflappable mask showing no sign of upset. “Draco, will you show your cousin the dungeons? I shall be with you presently.”

                His father leaves, and Draco sighs.

                “It’s this way,” he says in an aggravated tone.

                “Spend much time in there?” Nymphadora queries lazily.

                “Dora…” Ted Tonks says warningly. “We agreed that the Auror hat wouldn’t be worn today.”

                The pink-haired Auror scowls.

                “I was just asking,” she mutters but casts a suspicious glance at Draco, who pauses at the entrance to the dungeons.

                Draco quickly gives them the tour of this area of the Manor. The House-Elves keep them clean; there is not a speck of dust anywhere. They are cooler than the rest of the Manor: one of the dungeons is kept stocked with extra food, whilst another has the overflow of the expensive wine his parents buy whenever they go abroad. Even with Expansion Charms, they have run out of space in the wine cellar, so the excess is kept here just as cool as in the cellar.

                “Happy Nimmy?” Regulus teases. “They don’t have any prisoners being tortured down here.”

                “Or they’ve been moved to the empty wing upstairs,” Nymphadora points out logically.

                Regulus laughs, “Come on. Let’s go back upstairs, Auror Tonks. Might I remind you this is a personal visit, not an official one from the Ministry?”

                “Best behaviour, Dora, love,” Tonks chuckles.

                Only Draco doesn’t join in their mirth. He doesn’t realise he is scowling until Nymphadora says, “Careful, cousin, or I might hex your face to stay that way.”

                Before Draco could say anything back, Tonks interferes.

                “Why don’t we head back outside to your mothers?” he says hastily.

                “Let’s,” Regulus agrees.

                “Whatever,” Draco mumbles and leads the way outside.

                As they reach outside, a voice shouts from the window of one of the upper floors.

                “Uncle Regulus!”

                They all turn to look at Holly, who waves happily from the window. Regulus smiles widely and waves back, and Holly disappears from view.

                “Uncle Regulus?” Nymphadora repeats, looking bemused.

                Draco looks at his mother in askance. She inclines her head subtly towards the entrance. He nods back, glad for the excuse to get away from the Tonks and distract Holly from coming outside.

                He reaches the staircase, holding out his arms to catch her, picking her up awkwardly.

                She shrieks in surprise, squirming to be let down.

                “Let go, Draco,” she says exasperatedly. “I want to go see Uncle Regulus.”

                “Not right now,” Draco tries to keep his voice soft. “Mother has guests right now.”

                “Guests?” She stops wriggling.

                Draco huffs a little, putting her down.

                “Yes. Uncle Regulus will come to see you later. Just go back to your room now,” Draco orders.

                “Why can’t I meet them?”

                Before he can answer, Severus calls from the top of the staircase, “Holly. I told you to stay upstairs.”

                She looks in the direction of the outdoors from where Draco entered.

                “I wanted to see Uncle Regulus,” she announces argumentatively.

                “Not right now,” Severus snaps, stalking down the staircase. His robes billow behind him, making him look like he is about to take flight at any moment.

                Holly scowls. Severus grabs her by the wrist and tugs her back.

                “Narcissa and Lucius have guests at the moment. Follow me: we’re going back upstairs.”

                Holly looks dejectedly towards where she knows Regulus is, but allows herself to be led away.

                “The guests can handle some time without me,” Regulus says, walking into the foyer.

                Holly wrenches her hand from Severus, running merrily towards her uncle, who bends down to catch her and swing her into his arms. She wraps her legs around his waist, hugging him tightly.

                “How’s my little sweetheart?” Regulus laughs, brushing her loose hair back with his fingers and tucking it behind her ear.

                She gives him a wide smile.

                “Better now that you’re here,” she chirps.

                Draco sees the look of hurt that flits across Severus’ face, who hides it quickly.

                “Holly,” Severus orders commandingly. “We are going back upstairs. Quickly, now. Come on. We’re disturbing Narcissa’s guests.”

                Holly looks like she is about to dig her heels in.

              Regulus is quick to assure her. “I’ll come up with you, darling,” and Holly nods happily.

                “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Nymphadora’s voice calls out.

                Draco doesn’t hold back the groan. Merlin, she was annoying. Why couldn’t she mind her own damn business?

                Regulus lets her down but keeps his hand on top of her head as she shyly hides behind his legs: he has never seen Holly be shy.

                Narcissa walks back in with the other Tonks, watching Holly curiously.

                “Wotcher, honey,” Nymphadora says in a warmer voice than she has used so far with anyone else and bends over to look at Holly. “I’m Tonks. Who are you?”

                Holly moves further into Regulus' legs.

                “Don’t be shy… you have nothing to fear,” the Auror cajoles.

                Severus steps forward.

                “Miss Tonks,” he greets coolly.

                “Professor Snape,” she replies enthusiastically, her hair turning purple.

                Holly gasps at the change, capturing everyone’s attention again.

                “We’re going back upstairs,” Severus tells Holly. “Now.”

Holly’s face has fallen at Severus’ tone and words.

                “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Narcissa?” Andromeda asks.

                 “I’m nobody. Just his dirty little secret,” Holly announces furiously, then pulls away from Regulus and runs upstairs before anyone can stop her.

                Severus pales at the words, following her with dismay in his eyes.

                “Follow her up,” Regulus commands.

 

                ooOoo

 

Severus reaches Holly’s room in no time, but the door is firmly closed. He knocks once, then announces, “I’m coming in.”

                Asking for permission will only get him rebuffed, so he enters without it.

                Holly sits beside the bed, hugging her knees to her chest and burying her head down.

                “You’re not my dirty little secret,” he says awkwardly, standing over her.

                “Go away,” she requests tiredly, not even looking up at him.

                He doesn’t like her tone - as if he isn’t even worth being angry at anymore.

                “I’m trying to… It’s dangerous right now. I’ve found you at the worst time,” he begins but soon freezes, knowing he has only made the situation worse. “I’m glad I found you, though,” he hurries to correct himself. “There’s a bad wizard. He wants… he wants to hurt Lucius and me. And everyone important to us.”

                Holly still doesn’t look up. On the back foot, he knows he’s making a hash of explaining things. This is not how he wanted to tell her about everything that’s been happening.

                “You’re important to me,” he tries to explain. Emotions have never been easy for him to express, and he is still struggling to connect with his daughter after so many weeks. “I’m just trying to keep you safe. The fewer people know about you, the better.”

                “What’s going to happen to me when you go back to Hogwarts?” she asks, finally looking up at him. Her eyes are clear. “You’re going back soon, right?”

                He kneels in front of her, reaching out to pull her close like he has seen Lucius do.

                She tenses, and he withdraws his hand.

                “You’ll stay here, or maybe somewhere else,” he answers, feeling a little encouraged by her question. “With Narcissa. Probably Regulus as well.” He adds his friend’s name, knowing she would be more amenable. He and Lucius have discussed sending Holly and Narcissa to Headquarters whilst he, Lucius and Draco are at Hogwarts.

                Lucius plans to ask Albus to put the Manor under Fidelius. The blond has been prepping the Manor by consulting all his schematics to ensure Malfoy Manor is fully encompassed, secret tunnels and all. He is trying to keep his family as safe as possible, so he will take every precaution.

                Holly does not look happy with the answer as Severus hoped.

                “Hidden away?”

                “I – It… I – I’m not ashamed of you,” he hastens to assure her again. “It’s not because of that.”

                “Because it’s dangerous,” she repeats.

                He hurries to nod.

                “I know you were reading those books in the library about the Dark Lord – ”

He is interrupted when she says, “The one defeated by Harry Potter.”

He grimaces, but nods again.

“He’s not gone,” he carries on, wishing he could explain the intricacies of the war, the loss of spy status, about the hell hole the world was about to become. “He’s back, and he will hurt everyone standing his way. I’m just trying to protect you.”

“Then you should have left me at the care home,” she eventually speaks, looking away like she can’t stand the sight of him.

“What do you mean?” His mouth is dry - his mind blanks.

“If you only wanted me for a few weeks, then you should have left me alone,” she mumbles, leaning her cheek on her knees as she stares unseeingly at the wall.

“Would you rather be in a care home? Is that what you are saying?” he asks disbelievingly.

“I’m saying if you were going to send me away anyway, then you shouldn’t have taken me away from the care home. If it’s so dan-” her breath begins to hitch. Tears begin to form. She buries her head between her knees again, hiding her feelings from him.

He hears her gulping breaths.

“If it’s so dangerous to be your daughter, then I would have been better in a care home. You didn’t even want to know about me in the first place. Grandad said that you …” what Tobias said is lost in the rest of her sobs.

Severus had heard everything Tobias said through the Expendables Ears last week. He had been so angry that he went back to Lucius’s Duelling room, blasting every dummy repeatedly until he was so exhausted he could barely see straight. He hadn’t known who he was angrier at: Jasmine, Tobias or even himself.

                “You’re just going to abandon me again, and I wish you hadn’t brought me here. I wish I never met you,” she weeps to her knees. “I wish you weren’t my dad.”

                “I’m not going to abandon you,” he insists, his heart constricting even as he ignores her last words.

He reaches for her again, placing his hand on her shoulders, intending to pull her close, but she stiffens under his touch and resists.

Pushing him away hard enough to make him lose balance, she screams at him, “Don’t touch me. I hate you!”

“But – I’ll – Holly – ” he is trying to tell her he will come to see her every weekend and spend Christmas and Easter breaks together, but she is getting hysterical to the point of triggering her accidental magic. Her bed begins to rattle ominously.

He doesn’t know how to calm her down; she will not let him anymore near her. He tries again, heaving himself back to his knees, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

Raising his eyes, he sees Regulus looking down at him in pity. The other wizard had probably been nearby and most likely heard everything.

It physically pains him that he cannot get close to his daughter; both times he has witnessed her accidental magic because of him.

Regulus helps Severus to his feet before giving him a gentle nudge towards the door.

Severus exits the door in a daze. Before the door closes behind him, he sees Holly launch herself at Regulus as if he were her lifeline.

It all hits him at once. Holly cares about everyone but him. She allows Lucius and Narcissa close, to touch her and hug her; she treats Regulus, whom she has met only a handful of times, like he means more to her than anyone else in the world. She’s even established a relationship with his thrice-damned abusive bastard father - his father, who has surprisingly expressed his regrets for many things from his childhood and actually bought presents for his granddaughter over the years, despite not being able to send them. Whilst he, Severus, is left out in the cold despite all his efforts at the beginning of the summer to bring his daughter to him. Is he so unlovable that he must be rejected by the people he loves?

Lucius is waiting for him outside Holly’s room; Severus does not want Lucius to see him like this. He leans against the wall, closing his eyes in the agony of rejection. He knows it is childish to think that Lucius will disappear if he closes his eyes too.

He tenses when Lucius puts his hands on his shoulders, pulling him close, much as he had tried to do with Holly earlier. Also, as Holly had done barely minutes ago, he resists. Lucius won’t hear of it, though, and pulls him to his chest - like he had done when Severus was in second year, after having found him nursing bruised ribs the first day of term. Lucius had looked after him then. Protected him, guided him. Even after Lucius had graduated from Hogwarts, he had owled Severus every week. When he had pushed Lily away, Lucius had refused to let him dwell on it, stopping him from hurting himself, even by owl. When he lost Lily forever, he stayed by his side. Even though when Severus lost Lily, Lucius had lost the Dark Lord the same night.

He is glad that Lucius has switched sides. Glad that he is selfish enough to follow the power of Albus Dumbledore. It would have killed Severus to fight Lucius, not after everything the older wizard has done for him.

Lucius does not speak, for which Severus is grateful. He holds him close like a child, and Severus finds himself holding Lucius tight, burying his head on the other’s shoulder, struggling unsuccessfully to stem the tears that leak out by squeezing his eyes tight. Breathing deeply, he strengthens his Occlumency barriers to hold his emotions at bay.

He does not realise Lucius is manoeuvring him subtly, so Severus’s back is to the hallway where a certain pink-haired witch has walked up, curious to see what the fuss is about. He does not realise that Lucius’s arms tighten around him protectively to shield him from the same witch or see the furious glare Lucius aims at his niece by marriage to get her to leave the way she came.

Severus thinks only of his daughter, of how he wants her to accept him.

Chapter 12 - Easy as Falling off a Log

 

Tonks begins to think she shouldn’t have insisted on staying for dinner, given the awkward atmosphere. She is still trying to process all the events of the last half hour.

                Seeing a little Mini-Snape running up to Regulus, Snape crying on Lucius’s shoulders, seeing Lucius comforting someone. It is all so… bizarre. Did she enter an alternate universe the moment they stepped foot onto the grounds?

                As it is Lucius’s home, he takes his usual seat at the head of the table. Draco, the sourpuss, sits on one side and Narcissa on the other, facing each other. Next to her is Tonks’ mother, then her father.

                Dora sits opposite her father, leaving a space between her and Draco. However, she might have to shuffle down one seat or two when Snape, Regulus, and Mini-Snape come down.

                As they entered the dining room, Lucius had warned her not to divulge anything she had seen with Snape upstairs, or he would end her career. She has no doubt he would carry out that threat; he certainly has enough political pull to do so. She should be bristling at the threat, but she cannot unsee what she saw upstairs.

                Snape had been her teacher for seven miserable, Potion-filled years. The man had no sense of humour, as demonstrated by the month-long detention she completed after being caught mimicking him, greasy black hair and all, using her Metamorphmagus abilities. Snape makes other people cry. Many students caved under pressure from Snape, running from class in tears: Snape was not a kind man.

                Yet, upstairs, she had seen the man at his most vulnerable. It was not as satisfying as she thought it would be. Seeing Snape exposed emotionally has demolished one of the many sacred laws of the universe - like Chudley Cannons would always lose the league. Like Leprechaun’s gold always disappears or like expecting a Goblin not to screw someone over when it comes to making a profit. Like thinking Snape is incapable of emotion.

                His own daughter made him cry. Tonks holds back a snort at the thought that the little girl has undoubtedly learned from the best, and karma has now bitten Snape on his arse.

                Then, seeing Lucius, the man who has to be one of the most ruthless wizards she has ever heard of, comforting Snape like an actual human being. Her mother has never said anything good about Lucius Malfoy, having gone to school with the wizard. From the way her mother told it, Lucius is just as incapable of emotion as Snape. Lucius showed vulnerability in a completely different way; even if she did spread this information, she doubted anyone would believe her.

                So, she is waiting for Regulus, Snape, and his daughter to come down. The conversation has been stilted since the scene in the foyer. Draco has been sending scowls towards Tonks the whole time - one of the reasons she snuck away, using the need for the facilities as an excuse.

                The spoiled little brat better be careful she doesn’t hex his face to stay that way.

                The temperature seems to drop a little more when the missing trio enters the dining room. Regulus comes in, holding the girl’s hand. It is peculiar that Snape’s not the one holding her hand. Mini-Snape must have had a proper falling out with her father.

                His dirty little secret, she had called herself before running off.

                Snape had never indicated that he had a daughter. Tonks judged her to be eight, maybe nine years old. She would have been a toddler while Tonks was still in school. Trying to imagine Snape changing nappies, on feeding duties or walking into the classroom with spit upon his pristine black robes, she has to hold back another snort of amusement. Lucius is still watching her coldly. She doesn’t want to start an incident, not when this evening means too much to her mother.

                Snape stops at the seat next to Draco, placing his hands on the back of the chair.

                “My apologies for the… interruption earlier. We had not meant to intrude on the proceedings between family members,” Snape declares.

Then, stiffly gesturing towards his daughter, Mini-Snape, with the same sullen expression, though more endearing - as Snape the elder sometimes sported - announces, “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Holly.”

He says nothing more, waiting for Regulus to seat Holly in the chair Tonks has obligingly shuffled from. Regulus carefully pushes Holly’s chair back before he or Snape sits down.

“Holly, darling,” Narcissa speaks up, “this is my sister, Andromeda, and her husband, Edward. The lovely lady sitting next to you is their daughter, Nymphadora.”

“Hello, darling,” Andromeda greets warmly.

Her father, Ted, gives her a small, equally warm smile and a slight nod.

“Wotcher,” Tonks says in a friendly manner, ignoring her first name for the time being.

Holly buries her head in Regulus’ side, who gives an awkward chuckle, “She’s feeling a little shy.”

                Tonks reminds herself to interrogate Regulus the first chance she gets. He’s known Snape’s daughter for ages, but has never mentioned her. Not once. She’s getting freaky vibes from the whole situation.

                “I’m sorry about being a brat. Before,” the girl whispers while the table is silent. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

                Tonks doesn’t miss the looks of… something inexplicable Lucius and Narcissa exchange: the Malfoys would never be so crass about showing their emotions.

                “You’re never a brat, darling,” Narcissa assures her calmly. “But your apology is appreciated.”

                Holly nods at the table, refusing to look up at anyone.

                The food appears now that everyone else has arrived.

                The conversation is stilted at first but slowly smooths along. Andromeda tells amusing anecdotes from her profession as a Healer, while Ted speaks about various laws and loopholes. Lucius would probably have made a good solicitor; he certainly knows enough about the law to manipulate it. He even entertains them with stories regarding Fudge: for someone who has him in his pocket, he certainly likes to put him down quite a lot. Not that Fudge has much sensibility.          

Tonks, instead, turns her attention to the still withdrawn Holly.

                “I’m an Auror,” she introduces the topic lightly. “Do you know what that is?”

                Holly shakes her head, her eyes still on her plate. Regulus nudges the girl slightly, encouraging her to eat.

 

ooOoo

 

Regulus appreciates Nimmy trying to engage Holly, who is still feeling raw from her emotional meltdown from earlier.

                It took him fifteen minutes to get her to calm down from her crying jag. She is a fragile little girl, still feeling the death of her grandmother and the fear that she might lose Harry too.

                He has already decided to stay behind once dinner is over instead of leaving with the Tonks. It would not surprise him to find that Tonks has camped out in his kitchen, waiting for him to return.

                “I’m like the police,” Nimmy is explaining. “I catch bad people.”

                Holly gives a listless nod.

                Turning to Severus on his other side, Regulus decides on the neutral topic of the upcoming Quidditch teams at Hogwarts. As a Chaser from his school days, he still speaks to Severus about the school teams every so often.

                Severus is slow to take to the topic to begin with, but with a bit of push from Draco, he starts to show more enthusiasm.

                “Derrick and Bole have now graduated, so we require two new Beaters,” Severus announces.

                “Crabbe and Goyle wanted to try out for the positions,” Draco adds before continuing in a more uncertain tone, “Doubt that will happen now.”

                Regulus doesn’t ask why. Crabbe and Goyle Senior were among those who betrayed the Dark Lord in June. They were preparing to flee if they hadn’t done so already. Lucius would know more since Regulus had not exchanged a single owl with them for over a decade.

                “There are still other good candidates for the position,” Severus comments, slowly cutting up his roasted lamb.

                While Severus did not have the prowess as a Quidditch player, he is still an avid fan.

                Regulus is about to ask who is going to take over as Quidditch Captain when he feels Holly leaning into his other side.

                Turning around, he sees Nimmy changing her nose to a pig snout and hair purple to entertain Holly. However, she isn’t entertained. Instead, she presses herself against Regulus to cringe away.

                Nimmy is a little put out by this. Usually, this trick is found amusing - indeed, the Weasley children were tickled at seeing it. The Auror quickly changes her features back to normal.

                Regulus pats Holly reassuringly, explaining to her about Nimmy’s powers in more detail, which calms her down but doesn’t make her feel comfortable. Changing hair colour is quite different from turning her facial features.

                Turning back to Severus, he sees his friend looking at them with a clenched jaw.

                “So, I was about to ask,” Regulus clears his throat, “who are you picking as Quidditch Captain?”

                “Montague,” Severus answers shortly, turning back to his food.

                Regulus nods. Though he has been out of touch with several former classmates, and for a good reason, he remembers Montague’s father had played Chaser for a few years and most likely passed on the same skills to his son.

                He knows this is not the dinner Narcissa or Andromeda envisioned. Both had anticipated a certain level of awkwardness. There was certainly an expectation of uncomfortable silences, of biting their tongues. Instead, they witness some drama. Regulus sympathises with Severus’s thought of protecting his daughter from the unsavoury element of becoming a target to Voldemort and his ilk. Yet, it is unfair for him to think that by hiding Holly away, he would accomplish that. All he’s managed to do is make her believe she is unwanted. She is a bright young girl, having already researched the first war. Between Harry’s letters, conversations with him and her grandmother, and her reading in Lucius’ library, she has already figured out the dangers of the war at the moment.

                Severus should have explained it all to her beforehand. Planning to stay behind after dinner, he will tell Holly as much as he safely can regarding the current war. She will understand. Even Harry has been worried about the same thing as Severus - that once people find out the connection between Harry and Holly, the young lad is confident it is not something that will stay hidden for long: Holly will be in danger.

                The rest of dinner passes quickly, thankfully. Holly clings to Regulus the whole time whilst they see the Tonks family at the carriages. Regulus spends another hour with Holly, safely secured in her room, explaining the danger they are all in and why her father thought it best to keep people in the dark about her existence.

                As he leaves, he hopes he hasn’t divulged so much as to give her nightmares.

 

ooOoo

Tonks waits for Regulus, almost patiently, the following day, whilst Molly bustles around with breakfast things. She offered to help, but after sending the butter knives flying all over the place, Molly banished her from the table to sit like a recalcitrant child, with her hands flat on the surface. Not moving and not touching anything.

                Last night, her mother convinced her to wait until morning to accost Regulus, though Tonks knows Andromeda is curious too.

                “Wotcher, Regulus,” Tonks greets the second her cousin walks into the kitchen.

                Regulus does not express any surprise that Tonks is there waiting for him.

                “After breakfast,” he announces in a firm voice, much to the curiosity of the others around them.

                Tonks, very kindly, allows Regulus to have his second cup of coffee with his breakfast before starting any conversation.

                “You know, my parents and I were amazed by the hospitality at Malfoy Manor last night,” Tonks mentions casually.

                Harry and his friends all perk up like little meerkats as they turn to her with a curious look.

                Ron snorts, asking with eagerness, “Was it full of dark objects and torture devices?”

                Tonks shakes her head, “Nothing like that. I insisted on inspecting the dungeons, and they were surprisingly clean.”

                “Well, they can’t leave evidence of their prisoners,” Ginny points out.

                Tonks is distracted from her following comment when she sees Harry exchange a look of meaning with Regulus. What is that about?

Keeping her voice casual still, she adds, “I didn’t get a chance to inspect Snape’s place, in any case. I’ve always been morbidly curious if he does sleep in a coffin. Suppose I’ll never find out.”

Curiously, everyone but Harry expresses surprise at this news.

“Snape lives at the Malfoys?” Ron chokes on his sausage. “Of course he does.”

“Are the Malfoy’s related to Professor Snape?” Hermione asks curiously, buttering her toast. “I mean, I already know Malfoy is Professor Snape’s godson, but they would have to be close family to him to live with them as well.”

“Abraxas, Draco’s grandfather, fostered Severus when he was sixteen,” Regulus explains in a voice that does not invite additional questions.

Tonks distracts everyone about the Quidditch grounds (which interest the Weasleys) and the library (which interests Hermione) while she carefully observes Harry and Regulus’s by-play missed by everyone else.

She already knows not to mention Holly. Not yet, at least. There’s something intriguing about the little girl. She stuck close to Regulus more than anyone, barely talking or eating. Unlike Snape, whose appearance did not indicate his earlier emotional breakdown, Holly’s eyes were red and slightly swollen.

                Harry does not contribute much to the conversation, choosing to remain a silent observer. He only perks up a little when Neville and Luna enter the kitchen.

                Ah, young love, she thinks. Harry is somewhat shy around the girl. He is comfortable with Luna in a way he isn’t with Hermione or Ginny, yet uncomfortable enough to be awkward about many other things. Harry might miss the looks of longing that Ginny throws at him, but Tonks catches them.

                Before Harry arrived at Headquarters, Tonks had spent a fair amount of time with the youngest Weasley, a feisty, confident girl in her own right. Ginny had told Tonks about her first year at Hogwarts, and the Auror thinks highly of the younger girl. It has taken her time, but with support from her family and multiple trips to a Mind-Healer abroad - courtesy of an unexpected windfall in the form of that Grand Prize Draw - Ginny Weasley had managed to put much of her trauma behind her. Ginny had also confessed her hero worship of Harry, and Hermione had advised her that Ginny was better off moving on rather than waiting for Harry to develop feelings for her.

                Sound advice from the bookworm, as Tonks agrees with it entirely. There’s no use in pining. Ginny’s heart might want Harry, but it looks like the boy’s heart has settled on Luna.

                Tonks has only known Luna for about a week, but she already likes the unique young Ravenclaw. Luna isn’t a complainer, but from comments from Harry and the others, and reading between the lines, Tonks has managed to understand that the young girl is often belittled and derided for her belief in creatures they don’t believe in, and also her father’s Quibbler business.

                Tonks has read occasional issues of The Quibbler, finding them hilarious. Luna might come across as someone with their head in the clouds, but she is oddly grounded. Where Hermione is logical, Luna is whimsical and creative but no less intelligent.

                Harry is very down-to-earth for a young celebrity. Not once had he asked to leave or made demands - not like some others with whom Tonks has had the ‘pleasure’ of crossing paths. Had Tonks still been of school age, she might have found herself part of the group she sees in front of her now. Except, they have had more purpose during their school years than she did and were all the more mature for it.

                “Ready, Nimmy?”

                Tonks is brought out her musings by Regulus, who has finished his breakfast and consumed enough coffee to keep him awake for the rest of the week and gives her an expectant look.

                “Absolutely,” she says. She trips on the leg of her chair as she moves away. “Oops.”

                Molly lets out an exasperated sigh, finally sitting down with her breakfast.

                Tonks follows Regulus out into one of the lesser-used rooms. After making sure it is unoccupied, he puts up the same Privacy and Silencing spells they use for an Order meeting.

                A grin of anticipation touches her lips. Finally, she is going to get answers.

                “Why can’t you leave it alone, Nimmy?” Regulus surprises Tonks with a disappointed look.

                “What?”

                “You’re here about Holly, right?”

                Tonks nods.

                “Is it any of your business? You were invited to Malfoy Manor because Andromeda and Narcissa want to be as close as they used to be when they were younger. I know how Lucius comes across. He’s never tried to hide it. But Severus and Holly are off-limits.”

                Tonks is stunned at Regulus’s words. She expected him to answer her questions, not tell her to back off.

                “What’s the big secret?” Tonks asks with a frown, a little annoyed at the lecture. “I never knew Snape had a daughter. How long have you known? Why doesn’t anyone else know? Why is he hiding her, and why was she upset with him last night?”

                Her hair cycles through many colours as she ignores everything he has said.

                “Nimmy!” he warns her. Then he sighs. “Severus has lost his spy position saving Harry. How do you think Voldemort will take it when he finds out about Severus’ daughter. Unlike the rest of the wizarding world, Severus is one of the few people who knew he wasn’t gone forever. He has spent years maintaining his cover in Hogwarts.”

                Tonks snorts. Snape was a shit teacher, and from the grumbling of the Weasleys, he’s not changed much. Having a child of his own hasn’t instilled any warm and fuzzy feelings in him. Perhaps that’s why he was such a bastard. It must be a burden for a man to know he couldn’t publicly acknowledge his daughter or spend much time with her.

                I’m no one. I’m just his dirty little secret. 

                That’s what Holly had said last night. Still, the Malfoys know her well enough, judging by how she was much more comfortable with them than with Snape. That could be explained by the fact that Snape spent more of the year at Hogwarts than with his daughter, so she would be more accustomed to spending time with Lucius and Narcissa.

                “What happened to her mother?” Tonks tries, hopefully.

                “Dead.”

                Regulus doesn’t give her more information. Like when the death occurred. Tonks would certainly like to know which witch had managed to… she stops her train of thought, her hair turning red. She did not want to think of a naked Snape. Too late.

                “Come on, Regulus,” Tonks growls. “This is juicy news. Snape has a little brat! Please, tell me she’s just like him and gives him the same shit he gives everyone else.”

                Regulus’ lips quirk into a smile.

                “They clash often enough.”

                Both their thoughts turn to last night. That was a pretty big fight.

                “You know she’ll be at Hogwarts before you know it, then the secret will be out. I might even take a year away from the Aurors and teach when she’s there,” Tonks comments idly. “I’d love to see them go at it. A teenage Mini-Snape against Daddy Snape. She was feisty.”

                Regulus lets out a startled chuckle, shaking his head at her.

                “Come on, let’s go,” he says, dispelling the Privacy and Silencing spells and opening the door, gesturing for Tonks to precede him.

                Snape made the tacit request last night, once Holly was out of earshot, to keep the evening’s events to themselves.

                “Does Sirius know?” Tonks asks as the thought occurs to her. Then again, she realises in the same instant that Sirius would have spilled the beans much sooner if he did.

                “Does Sirius know what?” asks the wizard in question, as if materialising out of thin air. Regulus glares at her, even as she shoots him an apologetic look.

                “Something that is not your business,” Regulus says sternly. She is unsure who the tone is aimed to deter, Tonks or his brother.

                Sirius gives his brother a wounded look, and Tonks feels for him. She thinks Regulus is being a little harsh on Sirius. Hitting Harry (not that she condoned Sirius’s fight with Snape in any way) was an accident, but he regrets his actions. Perhaps Regulus is punishing Sirius more than he needs to.

                “I was just asking,” Sirius mutters, looking away.

               

ooOoo

 

Harry looks down at the shiny Prefect badge in his hand disbelievingly. Across from him, Hermione shrieks in excitement as her own badge falls into her hands. Flying around the table, she tackles him in an excited hug.

                “There was never a question that you were going to get the Prefect badge,” Ron says, but Harry can hear the disappointment in his friend’s voice.

                After Hermione lets go of him to owl her parents with the news, Luna, unabashedly and nonchalantly, kisses him on the lips in congratulations. His face burns as the twins catcall him.

                “Maybe we should have tried harder to become Prefects if we got treated like that,” Fred laments.

                “We definitely missed the opportunity there, brother,” George commiserates.   

                “Shut up,” Harry mumbles, still looking at the badge with a smile as Luna rests her head on his shoulder.

                “She would have been proud as well,” she whispers in his ear.

                “Yeah,” Harry says with a lump in his throat. “Oma would have been very proud.”

                Then she would have taken him and Holly out to celebrate.

                “Well done, Harry,” Sirius congratulates him in an artificial voice. Things have been awkward between them ever since he accidentally punched Harry, and with Regulus’ overprotectiveness, Sirius is not allowed to be alone with him.

                Harry knows this mainly due to Sirius calling him James, though he had already lost consciousness when this happened.

                “Your parents would have been proud,” Sirius continues, though he looks furtively towards the door as if expecting Regulus to burst through.

                “Thanks,” Harry nods, feeling sorry for Sirius. “Was my dad a Prefect as well? I know he was Head Boy.”

                “Nah,” the other responds, relaxing at Harry’s questions. He’s probably happy that Harry isn’t refusing to talk to him as well. “We were often in too much trouble for either James or myself to get the badge. McGonagall gave it to Remus because he was the most studious of us and less of a trouble-maker. I think Dumbledore gave it to him in the hope it would keep us in check.”

                Sirius and Lupin both laugh at the memory.

                “Didn’t work, though, did it?” Regulus comments in a deceptively soft voice, walking into the kitchen.

                Sirius glowers at his brother, whilst Lupin looks away shamefully.

                Harry knows they are thinking of the incident where they had hung Snape upside down, threatening to strip his clothes, after one of their OWL exams. The incident led to the end of the friendship between his mum and Snape.

                Regulus has divulged many of these details after Harry told the older wizard about Holly under the strictest confidence. Regulus only wanted to make Harry aware of the actual reasons why Snape hated the Potter name so much. Harry had felt sorry for his suffering at the hands of the Marauders but truthfully cannot forgive him for taking out his animosity on himself. He doesn’t bother to complain about the unfairness of it, however. Living with the Dursleys has beaten that question out of him. Petunia and Snape would get on well. They can both get together and have a good laugh about making Harry’s life even more miserable.

                He shakes himself out of his bitterness about his relatives, Snape, and the Marauders. They shouldn’t matter now. He is different from all of them. He has other priorities, like learning enough to survive another battle with Voldemort - because he knows that is inevitable, no matter what the Wizarding world believes - and making sure Holly is safe.

                He is happy that Snape has agreed to have Holly and Narcissa Malfoy stay in Headquarters during the school year. He hopes to spend Christmas with Holly for the first time since he has started Hogwarts. However, it will be the first Christmas without Iris for both of them. He’s determined to spend the winter holidays with Holly, no matter what, even if he has to take her away from Snape.

                “Congratulations on making Prefect,” Regulus says in a warmer voice, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

                “Thanks,” Harry says with a smile.

                “Albus is waiting for you in the first Parlour,” Regulus informs him. “Come on. I’ll take you there.”

                 Harry blurts out the first question. “Am I in trouble?”

                Regulus laughs. “Guilty conscience, Harry?”

                “Blimey, Harry,” Ron shakes his head. “What do you reckon Dumbledore wants? Maybe he’s giving you the Quidditch Captaincy as well.”

                Harry hears the envy in Ron’s voice. He knows he wants to try out for the Keeper position this year.

                Standing up, he recalls the Mirror of Erised and Ron’s ambitions. His father had got the Head Boy badge in his Seventh year without getting a Prefect badge in his Fifth. If Ron worked hard, he could accomplish the same, and if he bags the Keeper position and does well, he could make Quidditch Captain next year as well, considering he lives and breathes Quidditch.

                “Dumbledore’s the Headmaster,” Ginny begins scathingly, “he wouldn’t come over to give Harry the badge himself. Even McGonagall wouldn’t do that. They’d send an owl post like they did for the Prefect badge.”

                Ron flushes as Harry stands up to follow Regulus.

                He throws his arm across his shoulders, pulling him for a one-armed embrace as they walk out of the kitchen. Harry is painfully aware of Sirius’s envious eyes following them out.

                “Do you know what this is about?” Harry questions, wracking his brain. Dumbledore has been busy with the Order and the school all summer, trying to hang onto his Ministry positions against the rising difficulties of Fudge’s denial. Harry has been reading the papers, which are full of speculations, and he can see the tide is slowly turning against them.

                Fudge is the wrong Minister for an impending war. He is too deep in the pockets of the likes of Lucius Malfoy, despite his change of allegiance.

Regulus knocks on the door and is bade to enter by Dumbledore’s calm voice, distracting Harry from his thoughts.

                Harry swallows nervously. He hopes Dumbledore isn’t here to tell him he has to go back to the Dursleys; his back twinges at the very thought of it. The Order tricked them into leaving by luring them out with the promise of an award for the garden or something like that. Harry knows he will have to pay the price when he returns, but he would rather not have to return so soon. Vernon and Petunia are like Jabberknolls; they remember every slight.

                “Take a seat,” Dumbledore gestures to one of the seats in front of him. The Headmaster looks serious, and the smile is brief, but Harry doesn’t feel that Dumbledore is upset. Not with him, at least. Still, he is assured when Regulus takes the other empty seat.

                “Regulus, if you please,” Dumbledores gives a slight nod.

                Regulus casts some Security spells, and Harry quickly realises that these are the same spells they use for the Order. In his head, he thinks of the twins, who will be disappointed that their Extendable Ears will become useless once more and wonders if they will play with the enchantments to adjust them to penetrate the Privacy spells.

                Dumbledore taps his wand on the tea set already placed on the table between them. The tea begins to pour itself.

                “Congratulations on receiving your Prefect badge,” Dumbledore begins, sitting back in his chair, a cup of tea in his hand.

                 Harry nods. “Thank you, sir.”

                “I must confess, however,” Dumbledore sighs, “that I almost gave the badge to your friend, Mr Weasley.”

                Harry freezes in the act of sipping his tea.

                “Sir?”

                He’s not sure how he feels about that.

                “Not because I did not think you were not capable of the responsibility,” Dumbledore assures him placidly. “I simply believed that, given all you have already gone through, the responsibility might have been too much.”

                Harry isn’t sure how to respond, so he sips from his cup.

                Dumbledore merely smiles. “Minerva and Regulus have convinced me that you will rise to the occasion, no matter what.”   

             “I will, sir,” Harry replies.

                Iris would have been pleased and proud that he was selected as Prefect. She has always encouraged him to be at his best, not hide his intelligence. He knows he and Hermione have the highest marks in their year for Gryffindor, though Hermione has the highest test scores overall for their year.

                “I believe in you,” Dumbledore continues to smile reassuringly.

                Harry nods. However, he wonders why he has been summoned in the first place. Surely, it’s not for Dumbledore to explain himself about giving him the Prefect badge.

Seeing Harry’s expression, Dumbledore’s smile fades.

“I see you are aware that I have requested your presence for another reason,” the Headmaster exhales.

By the way Dumbledore places his cup of tea back on the table and leans forward, Harry suspects this will be a serious conversation.

He manages not to startle when Regulus, who has so far been silent, places his hand on his shoulder.

“Regulus tells me you have learned the art of Occlumency and are quite good at it,” Dumbledore begins.

“Yes, sir,” Harry nods. He always practices it before going to bed and even sometimes throughout the day when he is reading a particularly dry school text. “Oma taught me.”

Dumbledore gives a nod of his own.

“Would you mind, perhaps, if I verified for myself?”

Regulus squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

“Go ahead,” Harry gives his permission.

Withdrawing his wand once more, Dumbledore looks into Harry’s eyes.

With a soft, “Legilimens,” he is in.

Harry’s mindscape is the same park where he first met Holly. It is empty, eerily so. Harry has a gentle breeze flowing through every so often, which causes the swings in his mind to sway gently, and the Merry-Go-Round to rattle. Leaves pick up from the ground and float gently around the slide; branches shift above.

It takes Harry almost a minute before he manages to detect Dumbledore’s presence in his mind. He detects an invisible manifestation near the gates at the edge of the park. As if trying to exit from the shield to access the rest of his memories. When he does, the mild breeze becomes a biting wind. Thunderstorms circle above; lightning resonates, and the skies become cloudier than before.

A clang echoes as the intruder becomes trapped inside the park. The wind blows him back towards the playground, where all the equipment goes berserk, thrashing violently. Eventually, the intruder gets knocked out of Harry’s mind by the swings knocking into him.

Harry rubs his scar, feeling it twinge as he comes back into the room, only to find Dumbledore smiling at him with a pleased look.

“Those are unique shields, Harry. Effective, nonetheless. You did well to get me out, but the goal is also to make sure no one enters in the first place. May I try once more?”

Harry takes a deep breath and nods his permission once more. He knows Dumbledore will try harder to get beyond the park gate, and he must stop him.

“Legilimens.”

Harry fortifies his shields again, not allowing him more than a glimpse of the green park before he knocks Dumbledore back out.

“Eileen has trained you well,” Dumbledore praises.

Harry flushes at the compliment.

“Now, let’s get to why I asked you to be there,” Dumbledore clears his throat, tucking his wand back up his sleeve. “Do you remember, Harry, what the first question you asked me at the end of your first year?”

Harry remembers the question clearly. It was the only one Dumbeldore had refused to answer at the time.

“Why was Voldemort after me in the first place?” Harry dutifully repeats with a dry mouth.

Was he about to get his question answered?

Harry listens to Dumbledore with mounting dread. Sometimes getting answers answered is not always a good thing.

 

ooOoo

 

Holly is sitting in her room reading over her letters from Harry again. Artemis is sitting on the perch in the darkened corner of her room. Uncle Lucius added it in when the black owl spent more time with Holly than he did in the Owlery. 

                Holly doesn’t mind. Back at home, Holly had a similar perch for Hedwig. She desperately misses Harry and Hedwig, having seen neither of them for more than a minute or two the whole summer. Uncle Regulus comes over with a letter every time he visits, taking one away from Holly for Harry.

                After being told about the war, Holly is even more worried about Harry. He’s in danger. Some mad wizard is after him. The same one who is after… Mr Snape. In fact, the mad wizard will hurt everyone who stands in his way.

                She is beginning to wonder if she will ever see Harry again. She tells herself that exchanging letters via Regulus is better than not communicating at all.

           As mad as she was at Mr Snape the previous week about being taken from the care home, she knows she is lucky to stay in a huge house like this.

                She was angry at Mr Snape for hiding her away. Her Mamma used to do the same - as if she was ashamed of having a daughter. Holly doesn’t remember much about living with her mother, just being unwanted. Before Mamma died, Holly remembered her harsh words, the pain, the hunger, and the loneliness that only went away when she was with Oma and Harry.

                With her mind still clouded by these thoughts, she carefully puts Harry’s letter away. Looking at the clock, she wishes she could go outside. However, after last week's dinner, she learned her lesson. Mr Snape wants her out of the way -  then, she will stay out of the way.

                She pulls out a book Harry bought for her before his fourth year at Hogwarts. It was part of Roald Dahl’s collection: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. They read it together. Harry thought Roald Dahl was probably a wizard or a squib who changed some details and decided to publish the bizarre book in the muggle world. Reading about snozberries and gum that tastes like breakfast, lunch and dinner, Holly is inclined to believe that only magic could make stuff like that happen.

                She only gets to the part where Charlie finds the golden ticket when there’s a knock on her door.

                “Come in,” she calls absently, head still stuck in her book. She thinks it’s probably Mr Snape coming to tell her to stay in her room whilst Draco’s friends are visiting.

                “Hey, Holly.” It is instead Draco himself that greets her, entering her room cautiously. “My friends are here.”

                “It’s all right. I’ll stay in my room,” she replies, wanting to roll her eyes, still not looking up from her book though she isn’t reading it.

                “They’re outside. I thought I’d introduced you all to each other,” Draco explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

                Holly does look up at him then. She is unaware of how much she reminds Draco of her father at that moment.

                “Really?” She doesn’t know if she wants to meet Draco’s friends. They’re all going to be older than her…

                “Uncle Severus said it’s okay. If that’s what you were thinking,” Draco mutters, looking at her hopefully.

                “You really want me to meet them? Don’t you want to spend time with the older kids by yourself?”

                “Of course I want you to meet them,” Draco tells her plaintively. “Can I invite them in?”

                Holly nods cautiously, drawing her knees to her chest and pressing the book close to her. Draco, who hadn’t closed the door entirely, pulls it wider open to allow his friends to enter.

                “Everyone, this is Holly. Uncle Sev’s daughter,” Draco introduces proudly.

                Holly is surprised that he is allowed to tell them that. What made Mr Snape change his mind about hiding her away? They walk in, curiously looking around her room before settling their eyes on her.

                “Holly, these are my friends. This is Daphne and her sister Astoria,” Draco announces, pointing to two girls, similar in appearance, with dark hair and pale-skinned. The older one looks at Holly with cool eyes at first; the younger one seems more friendly. Both nod at her with polite smiles.

                “Theo,” Draco points at another boy. He is tall and skinny, also with dark hair. His skin is darker, as if he has been in the sun all summer.

                “Blaise.” The boy, naturally dark-skinned, gives her a warmer smile than any of the others that reaches his lovely brown eyes.

                “And finally, my girlfriend, Pansy,” Draco introduces the girl last, confidently taking her hand.

                “Hi,” Holly greets somewhat shyly, immediately reciprocating by most of them.

                “Draco’s taking us down to the Quidditch pitch,” Pansy says after an awkward moment of silence when no one else speaks. “Do you want to come with us?”

                “You really want me to hang out with you?” Holly asks uncertainly.

                 Blaise nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, come on! It’ll be fun!”

                Holly places her Willy Wonka book on the nightstand, then hops off the bed towards where she kicked off her shoes earlier. Feeling self-conscious, she sits down on the floor to put her shoes on then ties them up as they watch her inquisitively.

                Standing up, she looks at them expectantly, but when no one moves, she is the one to prompt, “Are we going to pitch?”

                “Oh? Yeah,” Draco flushes. “Let’s go.”

                He holds out his hand to hold hers.

                “I know the way,” Holly says derisively. She doesn’t need to hold Draco’s hand like a baby.

                “Right,” Draco mumbles as the rest snigger at him. He leads the way as Pansy takes his hand instead. Holly follows behind everyone slowly.

                Once out on the Quidditch pitch, Draco heads off towards the broom shed to pick out some brooms for his friends, and Pansy and Blaise go with him.

                Holly is now left with Theo and the two sisters looking at each other speculatively.

                “So, Professor Snape is your father?”

                Not wanting to answer that question, Holly shoots back one of her own, “You always call him Professor, even if you’re not at school?”

                Daphne and Theo give each other weird smiles.

                “It’s respectful,” Astoria answers when no one else does. “We like him. He’s a good teacher.”

                Not according to Harry, Holly can’t help but think. He’s horrible to him - and his friends.

         She looks towards the sky. It’s getting a little cloudy, but it seems to be good flying weather: the ground is dry, which is for the best.

                Draco and the others take ages picking out brooms. Holly, feeling slightly overwhelmed, steps back from the others. They keep staring at her like she’s a monkey at the zoo, so she decides to show them a few tricks.

                She does a handstand, not looking at them. Then she does a cartwheel. Then another. Then another one, until she is several feet away from them.

                Draco comes up to her first, holding his broom in one hand and a rolled-up skipping rope in the other.

                “Thanks, Draco,” Holly smiles up at him. She should have brought up her own. She didn’t know there were skipping ropes in the broom shed.

                Draco smiles back at her, and they walk together towards the rest of the group. Blaise is carrying a box Holly knows contain all the Quidditch balls, while Pansy is holding out the rest of the brooms for the others to select.

                While tidying the bristles on his broom, Theo asks, “What was the thing you were doing?”

                “Cartwheels,” Holly answers shortly. “It’s part of my gymnastics.”

                “What’s gymnastics?” Astoria immediately intervenes, pronouncing the word carefully.

                “It’s just an exercise muggles do for agility and coordination,” Draco explains to them as if they are idiots.

                Holly hides a smile. Draco only knows that because of all Uncle Lucius's books from Waterstones.

                Then, the interest in gymnastics is taken over when Daphne offers a “girls against boys” challenge with a cold smile.

                Draco nods in agreement as he opens up the box, picking up the quaffle.

                “First one to a hundred,” he smirks.

                “What’s the bet?” Pansy queries.

                Draco shrugs. “Losers have to do a hundred skips on the rope,” 

                “What? Skips on what rope?” Blaise asks.

                Draco grins. “Show them, Holly,”

                Holly unravels the rope, knowing that Draco has been practising with the skipping rope in his room. She also knows Uncle Lucius has been practising in secret as well. Taking a step back, Holly demonstrates how to use it.

                “You know how to do that?” Daphne questions incredulously.

                “Like it’s hard,” Draco shrugs, but he doesn’t dare to look at Holly. She knows it took Draco time before he could coordinate properly, but she won’t embarrass him by telling his friends the truth.

                “Don’t you want to fly with us?” Astoria suddenly asks Holly, and Draco answers for her. 

                “She doesn’t like heights.”

                Holly ignores them as she continues silently with her skipping rope.

                They all mount their brooms and take off. Holly pauses with her skipping rope to watch. They line up in the centre, girls on one side and boys on the other. Then, Draco launches the quaffle high into the air. Everyone follows it with their eyes as it rises above them and then begins to fall.

                All three boys chase after the quaffle, whereas only Pansy dives beside the ball and the other two fly towards the goals. Their confidence that Pansy will get the quaffle first is not misplaced, as she grabs it before Blaise does. She flies with it, rushing past Theo, who swerves to chase after her.

                Pansy throws it towards Astoria, who catches it, flies back towards Pansy but throws it over her shoulder to her sister Daphne.

                Holly thinks this is much more fun to watch than Draco up in the air by himself.

                Much laughter and shouting are heard coming from the flyers. Holly smiles widely and claps as she watches them fly.

 

ooOoo

                Draco is distracted by Holly’s yells, having never heard her so animated. He smiles at the thought that he has managed to make her happy and wishes his friends had come over sooner. Daphne could be a bitch sometimes, and Theo could be creepy, but Blaise and Astoria were politer than the others; even Pansy can be catty, but for Draco’s sake, she would have made an effort.

                Missing a throw from Theo, distracted by Holly, he curses and dives after the quaffle before Daphne can reach it.

                Swerving on his broom, he throws the quaffle back to Blaise, who catches it and throws it towards the central goal. Astoria misses, and the boys are in the lead by twenty points.

                They are smirking widely twenty minutes later when they land. It was a close game, but Theo scored the winning goal, breaking the tie. The girls follow behind - Pansy scowling at the defeat, Daphne giving her usual unaffected shrug whilst Astoria shakes her head in disappointment.

                “You each owe me a hundred skips,” Draco glows.

                “How do we do it again?” Astoria asks unenthusiastically.

                “Holly will show you,” Draco tells them. “I’ll go get some extra ropes.”

                He flies off towards the broom shed again, not checking to see if Holly is indeed demonstrating once more.

                He is happy to have won, and his contentment will only increase when he sees the girls fall to the ground as they try to coordinate the jumping and swinging of the rope. Then, when they give up, he will effortlessly show them how it’s done. He can’t do a hundred in one go, but he can do thirty-seven.

                He grabs the remaining six ropes instead of picking up only three and flies back to the group. Dumping three of them on the ground next to the box, he throws the other three towards the girls, forcing them to bend to pick them up.

                They do so with a dirty look in his direction.

                Holly watches them with interest while Draco crosses his arms across his chest.

                “Go on, then,” he goads.

                He stands in front of Daphne whilst Theo watches Astoria, and Blaise is in front of Pansy – ready to count for them.

“Make sure they each do the full hundred. No cheating,” Draco crows, but the triumphant smirk falls from his face as each of the girls manages to use the skipping rope without the same fumbling and falling he did his first time. They stumble a little; none fall as Draco did.

Holly gives him a sideways look that he catches and grins at him. He looks away, finishing counting Daphne’s skips, who completes her set first.

“One hundred,” Theo counts. “You’re done, Tori.”

“This is fun,” Astoria pants as she continues swinging and jumping, earning a roll of eyes from Daphne, whilst Pansy throws her rope down as soon as Blaise tells her she’s done her hundred skips as well.

Blaise picks it up and looks at it curiously.

“Muggles just swing this rope for exercise?” he asks, interested.

Sensing he might get his entertainment from Blaise or Theo, Draco encourages, attempting to sound more knowledgeable than he is, “There are all sorts of muggle exercises.”

Casually, he adds, “Holly is muggle raised, so she knows some of them.”

Narcissa and Severus had taken Draco's friends aside when they came in through the Floo with their parents, explaining Holly’s existence quickly. No one knew that Severus had only found out about his daughter at the end of term or that she had only been living with them for the past several weeks.

They spun the story to make it seem like Holly spent time in the Muggle world growing up while professor Snape was at Hogwarts. Most knew that the Potions Master was half-blood. Purebloods are raised on knowing family lines and connections, so it was not like Severus could get away with making it seem like he was Pureblood. Apart from the fact that none of his students would dare question Professor Snape, even if he is their Head of House, Severus keeps enough of his life private to come across as enigmatic.

Holly doesn’t like to talk about Severus being her father. All efforts Draco has made to speak up on behalf of his godfather have gone to waste. Holly is simply unwilling to listen, though Draco is stubborn enough to keep trying.

However, they can’t bank on Holly, who can be unpredictable with other people, to keep quiet about her muggle background. Draco is keeping close to Holly to see what she says about her family so he can then report back to his parents and Severus, in order for them to spin the story around.

All the parents and Severus are locked up in his father’s study, discussing the way forward. The Crabbe and Goyle families had already fled within the first week of term ending. Lucius hadn’t told Draco much about it, having decided it was best for everyone to know as little as possible. Crabbe and Goyle might be from an old family line, but neither generation was brilliant: they are little more than muscle, so fleeing the country was their best option.

Draco wishes them well, wherever they are, and hopes to see them again one day. He’s always treated them like dumb little brothers he could boss around. He could lose Theo and Pansy soon as well, depending on the outcome of today’s meeting.

To Draco’s consternation, neither Blaise nor Theo falls on their faces when they have their turn at the skipping rope. They struggle, though not as severely as Draco did. He still shows off his skipping, given all the effort he put into learning it.

His father told him he was planning on including it in their lessons somehow - an idea from Regulus to use to improve footwork when duelling.

Draco decides not to pass this information on to his friends. An advantage is an advantage, after all.

Astoria and Blaise ask Holly to demonstrate her gymnastics again, eagerly trying to emulate them. When showing a backflip, Holly stumbles on the landing.

“Are you hurt?” Blaise asks gently, helping her back up.

“Yeah,” she grimaces. “My foot slipped.”

“Do you need help?” Draco presses.

Holly tells them she’s fine, so they continue, though Blaise or Astoria can’t do more than try cartwheels, and neither attempt to do any sort of flip.

Both Daphne and Theo altogether refuse to roll around on the ground, so Draco leads everyone up to his bedroom after half an hour. Holly trails at the back again, and Draco has to remind her she is still welcome to stay with the group. She stays with them, though she is hesitant about it.

Once there, Draco summons a House-Elf to bring drinks and food. The parents will be having lunch in his father’s study, and Draco has already emptied his study desk for the sandwiches the House-Elves send up for them.

Holly cautiously sits on Draco’s bed, crossing her legs under her. Draco hands her a plate of sandwiches and places her orange juice on his nightstand, so it is still within reach. He doesn’t see his friends exchange looks behind him at his behaviour. He has never been this considerate before.

“What else did you learn in the Muggle world?” Pansy opens up the conversation.

Draco believes that the others probably think Severus had a muggle girlfriend or wife; otherwise, why else would his child have grown up there?

Holly doesn’t answer straight away, looking at Theo through narrowed eyes. Draco hides a grin behind his sandwich. She looks like a cute version of his godfather. He is not sure if he can ever get through a dressing down from Severus without thinking of how cute Holly is.

“I learned to mind my business,” Holly answers, returning to her sandwich.

Blaise and Astoria laugh at Pansy’s expression. Again, Holly’s blunt manner is reminiscent of their Head of House. In a way, Holly’s answers demonstrate what none of them expected but wanted to show: that Snape has raised his daughter. Her own recalcitrant behaviour works in their favour. Draco only wonders how his parents are handling the others.

 Astoria happily bites into her sandwich. “Professor Snape has been Head of Slytherin for years. He’s never mentioned he had a child before.”

“Why should he?” Holly shrugs.

They all exchange looks again.

“Draco, at least, only recently knows about you,” Theo goes on, giving her a calculating look.

“Yes,” Daphne agrees quietly. “Draco wasted no time telling anyone who would listen that Professor Snape was his godfather. There’s no way he could have kept quiet about you.”

Draco flushes as they all laugh at him.

“I can keep a secret,” he weakly defends himself.

They all give him disbelieving looks.

“You might not give up a secret, Draco, but you can never keep your mouth shut about knowing more than someone else,” Blaise chuckles.

Draco scowls at their words. He’s not like that at all.

“Besides, Professor Snape rarely goes home for the Christmas holidays,” Astoria pipes up, ignoring Draco.

Holly watches them all pull apart the mystery of her existence.

                Suddenly, with the innocent but insatiable curiosity typical of someone who has grown up in almost a completely different reality, Theo takes the lead.

              “What’s the muggle world like?” he queries, studying Holly carefully.

                Theo is the only Slytherin attending Muggle Studies at Hogwarts. His father is mostly absent from his life, leaving him to grow up with their House-Elves, while his mother died whilst he was still young. Left chiefly to his own devices, Theo tends to get lost in research and puzzles. He usually doesn’t like interacting with people but is fascinated by how the world works.

                “Crowded,” Holly answers dryly. She doesn’t elaborate any further, instead concentrating on her food.

                Once they have eaten and the dishes are taken away, the discussion turns to Hogwarts, particularly neutral topics like their upcoming OWLs. Astoria listens with half an ear as she examines Draco’s old school books he still keeps on his shelf.

Pansy looks over the junk Draco removed from his trunk a few days ago - loose sheaves of parchment, old wrappers from sweets and chocolates. A mashed-up but still edible cauldron cake. Several Potter Stinks badges. Wrapping paper from Christmas presents, broken quills.

“Do you have any more Chocolate Frogs?” Pansy asks.

Draco opens the drawer on his nightstand, bringing out his stash of chocolates to share. He throws a Chocolate Frog on the bed for Holly, helping himself to a Liquorice Wand.

As they consume those treats, Blaise suggests they play chess.

“I’ll play you a game,” Daphne offers, and they set up the board on Draco’s bed.

“Do you want to play Gobstones, Holly?” Astoria asks, picking up Draco’s set.

Holly nods and scrambles from the bed with a pleased smile. Draco has played Gobstones with her before, and she is surprisingly good at the game.

“Are you planning on keeping these forever?” Pansy holds up a Potter Stinks badge for all to see.

Draco smirks. He was pleased with himself for coming up with those badges.

 Blaise instead shakes his head. “Juvenile.”

“Ah, really, Pansy. Do you really want to get him started on that?” Theo bemoans.

Holly gives the badge a curious look. “What is it?”

Pansy throws it to the floor in front of Holly instead of placing it back on his desk like she originally intended.

“Draco’s obsession,” Astoria teases, looking up from her game.

Support Cedric Diggory. The REAL Hogwarts Champion, it reads.

“Who’s Cedric Diggory?”

“He was a boy in Hufflepuff,” Blaise answers sombrely when no one speaks up. “A part of the Triwizard Champion that was held at the school last year.”

“Oh, he’s the one who died, right?” Holly responds hesitantly.

Draco hides his surprise at her knowledge but then remembers Regulus probably explained all of that to her when he was there last time.

“Was he your friend?”

 Daphne answers for them all. “No.”

“It was nice of you to support him, though,” Holly continues.

“Press it,” Draco tells her, and Holly obligingly presses the centre of the badge.

Potter Stinks, it now reads.

Holly gives the badge a frown.

“Who is Potter?”

The group lets out a collective groan.

Astoria rolls her eyes. “Harry Potter.”

“Was he a Champion as well?” Holly queries, still studying the badge.

“Yes,” Draco grunts. The monosyllabic response is indicative of a clear dislike.

“You don’t like him?”

Daphne smirks. “Draco doesn’t.”

The boy in question glowers at her.

“Why?” Holly presses.

“He cheated his way into the tournament,” Draco mutters, recalcitrant.

“Actually, no. He didn’t,” Theo interjects in a mild tone that admits no further reply. They all fall silent. They know it was a cruel deception by the Dark Lord. No one delves into that subject, however.

Blaise lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Draco’s been obsessed with Harry Potter for years. Always used to show off how he’d be your friend first: didn’t you, Draco?”

Pansy laughs.

“Then, when Draco offered his hand to Potter, Potter refused to be friends with him,” Pansy continues.

“And that was the beginning of Draco’s obsession with Harry Potter,” Theo groans.

“He’s the Boy-Who-Lived, isn’t he?”  Holly continues to push. “Is he special?”

They all let out a collective groan again.

“Please, don’t tell us Holly is obsessed with him too?” Blaise moans, making Astoria giggle. “Must you corrupt the little one?”

“I barely talk about him,” Draco mumbles, his face still red.

“Then why did you make the badges?” Holly asks, still frowning.

“To bring him down a peg,” Draco snaps but regrets it instantly, though Holly doesn’t notice.

“Is he a bully?”

“He acts like he owns the castle,” Draco answers frustratedly.

“But has he ever hurt you? Personally?” Holly continues to question him.

Draco falls silent.

“He hexed me and my friends on the train,” he finally snarls.

“You did deserve it,” Astoria points out grimly. “Especially after what you said about Diggory.”

They all give him serious looks. Draco does tend to mouth off, but no one riles him up more than Potter.

If he has to be honest, Potter has never done anything to him personally other than rejecting him. He’s not going to admit it out loud, in any case.

“You’re the one bullying him, aren’t you?” Holly asks with a displeased tone.

Everyone has fallen silent as they watch. Draco still doesn’t answer.

Holly stands up, leaving her game of Gobstones.

“I’ve noticed, Draco, that you don’t know how to be kind,” she tells him sadly, a note of melancholy clashing with her childlike face.

She walks out without looking at any of them.

Draco is too distracted by censure to notice that she is limping, but Theo and Daphne do.

 Blaise shakes his head. “She’s not wrong, Draco,”

“Like any of you even know how to be kind either,” Draco growls at them defensively, crossing his arms on his chest.

                “Unlike you, we know how and when to keep quiet,” Theo responds derisively.

                “Aren’t you going to go after her?” Astoria asks pointedly.

                “She’s a grudge holder,” Draco confesses. “Just like her father. She won’t let me in the door.”

                “The adults are having their discussion,” Daphne says, moving away from the chess set.

                Sensing the severe nature of the conversation, they all look to Daphne. Blaise pushes himself away from the game, too. Pansy moves away from Draco’s desk.

                “We should have our own,” Daphne finishes, knowing she has their attention.

                “What did you want to talk about?” Draco asks warily.

                Daphne looks first at Blaise and Theo.

                “Theo and I didn’t get the Prefect badge,” Blaise opens the conversation. “That means you did.”

                None of them even entertain the thought that Crabbe or Goyle might have been offered the badge, even if they were in the country to accept them.

                “Yeah,” Draco smirks. He found it in his envelope a few days ago. “Why wouldn’t I?”

                “Because you don’t deserve it,” Blaise grumbles.

                Draco feels a wave of anger come over him.

                “Why don’t I?” he snaps.

                “You were only made Prefect because Snape’s your godfather,” Daphne points out coldly, voicing the thoughts of everyone but Pansy.  

                “No, that’s not true,” Pansy comes to his defence.

                “Like you didn’t get the job because you’re a teacher’s pet as well,” Blaise scorns.

                Blaise is usually more laid back than this, and Draco can’t help but wonder why he is so affected by who was appointed Prefect and who wasn’t.

                “I didn’t know you wanted the Prefect badge,” Draco mutters sullenly.

                “It’s not about the badge, Draco,” Blaise states. “It’s about how it’s used.”

                Draco gives him a look, “So?”

                They all exchange exasperated looks.

                “We all knew the Dark Lord would come back,” Theo begins in a careful voice. “He was the one we would all follow. Your father and mine were set to follow him once he returned. My father is older than yours, but yours has been leading the old families for years.”

                “Whatever changed your father’s mind has put us all in danger. Whether that danger is–” Theo raises his voice slightly as he sees Draco is about to argue with him, “worse or not than joining the Dark Lord, is debatable.”

                Draco clenches his jaw. “What are you saying?”

                “Your father is leading us away from the Dark Lord. We know enough about your family’s history to know that the Malfoys are survivors, and it’s the only reason our parents are following yours. If Lucius Malfoy is switching sides, it’s because he knows something more,” Theo concludes quietly.

                Draco gives them an even look. “What does this have to do with the Prefect badge?” he asks carefully.

                “Prefects are considered leaders,” Daphne says coolly. “Role models, even within Slytherin. A prefect’s job is to ensure the House behaves and must be above reproach outside the House.”

                “I can do that,” Draco snaps.

                They all look at Pansy, who is that year’s Prefect for the girls. If her father decides to let her stay.

                “I can, too,” she retorts snippily.

                “You only got the badge because you’re Snape’s favourite,” Blaise states firmly, looking at Draco. “Otherwise, considering your lower grades and the amount of trouble you’ve caused with Potter and his friends, the badge should have rightfully gone to Theo. Your badge,” he says, looking at Pansy, “should have gone to Tracy or Daphne.”

                “I earned that badge,” Pansy snarls.

                “You wish!” Daphne replies icily.

                Daphne and Tracy Davies have been friends for many years. Davis is more intelligent than Pansy, Draco admits, and her marks are better than Pansy’s as well. He cannot deny that, rightly, Davis should have been made Prefect for the girls. Yet, as a Half-blood, she would not have been followed as a leader, not with Pansy having the ear of the Purebloods.

                Davis might have earned the badge, but she is not the leader sort. Daphne, on the other hand, would be. She, unlike Davis, is ambitious and cunning, to the point that Draco is outclassed. No one messes with Daphne if they want to survive. The Greengrass family is formidable.

“I earned my badge as well,” Draco says stonily, refusing to let them make him feel otherwise. “Potter’s caused loads of problems too. I bet my Nimbus that he’s been made Prefect. And his pet Mudblood Granger, too.”

“Whether you want to admit it or not, Draco,” Blaise reveals, “Potter is a player in this war. A powerful one. You’re acting like a little brat by continuing this feud when you should be working with him instead.”

“I tried to work with him,” Draco blurts out. “I offered him my hand. He rejected me.”

The thought still stings him to this day. Potter made a big mistake snubbing him: no one rejects Draco.

Daphne scoffs at him.

“You’re being juvenile again,” she derides him. “This is a time of change.”

Draco forces a smirk on his face.

“According to the Daily Prophet, he’s nothing but a liar,” he says slyly.

“He’s not listening,” Astoria shakes her head.

“Be someone we’ll want to follow,” Daphne tells him frostily. “Not someone riding on daddy’s coattails.”

Draco flushes. He understands there will be a power vacuum within Slytherin. Just because his father and some followers have defected doesn’t mean that there aren’t others in the House, and outside it, loyal to the Dark Lord. Then again, no one else knows yet that Lucius is the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

“There’s that look,” Blaise smirks, shaking his head.

“What look?”

“The ‘I know something you don’t know’ look,” Theo says dryly.

He flushes again.

“Someone needs to go check on Holly,” Theo continues, looking at Daphne.

“I told you,” Draco sighs. “She’s not going to let anyone in, at least, not whilst she’s upset.”

“What if she’s hurt?”

“Why would she be hurt?” Draco frowns again.

“She was limping on her way out of here,” Daphne talks to him like he’s thick. “She probably hurt her foot while doing that flip.”

“She was fine,” Draco says confidently. “She would have said something if she was hurt.”

Blaise snorts as they all look at each other with a disbelieving expression.

“Well, she would…” Draco defends himself, but even he knows it’s all in vain.

“I’ve known her for five minutes, and I know she wouldn’t have told you a damn thing,” Daphne ridicules.

“Let’s go and check on her,” Blaise proposes, standing up and brushing the wrinkles from his clothes.

“All of us?” Pansy says.

“You can stay if you want,” Theo shrugs.

Despite what others believe, Holly isn’t hurt. Draco knows her well enough and knows that she would have told him if she was.

Pansy follows along, dragging her heels a little. Like his companion, she is still upset that she was told she’s not earned the Prefect badge. Draco reluctantly joins them.

Minutes later, he and his friends are outside Holly’s room.

“She’s mad at you,” Astoria informs him, stating the obvious, stopping Draco as he’s about to knock on the door. “I’ll do it.”

Astoria knocks importantly and calls out, “Holly? It’s me. Tori.”

There’s a silence that goes on long enough that Draco is about to smirk at Tori, feeling oddly elated that Holly is ignoring her as well.

“Come in,” her voice comes from the other side of the door, definitely hurting Draco’s ego.

A glower replaces the smirk.

Cautiously, they walk in as Astoria takes the lead. Holly is sitting under her covers, as comfortable and snug as if it’s bedtime, reading the same muggle book Draco had seen before he insisted she join them.

She gives them a wary look as they enter one by one, curiously taking in the room.

“We’ve come to check if you’re alright,” Astoria states. She has always been the gentlest of the Greengrasses.

“I’m fine,” Holly replies, looking at them guardedly.

“What about your foot?” Daphne asks in the warmest voice she has used thus far.

“It’s fine,” she answers dismissively, returning to her book.

An awkward silence falls, and Draco rushes to fill it. “I’m sorry. About before.”

He knows he has surprised his friends with his admission. He is usually too stubborn to apologise, but Holly has become important to him. If necessary, he is willing to put his arrogance aside to keep their already delicate relationship intact.

However, his words do not appease Holly.

“What are you apologising to me for?” she says scathingly, looking over her book at him.

                The others watch with silent interest.

                He holds back a scowl, sensing the turn of such a conversation. He will not apologise to Potter, but Holly doesn’t need to know that; the thought pops into his head.

                “I’ll apologise to Potter then,” Draco strives to shrug casually, but he can’t escape the little girl’s intense scrutiny.

                He is forcibly reminded of Severus once more when his godfather tries to determine if Draco is pulling a fast one on him.

                Her lips quirk into a smile that fools him for a second into thinking she believes him, but then she scoffs, “Liar.”

                He avoids looking at the others as he valiantly holds back a blush at being called out by a nine-year-old.

                He walks to the bed, wishing he knew what to say.

                “Are you going to stay mad at me forever?” he asks, seating himself next to her on the bed.

                “Only until you grow up,” she tells him with a brutal look.

                “You’ll be waiting for a hundred years for that,” Blaise jokes, throwing himself onto the foot of the bed.

                Everyone else joins around the bed as well. Holly has no chairs in her room, and Draco doesn’t think to summon a House-Elf to bring some. Besides, he likes the closeness of them crowding Holly’s bed -  which is big enough to accommodate all of them, even though Holly pulls her legs together, sitting cross-legged under the covers.

                Pansy sits next to Draco, practically draping herself across his lap.

                “Are you all in the same House?” Holly asks, closing her book once more. It appears to be a well-worn copy. Draco doesn’t really care about reading, regarding it only as something he has to do to pass his coursework. He plans on taking over his father’s estate one day. Malfoy’s are good at making money, though they have enough in their vault that even his great-grandchildren will never have to work. Still, he’s got to do something after he leaves Hogwarts.

                “Yes,” Pansy answers, looking at Holly around Draco’s chest. She plays with the hair on Draco’s nape and continues, “We were all Sorted there from the first day. You’ll probably be Sorted into Slytherin when your turn comes.”

                Holly shrugs, “Maybe.”

                “Why wouldn’t you be?” Pansy retorts with a frown. “Especially since Professor Snape is your father.”

                Draco is quick to shift the subject.

                “You’ll be at Hogwarts before you know it,” he assures her. “By the time you join your First year, the rest of us will be in our Seventh.”

                “Except for me,” Astoria pipes up. “I’ll be in my Fifth year, so I’ll still be around after this lot leave.”

                “We’ll still be there for your first year, though,” Draco insists. “We’ll show you the Common Room, the classrooms, and the Quidditch pitch. Even our favourite place on the grounds for when the weather’s nice enough to sit outside.”

                “The secret passages,” Blaise inserts enthusiastically.

                “The Merpeople in the Great Lake,”  Astoria adds.

                “Merpeople?” Holly perks up. “You’ve seen Mermaids, too? Like the Little Mermaid?”

                “What’s that?” Theo questions, voicing the query of the rest of the group.

                “It’s a film about a mermaid who wants to know what it’s like to be human, so she signs an agreement with a sea witch to turn her human and, in the end, she falls in love with a prince,” Holly explains eagerly.

                “A film?” Pansy queries the unfamiliar word.

                “It’s like moving pictures put together in a sequence with sound telling a story,” Theo clarifies for the benefit of the others and arousing awe at his in-depth knowledge.

                “Really? Muggles can do that?” Pansy questions sceptically.

                “Muggles have filled books with stuff you don’t understand,” Theo replies derisively.

                “Shut up!” Pansy cries at him, stymied by the humiliation he wants to subject her to.

                Daphne sighs. “Both of you, shut up.”

                Draco discreetly nudges Pansy before she can say more.

                “Merpeople in the Great Lake tend to stay within their own community,” Daphne explains. “Sometimes they come when they’re collecting something close to our windows. They never acknowledge they can see us.”

                 Blaise walks over to Holly’s nightstand, peering at the spine of the book resting there in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the title. “What are you reading?”

                “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” Holly holds up the book.

                “What is it about?” Theo also gives the book an interested look.

                “It’s about this boy, Charlie, who lives with his poor parents and grandparents,” Holly explains. “One day, he finds a golden ticket in a Willy Wonka Chocolate bar, one of five, and visits Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.” 

                Perhaps it is Holly’s simple delivery, but the plot doesn’t appeal to Draco at all. Plus, it’s a muggle book. He conveniently forgets the Muggle comics he bought - and read in one weekend. Batman and Joker’s story turned out to be less funny than he expected.

                Blaise and Theo still give the book a curious look.

                “May I see it?”

                Holly hesitantly hands it to Theo.

                While Theo opens it to the first page, Blaise peering curiously over his shoulder, Draco distracts Holly from her anxious hovering.

                “You’ve read that one load of times, haven’t you?” He has seen her with that book often.

                “It’s my favourite,” Holly tells him. “Ha – I got it as a gift. The whole box set of them.”

                 Blaise looks up from Theo’s shoulder. “Oh? There’s more?”

                Holly nods.

                “Can I see?”      

                Draco thinks Blaise is overdoing it with enthusiasm. The other boy can usually be hyperactive but never on muggle objects. Like all the Purebloods in this room, Blaise has never been exposed to the muggle world. Daphne might know a bit more because her best friend Davis is a half-blood, but Theo’s knowledge comes from books rather than practical experience.

                Holly hops out of bed to look through her wardrobe. Opening it, Draco sees she has used one of her shelves for books instead of clothes. He makes a mental note to tell his parents to add a bookshelf to her room.

                Draco notices she is still wearing her socks but is limping slightly and frowns at her back.

                “Are you sure your foot’s all right?”

                “It’s fine,” she dismisses his worries, turning around and carrying a box set of books, so Draco decides to not insist further on the matter.

                They’re all relatively thin books. There’s one missing, Draco sees as she puts them down on the bed before climbing back into it. The missing one must be the one that Theo is reading in earnest - he can get like that when he has a book in his hand and forget everything around him.

                They all clamber closer to take a look at the other titles.

                The BFG. The Witches. James and the Giant Peach. The Twits. George’s Marvellous Medicine. Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator. Matilda. To name a few.

                At Blaise’s prompting, Holly explains the plot for some of them, while Draco seems only able to cast a confused look at Daphne.

                “A muggle wrote these?” he asks incredulously.

                Holly nods innocently.

                “Bet that peach is giant because of the Engorgement Charm,” Pansy rationalises.

                “The Big Friendly Giant? Giants aren’t ever friendly.”

                “What year were they published?” Theo asks but flicks through his own book to find the answer.

                “Matilda must be about accidental magic,” Astoria adds excitedly.

                 Daphne shakes her head. “The marvellous medicine must be potions.”

                “These seem to be published between the sixties and eighties,” Blaise informs them, having flicked through each of them.

                “Think it might be a squib?” Pansy asks, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

                 “Or a washed-up mudblood,” Draco speaks without thinking, flipping through the one blatantly titled The Witches.

                Theo clears his throat to break the sudden silence, the meaning of which Draco does not immediately understand.

                “Holly, is your foot swollen?” He looks down at Holly’s leg, which is dangling off the bed.

                Draco, concerned, tries to manoeuvre himself around the back of Holly to see her foot on the other side of the bed.

                “Let me see your foot.”

                He looks at her to make her see he is serious but is surprised to see her glaring at him with a fire he has never seen directed at him.

                “What does mudblood mean?” she demands in a voice that tells Draco she already knows the bitter answer.

He understands the sudden silence and pales as he realises what he has just said.

                “Holly – it’s just a word,” he scrambles to explain.

                “What does it mean?”

                A glance at the others shows that none of them will come to his rescue. Even Pansy has physically distanced herself from him with a grimace. He is alone in this.

                “It means someone who – who – er – someone who has dirty blood,” Draco stutters his way through the explanation. “Because they’re not Pureblood.”

                “Pureblood like all of you,” she accuses in a hard voice, looking at each of them.

                “It’s just a word we use,” Pansy steps in to clarify, repeating what Draco has already said.

                He is focused on Holly, so he doesn’t see Daphne give Astoria a nod. Or see the younger girl slip out of the room.

“My mamma was a mudblood then,” Holly says in a flat voice.

                Draco reaches out a hand to her shoulder, trying to placate her, but she reacts violently, throwing herself out of reach, off the bed. She yelps as she suddenly puts her weight on her foot and stumbles to the floor, wincing in pain.

                Draco, and Theo, who is closest to her, jostle to get to her side.

                “Holly! Please, let me see your foot,” Draco begs, reaching for her again.

                “No. Don’t touch me. Leave!” she shrieks as she scrambles away from both. “Get out! I want you out of my room. All – all of you!”  

Theo backs off, raising his arms in a surrendering manner. He grabs Draco when the blond doesn’t immediately move to back away as well.

                “Come on,” he urges in a low voice, pulling him back.

                Draco doesn’t like the disappointment in Holly’s eyes - he doesn’t like seeing it directed at him.

                “Holly, I swear, I didn’t mean it,” he tries to explain desperately.

                “Get out,” she says tiredly once more, crawling back from them all.

                Blaise and Theo practically drag him away.

                “You just can’t help yourself,” Daphne exclaims frigidly once the door closes behind them.

                “Our role model,” Blaise scorns, earlier friendliness gone.

                “We may not have known that Holly’s mother was muggle-born, but you did,” Daphne continues coldly. “You should have been more careful with your words.”

                “Back off, Greengrass. Draco didn’t say anything wrong,” Pansy snipes. “What else would you call a mudblood?”

                “What else, indeed?”

                Draco swallows hard at the sound of Severus’s bland voice. He only uses that tone when he is trying very hard to suppress anger.

                Pansy pales as she looks up to see their Head of House. Though his face is expressionless, his eyes are glittering with suppressed rage. Looking past Severus, Draco sees his mother giving him a disappointed look. Draco turns his gaze away.

                “I hope you enjoyed your visit, children,” Narcissa speaks politely. “Your parents are waiting for you downstairs.”

                They all mutter a flat goodbye, apart from Pansy, who gives Draco a look of sympathy. No one gives him a second look as they leave, but Holly’s closed doors get multiple glances as they trudge away.

                Draco is left alone with his mother’s displeasure and godfather’s ire. In the face of this, it doesn’t even occur to him to think of Holly’s cuteness.

 

               

> Chapter 13 - Watching Grass Grow

 

Regulus is worried about Harry. Harry has avoided everyone since they met with Albus almost a week ago. His friends, Regulus himself, and even Luna. At first, Regulus ran interference between Harry and his friends. Harry did deserve some time alone to think about everything they had unloaded on him about the prophecy.

               Kingsley and Arthur would soon take Harry to the Ministry to retrieve it. It would free up resources that Albus had in place for guarding it, which was dangerous work, not just because of Voldemort but also because of Fudge and how the Ministry was retreating from the threat.

               Regulus and Severus had arrived just as the dome between Harry and Voldemort had collapsed. By the time they had run to help, Harry had already reached for the portkey, taking Diggory’s body with him.

               From then, there was a confusing free for all where several Death Eaters disapparated, and some stayed to fight. That was how Voldemort discovered how many were genuinely loyal to him after thirteen years.

               Regulus had failed to grab Pettigrew to present him as proof of his brother’s innocence - a failure that only increased his guilt. By the time they had returned with reinforcements, all that remained of the graveyard were scorch marks and lingering remnants of Dark magic. In his anger, Voldemort had desecrated more graves before he left, but there was no evidence that any resurrection had taken place. Nothing to show Fudge what happened. Even with Lucius now against Voldemort, there were plenty of others to do the Dark Lord’s bidding.

               Voldemort was still recouping his loss, but it would not be long before he revealed himself. By then, it could be much too late for any Ministry action.

               In the meantime, Harry is suffering. On top of being worried about Holly, he now had to deal with the onerous knowledge of the prophecy. The first two days Harry had spent by himself. Then, he kicked Molly and Kreacher out of the kitchen for the last three days and completely took over. Molly is still a little put out at being thrown out of what she considers her sacred place, and so was Kreacher at first, until Harry purposely made sure to use every pot, pan and cooking utensil, providing the elf with plenty of cleaning, still.

               Given what he knew about his upbringing, Regulus was the only one not shocked at how well Harry could cook.

               A knock on Regulus’s door brings him out of his musings.

               “Come in,” he calls, looking towards the door.

               Ron’s redhead peeks out over the door frame.

               “Regulus?” The boy’s eyes dart around the room, looking for him until he spots the man. “Snape’s here to see you. He’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”

               Regulus doesn’t correct Ron’s lack of honorific. He’s not a teacher, and the school isn’t in session now. Besides, Severus isn’t here to hear it. Regulus remembers from his own school days that honorifics were rarely used when students talked amongst each other - even for those who referred to their favourite teachers.

               “Thank you, Ron,” Regulus smiles gently. He knows things are still a little strained between him and Harry at the moment, but Regulus has never doubted Ron’s heart. The boy might be naïve about some things, but his heart was always in the right place.

               He stands up from his chair and exits his room to head to the kitchen.

               “Your mother is still at the Burrow?”

               “Yeah,” Ron answers. “Since Harry’s taken over the kitchen, she’s been feeling a little … free, so she’s gone to take care of the house instead. She said the chooks still need feeding and doesn’t want to have the garden overrun with gnomes.”

               Regulus laughs a little.

               “No. Molly will be back to cooking in no time,” he tells the younger boy. “I’m sure Harry will get bored in the kitchen soon enough,”

               “He doesn’t have to give up all the cooking,” Ron says hastily.

               “You don’t want to miss out on his breakfast muffins?” Regulus adds knowingly.

               “His cheese and mushroom omelettes,” Ron admits sheepishly. Then, looking around as if to check for his mother, he adds with a whisper, “And his roast lamb. And Manchester tart. And –”

               “Okay, okay,” Regulus laughs. “Almost anything Harry makes.”

               Ron nods.

               “Mum’s a good cook too,” Ron continues quickly.

               “That she is,” Regulus nods agreeably. Then, as they approach the stairs leading to the kitchen, he asks, “Do you know what’s being prepared today?”

               “He asked Kreacher to buy as many blueberries as he can find,” Ron shrugs. “And I think he’s used up half a dozen bags of flour and probably as much sugar from the pantry. All the bowls have been filled with batter, so maybe he’s making muffins?”

               Regulus grins at Ron’s hopeful look.

               The boy pauses at the kitchen door, not willing to enter with Severus in there.

               “Doesn’t smell like he’s started cooking yet,” Ron sniffs at the air. “I’ll see you later, Regulus.”

               Regulus holds back another laugh at Ron’s poor excuse, though he wonders whether the young Gryffindor would have braved the kitchen (and Severus’s presence) if Harry had started baking his muffins.

               Severus is seated at the chair closest to the Floo. The Weasley twins converse quietly at the opposite ends of the table, with several bits of parchments in front of them. Regulus believes it is research regarding the joke shop they wish to open once they graduate from Hogwarts. Against Molly’s wishes. Their mother has already thrown away most of the products they had already developed, but fortunately, Kreacher managed to save it all on Regulus’s orders.

               Molly is ridiculously close-minded about her sons’ ambitions, clipping their wings through constant comparisons to Percy’s brilliant political career. She is proud of her third son, despite their current estrangement. At least Arthur is more supportive of Fred and George and their jocular endeavours.

               Hermione and Ginny (and he is surprised to see Nimmy there as well) are a few seats away from the twins, open books displayed. He knows Hermione has already done all her homework - and has badgered the others to do the same. She is likely reading through next year’s course load.

               Severus slowly stands up upon seeing Regulus, refusing to look at anyone else as he catches the other’s eyes.

               He instantly knows that this is about Holly and wonders absently what his friend has done this time to upset his daughter.

               “I wish to speak to you in private,” Severus approaches him stiffly.

               Regulus nods agreeably. He turns to the teenagers - plus Nimmy, who still acts like one - and says aloud: “All right, ladies and lads, can we have the room, please?”

               They all give him a surprised look but acquiesce without argument. Even Severus gives him a look of hidden surprise at the request. Usually, Regulus takes him to a different room like the parlour.

However, it is Regulus’ turn to be surprised when Severus stops Nimmy and announces, “Miss Tonks may stay.”

He knows the others believe it is Order business, but it does not stop their curious glances as they gather their papers and leave.

Nimmy shoots him a curious look, but he shrugs. It’s not like he knows why Severus has given her permission to stay. Behind Severus, Regulus sees Harry’s head sticking out of the pantry door, looking at him questioningly. Nimmy has not seen him and Severus has his back to the pantry, so Regulus subtly motions for Harry to go back inside and stay quiet, pulling out his wand to distract the others by making sure there is a Silencing Charm against the kitchen door. The twins never miss an opportunity to try their Extendable Ears for eavesdropping. Harry’s head disappears without anyone noticing his presence. Still, Regulus spells the pantry door with another Silencing Charm simultaneously, so no one can hear Harry, as he does with the kitchen.

               “What did you need, Severus?” Regulus asks, tucking his wand back into his holster.

               Severus turns to Nimmy first, to Regulus’s surprise.

               “Miss Tonks, I would like to ask if you can contact your mother. We are in need of a discreet Healer,” Severus entreats formally. Then, after a pause, he continues, “For a full medical scan.”

               “What’s happened?” Regulus gives his friend a look of concern.

               Severus hesitates, then says, “Holly hurt herself practising her gymnastics. I believe she might have twisted her ankle and then possibly sprained it further when she fell from her bed. She refuses to let anyone look at it. Are you free to see her?”

               Regulus knows what his friend is asking.

               “Of course. Nimmy, see if your mother is free and bring her back here. We’ll go together.”

               Nimmy nods in affirmation. With another nod at Severus, she takes a pinch of Floo powder and leaves.

               “Why don’t you go back, Severus?” Regulus tells him as the green flames die away. “I’ll wait for Nimmy and Andromeda and Floo to the Manor with them.”

               Severus nods perfunctorily.

               “Why do you need a full medical scan?” Regulus asks before Severus leaves.

               “Given that she has been residing in the muggle world, I thought I would take advantage of the opportunity to check if she has had her vaccinations.”

               “Seems reasonable,” Regulus acknowledges, though he makes a note to ask Harry if he might know as soon as Severus Floo’s away. “Is there anything else I should know?”

               Severus gives him a look. The Potions Master knows his real question is what has angered her this time?

               “Lucius’s associates and their children came to visit today. The children were left to their own devices. Discussions lead to some books Holly possesses, written by a muggle author, a certain Roald Dahl. The content of the books was questionable in nature, which led to the speculation of whether they were written by a squib or a muggle-born who could not make a career in the Magical World.” Severus inhales deeply before concluding, “Though the word Draco used was more offensive in nature.”

               Regulus knows which word Severus is referring to. Even over two decades later, Severus still cannot speak the word and punishes anyone reckless enough to utter it in his vicinity. His esteem for Lucius rises as he gives this more thought. Lucius is a master of holding his tongue when required, but doing so in the privacy of his own home where, by all means, he should be free to do as he pleases, is no mean feat. Yet, for Severus, Lucius managed to curb his words.

               From what Harry tells him, Draco has yet to learn this skill. It does not escape him that Regulus trusts the words of a boy he has known for two years rather than the one he has known from birth. Perhaps it is because he has known Draco from birth that he understands his nephew’s nature. Lucius and Narcissa have spoiled him too much, where they should have taught him to navigate the world of people, to understand the needs and wants of others and to use them to his own benefit.

               Instead, Draco feels that the strength of his name is enough to open doors for him. That might be true, but Draco needs to understand that the Malfoy name might open some doors, but it is up to him to ensure those doors welcome him. Not everyone will fall to his feet only because he is a Malfoy.

               Regulus nods thoughtfully. “I’ll follow behind you as soon as Andromeda gets back.”

                Severus sighs and turns to use the Floo. “Thank you.”

               Regulus waits until the flames die away completely before calling for Harry to come out. He does so, holding a jar of honey and a bottle of maple syrup.

               “Can you do me a favour, Regulus?” Harry asks hesitantly.

               Regulus gives him a questioning look.

               “Can you ask Malfoy – Lucius, that is - if he can open his wards for Hedwig? Not for her to keep flying between Holly and me,” Harry rushes to explain. “But so that Holly can keep Hedwig with her.”

               Regulus gives Harry a gentle smile. “I will,” Regulus promises.

               He points to the prepared batter (enough to bathe in) and what he conservatively estimates must be at least ten kilos worth of blueberries.

               “Are you making muffins?” he asks hopefully.

               Harry smiles back.

               “Pancakes.”

               “For an evening meal?”

               Harry shrugs. “I’ll do a fry-up for those who want a savoury meal instead,”

               As he turns back to the hotplate Molly usually uses for breakfast every morning, he queries casually: “Who are Lucius’s associates?”      

               “Defectors like Lucius,” Regulus explains, standing next to Harry. Despite living alone for almost fourteen years, he has never learned to cook. There has never been any need for him to, not with Kreacher always around. He understands this is a skill that Harry learned from his relatives and has the scars to prove it. It hurts Regulus to think about how many scars he might have endured before his cooking passed his aunt and uncle’s standards.

               Pushing these thoughts aside, Regulus continues, “The Crabbe and Goyle families have already fled. This afternoon’s meeting, which I forgot was going to happen today, was to discuss who else would flee and who would stay to fight, who would take their children and who would send them to Hogwarts.”

               Harry nods as he listens, skillfully ladling the batter onto the hotplate. Each pancake is a perfect circle, then judging exactly when it is time to add the blueberries and the right time to flip it over.

               “Why pancakes?” Regulus probes, nimbly nabbing the first pancake before Harry can place it on the plate.

               “Holly’s favourite,” the other simply answers.

               “Perfect timing,” Regulus observes. “I’ll take some with me. I’m sure she’ll appreciate them.”

               Harry gives him a look of gratitude, not unlike the one Severus gave him before he Flooed away.

               By the time Nimmy returns from wherever she went to fetch her mother, Harry has made enough pancakes to feed the Weasleys. Seeing that the food is ready, Nimmy rushes over to the pancakes and helps herself, moaning exaggeratedly as she bites into the first one.

               “You’re moving in with me, Harry,” she exclaims around a mouthful of pancake. “Or I’m moving here. Wherever I can get pieces of heaven like this.”

               “Don’t talk with your mouthful, Nymphadora,” Andromeda admonishes. Ignoring her daughter’s scowl, she says, “We have a little girl in need of healing. That’s why I’m here. Not to watch you stuff your face like a chipmunk.”

               Harry sends Regulus a playful look and enquiries in a deliberately quizzical voice, “Little girl?”

               Regulus hides his amusement at the way the Tonks women freeze. Andromeda is usually more circumspect than this. Merlin help her if Severus was here to hear. Regulus takes another pancake, waiting for the ladies to talk themselves out of this.

               Nimmy relaxes before Andromeda does. Regulus belatedly recalls Nimmy watching him and Harry after her first trip back from Malfoy manor; perhaps she had picked up on something then, but he had forbidden her to ask questions.

               “Just a new patient I’m taking on,” Andromeda attempts to smooth over.

               Harry nods placidly as he turns back to his hotplate, ladling on more batter.

               “I hope it’s nothing serious,” he says with sincerity, with his back to everyone.

“Andromeda is a skilled Healer,” Regulus assures the younger boy. Turning to Andromeda, he asks, “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes,” Andromeda replies. “Dora mentioned a full medical scan. I assume that also meant vaccinations.”

“Vaccinations?” Harry repeats, half turning around as if he and Regulus did not just have this conversation ten minutes ago. “Muggle or magical vaccinations?”

“Magical, though I am aware of the injections muggles use. I assume you had your muggle injections growing up in the muggle world?”

“Yeah. The school nurse always took care of them,” Harry responds, still looking after the pancakes.

Regulus sneaks another one from the pile. Nimmy, seeing this, jealously copies him, snagging herself another pancake as well.

“Our vaccinations come in the form of potions, of course,” Andromeda tells Harry. “Most children get them between the ages of five and nine. Muggle-borns usually receive theirs when they enter Hogwarts. Since you were muggle raised, am I to assume that you might have slipped through the cracks? Are your vaccinations still outstanding?”

Andromeda drops her medical bag on the dining table, looking ready to give Harry a full medical scan right then and there.

Harry quickly assures her, turning briefly to catch her eye, “Oh, I almost missed out on them. Hermione mentioned her appointment to me in our first year, and I realised, like you just said, that my name wasn’t on the muggle-born list. Madam Pomfrey did a full medical scan when I made my vaccinations appointment.”

Regulus knows from his talk with Harry that this was how Poppy realised the young boy was being abused. However, because he never opened up to her, she had been unable to do more than send vague hints to Minerva. After Harry had tried to warn McGonagall about the Stone and been ignored, he had never bothered going to McGonagall for anything else. Only Eileen had his loyalty, though Regulus wonders how Harry could forget and forgive her lies. Hiding her whole identity must have hurt him when he found out.

“We should go,” Andromeda says, turning to the Floo. “Severus is waiting for us, I am sure.”

“Severus? As in Snape?”

Regulus closes his eyes, almost slapping his hand over his face.

“Mother, what is wrong with you?” Nimmy’s exasperation does not have the same impact when her mouth is filled with an entire pancake.

“You’re right, Andromeda,” Regulus shakes his head. “We should get going.”

“Yeah, before mother dearest reveals any more,” Nimmy mutters, grabbing another pancake before pushing Andromeda towards the Floo.

One glance at Harry shows the boy is enjoying this.

“I’ll speak to you when we get back, Harry,” Regulus deadpans.

“Take some pancakes,” he smirks, which only Regulus can see. “If the poor girl is subjected to Snape, she’ll need some sugar.”

Regulus nods: bringing out his wand, he summons Tupperware, charmed to keep food at the right temperature, and adds the whole stack of pancakes Harry made to it.

“Hey!” Harry protests, falsely outraged, but Regulus merely shrugs.

“You have plenty of batter and blueberries left,” he defends himself. “What if we come back and there’s none left?”  Even with the wizard space charm on the tub, he has to cram the lid on top.

“It would be wrong to deprive us,” Nimmy adds with approval, eying the tub in Regulus’s hand. “I’ll carry that for you, Reg.”

“Move it,” Regulus tells her when she reaches for it and yanks it out of her reach. “You!” He points to Harry. “You keep making more pancakes. And don’t speak to anyone about Severus and the little girl.”

He adds this only for Andromeda and Nimmy’s sake.

Harry bites his lip, giving a nod of understanding. Regulus knows it is because he is trying to keep from laughing.

“And you two, not a word to Severus.”

They both nod, though Nimmy is still eying the tub of pancakes.

Harry turns to ladle more pancake batter to the hotplate, needing to make more now that Regulus has taken whatever he made so far.

The ladies Floo away, and Regulus barely remembers to remove the security spells before he too disappears in green flames.

When he walks out of the grate, Narcissa and Andromeda are already walking toward the door. He and Nimmy follow, his niece still trying to get the pancakes from his hand.

“You have some explaining to do when we get back to Headquarters,” Nimmy mutters.

Regulus ignores her as they follow Narcissa and Andromeda up the staircase.

Severus is waiting outside Holly’s room impatiently, while Lucius and Draco are nowhere to be seen.

Regulus can practically hear him screaming the word, ‘Finally’, though he does not say it aloud.

“She refuses to let us enter,” Severus admits after greeting Andromeda stiltedly. “I do not know how badly her foot is injured.”

Regulus acknowledges his words and then turns to knock on the door.

“Holly, darling,” he calls. “I’m coming in,” He cautiously opens the door, eyes automatically drawing towards the bed as he walks in. She is not there. Entering further, he sees her sitting under the window ledge.

Her face is tear-streaked. Seeing him, she stumbles to her feet, trying to get to him, but he already knows her foot will not support her.

“Andromeda,” he yells, even though she is just on the other side of the door. Throwing the tub onto the bed, he reaches for her in two long strides, lifting her off her feet and pulling her close.

Andromeda is not alone in rushing in, and Regulus belatedly realises he has made everyone panic. He has not seen Severus this rattled since the graveyard.

Regulus sits on the bed, keeping Holly on his lap, extending her foot to Andromeda so she can examine it. He is not a Healer, but he knows that even with her sock on, Holly’s foot is not meant to be the size of a melon.

Holly wraps one arm around his waist and the other around his torso. He pulls her close, arms protective around her as she buries her face in his chest.

“Do you want to tell me what happened, darling?” he questions gently.

“I fell,” her voice comes in a hitch, muffled against his chest. “Twice.”

“Twice?”

She nods.

“Aunt Andromeda is a Healer. She’s going to take your sock off, all right?”

Another nod, but she turns her head to see Andromeda, who conjures a small stool to sit on beside the bed. Holly watches as Andromeda gently rolls down the sock, wincing and scrunching her eyes shut as her foot is jostled.

A noise from Severus has him looking up to his friend. Narcissa places a calming hand on his shoulder.

“How did you fall, sweetheart?” Andromeda asks gently as she waves a wand over Holly’s foot.

“I was showing Draco’s friends my gymnastics, and I didn’t land right and hurt my foot,” Holly mumbles. “It didn’t hurt a lot at first, but I was careful. I forgot to ask Roker for ice, so it swelled. Then it got worse when I fell from the bed.”

“Well, it’s not broken,” Andromeda states, easing the worried spirits. “You will need to drink a horrible tasting potion or two, though.”

“How horrible?” Holly asks.

“Like sweaty socks and cherries mixed together,”

Holly wrinkles her nose. “I don’t like cherries. How about blueberries?”

Andromeda laughs.

“I’m afraid I only have cherries,” she says, digging around in her medical bag for the potion.

 Regulus pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wipes her drying tears as Holly nods, looking at him. “You like blueberries?”

Regulus reaches for the Tupperware tub that Nimmy is eying up.

“What about strawberries?”

Holly wrinkles her nose again and shakes her head. “Blueberries.”

“Raspberries?”

“Blueberries.”

“Boysenberries?”

“Blueberries.”

“Gooseberries?”

She gives him an exasperated look. “No, just blueberries.”

“All right, all right,” he concedes.

Andromeda interrupts them, holding out a small vial filled with a lilac-coloured potion.

“Drink this one up, darling,” she instructs. “It’s for the pain. Okay? Then I will do a complete medical scan on you and see if you need anything else. We’ll get the horrible potions drunk, and maybe your Uncle Regulus will give you some blueberry treats.”

“Okay,” Holly nods gamely.

“I need you to drink this potion next,” Andromeda hands her a vial with a yellow-coloured potion. “This is for the swelling.”

Holly drinks down the lilac potion first, looking as if she will gag but managing to keep it down. Then takes the yellow potion, forcing herself to glug it down.

Andromeda casts a spell and taps a roll of parchment with her wand. It takes several minutes before it stops copying down past ailments, ending with a soft ping.

Andromeda studies it carefully, with Severus, Narcissa and Nimmy looming above her trying to read it.

“Looks like you’ve sprained your ankle more than once in the past,” she finally comments.

“Gymnastics,” Holly promptly answers.

“Shoulder?”

“Gymnastics.”

“Knee?”

“Gymnastics.”

“Fingers?”

“Gymnastics.”

“Head?”

“I fell… in gymnastics class.”

“Wrist?”

There’s a perceptible pause before Holly answers with a dull tone, “Gymnastics.”

They all look at her in varying degrees of concern, but she resolutely doesn’t look back at any of them.

“It looks like you’ve had your muggle vaccinations, at least. Which is good. I’ll just give you your magical vaccinations and some Bruise balm –”

Andromeda cuts off abruptly as Holly startles them all, trying to throw herself away from the healer, holding herself tightly, kicking out with her injured foot.

“I don’t want a jab! I don’t want a jab!” she yells. “Please don’t make me.”

Regulus has to tighten his grip around the squirming bundle of panic. He winces as she sticks her bony elbows into his ribs.

“No needles,” Andromeda says quickly, trying to reassure her. “No needles.”

It takes several seconds for Holly to understand. Regulus winces as he releases his grip on her.

“Promise?”

“I promise. It’s just another three potions.”

“No needles?” Holly checks again, her voice still shaky due to the recent panic attack.

 Andromeda confirms. “No needles, darling,”

Holly nods. “Okay.”

“Then,” Andromeda continues, “I’ll give you some Bruise balm to put on your foot. I’ll rub some in now, and then you can do it before you go to bed tonight. By morning, the swelling will have gone down and if there are still any bruises left, just use it again before breakfast. Okay?”

Holly nods once more and adds a sheepish, “Sorry.”

“No harm, sweetheart.”

Regulus helps Holly chug down her potions, one after another. Narcissa conjures a glass and fills it with water to wash down the taste. Andromeda, about to rub the Bruise balm onto Holly’s foot, stops when Severus places his hand on her shoulder. Regulus is ready to distract Holly, just in case she makes a fuss.

Reaching for the tub he threw down earlier, he diverts Holly’s attention to himself as Andromeda and Severus switch places.

“Are you sure you definitely want blueberries?” he asks, raising his brow at her.

“Blueberries,” she grins, then jumps as Severus begins massaging the Bruise balm onto her foot. “That’s cold.”

“Hold this,” Regulus says, keeping her attention on him. He hands her the tub and pulls out his wand, giving it a theatrical flourish, then taps the top of the tub.

“There,” he says. “Blueberry muffins.”

Both Andromeda and Nimmy give him a questioning look.

“Pancakes are better.”

With an exaggerated sigh, as if she is being demanding, he gives it another tap and says, “There. You have pancakes instead.”

Holly looks as if to say he isn’t fooling her.

“I know magic can’t make food appear,” she exclaims. “It’s Stamp’s law.”

“Gamp’s law, smartypants,” Regulus corrects her, resisting this urge to stick his tongue out at her.

Holly gives him a cheeky grin and an expectant look.

“Open the tub, brat,” he winks at her.

Severus finishes with the Bruise balm and moves back, wiping his hands on the conjured towel from Narcissa.

Cautiously, as if she is opening a gift, Holly lifts the lid from the tub, and the smell of freshly made pancakes slaps them all across the face.

“They smell divine,” Narcissa comments, stepping closer.

Holly looks at the pancakes with a strange expression.

“Well, if you’ve changed your mind,” he says, moving his hand as if to take the tub from her.

He is startled by the kiss she lands on his jaw and says, “Nope. They’re mine.”

Looking down at her, he smiles at her expression of gratitude. She knows Harry has made them. She picks the first one out of the tub, biting into it with relish.

“T’ank oo,” she says with a mouthful of pancake.

“You’re welcome, darling.”

“You know,” Nimmy speaks up for the first time, “they’ll taste better when you share them.”

Holly pulls the tub possessively to her chest, then relents and reluctantly offers it to Nimmy first, “They’re too good to share, but… all right.”

“You’re lucky you got any at all, Holly,” Regulus tells her with a playful glare at Nimmy. “If I hadn’t carried the tub, Nimmy would have eaten them all on the Floo trip.”

“You’re not wrong,” the other woman admits, plucking the next pancake from the proffered tub.

Even Severus is offered the tub, much to his surprise. Regulus doesn’t even hesitate when Holly pulls it back towards him.

Holly grins at him, her cheek bulging with the sweet treat, and then she turns to Narcissa, “Can we get whipped cream with these? Please?”

“Oh, whipped cream,” Nimmy groans. “That’ll be perfect.”

“They are delicious pancakes,” Narcissa agrees politely, though Regulus sees her eying the tub for a second, even though she still has more than half a pancake left. “Shall we head to the dining room? Roker will bring some whipped cream, syrup and more fruit to complement the pancakes.”

“What do you think of them, Severus?” Regulus asks, standing up from the bed, Holly still in his arms.

“Molly Weasley is an accomplished cook,” Severus comments, carefully examining the half-eaten treat. “I have never had occasion to complain about her cooking.”

Regulus exchanges a roguish look with Nimmy, taking the tub of pancakes from Holly and offering Severus a second as they exit the room and make their way to the dining room. Holly is already on her third pancake, chomping away enthusiastically as Regulus carries her. She still had one foot in a sock.

Nimmy deliberately waits until Severus has bitten into his second pancake.

“It wasn’t Molly who made these,” Nimmy tells them casually.

“Then it would have been your House-Elf,” Severus responds negligently. “In which case, he has definitely improved.”

“Actually,” Andromeda says mischievously, still on her first, “it was Regulus’s new House-Elf.”

“New House-Elf?” Narcissa queries, spotting the mischief in her sister’s eyes.

“Harry Potter,” Andromeda replies smoothly.

Regulus holds back a smirk as Severus simultaneously chokes and misses a step, almost falling as he flounders.

“They’re brilliant,” Holly pipes up, reaching for her fifth. She has blueberries in her teeth. Regulus is glad he picked up the whole Weasley stack at the rate Holly is going through them - she practically inhaled her fourth.

Severus is still trying to recover as they enter the dining room. He looks like he wants to snatch the tub from Holly’s hands and incinerate it with Fiendfyre.

He reminds himself to speak to Lucius about allowing Hedwig through the wards as he takes a seat, arranging his favourite Snape in his lap.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry shoots up from Regulus’s bed as soon as he hears the knock. He is already halfway through opening the door when it occurs to him that Regulus would not knock on his own bedroom door.

            He’s greeted by Luna’s smile as he opens the door.

               “Hi, Luna,” he greets a little awkwardly, stepping back to let her in.

               “Hello, Harry,” she replies, entering. She looks around curiously, reminding him of Hedwig, who rotates her head at angles impossible for a human to emulate.

               She has never been invited into Regulus’s bedroom before. In fact, Harry realises he is the only one who enters here regularly. The others tend to stick to their assigned bedrooms. If they need to speak to Harry, they knock on the door and wait for him to come out. Only he likes to wait in Regulus’s room when the other wizard has gone to see Holly.

               He bracingly tells himself that he will see her in a few months during the Christmas holidays.

               “It’s a lovely place to hide,” Luna comments as she sits beside Harry on the bed.

               He opens his mouth to deny it but realises that this is only the pure truth: he is hiding from everyone, and Luna is too clever to not notice.

               “Yeah,” he clears his throat. “Regulus is kind enough to let me use the room.”

               “Am I disturbing your quiet time?” Luna asks, staring at the ceiling as if it somehow fascinates her.

               “No, not at all,” Harry hastens to assure her. “You’re not disturbing me.”

               Quiet descends on them, though not awkwardly.

               “I’ll be sorry not to be able to eat your cooking anymore,” Luna remarks into the silence.

               Harry’s lips twitch. Mrs Weasley had returned from the Burrow as they were all tucking into the new batch of pancakes he had made, along with a fry-up, pursed her lips and gently - but not so gently told Harry she would take over the cooking once more as pancakes were not a proper evening meal.

               Harry did not argue and again acquiesced to let her take over the kitchen. The truth is that he needed to occupy himself somehow since hearing about the prophecy. Dumbledore had returned and told him the gist of it, but Harry was meant to go with Mr Weasley and Kingsley secretly to retrieve it before the end of summer.

               “Thanks,” he acknowledges. The Dursleys were highly stingy with compliments, so Harry cannot deny the satisfaction of knowing he had pleased the Weasleys. Not that they were picky eaters: they may eat particular food with more enthusiasm, but otherwise, they shovelled any food placed in front of them with gusto.

               “Daddy’s not very good at cooking,” Luna continues, still squinting at the ceiling, and Harry wonders if she sees nargles up there. “Mummy used to do all the cooking, but Daddy is really good at frying eggs: however, having the same thing at breakfast every morning can be dreary.”

               “Yeah,” Harry agrees with a smile. He leans back with his feet on the floor, placing his weight on his elbows as he studies Luna’s profile from the side. She wears her long hair open, the strands cascading over her shoulders, down her back and ending at her hips, like a cascade of dripping gold. During classes, she ties her hair back with various clips she makes herself. However, she releases the clips after classes and on the weekend. Harry has never seen her wear her hair back the whole time she has been at Grimmauld place. Her hair is a dirty blonde colour and slightly frizzy - though not as much as Hermione’s. Luna’s hair often looks unbrushed but generally falls in waves down her back.

               He reaches out his hand to touch her hair with fascination. Luna doesn’t let on that she knows what he is doing - or maybe she does and doesn’t mind.

               “Did Hermione get you started on the new booklist for next year?” Harry asks, carefully combing his fingers through her hair. What would Luna’s hair look like if she braided it? He finds that he wants to bury his fingers in her hair, comb it through and twist it into a neat braid as he used to do with Holly. What would Luna look like if she didn’t hide her face behind her luxuriant hair?

               “Oh yes,” she tells him. “I’ve already read the first five chapters of my Charms book. Though Transfiguration is a little more complicated, and I’m only on chapter two.”

He sits up, pulling her hair back to expose the pale column of her neck. Her skin is smooth and silky, making him want to touch it. He realises he wants to kiss the soft spot, and without thinking, he leans against the crevice of her neck and gently brushes the skin with his lips.

She gasps at the unexpected contact, pausing in her speech, but he is quick to gently grasp her long, slender arms. He can see her pulse just below the surface of her skin, pounding furiously, seeming to call to him like the sweetest melodies. He cannot help but lean forward once more and place his lips on the pulse. She gasps at the feel of his lips, and the sound of that gasp brings him back.

Blushing, he pulls back, moving away from Luna as if she were a raging fire and he a helpless victim; caught up in the spell of her aura, he can barely stammer an apology.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” he tries to assure her.

“It felt nice,” Luna turns her luminous eyes on him, no trace of dread or revulsion in them. “I’ve never been kissed there before.”

Harry flushes again.

He and Luna have kissed before, but they have been nothing more than quick pecks on the lips. Not even a proper kiss like couples are wont to do. He doesn’t even know if he and Luna are a couple: he has not asked her to be his girlfriend, though he would not mind. Harry has faced many deadly and dangerous creatures since entering Hogwarts, but asking for a partner to the Yule ball or a date to Hogsmeade was infinitely more challenging than any basilisk or dragon he has encountered.

Nevertheless, he gathers what courage he has left and asks, still a little shy:  “Luna, will you be my girlfriend?”

She gives him a pleased smile, wider than the one she gave when she talked about the snorkack hunt she’d been on with her father. 

“Yes, Harry. I would like that. Will it be better than being friends?”

Harry smiles back, elation completely pervading him.

“I hope so.”

“Boyfriends should kiss their girlfriends, shouldn’t they? Isn’t that what boyfriends and girlfriends do?”

Harry’s smile grows, and the anticipation is almost overwhelming. “Yeah.”

They lean toward each other, slowly, carefully. Beginning with pressing his lips against Luna’s, Harry kisses her, rocking his lips instinctually, sensing the softness of her skin and the warmth of her breath mingling with his own. They pull back at the same time. Harry opens his eyes, not realising that they have closed.

Neither of them says a word as they drift back to each other. Harry cups her jaw, pulling her closer, with her arms around his shoulder, and then presses himself against her, lowering them to the bed. He doesn’t want the kiss to stop, though he tries to keep a gap between them when he feels his body react embarrassingly in the heat of the moment. He freezes above her: she is lying on the bed with her legs still over the sides. Looking down at her, his glasses dangle loosely over her. He pushes them up with one hand as the other supports his weight.

Sensing his uncertainty, she cups his cheek with a questioning look. “Harry?”

He leans back down, intending only to give her one last peck and pull away completely, but instead, he finds himself kissing her deeper than before, pressing his body against the softness of hers. From the way she gasps against his lips, he realises she knows his problem but doesn’t push him away.

He knows he should probably stop, or at least slow down, but kissing her feels too good. The hand not supporting his weight rests on her hip, pulling her closer, whilst one of hers rests on his bicep.

He pulls his lips away from hers, leaving a trail of lavish little kisses along her jaw, while a strange sensation seems to clutch his insides in his lower belly: the desire to bury his face in her neck again, to feel the rapid throb under his lips, to make her gasp as he did before becomes pressing. He is rewarded by her laboured breathing. Her fingers tighten in his hair, and a part of his mind wonders when she moved her hand from his bicep.

The sound of loud and deliberately throat-clearing jolts them both. Harry’s eyes are glazed as he tries to focus on who startled them. Humiliatingly, it’s not just one person who caught them: Regulus and Sirius stand there with identical expressions of disapproval and displeasure, arms forebodingly crossed against their chests.

Harry scrambles to put more distance between him and Luna while she sits up, blushing prettily but looking gamely at both adults.

“I – er – we – You’re back,” Harry’s voice cracks as he stutters his words with difficulty. He crosses his legs, surreptitiously reaching for Regulus’ pillow to cover his lap.

               He finds himself unable to meet their eyes, face embarrassingly red.

               “That I am,” Regulus confirms in a stern tone. “Not a moment too soon, apparently.”

               “We – er – we were just,” Harry trails off, trying desperately to explain.

                Sirius takes over, raising a brow in his direction. “We can see what you were just doing.”

               “I came to check if Harry was okay after dinner,” Luna adds, remarkably more coherent than Harry can manage on his own.

               A heavy silence greets her answer.

“We were discussing our booklist for next year when Harry started playing with my hair,” Luna continues. “I think he liked it.”

Harry presses his lips together. Luna can be too open sometimes, and even though he adores her for it, he has come to realise that she occasionally does it on purpose when trying to talk her way out of trouble. Like now, hopefully. It is not something Harry would attempt himself - he doesn’t possess the same guile as her.

“We don’t need a play-by-play, Luna,” Regulus interrupts her before she goes into too much detail but in vain.

“Harry is an excellent kisser,” Luna offers with a pleased nod. “Not that I’ve kissed other boys, or girls, to judge him by.”

Harry looks up in time to see Sirius’s lip twitch before settling back into an unreadable expression.

“We could certainly hear you both enjoy… kissing,” the older Black brother drawls, and Regulus interjects before Luna can say anything further. “Nimmy will take you to your room, Luna.”

Harry suppresses a groan. Is Tonks here too?

Luna gracefully rises from the bed and turns to Harry, leaning down and giving him another kiss, this time on the cheek, before turning to leave. Harry wishes he could follow her from this humiliating hell.

Regulus and Sirius take a step in opposite directions, creating a gap for Luna to pass through.

“I hope you’re not in too much trouble, Harry,” she says earnestly from the door, then ambles off, leaving him to deal with the brothers alone. He hears Luna greet Tonks in the hallway a few steps from the room and then the sound of the stairs creaking. After that, silence.

Regulus closes the door firmly behind Luna, his eyes still on Harry.

“So?” he asks expectantly, giving him a stern look.

Harry’s eyes skitter away.

“I’m sorry,” he tries miserably.

“You’re sorry?” Sirius repeats in an incredulous tone.

“You were about to have underage sex, in a houseful of Order members, in my bed, and all you can say is I’m sorry?” Regulus snaps. “Anyone could have walked in on you.”

Harry cringes at the tone, hunching inwards to avoid more censure, and clutches the pillow closer to himself.

“Maybe you wouldn’t have been caught if only you’d closed the door properly when you let Luna in.” Sirius tuts. “Sloppy, Harry, very sloppy,”

Harry slowly lifts his head as the words filter through.

“What?” he stutters.

Sirius and Regulus exchange another look before they both give in and laugh at him.

Regulus pulls up a chair, straddling it backwards and giving Harry a smirk as he crosses his arms on top of it. Sirius sits on the bed instead.

“This isn’t an invitation for you to use my room as your personal sex palace,” Regulus begins, smirking widely as he watches Harry wince at the words, “but, if you had closed the door behind you, then no one would have realised anyone was in here, having underage fun. I’ve placed a Silencing ward on the door recently,” he adds with nonchalance.

Wary of Sirius in the room, Harry mumbles, “I was waiting for you to come back from… wherever you went.” He doesn’t know if his godfather knows about this visit to Malfoy Manor. “Luna just came in to check on me after dinner. We were just… talking.”

“Then one thing led to another,” Sirius continues. “We were teenage boys too, not so long ago. We get it.”

The boy looks between the brothers. “Are you mad?”

“No, Harry. We’re not,” Sirius replies. “But you have to be careful. Molly could have caught you.”

He shudders at the thought of being caught by Mrs Weasley. There would have been more shouting involved. Although she has always treated Harry more gently than she did her children, even she would not have condoned him and Luna getting caught in bed together, no matter that they were only kissing.

“What are you trying to say?” he asks, a little confused. Are they scolding him or giving him advice?

“We understand that emotions can be a little heightened,” Sirius begins seriously. “You’re a teenage boy whose body is going through many changes.”

Realising where the two were going with this, Harry blurts out in a panicked tone. “I’ve already had the sex talk!”

“We don’t care,” Regulus tells him unsympathetically. “You’re hearing it again.”

“Please, Reg,” Harry begs desperately, clutching the pillow tightly. His “problem” is gone now, and he eyes the door, wondering if he can make a run for it. “I already know about sex and which bit goes where. I know about muggle contraceptions like condoms and pills. I know three different Charms and two different potions. I know about a girl’s monthly periods, tampons, and sanitary pads. I know that no means no. I would never force Luna to do anything she wouldn’t be ready for. I would rather throw myself between a basilisk and a dragon before hurting her.”

The smirks have fallen from their faces.

“Either sex education has improved since my days at Hogwarts, or Hermione has done an incredibly comprehensive job of instructing you about safe sex,” Sirius states, looking put out.

Unthinkingly, Harry mutters, “Oma mostly.”

“Oma?” Sirius asks.

Harry freezes, forgetting that his godfather doesn’t know about Iris or Holly.

“She was a sweet, elderly lady who lives near Privet Drive,” Harry tries to explain as vaguely as possible. “She gave Dudley and me a much better talk than Aunt Petunia did.”

 Sirius frowns. “I thought you were the only magical on Privet Drive.”

“Oma, she said we could call her that, used to baby-sit us,” Harry says, fudging the truth a little for Sirius’ sake. “She used to tutor my cousin and me. When we started talking about girls, she made sure we knew about staying safe. The muggle way, at least. The rest was Madam Pomfrey. And some of it was Hermione.”

Regulus gives Harry a knowing look while Sirius reaches across the bed to give him a slap across the back.

“You know how to take the fun out of embarrassing you, don’t you, Harry?” Sirius mumbles, getting to his feet. “We only wanted to make sure you stay safe.”

Harry nods. “I know. And I appreciate that.”

“You know you can come to Reg and me anytime about girl stuff, right?” Sirius continues earnestly. “I promise we’ll give you better advice than we did in our letters last year.”

Harry lets out a reluctant laugh.

“How about a game of chess?”

Regulus looks up to his brother. “Actually, Sirius, there’s something I need to speak to Harry about,”

The other looks put out again, probably at being excluded, but forces a smile and leaves them alone. Regulus waits until Sirius closes the door, ensuring the Silencing Ward is engaged, before turning to Harry, raising an eyebrow.

“You would have done well in Slytherin.”

Harry shrugs, feeling less tense now that he won’t have to deal with yet another sex talk.

“The Hat almost put me there,” he mumbles. “Between Hagrid, Ron and Draco Malfoy, they all did a thorough job of putting me off. Mostly Draco because he was a git who reminded me of Dudley with his entitled attitude.”

“Yes, Draco tends to have that effect,” Regulus agrees. “Listen, Harry: I know you’ve had a pretty thorough talk about sex, contraption, and girl problems, but… I just want to say you should be careful. Your first time should be special and mutual for both you and Luna - if she’s whom you choose to be with. Wizards and witches mature faster than muggles, so the age of consent is fourteen in the Wizarding World. Still, there’s no rush.”

Harry nods again.

“Taking this step will not make you more manly than others because it is not, and should not be, a mere competition between boys. Do we understand each other?”

“I like Luna,” Harry replies in a quiet voice. “It’s peaceful being around her.”

Regulus smiles gently at his words.

“She’s a good sort,” the man approves. “I believe you when you say you wouldn’t hurt her. Between your innate kindness and Eileen’s - because yes, I know Eileen educated you thoroughly on sex and contraception, you’re in a better position than most teenagers.” He chuckles lightly. “You’ve surrounded yourself with some unique witches.”

Harry smiles, thinking of the witches in his life. Iris, Holly and Hermione. They were all pretty exceptional.

“Is Holly alright? It was just a gymnastics sprain, wasn’t it?”

Though he and Holly were more resilient than muggles thanks to their magic, they still got hurt often enough during gymnastics for him not to worry overly much. Iris was forced to let them heal the muggle way in the muggle world, even after Harry found out he was a wizard. Having been a part of the magical world for four years, he has spent enough time in the Hogwarts Infirmary to know that most injuries are quickly healed. At Hogwarts, he had learned enough healing spells to take care of most of his minor injuries, but he still reported them to Madam Pomfrey out of respect.

“She’s fine,” Regulus assures him. “Andromeda fixed her foot in no time. There are still some bruises, but they will be gone by morning with the application of Bruise balm. I think she hurt herself on the Quidditch pitch doing a cartwheel. Then, she fell off the bed and made it worse.”

“Idiot,” Harry comments affectionately. “Why didn’t she say she hurt her foot?”

“She was with Draco and his friends,” Regulus informs him. “I gather she didn’t trust them. Lucius, Narcissa and Severus were in a meeting with the other parents to decide on a plan to follow.”

Harry listens in silence as Regulus explains more about the intention behind the meeting. At the time, Harry had been too shell-shocked to understand that some Death Eaters who made an appearance in the graveyard that night had tried to help. Regulus did report that they ultimately decided to defect after seeing Harry fight and hold his own at such a young age. Lucius Malfoy had also spent the whole year as the driving force behind the defection as their Dark Marks darkened.

Harry cannot say he trusted Lucius Malfoy, but for Regulus, he is willing to give him a chance. At least, Holly’s letters reveal that she likes the elder Malfoys. He is glad that Regulus is a regular visitor on his behalf: it would have killed him not to know how Holly was doing.

He is surprised at how many former Death Eaters have decided to stay and fight. At least, the majority of the fanatics are still in Azkaban - for now: one of whom is Regulus and Sirius’s cousin, Bellatrix. Harry had read about her in his third year when he had been researching Sirius: she was involved in torturing Neville’s parents.

He is unaware that he is still holding the pillow.

“Lucius agreed to allow Hedwig through the wards,” Regulus enlightens him. “But it’ll be a day or two before he does. He and Severus are due to leave for Hogwarts in a few days, so he wants to wait until Severus isn’t around to recognise her before Lucius allows Hedwig in.”

“Would Professor Snape even know Hedwig?” Harry questions.

“Hedwig is quite a distinctive owl,” the other wizard points out. “All Order members were instructed to get familiar with her whilst they were guarding you.”’

 Harry snorts. “Not that that worked out well.”

A displeased look crosses Regulus’ face. Mundungus Fletcher, the Order member who was supposed to be guarding Harry at the time, is no longer allowed to enter Headquarters unless for a meeting. Regulus ensured that Kreacher watched him whenever Fletcher arrived and made sure he left with nothing extra. He was a thief, though he had many connections that Dumbledore found useful - as did Fred and George, who managed to get many ingredients at discounted prices.

“Holly loved your pancakes,” Regulus smiles, changing the topic. “She ate the most. She and Nimmy scuffled over who could take the last one.”

“You took the entire batch I made for the Weasleys. There must have been nearly a hundred pancakes,” Harry says incredulously. “Holly might love pancakes, but even she couldn’t have eaten that many.”

Regulus smirks at him with a complicit look.

“Well, Andromeda and I had helped. It’s a pity Molly won’t let you cook anymore because I have a feeling Andromeda would have found excuses to Floo here every day. Then there were Narcissa and Severus. He tried to stop himself when Tonks let slip that you had prepared them, but I saw him sneaking his fair share. Lucius and Draco were lucky to get any. ”

Harry doesn’t speak, and Regulus allows the silence to lengthen before breaking it gently.

“She is being looked after, Harry,” he comforts him. “I know it’s difficult. And so… convoluted. But… you’re not alone in loving her.”

Regulus rises from his chair and sits beside Harry on his bed, resting an arm around his shoulders.

“Would it be better if I don’t…” Harry stops, a lump forming in his throat. “The prophecy- It’s dangerous to be around me. I thought I had Oma, but now… she’s gone. What if -? I don’t know what the prophecy says yet. But it’s got to be down to him or me. He’s not going to give up coming after me.”

He pauses in his ramblings, not daring to look at Regulus, who keeps his arm around him comfortingly.

“Holly shouldn’t be near me. I should... just step aside. She should trust Professor Snape and the Malfoys; now she has you and the Tonks.” Harry rattles on. “She doesn’t need me.”

“That would break her heart,” Regulus tells him quietly. “To lose you. And I know you, Harry. I know you look through your photo album every morning and stare at her picture before you get out of bed. I know you read at least one of her letters every night before sleeping. Every time you cook, you make something you know she likes to eat. She’s your heart. Seeing how much you love her is… inspiring. You didn’t care that Severus is her father, and discovering her paternity didn’t make you love her any less. She loves you just as much as you love her. You couldn’t give each other up if you tried.”

               Harry can’t deny the truth of this statement. As much as he knows that Holly should stay away from him, where she would be safer, the thought of never seeing her again, never speaking to her, fills him with a dread worse than knowing he has a death sentence - courtesy of the prophecy.

               Regulus pulls Harry closer.

               “Whatever the prophecy says, Harry, you are not alone,” he promises in a heartfelt tone. “You have many of us behind you. Understand?”

               Harry leans his head against Regulus’ shoulder and nods, his throat closed in emotion, unable to produce a voice.

        “And you’ll see Holly before you know it,” Regulus squeezes his shoulder comfortingly. “Christmas break will be here before long. And I promise, whatever happens, you and Holly will spend Christmas together.”

               Harry does not doubt it. Regulus has followed through on every promise so far. Just like Iris.

               “And anyway, young man,” the younger Black starts in a mock annoyed voice, “you failed to mention how Holly’s elbows turn into weapons when injections are mentioned.”

               Harry settles back to listen to Regulus describe Holly’s reaction to vaccinations, a gleeful laugh erasing the restlessness of the conversation.

 

ooOoo

 

Holly frantically throws the pillows from her bed, along with the duvet, onto the floor. She is supposed to be packing for the two-week trip to Hogwarts. Mr Snape said she would accompany them until school started, but Holly doesn’t expect to be there for more than two weeks. Although she would have liked to stay there even after the start of the term so she could see Harry sooner than Christmas break, Holly knows Mr Snape will probably send her away before the rest of the students arrive. He will probably only take her with him because she got angry and told him she was his dirty little secret. Maybe she could use the same trick and convince him to keep her at Hogwarts. She would love that: she could stay with Harry the whole year.

               Yet, she couldn’t go until she finds her necklace. She remembers having it last night. She had tucked it away under her pyjama top like she did every night. Holly has always been careful with it since it belonged to Harry’s mum, and she had promised to give it back to him if he ever asked for it. She only took it off in school when she was doing PE classes or gymnastics classes. However, when she was doing her exercises at home, she never took the necklace off. Not even when she is in the bath or shower.

               Her previously packed bag is scattered across the floor as she agitatedly searches through all her belongings for her lily necklace.

               She doesn’t hear the knock on the door or hear it open when she fails to answer.

She does, however, hear Aunt Cissa come as close to shrieking as she pronounces, “What in Morgana’s name happened here? Holly, you should be ready to leave right now!”

 

ooOoo

 

Narcissa is on the verge of telling Holly off, imagining this is either a delaying tactic or a whim to postpone Severus and Lucius’s departure for Hogwarts. Two things stop her. The first is the knowledge that Holly has never thrown objects or broken items or generally made a mess whenever she lost her temper. Never like this. Her room looks like a battle took place.

               The second is her expression as she looks up at Narcissa. She looks heartbroken and frantic.

               “I can’t find it,” Holly blurts out before Narcissa can say anything further.

               The older woman steps forwards cautiously.

               “What are you trying to find?” she asks, looking around the room carefully.

               “My necklace,” Holly cries, returning to her task of rooting through her wardrobe. “Ha – my brother gave it to me. I can’t find it. I wore it last night, but now I can’t find it.”

               Narcissa brings out her wand and beckons Holly to stand by her side.

               “Come here, darling,” she tells the little girl. “I’ll help you find it. All right?”

               Holly reluctantly gives up her search and stands by Narcissa’s side, who places her hand on her shoulder.

               “What does it look like, darling?”

               Holly makes an effort to calm down, wipes away her tears and answers, a little miserably, “It’s a lily pendant with green gems for the stem.”

               “Gold or silver?”

               “Gold.”

               “Do you have any other jewellery?”

               She shakes her head.

               Narcissa has never seen the pendant but hopes it is the only necklace Holly owns that will help with the Summoning Charm.

                Narcissa waves her wand, keeping the description in mind. “Accio lily pendant.”

               Several tension-filled seconds pass before a rattling noise is heard from somewhere under the bed.

               “Well, it seems it’s still in the room,” Narcissa remarks. “Roker.”

               The House-Elf appears straight away.

               “How can I be helping, Mistress?” the creature bows.

               “Tidy up the room, if you will,” Narcissa orders.

               Roker clicks his fingers, and over the next few minutes, the room reverts back to its former orderly state, and while Narcissa dismisses it with a severe nod, Holly offers him a tiny smile.

               Narcissa attempts the Summoning Charm once more, thankfully meeting with more success.

               The pendant comes flying from behind the bed, and she catches it deftly, shocked as she recognises it.

               “Where did you get this?” the woman asks, shaken as she stares at the lily pendant in her hand and turns it over.

               Holly gives her an anxious look, seemingly on the verge of reaching up and snatching it from Narcissa’s hand.

               “My brother gave it to me,” she answers, cautiously reaching for it.

               Narcissa forces a smile onto her face. Holly has made sure never to mention Harry by name to either her or Lucius, but she speaks of the boy in generic terms, at least in front of them - whereas Severus, and Draco, are not even aware of the other boy’s presence in Holly’s life.

               “Let me put it on, darling,” Narcissa offers softly, kneeling in front of Holly, intending to unclasp the chain and do it back up around her neck. However, the chain is big enough to slip straight over the girl’s head.

               “It’s a beautiful necklace,” she comments casually.

               Holly gives her a careful nod but doesn’t volunteer any further information. Narcissa understands from this action that Holly doesn’t trust her fully to confide in her. Yet, there are so many questions that she wants to ask. What she does know is that Severus was the one who bought the pendant for Lily in the first place. Long after the Potions Master had fallen out with Lily, he still painstakingly saved up for it and selected it from the Jewellers in Diagon Alley. Narcissa had been with him when he bought it. Though Severus never outright stated it, it was clear that it was intended for Lily.

               How did it come into Potter’s possession when Narcissa was not even aware that Severus had managed to send it to Lily? In the last six weeks that Holly had been with them, this is the first time she has seen the necklace. She hadn’t even noticed that the little girl wore any jewellery at all.

               “We should get your bag packed again,” Narcissa murmurs when it is evident that no answer will be forthcoming - not that she should have expected any from Holly. What would she know about the intricacies of the past?

               “Sorry,” Holly mumbles, tucking the pendant carefully beneath her clothes. She treats it with care, as if it is something precious. And it is. Severus had worked hard to be able to afford the golden lily: he poured his magic into it.

               They silently repack Holly’s clothes. Holly fastidiously packs her backpack, the bag she came with. Even though she will return before the start of term, she takes those things she deems precious. This includes all her letters from Harry Potter - although she isn’t aware that Narcissa knows.

              

ooOoo

 

Draco looks morosely at the dining table, waiting for his mother to come down with Holly. The younger girl still hasn’t spoken to him properly since the mudblood incident three days ago.

               His parents had given him a stern talk, grounded him from flying for the rest of summer and docked his pocket money until the start of term. He only has a few sickles to his name, but it’s not like he’s allowed to leave the Manor anyway. It’s too dangerous.

               His father and Severus sit at their usual seats, conversing in low tones. They already have had lunch together and are only waiting for Holly to come down. He hopes Holly has unbent in her ire enough to give him a proper goodbye. After all, he’ll not be seeing her until Christmas, and he’s not sure if she’ll write to him during term time.

               He will have to use a school owl if Artemis refuses to let Draco near him. Perhaps, if he tells the owl the letter is for Holly, it might not scratch him with his sharp talons.

               Draco is still lost in his thoughts when his mother enters with Holly, both looking subdued. Lucius and Severus immediately stand up at their arrival. Narcissa hands over Holly’s suitcase, shrunken down to the size of a matchstick, to Severus, who silently places it into his pocket along with his own.

“Are you sure everything’s packed?” his mother asks, looking at his father.

                Lucius gives her an indulgent smile. “Yes, dear,” he says.

               “We should get going,” Severus tells them.

               “Of course,” Narcissa answers smoothly.

               It is an awkward atmosphere. Draco’s parents have never been apart for so long, not as far as he knew. Narcissa became morose towards the end of the summer since Draco turned eleven, ready for Hogwarts. She had firmly put her foot down when Lucius had suggested enrolling him at Durmstrang, saying it was too far. Even though she would not see Draco whilst he attended Hogwarts, at least her owls reached him faster.

               If not for Holly, she would have been alone in the Manor because Lucius is also leaving. Draco is feeling ambivalent about his father’s presence at Hogwarts. On the one hand, he will constantly be around. On the other, earning points and favouritism would ensure Draco would stay ahead of his peers. His father, like Severus, would firmly be on his son’s side.

               Still, that situation leaves his mother alone with Holly, though he knew Narcissa would stay in contact with Regulus and his blood traitor aunt, Andromeda.

               He darts a guilty look to his parents and Severus as if they might have read his mind. He is supposed to avoid words like blood traitor and mudblood, which is why Holly isn’t speaking to him in the first place.

               His parents walk to the Floo room arm in arm; Severus and Holly go next. His godfather looks like he wants to put his arm around Holly but is unsure how the gesture will be received. Draco trails behind.

               They all stop in front of the fireplace. Draco looks away as his parents kiss, while Holly smiles at them, rolling her eyes a little.

               Severus clears his throat pointedly.

               “I’m sure Dumbledore will allow conjugal visits,”  the Potions Master points out.

               Holly looks at Severus with confusion and, perhaps voluntarily addressing him directly for the first time since they’ve met, asks, “What does that mean?”

               Severus looks startled, though Draco isn’t sure if it is because Holly’s there or that she’s asked him directly: in doubt, he holds back a laugh at Severus’s pink face.

               “Yes, Severus,” Lucius deadpans, “what do you mean?”

               “You will understand the word when you’re older, darling,” Narcissa interrupts as Severus looks like he’s about to be trampled down by a herd of hippogriffs.

               Holly lets out an exasperated sigh.

               “Give me a hug, darling,” Narcissa glosses over the whole topic. “We won’t see each other for weeks, and I will miss you terribly.”

               Holly approaches Narcissa, who kneels to pull her close. Lucius gives Draco a one-armed hug, telling him to look after his mother and the Manor. Severus simply pats him on the shoulder, assuring him that they will see each other soon.

               Holly steps between Lucius and Severus, ready to leave, but Narcissa gently admonishes her.

               “Bye, Draco,” Holly says flatly, without turning around, hurting him with her coldness.

               “You’ll love Hogwarts,” Draco says to her back, avoiding looking anyone in the eyes. “I’ll… I’ll miss you.”

               However, Holly says nothing to return the sentiment.

               Severus clears his throat and then holds his hand out to his daughter.

               “You and I shall take the Floo first,” he informs her, though he looks ready to be rejected.

               They all hide their surprise when Holly silently places her hand on Severus’s. He carefully pulls her close and takes a pinch of Floo powder, throwing it into the already lit fire. The flames turn green, and Severus firmly cries out the intended destination, “Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Office.”

               Both his parents give Draco a look of sympathy. Lucius gives them a final hug before he, too, disappears in green flames.

               Draco is left staring at the empty fireplace, wishing Holly had turned around one last time.

              

              

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 14

Garden Variety

 

Lucius's emotions war between indulgence and jealousy at the look of awe on Holly’s face. After all, Malfoy Manor has the same resplendence, if not more, as the Headmaster’s office, and yet Holly never gave any other reaction than polite boredom.

She steps away from Severus as soon as they have cleared the Floo - something that doesn’t go unnoticed by either wizard. At least she has done it under the guise of exploring the office.

They are greeted by portraits of former Headmasters and Mistresses, smiling faces furrowed by time and the fatigue of a life dedicated to young students.  

Lucius turns to Dumbledore’s desk, frowning when he sees that the older wizard is not there.

He is a little put out that the Headmaster is not here to receive them - he should have better timekeeping skills than this. This is, after all, the first time Lucius has set foot in the school as a teacher.

“Is Dumbledore often tardy?”

Severus throws him a look, twisting his lips to show Lucius that he has not successfully kept the pique from his voice.

 “Do you find the Welcome Committee lacking?” Severus mocks.

Lucius hitches his trousers slightly and sits on one of the visitor’s chairs, pretending to study the trinkets lined up on the shelves, his fingers itching to pick one up for further scrutiny.

“Do not touch,” Severus admonishes quietly.

Lucius straightens in his chair, almost goaded into responding childishly that he wasn’t going to when he realised that Severus is speaking to Holly.

“I wasn’t going to touch,” she scowls, making Lucius work hard to suppress the smile threatening to emerge. Odd how scowling looks cute on Holly but on Severus, it made him look like a constipated Nundo.

He smirks at Severus, who scowls at him in return, a juvenile action that prompts Lucius to bite back his amusement even more. Holly flounces over to Lucius, pressing herself against his side. He scoops her up and settles her in his lap, where she makes herself comfortable, with her back to Severus. Lucius rests his chin on top of her head, holding her close and throwing his friend another smirk.

Severus takes the other chair, giving them a dejected look before turning his face away.

“Does Mr Dumbledore have an owl?” Holly queries, looking at the perch near the window with interest.

“That’s for his phoenix,” Severus answers.

She doesn’t turn to Severus, addressing the perch instead, “I’ve read about them.”

 “His name is Fawkes,” Severus offers, hoping his daughter will continue the conversation, even if she doesn’t look at him.

“Like Guy Fawkes?” she asks.

“What guy?” Lucius repeats, confused, and Severus looks equally puzzled.

“Guy Fawkes. You know… Bonfire Night?” Holly throws random words at them. “The fifth of November? Penny for the guy?”

She finally deigns to turn in Lucius’s lap to include Severus in this conversation. Glancing between their baffled looks, she mutters “Useless” with disgust.

She pulls away from Severus once more by twisting in Lucius's lap, but this time with her back to his chest, a leg on each side of his thighs.

Lucius once again has to hold back his amusement. It’s rather sweet that she is trying to educate them about what he presumes is muggle history, worthless as it is.

Any further conversation is cut off by a clap of thunder and the sight of bright flames coming from behind Dumbledore’s desk.

Holly sits up so suddenly that Lucius has to clasp an arm securely around her.

“Whoa!” she breathes in astonishment as the Headmaster appears in a theatrical blaze.

Just trying to show off, Lucius thinks nastily and perhaps a little enviously. The old fool has undoubtedly impressed the impressionable with his dramatic entrance.

The phoenix Severus mentioned earlier emits a few warbling notes before settling on his perch.

“Apologies, gentlemen,” Dumbledore greets them, smoothing his windswept beard along his gaudy purple and orange robes. A travesty to fashion everywhere. “We are currently without a groundskeeper, so the division of his duties is still a… work in progress.”

Then, pausing as his eyes settle on an awestruck Holly, he comments, “Oh, and who might you be, my dear child?”

Though it is evident that Dumbledore knows who Holly is, given her obvious similarity to Severus, the fact is that Albus was there when Severus received his letter and that he had already written to the Headmaster explaining the retrieval of his progeny.

Still, Lucius obnoxiously thinks that the old man has to play the benign, doddering codger with unsuspecting children like Holly; his arms reflexively tighten around her protectively. Dumbledore darts a quick twinkle of his eye in Lucius’s direction, showing that he does not miss the gesture.

Holly presses herself against Lucius once more, looking uncharacteristically shy but unable to keep her eyes off the Headmaster.

“Albus, this is my daughter, Holly,” Severus introduces with pride, standing up from his seat - as opposed to Lucius, who stubbornly remains seated.

The gesture doesn't escape the sharp eyes of Dumbledore, who gives him a knowing look but still kneels down before Lucius, holding out his hand to the little girl.

“Hello, Holly,” Dumbledore smiles at her. “You can call me Uncle Albus.”

“ ’Lo,” she squeaks, reaching out to shake his hand.

Lucius is irritated by her awe and wonders what magic the old coot uses to inspire such a reaction.

Dumbledore flicks another perceptive gaze as if he has read his thoughts, and Lucius tightens his Occlumency shields.

“Is it -? Is that -? Is that your real beard?” She says this very quickly with the innocence of a child, then claps both hands on her mouth. “I’m sorry, that… that was rude.”

Dumbledore lets out a – fake – spontaneous laugh as if greatly amused by a childish delight. It is a good act, Lucius thinks maliciously.

“Oh, do not fret, my dear child,” he waves away her apology and hands her the end of the beard to her. “Why don’t you feel for yourself?”

Lucius wants to push the old man and his ridiculously long beard away from himself and Holly. She has no such compunction about touching the straggly strands of white hair.

“Did you use a spell to grow it?” she asks cheekily, then throws a look at Severus. “Or a potion?”

Dumbledore lets out another one of his pretend chuckles and leans in conspiratorially, stating, “It’s all natural.”

Holly, thankfully, lets go of the beard. Dumbledore gets to his feet with an exaggerated groan and holds his back as if it is aching him considerably.

“I’m going to sit in my chair for the rest of the conversation, dear child. These old bones creak and groan more every year.”

Holly nods sagely.

“My Oma used to say the same every birthday.”

The adults exchange sympathetic glances at each other, and Severus, imperceptibly shaking his head, makes a point of changing the subject.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, my dear,” Dumbledore greets her warmly, seating himself behind his desk. “Soon, I am sure, you will be a student here, so you can take advantage and familiarise yourself with the castle whilst you are here. It has been over a hundred years since a professor has brought their own child to the school.”

Lucius feels Holly’s withdrawal at the words. Even from across his desk, Dumbledore must have sensed it, for he looks questioningly in Severus's direction. The Malfoy patriarch does not need to turn around to see the pinched look his friend is sporting.

Doing well not to dwell on the moment, Dumbledore moves swiftly on, “I must apologise once again for my lateness, Severus, Lucius, or, as you are now known, Professor Malfoy.”

Lucius inclines his head slightly, acknowledging the title.

“The rest of the staff have already begun to arrive. Rolanda owled ahead with an unexpected delay in Norway but should be here no later than Wednesday. Hagrid is also delayed, but I expect him to arrive before the start of the new term. Apart from the two, everyone else is now in the castle. The staff meeting will commence at three pm this afternoon. Severus, you and Holly get settled into your quarters, where an extra room has already been allocated. Lucius, let me walk you down to your new accommodations and show you the classrooms you will be using.”

Holly pushes herself off of Lucius’s lap to allow him to stand and reluctantly moves to stand beside Severus.

“Can I come back again? Please? I’d like to meet your phoenix properly,” Holly adds wistfully, staring at the bird in question.

 

ooOoo

 

“Bloody hell! What the hell is wrong with that bird?” Ron yells above the fluttering of the owl’s wings.

Hedwig screeches and barks, beating her wings hard as she flies around the landing.

“HARRY!” Ron screams, protecting his head. Ginny ducks and shrieks as the snowy owl dive over them. Hedwig screeches even louder, angry for whatever reason.

“Maybe she’s sick of being cooped inside,” Ginny calls out, falling to the other side of the sofa. There are no windows down here.

A rush of sound comes up from the stairs leading from the kitchen.

“What? What is it?” Sirius is in the front, his wand aloft, ready to defend them. “Shi-”

Forced to cut off his cussing when Hedwig nosedives towards him, Sirius ducks away.

“Harry!” Sirius bellows and then casts a shield to protect them from the mad owl. “Harry, dammit!”

“What’s all the racket about?” Regulus yells over the screeching and shrieking from the top of the stairs. Behind him comes up a concerned Harry, who asks: “Hedwig! What is it?”

The damn bird lets out another series of barks and squawks, but instead of being irritated as he should be, Harry bursts into a smile.

“She wants to go to Holly,” the boy turns to Regulus with the broadest smile Ron has seen since the guard brought him from Privet Drive.

Ron feels a pang at the words. Since he moved out of their shared room, Harry refuses to speak about Holly, but it seems Regulus has become his new confidant.

“The wards have been opened for her,” the latter replies with a smile.

Open the door,” Harry orders but rushes down the stairs to do it himself.

They hear Harry run to the front door and open it to let Hedwig fly out, which she does after giving him an affectionate peck on his fingers.

“I’ve never seen anyone talk to their owl like that,” Ron shakes his head at his friend, stepping out from behind the table as Harry comes back into the sitting room.

“Can we come up yet?” Hermione calls from the hallway.

“Yea-” Sirius's voice cracks embarrassingly. He clears it, pink-cheeked and tries again. “Yes, it’s safe now.”

Having come up from the kitchen, Hermione, Luna, and the twins cautiously enter the sitting room.

Fred is the first to inquire, “What was all that about?”

“Hedwig wanted to go to Holly,” Ron responds before Harry does, but his bluntness comes across as a prelude to a family catastrophe.

Sirius, his wand still raised, has a confused expression painted on his face, and he looks around, searching for an answer to the question that arises: “Who is Holly?”

Ron is about to reply again before he catches Harry’s scowl, and his smile fades. He soon realises that Sirius has not been told about Holly at all.

Sirius's look of confusion slowly morphs to one of irritation and distress.

“Right,” he mutters, “I’m not allowed to know. Fine.”

There is a painful silence in which no one speaks, though they all look to Harry, who turns to Regulus.

Sirius lets out a sound that might have been a dissatisfied grunt and stomps off.

Hermione is the one who breaks the heavy silence, voicing hesitantly. “Is there any harm in telling him?”

Ron doesn’t understand why Harry hasn’t mentioned his … sister to Sirius. It’s not that big of a secret, is it? Sirius had treated Harry’s father like a brother even though they weren’t blood-related. So, he would have understood if Harry had done the same with a younger girl, right?

Ron wishes he could take back the words about Holly. Harry has recently returned to talk to Ron again, but he still refuses to move back in with him and Neville, and any slightest thing could break this precarious balance.

He is painfully aware he isn’t the most tactful of people, but he was only trying to make Harry feel better about being so far away from Holly. He wishes he was better at expressing himself, and Hermione agrees with Ron. He might have put it better. With everything else going on, did Harry really need the added burden of a young girl who was nothing to him? Besides, why is Harry not telling anyone about her if she was so important?

His parents had met her as well. They knew Iris had died and that Holly was left alone in the muggle system, yet they weren’t worried about her. Still, Ron knew better than to voice all these things to Harry. He doesn’t want to fall out with his friend yet again. Not over something so silly.

They will see Holly in a couple of years when she gets her Hogwarts letter. Harry will probably be Head Boy by then, though their brother and sister feelings will have faded after their time apart. After all, Holly will have been placed with a family who wanted her. And Harry will be a part of the Weasley family. He has always been like a brother to Ron, and he doesn’t see what all the fuss is about.

 

ooOoo

 

After leaving the Headmaster's office, they make their trip down to the dungeons in awkward conversation. Severus makes a stilted running commentary of the castle while Holly looks around at the portraits who shout greetings at her with more interest than she paid at the one’s Malfoy Manor.

Thankfully, they have not run into any other staff members yet. Severus does not want the headache of having to explain about his daughter on an individual basis, allowing Albus instead to announce her presence to everyone at the staff meeting, which will be held in just under an hour. Severus has never answered any personal questions in the past, and he refuses to begin now. Though his original intention had been to leave Holly with Narcissa and Draco for the final two weeks of summer break, he finds himself unwilling to do so. Over the last few days, he feels like he might have been making headway with his daughter, thinking their initial frosty relationship might finally be thawing out.

He doesn’t want to leave her with Narcissa when he can use their last couple of weeks together to improve their relationship. Especially after their previous conversation, in which he was unceremoniously told that she believed he would abandon her once more.

Shaking himself out of those ominous thoughts, he points out the corridor leading down to the Great Hall.

“That is where all the school meals take place,” Severus tells Holly quietly, leading her further into the dungeons. “As well as the Sorting Ceremony and the Leaving Feast that occur at the beginning and end of the year, respectively.”

On their way down, Severus points out the various classrooms in use and even shows her the entrance to the Slytherin Common room.

He debates for several seconds and finally decides to give her a tour of the Common room. It is a large chamber, even without the Space Expansion Charms, with a window that provides a view into the lake, though only various plants can be seen: no merpeople of grindylows swim past - not that they have a schedule of any sort.

“All the Slytherins congregate here after classes to do their homework or socialise,” Severus continues. “Unless they are using the library, or the weather is good enough outside to be outdoors.”

Holly has not responded to any of his dialogue, making him feel like an unwanted tour guide.

“The dorms are separated,” he points to the doors on the far side of the Common room. “Boys to the right, girls to the left. Boys are not allowed in the girl’s dorms, though the reverse is not true. Should any boys attempt to enter the girl's dorms, the threshold will bounce them back, and the Caterwauling Charm is set off. The dorm rooms stay the same for each year group.”

At Holly’s questioning look, which he takes as encouragement, he explains, “Draco has been in the same dorms since his first year. The rooms all have the same features, though, admittedly, it does depend on how many are Sorted into each House. Once a dorm is assigned to a year group, that is the dorm they will reside in until graduation.”

Apart from looking out into the lake, Holly expresses no further interest in the Slytherin Common rooms, though she does ask for a tour of the other House Commons at some point.

Severus eagerly agrees: anything to keep the communication going with his daughter. It is not without some pride that Severus shows off his classrooms and office. Unlike most of the other professors, who only have one or two classrooms, Severus can boast of five, the layout for each slightly different depending on which level each year group is at.

His NEWT level students, supposedly advanced students, have the bigger Potions Labs— one for lectures and one for their Project setup. The classroom is large enough to accommodate up to twenty students at the time, though Severus rarely has more than eight: in fact, he only accepts those who score an Outstanding into his NEWTs class. He sends up a silent prayer that this will be the last year Potter (along with Longbottom) will be in Potions. Severus does not expect the lazy sod ever to score more than an Acceptable.

They finally reach the part of the dungeons that houses his accommodation. Seeing the additional door added to his quarters, Severus inspects it first, with Holly close behind him.

“These are your rooms,” he then announces, gesturing for her to enter first. He braces himself, expecting the Headmaster’s penchant for garish colours to bleed over into Holly’s room and even though his expectations are dashed, he is no less pleased when he sees the Headmaster has still managed to have his way by decorating the bed in Gryffindors colours of deep scarlet and bright gold.

“I can request different colours for your bedspread if you are not content with these,” Severus offers, making a mental note to slip a potion that will make the Headmaster’s Sherbet lemons taste like rhubarb.

“These are fine,” Holly replies dismissively, looking around her room. “You’re going to send me away soon anyway. What’s the point?”

Severus holds back a flinch and does not argue, though he still wants to insist on changing the colours to something more tasteful. Something not… Gryffindor. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the small suitcase. Placing it on her bed, he reverts it to its original size with a tap and a non-verbal spell.

Holly immediately opens it and brings out her bag. It is one she had when he first saw her in the care home. Whatever it contains must be precious to her. She does not trust him enough to share her secrets with him. He cannot deny he has been tempted to sneak a peek inside but has refrained for fear of never being able to gain her trust should she ever find out.

“Let me show you the rest of the rooms,” he proposes, “then I’ll leave you to unpack.”

Holly reluctantly leaves her bag on her bed, following Severus to the sitting and study area. The walls are lined with shelf upon shelf of books of every variety, and the sight of them makes him think of adding some wards later today or perhaps the following morning to stop Holly from picking anything that might be dangerous for her.

For the most part, he does any marking in his office during the appropriate hours, and it is exceedingly for him to bring any homework back to his private chambers. He likes to keep his private rooms free of anything related to the student's work, and, to that effect, he has made this a place where he can truly relax and unwind.  He has a small desk organised to his liking only for personal research projects he is working on.

There are two small sofas, exceedingly comfortable, where he likes to lie down and take a nap (not that he will admit this to anyone) on the occasional weekend during term time, and a coffee table of the same size.

Severus has an ongoing arrangement with Herbology professor Pomona to obtain particular ingredients for potions for personal use. Many plant-based potions ingredients stocked for students in the cupboard come from Pomona’s greenhouses: in exchange for brewing tailored potions for her precious and rare vegetation, she provides Severus with valuable and, better yet, fresh ingredients not ordinarily found in apothecaries. For this reason, Pomona Sprout is a frequent visitor of Severus's. He also has his own little kitchenette, stocked with the basics. On the weekend, staff are not expected to attend every meal; there is a rotation set up for everyone to make an appearance every second weekend, so he likes to cook for himself on his weekends off. All he has to do is make the House-Elves aware of what ingredients he requires in advance.

The bathroom (shared) is sizable enough to have a separate shower and bathtub and the standard toilet and sink. Severus made another mental note to request a stool from the House-Elves, to enable Holly to reach the cabinet for her toothbrush.

After showing Holly his bedroom, the tour is completed, assuring his daughter she can enter whenever she needs him; they both begin to unpack their belongings.

With fifteen minutes left for the staff meeting, he knocks on Holly’s bedroom door. She opens it and steps out.

“Did you get everything unpacked?” he asks, more to fill the silence than out of genuine interest.

“Yes,” she answers shortly.

Since they left the Headmaster’s office, he has had the overwhelming urge to hold her hand as he led her around the lower parts of the castle but refrained from doing so, knowing she would rebuff him. Yet, he knows that if it were anyone but him, she would hold their hand and smile at them.

The walk to the staffroom on the fourth floor is made with a more awkward tour – they have walked past the kitchens. Severus points them out, but they do not enter the House-Elves’ territory. They have also walked past the Hufflepuff Common rooms, though he tells Holly that it is best to speak to Pomona before going in there.

They stop briefly at the Trophy Room, where Severus patiently allows Holly to study the awards. He wonders at her sincere smile as they walk away.

Sitting at his usual seat, the Headmaster is deep in conversation with Minerva. Lucius sits alone, spaces on either side of him, and Holly wastes no time walking towards the blond wizard, catching the attention of everyone present. Conversations break off as they eye the young girl they have never seen before.

Her resemblance to Severus is hard to miss, as well as the questioning glances that flit between the girl, the Potions Master and the Headmaster. Albus's lips twitch under his white beard, and his eyes sparkle when Severus sees the slight wink he aims at Holly.

Severus walks with dignity towards the empty seat next to his daughter, not looking anyone in the eye. Lucius stretches his arm out to receive her, pulling her close with a smile. Even as she plops herself next to him, he keeps his arm around her, uncaring of the eyes on him. Holly buries her face in his side, shying away from the looks she receives.

Conversation is slow to resume when Severus, crossing his arms over his chest, obviously does not intend to say anything - typical behaviour of him. Minerva clearly wants to say something to him but, distracted by Albus, is forced to turn away.

“Did you unpack yet, Uncle Luc?” Holly whispers once the attention is off her.

“I did, darling,” Lucius replies in a low voice.

“Can I see your rooms?” she asks eagerly. “Are they like the dungeons?”

 “My rooms are on the fifth floor,” he answers. “I unpacked my things, but I still need to shuffle some things in my office and classroom.”

“I can come to see you, can’t I?”

“Of course,” he assures her. “Right after this meeting.”

The rest of the staff gradually trickle in, all giving Holly a double-take as they enter. Filch is the last to come in, taking a seat next to Severus with a nod and a curious look.

“Welcome back all.” Albus begins once everyone settles down, and the attention of those present is on him. “I hope you have all had a wonderful summer so far. Please allow me to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Lucius Malfoy. I am sure he will be a wonderful addition to our staff, and our students will learn much from him,” Albus continues, gesturing to his left.

Lucius nods in acknowledgement, receiving a faint welcome from some of his colleagues.

Neither Severus nor Lucius miss the dark look Minerva throws in Lucius’s direction. No doubt Albus will be getting an earful later, though he probably has since announcing Lucius's position earlier in the summer.

“And let us not ignore the little darling currently hiding between Severus and Lucius,” Albus says with a smile. “Due to other circumstances, Severus's daughter Holly is now staying in the castle with us. I ask,” he raises his voice above the muttering, “that you all allow Severus his privacy in personal matters.”

It was a polite way of telling everyone to mind their own business whilst neatly bypassing announcing Holly’s surname. She refuses to take on his name. Severus does not doubt that they all have questions. Though he is a private person, rarely indulging in personal conversations, a daughter is hard to hide, especially since he spends most of his Christmas and Easter breaks in the castle. If Severus is ever away, it might be a day or two over the Christmas holidays to spend with the Malfoys; he does not even visit his father, except perhaps once a year during summer break. This summer is an unfortunate exception.

At Albus’s prompting, Holly issues a polite and shy greeting and receives a warm one in return.  

Curiosity is satisfied for the time being; they all turn their attention back to Albus, who continues making announcements about upcoming changes to the castle and last-minute details.

The meeting ends after almost ninety soporific minutes. Holly looks like she could fall asleep but manages to stay awake because Lucius has the foresight of bringing parchment and writing implements for her to use. He makes notes, to begin with, with an attitude that reminds Severus of an impatient Hermione Granger ready to impress her peers, but towards the end of the meeting resembles Ron Weasley when he cannot be bothered anymore. Severus has better sense than sharing either of these insights with his friend.

Though he does not show it, Severus is annoyed that he didn’t bring something to keep his daughter occupied. He did not even think that a nine-year-old would be able to sit through an adult meeting that even Trelawney and Babbling cannot stay awake through.  He is already failing as a father.

“Your handwriting is quite legible, considering you’ve only been using a quill for the last month,” Lucius comments, studying the parchment with a smile.

“I prefer fountain pens,” Holly scowls. “They’re not messy like quills.”

She has somehow managed to get the ink down to her wrist. Lucius fishes a  handkerchief from his pocket, wets it with an Aguamenti from his wand and cleans her hands gently. Severus has to hold back a scowl at the action: he was about to do that himself.

“It is a skill worth learning, my darling,” Lucius chides gently.

“For old people,” Holly pouts. “Where’s the progression?”

Albus, having lingered as he usually does, laughs at the comment.

“Indeed, my dear,” he agrees, still chuckling away.

Then, he pulls out a school map from inside his robes, handing it off to Holly. Apart from them, Minerva is the only one left of the teachers.

“I am sure your father and uncle will give you a tour of the school, but I thought perhaps you might like a map until you familiarise yourself with the castle; this might be useful.”

“Thank you, sir,” Holly whispers, cautiously darting forward to reach for it before returning to Lucius’s side. She smiles at Minerva and Albus as she leaves with the two Slytherins.

Lucius takes them to his quarters first, where Holly shows much more interest in the layout, exclaiming over the office, which is emptier than Severus’s. At least Severus has interesting things lining in his office!

He feels equal parts resentful and grateful when Lucius takes pity and allows Severus to provide a tour of the rest of the castle. As well, he should, given he has barely left it since he was eleven years old.  

They make a trip to the Owlery, where Holly spends an inordinate amount of time with the school owls, though Artemis, whom Lucius sent ahead as they were having breakfast, gets a little jealous. Severus does not understand Holly’s fascination with owls. Likewise, they seem to flock to the little girl as well.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry is partnered with George as they both do clapping push-ups, competing with Fred and Neville. The other two are in the lead by five push-ups, and Harry knows he and his partner will lose as fatigue has set in for both of them.

“It smells like sweat in here,” Hermione complains, wrinkling her nose. She is sitting as usual, away from them, with an open book on her lap.

“You don’t have to be here,” Ron points out snarkily, though he is red in the face and huffing, having collapsed after his sit-ups.

Harry agrees with Ron’s words, blunt as they are. They are in one of the dungeons that Regulus has allowed them to use for workouts since all the rooms upstairs are occupied except for those on the lower levels. The whole room is filled with various weights, dumbells and other equipment that Lucius Malfoy bought on his excursion to the Muggle world with Holly, and even Harry was surprised by the number of items he passed to Regulus. They have many skipping ropes, hula hoops and other items that Mr Weasley has unwrapped with delight. Harry spent a day in equal parts amusement and exasperation, showing the older wizard how several of them worked.

The twins and Ron were amazed, however, by Bill’s enthusiasm. Early in the morning, before going to work, or late in the evening, after his return, Bill could be found in the Training room, as it was commonly dubbed, intent on working on his footwork.

Sirius, Tonks and the others would find satisfaction in trying to trip him up with jinxes or hexes as he skipped away. Tonks, despite her clumsiness, did quite well, but it was obvious that it was Harry the best at it, mainly because he’d been using a skipping rope since he was nine years old.

“We’ve been working hard, Hermione,” Fred grunts, holding his push-up position.

From his peripheral vision, Harry can see the boy’s arms trembling from the effort. He believes the twins only kept up with their physical workouts because it improved their strength and stamina on the Quidditch team. Even though Quidditch was cancelled due to the Triwizard Tournament last year, the other members of the team surprised him by asking him to lead the physical sessions so they could keep in shape for the following season.

This year, no one knew who the Quidditch Captain would be; McGonagall usually selected the best candidate and informed them during the first week of term. Harry has his money on one of the Chasers.

Ron had joined them in their training sometime after the Tournament’s Second Task, hoping to claim the Keeper position, which had been vacant since Wood had graduated. Dean was the only one who joined them for general fitness purposes, rather than having any ambition to join the Quidditch team. Neville’s commitment was more intermittent, preferring to spend more time in the Greenhouses than anywhere else; however, in recent months, he slowly lost his pudginess.

Luna is on one of the workout mats behind Harry. He deliberately keeps his back to Luna, not wanting to be distracted by her stretching. Thankfully, no one has found out that he and Luna were caught in Regulus’s room, though Sirius and Tonks like to make a few jokes that the others look confused at.

A thud echoes in the room: Fred has collapsed mid-way through another push-up, and George picks up the banter.

“We have to keep our beautiful bodies in shape,” the latter groans, his playful smirk more of a grimace. The rivulets of sweat running down his face don’t help either.

Hermione looks at them, shaking her head.

“You can’t complain about the smell in here,” Ron grouses, between panting for breath, “when you have the rest of the house to read in and still come down here when you know we’re going to be sweaty.”

“Ah, dear brother,” George grins slyly, giving up and sitting back on his bum, “maybe our favourite bookworm just wants to see us hunky men take our shirts off.”

Hermione blushes violently. “That’s not true,” she denies defensively in the slightly outraged tone she uses when caught out.

“I think Harry would look good with his shirt off,” Luna inserts with seraphic calm.

Harry, who gives up when George does, turns to see her doing the wheel: her head is upside down, and her body is entirely lifted from the ground, supporting herself just on her hands and feet.  He is grateful his exertions have coloured his face red; otherwise, he would be blushing as brightly as Hermione, and for the same reason.

Fred lets out a muffled wolf whistle from his position with his face to the floor.

“Wooh,” Sirius comments, wafting his hand over his nose, “it really pongs in here.”        

“This is the scent of industriousness,” Ron jokes, “you lazy dog.”    

“Did Hermione read you the dictionary,” Sirius mocks, not the least bit offended at the redhead's words. “And how am I the lazy one? Apart from Ginny, the rest of you are lying down on the job.”

The girl in question has not stopped her skipping, the rope hitting the floor rhythmically with a swish and a thwap.

“Luna’s not lying down,” Harry points out, and they all look at her, still in the wheel position, looking relaxed.

“I thought that was the way Luna rests,” Sirius teases, and once again, they all let out a murmur of agreement. After, attention shifts to Neville, who starts coughing and stuttering.

“You alright there, Neville?” Sirius asks in concern.

 He wheezes, holding the bottle he was chugging from. “Drank my water too fast.”

“Are you joining us?” Ron asks hopefully, turning towards Sirius, who shrugs and claims he just needs to talk to Harry.

 Harry heaves himself to his feet.

“Right now?” His tee is plastered to his chest from sweat; likewise, his hair is sticking to his scalp.

“Maybe a shower first, smelly boy,” Sirius teases.

“That’s me done for the day as well,”  Neville agrees with relief.

“Meet me in the parlour when you’re done,” Sirius calls to Harry’s back, who raises a hand to acknowledge the instruction without turning around. Making his way up to his bedroom, Harry gratefully strips out of his manky clothes, dropping them in his hamper.

Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and in clean clothes, he wipes the steam from his glasses as he exits his room. He would gladly give up his glasses, wishing he could switch to contacts instead or for someone to invent a potion to fix his eyesight. Maybe he needs to speak to Fred and George about it. For a moment, it occurs to him to ask Snape, but he immediately snorts at the thought, imagining Snape’s reaction to him asking for a favour. Thoughts of Snape inevitably turn to thoughts of Holly. Hedwig left three days ago and still hasn’t returned. Harry doesn’t mind Hedwig staying with Holly; he just wishes to have some news about her. Dumbledore sent Regulus off on a mission the day after the owl left. Regulus didn’t say how long he would be away, but he packed for a lengthy trip.

Harry has no one to visit Holly on his behalf. Regulus told him that Snape and Lucius Malfoy had left for Hogwarts, which is why the elder Malfoy allowed Hedwig into the Manor in the first place, so that Snape wouldn’t get suspicious about Hedwig visiting Holly. He knew it was inevitable that Snape would find out about the two of them one day, but for now, they are just delaying the explosion they knew would come.

Harry walks into the parlour where Sirius is already waiting for him, looking as excited as a puppy.

“I have news,” he beams when he lays eyes on Harry, whose eyes sparkle with interest.

“Dumbledore finally gave me an assignment,” Sirius blurts excitedly. “Sit, sit.”

Harry smiles at Sirius’s excitement. He’s happy for the other man. Grimmauld Place is quite a lovely house; Regulus has made it his own, which is perhaps why he has managed to stay here as long as he has, but the same can’t be said of Sirius, who loathes the house. And Harry can understand his desire to escape.

If Dudley gutted his home on Privet Drive and decorated it from scratch, Harry wouldn’t want to return to that house unless he could raze it to the ground and rebuild it brick by brick.  He still can’t bring himself to even think about moving into Iris’ house. Not yet. Not with the wound of Oma’s death yet to heal.

“Are you allowed to tell me what the assignment is?” Harry asks though he doesn’t expect Sirius to tell him.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Sirius answers regretfully, shaking his head. To his credit, Sirius does look apologetic.

“I’m surprised you’ve not demanded to get more involved,” Sirius says eventually, observing Harry.

He shrugs. He had been too occupied worrying about Holly, mourning Oma and Cedric, and worrying about the prophecy and its meaning. After learning the contents of the prophecy, Harry had a lot to think about. If he is honest, Dumbledore has been more open with Harry about the prophecy than expected. However, he believes that Regulus has been advocating for him. Harry appreciates the efforts the other man has gone through on his behalf.

“I should be dead,” Harry finally responds since Sirius seems to be waiting for an answer. His godfather flinches at Harry’s candour but thankfully doesn’t interrupt. “In that graveyard, when I was duelling Voldemort – my thought was to survive, and I remember going through the list of spells I knew that might have helped me. Even though I knew it wouldn’t work, I used the Disarming Spell. I honestly didn’t expect the spell to rip his wand away from him. I was just… buying myself time. I was lucky enough to be helped that night by people I never expected to be on my side,” Harry explains. “I want to fight.”

He gives his godfather an earnest look. Suddenly, his mind clears, and he smiles as if he has had a sudden epiphany. He does want to fight. Since hearing the prophecy, he has been in a horribly down mood, pulling away from those who love him, his friends, and even Luna. He has either been cooking, venting his frustrations in the Training room in the dungeons, or worrying about Holly and losing her to Snape.

“I just know I have a lot to learn before I can truly contribute,” Harry continues. “By the time you were my age, you and Dad had made the Marauders Map and became Animagi. I’ve not done anything like that.”

“Because killing a basilisk, fighting over a hundred dementors and competing in a deadly tournament doesn’t measure up to drawing a map and changing into an animal,” Sirius deadpans, earning a snort from Harry.

“You’re better than James and I were at your age,” Sirius says solemnly. “I know I’ve not been the best godfather, and I get jealous when I see you with Regulus, but I want you to know, Harry, that I’m glad you have someone to rely on. I’m glad Regulus is there for you. I’m proud of the kind of man you’re becoming, and I’m sorry I haven’t had a hand in that. I can’t promise I’ll never fly off the handle or let my feelings overwhelm me, but I’ll promise to do everything in my power to earn your trust the way Regulus has.”

“He helped you,” Harry blurts out as Sirius stands up.

Harry stands up as well.

“That’s what made me trust him. I wasn’t sure if he’d take you in when I sent you to him,” Harry admits. “It was a risk, I know. Even when I sent him that letter explaining everything, I wasn’t sure if he would help. But he did. Even though he had no reason to trust the word of a thirteen-year-old wizard.”

Sirius stares at him in silence.

“That’s why,” Harry concludes in a trembling voice, uncertain of his godfather’s reaction. “That’s why I trust him.”

However, Sirius surprises him by pulling him into a hug. Harry slowly returns the hug and is further surprised to feel tears seep through his shirt, uneasily reminded of when he saw Iris cry - when he told her he knew Holly’s father was her son. 

“It meant a lot to me,” Sirius confesses hoarsely, though his voice is muffled against Harry’s shoulder.

“Anyway,” he changes the subject abruptly, pulling away and clearing his throat noisily, as if he can’t take the excessive emotion, “I didn’t call you here just to tell you I’m leaving. I have something for you.”

 Sirius moves away, reaching for something hidden behind one of the sofas. Placing a lunch box sized on the floor in front of Harry, he taps it with his wand, enlarging it to the size of a trunk.

“This is for you,” he announces proudly with a pleased smile.

Harry looks in utter wonder at the gift before his eyes. “Is this the Traveller’s trunk I asked for?” he queries in amazement, running his hand over the polished wood.

“Better,” Sirius replies happily, a knowing smile on his lips.

At Harry’s questioning stare, he explains eagerly: “This is an advanced version of the Traveller’s trunk. Regulus and I paid for it, but Moody and Dora picked it out. Like Moody's trunk, it has seven compartments, and they’re all enchanted with wizard space, so there’s plenty of room in there. You don’t have to use keys to get into them, though: you just need to tap it with your wand and ask for which compartment you want.”

Sirius pulls out a thick booklet from his pocket and passes it to Harry.

“Here’s an instruction book on how to set it all up. The compartments are numbered at the moment, but you can name them whatever you want – that’s the name you need to be announcing. Dora and Moody already activated the enchantments there, so you won’t need to use your wand for spells, but you can use it to register its signature. Each compartment will also become a different colour, which you can choose as well. What else was there?” Sirius scratches the back of his head, squinting as if to concentrate better. “Oh, right – no matter how much stuff you put in there, it will always remain the same weight, and you can charm it to look like whatever kind of luggage you set it – if you want it to be a suitcase or a bag or whatever you find convenient: all instructions are in that book.”

“That’s… that’s brilliant,” Harry grins widely, his heart overflowing with gratitude. “Thanks, Sirius.”

He almost offers to pay for it but realises Sirius means to give this as a gift.

“Between this and my Firebolt,” he lightly jokes, “you’ll spoil me.”

Sirius looks at him with a strange expression reflected in his eyes - nostalgia for a past friend and love for a present son - and solemnly states: “You deserve it. You deserve everything, Harry.”

“Maybe one day, we can put this thing to the test. You know, when you’re free. We can go travelling together and cram it full of souvenirs for everyone,” Harry offers.

Sirius’s eyes shine with tears again, but he manages to contain himself.

“I’d like that,” he chokes out, emotion like a knot in his throat. He clears it once more and says, “I should get going. You have fun setting that up.”

“I will. And… thanks again.”

Sirius gives him a final hug and walks out, leaving Harry to examine his trunk once more. He is impressed: both Black brothers have exceeded expectations. He taps it with his wand, lets it shrink to the size of a lunch box once again, and takes it to his room.

His friends join him half an hour later, exclaiming over the trunk. Harry pretends not to notice Ron’s jealous expressions, biting his lips from feeling defensive: even if Sirius and Regulus hadn’t bought it for him, he would have done it himself.

He lets Hermione organise the study/library compartment with his paltry collection of books he allows her to see, but he doesn’t let her see the books that Iris left for him with Mrs Figg. Though there are more that Mrs Figg promised she would have delivered to Harry, these are the ones Oma had ready for him for the beginning of the new school year.  He will shelve those himself over the next few days, without his friends around: certain things hold a wealth of emotional memories that must be experienced alone.

An additional feature of the library is that if he wants to take a book, instead of climbing down into the compartment, all he has to do is open it up to the correct compartment and say the book's name.

He adds his workout things - several skipping ropes, a hula hoop, some weights, gloves and focus pads (the last two were gifts from Dudley on his birthday) and other paraphernalia - into a separate compartment. His clothes and shoes go into a separate compartment. He lovingly stores his Weasley jumpers and clothes Iris bought him that he has grown out of, into one of the wardrobes towards the back. He knows he should donate the clothes to charity or something but can’t bring himself to do that. Not yet.

He chooses to colour code the compartments instead of naming them, as long as he remembers which colours he’s assigned to which section, and also decides on the option to make the trunk look like a messenger bag for when he travels. At the moment, though, it’s perfect as a trunk for school. He already has a school bag for daily purposes, so he’ll only need the messenger bag option occasionally, considering that his fifth-year school books will be on display in his dorms for ease of use.

He pulls out his new DADA book, reluctantly impressed by the content. He knows he should mention to the Weasleys that Lucius Malfoy is the new Defence teacher this year but wonders how he can explain how he knows. He wonders if anyone outside of Regulus is aware; otherwise, Tonks or Moody would have kicked up a fuss by now. Mr Weasley must not know, as he would have told Mrs Weasley, who would have definitely raised a storm. Dumbledore would have had an earful about that, and there’s no way Mr and Mrs Weasleys would let that knowledge blindside their children.

Just thinking of Ginny makes him squirm with guilt. He feels awful about it, but thoughts of Holly stop him. He decides to make it up to the Weasleys by taking some cooking duties before they leave for school. Perhaps he can even persuade the House-Elves to let him borrow the kitchen when they return to Hogwarts.

 

ooOoo

 

 Regulus has the utmost faith in Albus’s wards, cast to keep out more than muggles.

It’s quite late in the evening. Stonehenge is deserted except for him and the Headmaster.

“You did not keep any in Headquarters?”

“No,” Regulus replies dryly, looking down at the loathsome collection.

It is Albus’s idea to use Stonehenge to cleanse the items in question. The items Regulus almost lost his life over. Though he had managed to find most without raising any concerns, he has only succeeded in destroying one. The first he retrieved. The locket.

The destruction of the locket with Fiendfyre resulted in the need to renovate his family home. After that, he was too wary of trying that method again, and so he spent the last several years trying to find alternate methods to destroy them.

For a fee, the Goblins had managed to destroy a second—the Cup from Bellatrix’s vault.  It had taken everything Regulus had to spare to persuade them to let him retrieve that Horcrux. He had not even been allowed to enter the vault. The Goblins cannot be bribed – but one can negotiate with them. Regulus had nothing else to offer to the Goblins to request the use of the ritual they had performed to cleanse the Hufflepuff Cup. He also had no choice but to let them keep the Cup once the job was done. He had not argued since he had no attachment to the obscure object. History was not something he was interested in either. It was better for the Cup to disappear into the caves of the Goblin depths.

Then, over a month ago, a chance conversation led him to share his knowledge with Albus. Harry had mentioned the diary and the Basilisk, whose venom could destroy the Horcruxes, so he went to speak to Albus, explaining exactly why he needed it.

It had taken him many years of research to determine the number of Horcruxes Voldemort had made, where he had hidden them and how to retrieve them. Now, it is almost over.

“Are these all of them you could find?” Albus asks, putting away Gryffindor’s sword into a scabbard.

Albus told him it was Goblin-made, and after Harry used it to kill the snake king, it was imbued with the properties of Basilisk venom. Regulus tries not to think of how that almost cost Harry his life - not very successfully.

“Do you think there might be more?” he questions sharply as Albus’s words turn over in his mind.

Between himself, Dumbledore and Harry, they have managed to destroy five Horcruxes. In front of them lie the husks of the Slytherin ring and the Ravenclaw diadem. Albus pulls out the ruined diary Harry stabbed with a basilisk fang, and Regulus the charred locket of Slytherin: both are added to the altar, testament to the hard work they are almost accomplishing fully.

“I am trying to ensure we have not missed any.”

Regulus nods gravely. He reckons it is now time to exchange information with Albus.

“He placed the locket in a cave. The only reason I know of it is that he asked for the use of Kreacher to test its defences,” Regulus explains.

He is still angry at how Voldemort left his House-Elf to die in the cave, suffering from whatever poison he was made to drink. Since Kreacher had been away too long, Regulus had been worried, and Voldemort had already come and thanked him mockingly for the use of his House-Elf.

Regulus had called for Kreacher, and his House-Elf, the closest he had to a companion, appeared in front of him, almost driven mad by the potion. From there, he had investigated in secret and realised what the self-proclaimed Lord was hiding - the depths into which he had sunk in the quest for immortality. The soul was the most sacred thing a man could boast of possessing. Voldemort had no respect for magic, despite his knowledge and powers.

After multiple examinations of the memories, Regulus had managed to create an exact replica of the locket, ordered Kreacher to take him to the cave, and forced his House-Elf to force him to drink every bit of that poison. The potion was so close to killing him, and if that wasn’t enough, the Inferi damn near did the job.

Kreacher was supposed to take the locket and leave. Those were his orders. For the first time ever, the Elf went against his orders and took Regulus back home. Even in his fevered state, he knew that he would have been killed for his betrayal should Voldemort find out what he had done. He never responded to any summons, and then he fell into a coma. Kreacher, for it must have been the House-Elf, had somehow blocked all connection to the Dark Mark. Using his own brand of magic, he had hidden Regulus from everyone, even his own mother.

Under Kreacher and Andromeda’s care, Regulus had been smuggled to Cardiff, to Ted’s muggle relatives. Andromeda had encouraged the rumours of his death, and almost every acquaintance was not too shocked by the tragic news. Lucius was too busy becoming Voldemort’s most loyal follower, his wife Narcissa too busy with her son to worry about her once beloved cousin. If your last name wasn’t Potter, then Sirius didn’t care, while he and Severus had drifted apart - not that they had been close to begin with.

He would have been alone had it not been for Kreacher and Andromeda. And if not for them, he would have died.

After Voldemort’s defeat, he had emerged, claiming the House of Black for himself after his brother's incarceration. He admits that he had been stupid to believe Sirius could turn against Potter, given the blind admiration and deep sense of friendship that bound him. He had reasoned that he had been hiding for the better two years. In his favour, he could tell that Sirius didn’t certainly act like an innocent man.

Once all the Death Eater’s trials were completed, Regulus provided his evidence, and the dust settled: more than three years had passed since Voldemort’s defeat.  

That was when he began to investigate in earnest. Instinct told him there was more than one Horcrux, and he had never been more horrified to be correct.

Bringing his thoughts back to the perilous situation at hand, Albus casts a barrier to keep out the chill that is beginning to set in. He conjures two padded chairs for them both, and, reaching into his bag of tricks, he pulls out a flask of tea, a pot of sugar cubes and even some biscuits.

“Oh, dear,” he comments, looking devastated, “I seem to have forgotten the milk.”

Regulus’s lips twitch in amusement as he takes a seat. Only Albus would bring a tea set to Stonehenge when their mission was to destroy dangerous Horcruxes capable of bestowing immortality on a madman who wanted to conquer and subjugate the entire world.

“I’m sure we can make do without,” Regulus replies dryly.

Albus pours them both some tea from the thermos.

“I beg your pardon,” the Headmaster apologises once they sit back with tea in hand. “You said you began investigating three years after Voldemort was defeated.”

Regulus takes a sip of his hot tea, savouring the heat of the cup in his icy hand. 

“I thought it best to start from the beginning,” he continues. He outlines his investigations, starting with Thadeus Nott, who seemed to be the oldest Death Eater in the circle. The main objective was to find Voldemort’s origins, school days, adolescence, and strange facts that seemed to concern him, such as the death of a student in 1943. Then, speak to Horace Slughorn, who had been one of the professors most attracted to Tom Riddle’s devious genius, his potential as a student and the mystery surrounding him. Regulus reminds himself to visit the man in person. There was no doubt he was reading the papers, so Regulus is sure that once he tells him that Voldemort is back, the other man will flee the country until the danger has passed. It had taken Regulus several dozen favours, tickets to Quidditch games, advice on shares, crystalized pineapple and an entire crate of the best fire-whiskey from his mother’s cellar before Slughorn was willing to talk about Horcruxes.

“I knew the Malfoys had one of them, but I wasn’t sure if it was presented to Abraxas or Lucius. Death Eaters liked to one-up each other and would take any opportunity to stab each other in the back, but none dared reveal they had received anything from Voldemort directly. Not when he had given explicit orders not to speak about it.”

Albus listens in silence, his eyes focus on something internal under his half-moon glasses.

“I didn’t know what the item the Malfoys had was. I only had suspicions it was the first created, which only solidified when I began to find the others. The diary,” he nods at the item in question, “was the first.”

Albus, cup of tea in his right hand, uses his left to move the diary to the front of the Horcrux line.

“The ring was the next,” Regulus continues after another few sips of his tea. “Riddle killed his muggle father to make this one. He was still sixteen, a few months after his first Horcrux. I found it at Gaunt shack. The whole place had more wards than a Pharaoh's tomb.”

It had taken Regulus months to undo each ward and get inside, and then several weeks before he broke the wards inside protecting the ring. The night he apparated at the graveyard to save Harry, he recognised the area straight away. He had spent too long in Little Hangleton not to spot the little village that was a stone’s throw away from Great Hangleton, where the House of Gaunt was located, near some woods.

Albus moves the ring next in line as if he is playing a chess game in which each Horcrux is a pawn, and Regulus’s narrator is the opposing player.

“Then the locket?”

“I believe so. It, too, belonged to the Gaunts.”

“And a copy of the locket is still in the cave?”

“Yes.”

No more was said of the necklace.

“Then the Cup?” Albus prods, looking at Regulus over the top of his half-moon glasses.

“Yes. He entrusted that to Bellatrix, who stored it in her vault. Luckily it was her personal vault rather than the Lestrange’s.”

“Are you positive that it has been destroyed?” Albus’s voice is sharp, but Regulus does not take offence.

“More than certain. Given what I paid for it,” he grimaces at the memory of the ferocious little creatures that were the Goblins. The only thing they didn’t ask for was blood. “They requisitioned the Cup after they removed the Horcrux.”

 And finally, Albus can ask the question he had been waiting for so long on the object he was most curious about. “How did you find the Diadem?”

Made by Goblins but enchanted by Rowena Ravenclaw, the Diadem was supposed to enhance the wearer's wisdom.

 Regulus smiles grimly. “The Bloody Baron.”

At this, Albus looks politely puzzled.“Slytherin’s resident ghost?”

Finding the diadem had been a complete accident. It had begun as an idle conversation with Nymphadora, who had told him about Gryffindor’s ghost, Sir Nicholas, and his death via beheading. The Hufflepuff ghost, the Fat Friar, had met the same tragic fate: had been stoned to death following some witch trials. This had led them to talk to the spirits of Ravenclaw and Slytherin, by far the most reticent of the four.

The Bloody Baron rarely spoke to anyone outside his own House but was quite open with select Slytherins. Regulus was not one of them, though Lucius had been. The Malfoy patriarch had unknowingly given him the next clue about the diadem. He had always suspected that Abraxas might have known about the Founders' history; Malfoys generally were quite good at keeping themselves abreast of past events.

Still,  Regulus needed an excuse to get into the school. He was not a parent, nor was he a school governor. Regulus requested Severus get him an audience with Filius Flitwick through some creative manoeuvring.

With delighted surprise, Albus asks, “Is that why you spent months meeting with Filius?”

“Well,” Regulus admits somewhat sheepishly, “it started with speaking about the Founders, but then we moved onto other topics. I prolonged my visits even after I spoke to Helena Ravenclaw. Partially out of guilt for using him, and because I genuinely became friends with him.”

Seven years after his initial visit to learn about the diadem, he still keeps in regular touch with the Charms professor.

“One day, Filius was lamenting about the changes in the curriculum that the board of governors were trying to enforce, and we began to talk about the ones he kept defending.”

Albus nods, looking intrigued.

“Then, I made a joke about the Defence position and how it didn’t have a staunch defender about its syllabus like the Charms Master. From there, we reminisced about the various characters,” he says the word delicately, taking in Albus’s rueful expression, “who got the job.”

“It was a difficult position to fill at the best of times. We had some excellent candidates whom the students loved, but alas, the Curse got the best of them.”

Momentarily diverted, Regulus asks, “Filius and I speculated that some of the less competent candidates were asked to take the position because you knew that the Curse would take care of them.”

  Albus raises an eyebrow at him.

“I heard Gilderoy Lockhart didn’t apply for the position,” Regulus pushes. “You sought him out for it.”

 The other sighs in answer. “The poor boy.”

“It was risky, Albus. Gambling with students’ education in such a way.”

“Severus has been diligently applying for the position of Defence professor for nineteen years. For the past eight years, his has been the sole application. For the last eight years, everyone who has taken the post have been the people I have sought, and I confess that I have been desperate on occasion. I had even requested Madam Bones for recommendations for retired Aurors; none of them wanted to teach. But we digress.”

Regulus leaves it at that. Lockhart was in St Mungo’s for the foreseeable future and unable to Memory Charm his way into more fame. He still believes Albus targeted the man for the same reason, probably some acquaintance whom Albus realised had gaps in their memory. It was undoubtedly a creative method of dealing with the man, but it shouldn’t have been done at the expense of the education of the students.

Luckily, Harry had Iris, who instilled a strong work ethic in the boy. 

“Well, after speaking to Filius and Minerva, I traced back to when the first Defence teacher left after only a year of teaching. Twenty-odd years ago. I didn’t realise until later that it was after your tenure as Headmaster, but I did speak to the former Headmaster Dippet - may he rest in peace.”

“Why did you not come to me?” Albus asks curiously.

“Would you have given me a straight answer? Would you have trusted me?”

Albus gives him a rueful look but solemnly admits, “I would have found your research suspicious.”

“I spent years looking for witnesses and evidence, piecing together Tom Riddle’s timeline. Albus, you were aloof. You played the congenial Headmaster, but we all knew you had favourites. And I am a Black. You didn’t help us. Maybe you didn’t want to. Sirius was a Black, but do you know how much you let him get away with just because he was a Gryffindor? Some good people were in Slytherin. People who needed help. I needed help. But I was beneath your notice because my robes were green.” Regulus exhales slowly, the gravity of what he is saying evident in the rigidity of his posture. “Sirius had tried to kill Severus. He tried to use his own friend as a murder weapon.”

He raises a hand to the Headmaster, who opens his mouth to argue, but is forced to close it again by the eagerness with which Regulus spits out the next words.

“I know you had to protect Lupin, who might have been just as innocent as Severus. But Sirius didn’t suffer the consequences. You thought Sirius was as guilty as everyone else did; don’t tell me that the Whomping Willow incident didn’t cross your mind when you thought about how you should have seen it coming.”

A pained expression crosses the Headmaster’s face.

“And you haven’t changed,” Regulus says viciously. “You still favour those who wear red and gold.”

“I try to play fair,” Albus defends weakly, but in his heart, he knows how much honesty is contained in those accusations.

“Then you don’t try hard enough,” Regulus responds harshly.

“I apologise.”

Regulus has to take a deep breath, avoiding reminding him how his apology cannot make up for decisions that innocent students have suffered from. This is not how he meant the conversation to go.

“Anyway,” he says, bringing the discussion back on track, “I realised Voldemort put the Curse on the Defence position and thought it might have been tied to the Horcrux. I thought perhaps he might have hidden it in the Chamber of Secrets - which almost ended my investigation. I had no idea where to start looking for Slytherin’s Secret Chamber and thought it and the Diadem would be lost forever. It never occurred to me, as it had to Harry, to ask Myrtle  - since she was the student Riddle had killed during their school year. Hopefully, it would have come to mind later, but thankfully, months down the line, a chance conversation with the Hogwarts House-Elves pointed me in the right direction. There’s a Room of Hidden Things, located on the seventh floor, which the Elves use to store broken furniture and such. It has a few different names, like the Room of Requirement or the Come and Go room.”

Albus’s face takes on a look of astonishment as Regulus describes how to access it.

“I believe I might have come across it a few years back,” Dumbledore confesses.

Regulus listens with open amusement to the Headmaster’s story about his request for a chamberpot.

“I found the Diadem in there. Took me hours. Filius thought I’d left. I had to smuggle the Horcrux out without him seeing, but I showed him the room as a thank you.”

Albus chuckles.

“That explains Filius’s preoccupation over the last few years. He has been researching the enchantments on that room,” he reflects. “I shall have to go back and take a second look.”

They turn back their attention to the objects in front of them.

“The diary. The ring. The locket. The Cup. The diadem,” Albus names them, touching each in turn. “That’s five. You said Horace mentioned the number seven.”

Regulus grimaces.

“I’ve spent the last fourteen years researching Riddle to hell and back. I’ve found no evidence that there’s another Horcrux out there. I can only speculate that Voldemort intended to make another, and I am hopeful that Harry defeating him derailed that plan. I believe that Riddle is now mortal. Not to make this sound simple, because I am aware it won’t be, but we just need to beat him now. I’m hoping we don’t have to involve Harry at all. Prophecy be damned.”

A dread fills his heart at the sorrow that fills Albus’s eyes.

“What?” Regulus growls.

“Harry is involved whether we want him to be or not,” Albus confesses.

 His mouth runs dry. “How?”

“I believe Voldemort did indeed intend to make seven Horcruxes. These we see in front of us,” the older wizard says, gesturing to the destroyed vessels on the stone altar, “are only the prelude to the fundamental ones. Severus, who was my spy at that time, informed me of the ritual Voldemort was preparing for that night before he travelled to the Potters. I believe it was the required steps to make another Horcrux from my research. His seventh would have been from Harry’s death.”

Regulus thinks furiously as the details of years of research, successes, and failures merge to form a bigger picture.

“Well, he might have prepared for it, but he was defeated. He was unable to follow through on his wicked plan. He failed. Harry took his body away from him. Whatever item he prepared is empty of his soul,” Regulus speculates, stubbornly clinging to denial.

“I believe,” Albus sighs, “that the ritual succeeded. Just not the way he had thought. Voldemort intended to use Harry’s death to complete his ritual, splitting his soul even further.”

“What does this have to do with Harry? Voldemort failed. Harry defeated him. The ritual was incomplete. We don’t need to drag the boy into this.”

Regulus is aware his voice is rising in pitch. The sorrow does not leave Albus’s eyes.

“Say it,” Regulus demands, defeated. He closes his eyes as if he can block out the words.

“Harry is a Horcrux. Lily’s sacrifice protected her son from Voldemort’s curse and caused it to rebound back to himself. It tore a piece of his soul and latched onto the only living thing in the house: Harry.”

Regulus, who has been familiarising himself with Horcruxes since 1979, already knows what Albus is going to say.

“His scar,” he whispers hoarsely. “It’s a connection between Harry and Voldemort.”

 Albus sighs heavily. “And there is only one way to extract a Horcrux from a vessel.”

Regulus snaps his eyes open, glaring furiously at the man in front of him and tells him coldly, “No! I will not allow you to sacrifice Harry - not after we have already forced him to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. I will find a way to extract Voldemort’s soul from him and destroy it without harming him.”

“Regulus,” Albus begins, but there is nothing he can say that can exacerbate the sense of panic that is rapidly spreading through Regulus’s limbs.

“No,” he interrupts. “No, Albus. I have spent years finding Voldemort’s Horcruxes and researching how to destroy them. I might have needed your assistance tonight to annihilate them, but I will not allow my boy to go the same way. Harry will live beyond the war.”

“I hope so,” Albus smiles tremulously, sincerity ringing in his voice.

He sits back down, unaware of when he even stood up.

“He deserves to live,” Regulus continues calmly, tears streaming over his cheeks. “I won’t let him die.”

“I hope you prove me wrong,” Albus replies.

I will, Regulus thinks fiercely.

They sit there for an hour longer, discussing various plans.  A part of him is surprised at how easily Albus discusses his schemes. Unlike most of the Order, who challenges the Headmaster and then backs down when the wizard explains his reasoning (as flimsy as Regulus believes it is), he picks his battles with Albus (in private) and does not give up until he is satisfied with their compromises.

Even Severus ends up giving in, though Regulus believes this is due to a combination of trust and guilt. Both emotions the Headmaster is good at manipulating for his own gain.

Regulus has never been beholden to Albus for anything. He is not an old friend like Alastor Moody: he has never gone to the man for redemption like Severus, didn’t owe the man his education as Lupin did, and hadn’t worked with him before as the Weasleys had. If anything, Albus owes him for allowing them to use Grimmauld Place for the Order.

Regulus is his own man. His loyalties are to himself and Harry. He may not be as powerful as Harry, Dumbledore, or Voldemort, but he has been resourceful for the past decade. He has accomplished more than Dumbledore in bringing Voldemort closer to mortality. Albus might have only had suspicions and hunches, but Regulus had evidence with the locket. Had he trusted Dumbledore back then, Regulus might have been in the same situation as Severus, beholden to the Headmaster for salvation. He has atoned enough since 1979. He has finally found his redemption. He is under no illusion that Albus is hiding much more than he lets on.

Regulus makes his stance clear to the wizened old wizard as they leave Stonehenge.

“I am not a leader, Albus. However, I am done being a follower,” Regulus says firmly. “You are a leader, so make sure you lead everyone the right way. I will help any way I can, but now, things have changed: my priority is Harry. Eileen was the only one who looked out for him, and I will carry on where she left off.”

Regulus packs away the Founders’ items whilst Albus takes the diary.

He needs to do several things, one of which is speaking to the Goblins. Perhaps a bargain could be struck with the return of the former vessels of the Dark Lord’s soul. They must have a lot of knowledge gained over the centuries. He also needs to begin making contingency plans for Harry, and Holly, given the boy would never leave her behind - not that Regulus expects him to do. Dumbledore might have promised not to return Harry to the Dursleys and leave Regulus to research the Horcruxes, but he is determined not to test that resolve. At the end of the school year, Regulus will take Harry away from everyone himself if he has to.

Plenty of people owe him favours inside and outside Great Britain: it’s time to redeem them.

He doesn’t return to Grimmauld Place. Instead, he apparates to Arabella Figg’s house in Surrey.

 

ooOoo

 

Holly borrows a piece of chalk from the Potions classroom and heads down one of the corridors in the dungeons, with her skipping rope in hand as well.

She carefully draws ten squares and numbers them, one to ten, to play hopscotch on. The squares are all different sizes, and her lines aren’t straight, but she still gives a satisfied nod at the result.

She realises then that she doesn’t have a stone or anything to throw on each square as she hops across. The chalk is too light and too small. She could try the bobble she uses to tie her hair up in a ponytail, but that’s even lighter than the chalk. At least there’s no breeze in the dungeons, though there can occasionally be a draught.

Her shoes are too big and heavy to use in the manner she wants. Then, she thinks about her socks. Plonking herself on the ground, she takes off her shoes and socks, which she folds and bunches together to give them enough weight. Deciding to forgo her shoes, she stands up at the first square.

Throwing down her sock on the number one, she jumps onto the squares with the numbers two and three, a foot on each square. Then four is by itself, so she hops on one foot, then five and six with a foot each, and so she jumps until she reaches number ten.

Turning around, she hops on foot for number ten and makes her way back. She collects her socks whilst still on two and three, then hops on one before landing both feet outside the squares. The chalk outlines are smudged, and her feet are dirty and cold, but Holly smiles. The game would be obviously better if other children were around, but at least she can keep herself entertained. She’s not really in the mood to read right now, anyway. And … Professor Snape said she’s not allowed outside without someone to accompany her. She’s already visited Hedwig and Artemis in the Owlery; they are both sleeping.

Holly continues playing hopscotch, throwing her socks on the next square. It becomes challenging when she throws her folded socks to the middle squares, five and six onwards, especially as the boxes are all different sizes.

“Should you be down here by yourself, lass?” the gruff voice she has come to associate with Mr Filch rings behind her.

Balancing on one foot on the number seven, Holly picks up her socks from the number six square and finishes her sequence on number one.

“I’m not allowed outside by myself, and everyone else is busy, so I came down here,” she shrugs. “I’ll clean it all up before I go.”

 Mr Filch gives the faded chalk outlines a considering look. “Not much left to clean up, is there?”

Holly gives the caretaker an impish smile.

“Then it’s fine, right?”

“What’s your Da doing? Brewing.”

She bites her lip to deny his parentage yet again. She hates when people call him her dad. He’s not. Dad is a strong word that holds the promise to love his child unconditionally and never let them go. The Potions Master has broken it. She knows others have noticed how she prefers to spend time with everyone else but him. She knows it hurts him, making her rejoice with cruel delight. He deserves to be hurt. He hurt her Mamma - he hurt Harry. He’s horrible, and just because he’s finally decided he wants to be a dad doesn’t mean Holly has to act like he is. Words are easy to forget, and she has already heard too many of them: now, she seeks only facts and stability. 

“Yeah,” she says, trying to hide the irritation from her tone.

From the look Mr Filch levels at her, she gathers she has not succeeded in hiding her feelings. Still, the caretaker doesn’t do more than give her a questioning look.

“Can I borrow your mop? I’ll clean the chalk,” Holly offers.

“Leave it, lass. I’ll take care of it. Pick up your things. Let’s get your feet clean, or you’ll catch a chill,” Mr Filch grumbles, expecting Holly to follow him. “These dungeons are always cold, and you'll make yourself ill.”

Holly’s lips twitch in amusement. Mr Filch likes to pretend he’s tougher than he is, but now she can see that Harry was right about the old caretaker; he was just lonely. She wonders if all squibs felt the same way. Mrs Figg lives by herself as well and with her dozen cats but often gives off the same aura of loneliness, and Holly wonders why that is. Mr Filch only has Mrs Norris, but he’s still alone, despite all the other adults around him.

She gathers her skipping rope, socks and shoes, pockets the chalk and follows Mr Filch to his office.

“Where’s Mrs Norris?” she asks, falling in line with the other man.

“Off catching mice,” he answers gruffly.

“Will she be back soon?” she asks hopefully.

“Don’t know, lass,” comes the snippy tone.

Holly is not offended. In some way, he reminds her of Tobias, sort of rough and bristly. They like to act like tough men, but underneath, they were softies once you knew how to handle them.

They enter the man’s office. Holly lets out a squeak of surprise when Mr Filch turns around, picks her up and sits her on the edge of his desk. She drops the things she is carrying onto the floor.

“I’ll bring you a rag to clean your feet with,” he tells her. Turning away, he moves to the sink at the back. She hears the tap squeak and the sound of water running.

Holly looks around the room with interest. She sees the filing cabinets rammed with stuff Mr Filch has confiscated from the students, several others lining another wall. Squinting a little, she almost giggles as she sees Fred and George’s names. Harry was right once again: the Weasley twins do have an entire filing cabinet to themselves. She wonders if it is full. She knows that this will be their final year in Hogwarts once school starts. How much room do they have left in there?

She sits on her hands, resisting the urge to peek in there. Twisting on the desk, she also spots the manacles, which are the only things in the room that are cleaned and shining. Holly thought Harry was just scaring her by telling stories of the caretaker having chains in his often, but she should have realised he was telling the truth. Harry had never tried to scare her with silly stories. Not like some of her friends in school.

Mr Filch comes back with a wet towel. Removing her hands from beneath her, she reaches out to take the damp towel with a “thank you”. Only to have her hands batted away gently.

“I’ll do it,” he growls. “Make sure your feet are properly clean.”

Holly tries to protest, but he seems adamant about doing it for her. He sits in the chair she thinks he makes the students in trouble sit in.

She jumps as the cold towel presses against her feet as he gently cleans her soles. He avoids looking at her as he goes about his task, while she stares at him quietly as he continues to clean her feet carefully.

“Do you have children?” she can’t help but ask softly,  though Oma always reminded her how this question was too delicate to ask even of someone one is close to. But there is something sad in the way he helps her as if he has already done it for someone of his own blood.

He freezes and darts his eyes to meet hers before reaching for her other foot.

“Used to,” he replies. “A boy.”

“What happened?”

He doesn’t answer immediately.

“Died. When he was three. In a fire. His mother did an’ all.”

Holly reimanìins silent for a few moments and then whispers sadly, “I’m sorry,”

He sniffs and clears his throat. “He would have been your da’s age by now. A little older.”

“Thank you for telling me,” she blurts out to him.

On impulse, she hops off the table and throws her arms around his neck. He freezes, but she doesn’t move back. Slowly, he places his around her waist as well.

Then he pushes her away, gently, gruffly saying, “Daft lass. I just cleaned your feet.”

“Oops,” she giggles. “Sorry.”

Picking her up, he sits her back on the desk and cleans her feet once more.

“Where are your socks? You put them on now.”

“They’re dirty,” she complains as he spots them on the floor beside the desk. “I’ll just put my shoes on and go back to my room to change.”

She puts her shoes back on, hating the feel of them without her socks. Next time she’ll remember to grab a little stone from outside to play hopscotch with. Stuffing her socks into her pockets, she thanks Mr Filch.

“Do you want me to walk you back?”

“No, thank you. I don’t want to keep you. Can I come by again to visit Mrs Norris?”

 He nods. “Course.”

He doesn’t smile at her, though it looks like he wants to.

“See you later,” she smiles and waves at him before darting out of the office.

Holly frowns a few minutes later. She is lost. Maybe she should have turned left instead of right? She looks around with confusion. All the corridors look the same to her. With a sigh, she turns back, rooting in her pockets for the map Uncle Albus gave her. Then she remembers she has left it on her bed.

Maybe she should stay in one place and let someone find her. There is still time before lunch, so she might be waiting a while. She left her skipping rope in Mr Filch’s office, so she doesn't even have that to keep herself occupied. She didn’t even pick up her chalk.

Maybe Mrs Norris is down here. The dungeons look like they could be holding mice, and that's what Mr Filch said the cat was doing.

She begins peeking into the various rooms, hoping to see the old cat, but she only finds no dust in any of them, meaning they are kept clean. The House-Elves, of course. About to leave the room so she can call for a House Elf, Holly is startled by a faint rattling sound.

“Mrs Norris?” she calls in a low voice.

Maybe the cat got trapped in one of the cupboards. It happened to Mr Tibbles at Mrs Figgs. The cat was always chasing something and got trapped in one of the cupboards in her shed.

The rattle becomes louder the closer Holly gets to the back of the room. There are no lights here—just a faint illumination from the candles in the corridor through the open door.

Cautiously she reaches out to open the wardrobe door, then pauses. Is it a good idea?  She backs away, thinking maybe a House-Elf would help. Harry said they have powerful magic and are good at defending.

The wardrobe rattles harder.

She jumps back, startled, and then moves forward. What if it is Mrs Norris trapped in there?

She tries to open the door; it’s a little stuck, so she yanks harder to pull it ajar. Looking down, she expects to see Mrs Norris but only sees feet clad in familiar trainers. Following the legs up with confusion, past the knees, waist, torso; up and up into emerald eyes she knows so well and missed so much.

“Harry?”

 

   

 

 

Chapter 15 - Never a Rose Without the Prick

 

The walk down to the dungeons with Lucius Malfoy is uneasy. Minerva McGonagall has always thought the other had more smarm than charm but never felt he truly cared about doing the job as a school board governor should. He never cared for the students—just outdated ideals. As a governor, he was interfering and meddlesome until he was sacked.                

The wizarding world has fallen woefully behind the muggle one. Albus wanted to update the Muggle Studies curriculum and the History of Magic, but Lucius and his acquaintances had blocked Albus at every turn when he tried to reform the school ways. Worse, when he tried to have classes available to teach the traditional ways, the governors, Purebloods, every one of them, refused to allow the old ways to be taught, citing their children would be educated in such matters at home.

Rotten, elite Purebloods: progression for the sake of progression has been halted, but they won’t allow muggle-borns to integrate into their new world either. She laments, briefly, the loss of a brilliant mind such as Hermione Granger, should she ever decide she cannot reside in the Magical world after she completes her education. Miss Granger is a bright, determined and stubborn witch with such great potential; yet, even she would tire of banging her head against a brick wall that is the Pureblood privilege.

Working with Lucius Malfoy would be an onerous task, though she shudders at the thought of the odious Delores Umbridge, the Minister’s original choice. Caught between Scylla and Charybdis.

“Feeling a chill, Professor McGonagall?” Lucius queries politely. “Or is it, perhaps, the company?”

Minerva wishes she could scratch the smirk off his face. She boldly states, unwilling to back down from Lucius Malfoy, “The company, for certain.”

She is treated to a rare look of surprise from the other wizard, who then smoothes his expression back into his detestable smirk. Perhaps he expected her to deny it.

“Have you come to visit Severus or his daughter?” Minerva asks. Against her will, she has become fond of the little child in the week the girl has been at Hogwarts. Not that Minerva dislikes children, or because she is Severus’ daughter either, though it certainly came as a shock to the animagus that the Potions Master has a child. Then, she reminds herself that Severus Snape is notoriously private.

Minerva initially held her distance because of the girl’s easy familiarity with Lucius. Draco Malfoy has nothing of the so-called charm either of his parents has, but he does have their sense of entitlement. Minerva’s upbringing was in a remote village where everyone pitched in.  Hard work and determination were bred into her from a young age. Everything she has made, she has done under her power. Her accolades, titles, and accomplishments have been earned, not handed down to her through family connections.

The only good thing she can say about Lucius is that, unlike his son, he never had to remind anyone he was a Malfoy. Should the Malfoys ever lose their fortune, Draco would be in for a rude shock if he had to work for a living. Neither his parents nor Severus are granting him any favours by sheltering him from the world outside.

Her initial assumption that Holly was of the same character as Draco was erroneous. Despite her likeness to Severus, the little girl shines with sincerity and earnestness, surprising the rest of the staff. Indeed, how she managed to tame the curmudgeon Argus Filch and his foul feline, Mrs Norris, was astonishing.

Bizarrely, the only person Holly shied away from was her father. Albus is tight-lipped about the reason, but Minerva is certain her old friend knows more than he lets on.

“Holly,” Lucius admits with a softening in his expression.

The child certainly has the elder Malfoy wrapped around her fingers. Despite living with four Slytherins, Minerva has detected no artifice in Holly. Could be five, she silently corrects, as she knows nothing about Holly’s mother.

“I thought perhaps she would like to go outside,” Lucius continues. “She was curious about -”

What exactly Holly was curious about, Minerva never found out, for she shushed him, startling him once again.

Minerva holds her hand up to quiet him as he tries to speak. Finally catching on that she sensed something off, they both palm their wands as the woman listens carefully.

Mmrow, comes the faint mewing from Mrs Norris, padding from the corridor leading from Argus’ office.

Lucius relaxes, seeing the cat. On the other hand, Minerva recognises the signs of distress from the feline and snaps, “Lead me.”

Mrs Norris turns away, dashing away, confident help is found. Minerva pauses long enough to tuck away her wand before transforming into her tabby and speeding behind the other cat. Mrs Norris leads them further into the dungeons.

They are each on each other’s heels; Minerva distantly takes in Argus’ shouted alarm as both cats rush past, followed quickly by Lucius.

Mrs Norris leads them into an older, disused part of the dungeons. It is so dark that even Minerva doesn't immediately see anything with her enhanced sight in her feline form.

First, her eyes land on the huddled outline of Holly on the ground. What she sees next confuses her enough to freeze.

“Potter!” Argus shouts, perplexed.

“Riddikulus!” Lucius snaps out. The shape of the boggart changes.

Minerva vaguely pays attention to see it is Voldemort, threatening Lucius’ sense of well-being, but she concentrates on the petrified child instead. She transforms back into her natural form, removes her cloak and drapes it over the trembling form of Holly.

She watches Lucius magically wrestle the Boggarts back into the open wardrobe it must have come out of.

 

ooOoo

Lucius’ eyes soften as he turns back to Holly, shaking and trembling in Minerva’s arms. After ensuring the wardrobe is locked, the boggart will come in handy for a practical lesson; he strides back to where the duo is huddled.

Filch still stands at the threshold, looking puzzled as hell. He looks like he’s about to launch into questions, but a look from Minerva stops him short.

Lucius kneels on one knee, reaching out for the child.

“Holly, darling?”

She launches herself at him the moment he touches her. Her body wracks with sobs against his, and he tightens his arms around her protectively. Gathering the cloak around her shivering body, he picks her up, still holding her close.

“That wasn’t him,” he tells her calmly when she quiets a little, though he knows the other two are listening carefully.

“I know,” she sniffles, but she still clings to him.

Looking between Flich and Minerva, Lucius finds himself in the rare struggle of wondering how to phrase his request.

Minerva seems to understand his plight, for she whispers, “Perhaps you better take her back to her room.”

Despite her willingness not to question him right then, the look in her eyes promises him a quest for answers. Filch eyes them both quietly but lets them pass without issue.

Holly’s occasional sniffle breaks the silent walk back to Severus’ quarters. Even the squib’s cat pads along quietly.

Filch and Mrs Norris break off to head back to his office, while Minerva follows Lucius to the entrance to Severus’ quarters, knocks on the door firmly, and leaves with a gentle caress of Holly’s head and a silent threat to the blonde man with a look laden with meaning.

“Lucius?”

The wizard in question turns at the sound of Severus’ voice. He belatedly remembers that Severus is helping Poppy brew various potions to stock up the Hospital wing.

Seeing Lucius carrying his daughter protectively, Severus strides forward in alarm.

“What happened?” he demands. He reaches forward to take Holly from Lucius but aborts the attempt in fear of rejection. His features twist painfully.

Lucius tightens his arms more securely around the curiously silent child, feeling strangely reluctant to give her up.

“Boggart,” he states quietly, without further explanation.

“Go inside,” Severus tells him just as quietly. “I must go speak to Poppy. I’ll be back.”

The Potions Master lets them into his quarters. Lucius enters with Holly still bundled in his arms, settling himself in one of the armchairs and arranging the girl comfortably against him, ensuring she is wrapped tightly in Minerva’s borrowed cloak. Once settled, he lights a fire, watching the fireplace flare with orange flames, gently running his hands up and down Holly’s skinny arm in a feeble attempt to calm her frantic heart.

“Do you want to tell me about it, darling?” he prompts when the silence lengthens.

She doesn’t speak, though there is a slight movement that could be the shrugging of her shoulders.

Suppressing a sigh, he calls for Severus’ House-Elf, “Setty. Bring us tea and hot chocolate.”

Order completed, the Elf disappears with a wary nod. Usually, the House-Elves were more eager to please, but Lucius found them to be circumspect within his presence. He put it down to Dumbledore being cautious, and thought no more of the matter.

Setty pops back into the sitting room, a tea tray crammed with steaming cups and all manner of cakes and biscuits.

Lucius reaches across, carefully holding onto the bundle in his arms, for the mug of hot chocolate.

He presses it in her hands and coaxes her into taking sips of the hot drink as he hears Severus enter the room. Lucius looks up, still holding the mug for Holly, even though she has wrapped her hands around it for warmth.

Poppy has followed the Potions Master, her wand already out. Lucius catches the approving look Poppy gives the mug of hot chocolate and the docile Holly, who takes careful sips.

“Are you going to make me drink yucky potions?” she whispers to Poppy, a look of dismay and betrayal aimed at Severus. Lucius finds his lips twitching at the sight, despite the situation.

“No, love,” Poppy assures her, leaning over the girl. “Don’t worry, keep drinking your hot chocolate.”

Holly takes a few more sips of the drink before pushing it away. After completing her diagnostics, Poppy takes the mug from Lucius and settles into the armchair next to Severus’, taking the cup of tea the Potions Master has poured for her.

Holly leans her head back against Lucius’ chest as he absently strokes her hair, loosened from the ponytail she usually wears. Severus stares at the cup intently. He so desperately wishes he could help his friend connect with his daughter: Holly has undoubtedly inherited the ability to hold a grudge, same as her father, and that flaw was one of the few things about his friend that he could not get adjusted.

Sensing Lucius’ eyes on him, Severus switches his gaze to the blond. He knows he will have to explain more to Severus about the boggart at some point. The Potions Master, as yet, is still unaware of Harry Potter’s presence and influence on his daughter’s life. Holly has had some near slips all summer, though none in Severus’ presence, miraculously. Keeping secrets when it matters also seems to be another trait the child has inherited; still, this cannot be hidden indefinitely. Holly spends a lot of time with Potter’s owl, something that annoys Artemis to no end. It won’t be long before Severus, the inquisitive man that he is, starts wondering why his daughter is so well acquainted with that particular owl.

Lucius is also extremely curious as to why Holly fears Potter when she adores the boy more than anyone else in the world. Next time he is alone with her, he will have to cajole the reason from her.

“How many potions do you have left to brew?” Lucius asks to fill the silence.

Poppy can brew the potions herself, being more than qualified in her position as a medi-witch. Severus is the better brewer, without doubt, and they often work together to brew the stock of potions for the Hospital Wing, as it is more efficient with the two of them. Lucius observed them yesterday: they make a great team, where trust rules. The blond was astonished to see that Severus didn’t check the ingredients as Poppy passed them to him, relying on her enough to use what he was handed without criticism. That spoke volumes about their relationship.

Holly slowly relaxes over the next hour or so as they converse in low tones, but Severus’ eyes rarely leave his daughter, the concern etched clearly in his face.

Poppy leaves early to go back to brewing.

“I should go back to helping Poppy with the potions,” Severus says reluctantly, eventually dragging himself up from his chair. Holy’s timid voice, however, makes him freeze on the spot in surprise.

“Can I go with you?”

Severus looks startled by the question, but immediately schools his expression to hide it, agreeing instantly.

Lucius is happy for the other wizard, though he wonders what Holly’s change is due to and whether the boggart turning in Potter had anything to do with it. The girl slowly moves from Lucius’ lap, standing before him.

“Thank you for saving me,” she turns around and kisses his cheek in gratitude.

Lucius smiles back at her, heart filling with a joy he doesn’t feel except when together with his family.

They walk out of Severus’ chambers together. The Potion Master moves his hand to place it around her shoulders but is surprised once more when she puts her hand in it instead. Lucius holds back his smirk at the sappy look Severus fails to hide quick enough.

Neither wizard fails to notice her anxious glance towards the deeper part of the dungeons. Bidding them farewell, Lucius waits until they enter the Potions lab where Severus and Poppy are brewing before turning around and heading back to the room where the Boggart was found.

Lucius decides to return and remove the Boggart, wardrobe and all, to one of the classrooms he will be using for the lower years immediately. Striding down the corridor, he sees Filch already standing outside the room with his fiendish cat. He refrains from pointing out that there was no need for the squib to stand guard but only gave the other man a nod of acknowledgement.

“How is she?” Filch enquiries gruffly, pushing himself away from the wall and uncrossing his arms.

“She is resilient,” Lucius answers quietly. “Still a little quiet, but she’s followed Severus to the Potions Lab,”          

There’s no harm in indulging the squib. Severus has kept on the caretaker’s good side, and it would be prudent for Lucius to do the same.

“Are you taking this one away?”               

“Yes,” Lucius replies, moving into the room, wand out.

Filch follows him but stays at the threshold. Lucius spells the wardrobe, the Boggart thumping away inside, with a stronger Locking Ward and Silencing Ward.

“I’ll do another sweep of the lower dungeons,” Filch informs Lucius, “just in case there are more.”

About to ask how Filch will handle it without magic, Lucius stops himself in time, not wanting to insult the man.

“That would be helpful,” he says instead.

He levitates the wardrobe and walks out of the dungeons until he reaches the classroom he has designated for lower years. Storing it there, he makes sure the room is also securely locked before he exits.

He returns to his private chambers, taking a plush chair in front of his fireplace, thinking about Holly’s Boggart. Though he admits he doesn’t know Potter all that well, he has learned enough that the boy has been loving and protective of the young girl over the past several weeks. Whatever turned the Boggart into Holly’s fear is more to do with her own insecurity rather than something the boy has done - Lucius is sure of that.

He doesn’t realise that he’s sat there for several hours, fingers steepled, until a knock jolts him from his thoughts. Looking up, he sees it is late evening, and he has missed dinner in the staffroom.

Dumbledore prefers that they all have dinner together, if possible, but breakfast and lunch could be spent wherever they prefer. Another of the Headmaster’s famous tricks to grow, or at least show, the solid unity between the professors, even from different Houses.

With a weary sigh, he lifts himself from the chair to open his door. He is not surprised to see Minerva and Filch there together.

“May we enter?” the Transfiguration professor asks imperiously.

Silently, Lucius steps aside to allow them entry.

“Take a seat,” he gestures to the empty seats. “Care for a drink?”

“Won’t say no to that,” Filch agrees in a rough voice.

Lucius walks towards his liquor cabinet, specially selected for evenings when teaching has become too much. He did not expect the need to crack open a bottle before classes even began.

Selecting a good vintage, perhaps because he wants to impress the Scottish witch in his rooms (Severus warned him that Minerva was very discerning about her hard liquor), he picks up three tumblers and walks back to his chair.

Silently, his guests wait for him to open the bottle and pour the amber liquid into a glass; the only sound is the crackling of the fire and the glug, glug, glug of the whiskey being poured.

With hidden amusement, Lucius watches his guests thoroughly examine the whiskey, not entirely out of mistrust, before they each take a cautious sip, only after he takes a sip from his tumbler first.

“I cannot tell you everything,” he begins eventually, anticipating the question he will be asked in a few moments. He has given this great thought since the Boggart incident early this afternoon. “It is not my secret to reveal.”

He will not tell them about Eileen, not when Severus doesn’t even know about his mother. Releasing a deep sigh, he launches into a carefully condensed version of the story they need to know for now. He tells them about Severus and Jasmine’s acrimonious breakup, though not the full extent, outlining Tobias’ initial involvement and his subsequent change of… something at meeting his granddaughter for the first time. He also briefly explains Holly’s tumultuous relationship with Severus without going into detail to avoid flaunting the severe trust issues the two are facing.

He describes Jasmine’s abuse and neglect of her daughter and how the child’s grandmother took custody upon her mother’s passing. Lastly, he explains what he knows of Potter’s relationship with Holly, her grandmother, and Regulus’s involvement over the summer.

Silence descends once more as his guests absorb the information he imparted.

“So, Severus has no clue about Harry’s relationship with his daughter?” Minerva clarifies, and Lucius shakes his head in desolate confirmation.

“How?” Filch asks, leaning forward.

Reluctantly, he admits: “Severus and Holly’s relationship only recently began to improve. She does not trust him, given his absence from her life since her birth.” He pauses for a moment, then decides to add: “She… she blames him for the death of her mother, and for the violence she suffered.”

Not to mention letters from Potter which did not describe Severus (or Draco) positively. Lucius did notice that midway through the boy’s third year, Potter stopped complaining about Severus entirely. This tallied with Regulus’ information of Potter finding out about Eileen’s identity and her relation to the Potions Master. Lucius could admit to being impressed by the boy’s ingenuity in researching using Daily Prophet articles. For the same reason, Lucius had removed the historical editions from his library when Holly began reading books on the Dark Lord’s first rise.

“Why was the girl afraid of Potter? Potter wouldn’t harm anyone,” Filch questions gruffly.

Minerva levels the squib with a look of surprise.

“I was unaware you and Potter were on good terms,” Minerva tells him. “Especially after the petrifaction of your cat.”

Lucius tenses in his seat, unnoticed by the other two. He recalls Draco’s gloating letter at the time informing him no mudbloods were hurt, just the cat that had been found Petrified. Draco hadn’t known of his father’s involvement: the boy was no good at being discreet and would not have been able to resist showing off his knowledge. Case in point, Draco’s letters home detailed each person who had succumbed to the Basilisk’s muted gaze. He could not deny his satisfaction when Draco wrote of Granger’s hospitalisation at the time. She was a Mudblood and Potter’s friend to boot.

He hides his feelings behind his Occlumency shields and focuses on Filch.

Not looking either in the eye, Filch answers, “The boy came and apologised at the beginning of his third year, even though he wasn’t involved. He said he knew a woman who was a… a squib, who lived close to him. He grew up ignorant about the Magical World, didn’t even know there was a word for people like me.”

Lucius masks his expression at the caretaker’s bitterness. Filch has been around for decades, his lingering presence in the hallways when Lucius was still a student, though the squib had been beneath his notice for his lack of magic. He had been a popular student back then, a member of the Slug Club and a Quidditch star and model pupil. He was too good to be caught doing any wrongdoing he might have been involved in.

“He came back with a treat for Mrs Norris and a gift for me. Despite everything, he… he’s a good lad. Any detentions Professor Snape gives him, he does them without grumbling or moaning as the other students do. And he does a good job and all. Not a shirker, that boy. He’s a good lad,” Filch repeats. “Wouldn't harm anyone.”

“I’m glad you hold Mr Potter in high esteem,” Minerva smiles. She turns back to Lucius, “I agree with Argus’ assessment. Harry is loyal and kind, much like his mother.”

Lucius has to consciously stop his lip from curling at the mention of Potter’s mother. The bitch had abandoned Severus, despite everything the man had sacrificed for her. Not so loyal, in his opinion.

“I defer to your judgement,” Lucius concedes with a nod and refills everyone’s glasses. “I do not know why Holly’s fear is Potter. She knows best why the Boggart took on that apparition.”

“How long do you think you will be able to keep Holly’s secret, Lucius?”

“Not long,” he confesses. “Severus intends to send Holly back to Narcissa once term begins. Regulus is working on Potter's behalf to ensure they will spend Christmas together. So, we only have until then to keep quiet.”

“We?” Minerva arches a brow at him.

“Indeed, my dear lady,” Lucius smirks, raising his glass in cheers. “You are both complicit in this now.”

 Minerva tuts but downs her whiskey in one go. “Morgana help us, lad.”

Lucius refuses to admit as they leave an hour later that he might have enjoyed the evening with a squib and the cat animagus, especially as they skirted around the topic of his own Boggart.

 

ooOoo

Harry listens in silence as the Weasley siblings express their anger at hearing Lucius Malfoy will be their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher within a week.

Harry, Luna, Neville and Hermione can only listen in uneasy silence, knowing this is a family matter. Out of the four, Hermione is the most vocal in her displeasure, alongside the Weasleys. Harry knows even their parents are unhappy with Dumbledore’s decision to allow the elder Malfoy in a position of authority.

All the Weasley brothers hover protectively over Ginny, who fumes quietly. Harry knows they spent some of that prize money after her first year finding a good Mind Healer for Ginny to help her come to terms with what happened to her. Though they are less frequent now, Ginny still has the occasional nightmare, according to Ron.

Alternating between raging at Dumbledore and Malfoy, the Weasleys eventually settle into a sullen silence.

“Bet Malfoy is laughing right now,” Ron complains bitterly. “Between Snape and his dad, he’s going to be strutting through the corridors like he owns the place. Just watch: between them, everyone but Slytherin will lose house points and get enough detention for the rest of the year. Like Malfoy’s going to teach us anything useful, anyway. He’ll be teaching all of us nothing and all the Death Eaters in training all sorts of Dark Arts in secret.”

 No one has words to argue against this, except for Harry, who wishes he could dispute his friend’s remarks. He has known for several weeks now about Lucius’ teaching position, and though he has no doubt his friends will be angry he kept this from them, he had to, only for Holly’s sake. He knows it has been cowardly to do so, but he doesn’t regret the decision.

“Bloody Death Eater. Bet he’s not even changed sides,” Fred grumbles. “He’s probably pretending to go against You-Know-Who while trying to get information from Dumbledore.”

“Or he’s just on his own side,” George agrees grimly. “If he’s switched once, he can just as easily switch again.”

“Any of that could be true. Or none of that could be true,” Hermione points out heavily, though she doesn’t look like she disagrees with any of them. “No one should spend time alone with him. And if he’s not going to teach us, then we should teach ourselves. We did that last year when Harry was preparing for the Tournament.”

Her voice falters as she gives her best friend a hesitant look. “You’ll teach us, won’t you, Harry?” Hermione implores.

“Yeah,” Ron jumps on this enthusiastically. “Last year, we helped you learn how to cast those spells by being your dummies. This year you can help us cast them instead.”

“I wouldn’t mind learning the Patronus,” Fred smiles, his arm still around Ginny.

Caving under a combination of guilt and pressure, Harry cautiously agrees, his heart clenched in a vice grip of nervousness at the anxiety of not being up to the task.

“I’m not sure how good I’ll be as a teacher, though,” he indeed stammers, trying to manage their expectations.

“You’ll be fine,” Hermione waves off with a huge smile. “Besides, it’ll be good revision for all of us, I suppose. With it being OWL year. And Fred and George will be sitting their NEWTs this year.”

“Hermione,” Ron groans, shaking his head ruefully.

“You just had to slip that in there,” Neville snorts with an amused smile.

“Exams are important,” Hermione insists.

Then all the voices blend together in Harry’s ears when Ginny looks at him with an intense fire burning in her eyes and says, “Thanks, Harry.”

Harry nods. He would help Ginny.

 

ooOoo

 

In the coming days, Severus has to work hard to stop himself from walking around with a smile on his face. Since the incident with the Boggart, about which both Holly and Lucius have maintained the utmost secrecy (so he doesn’t know what his daughter was traumatised by), Holly has been… clingy. She never wanders the corridors in the dungeons alone, so Argus steps in and walks around with her when he can. Lucius continues to spend an hour or so with her in the evening after dinner, as they had at Malfoy Manor; again, neither see fit to include Severus in those invitations - much to his annoyance. He suspects it’s the same as what they were doing at Malfoy Manor, though neither will confirm.

Though Holly still prefers the company of others where possible, she no longer shies away from him. He was even allowed to tuck her into bed on the night of the Boggart incident.

Today, she even asked to accompany him and Pomona into the Forbidden Forest to collect some ingredients for his stocks. His first impulsively protective instinct had been to say no. It would be dangerous. But then, he reasoned as he looked at her expectant face, they didn’t need to venture too far in. Besides, he and Pomona entered the Forest all the time for flora. They were both competent with their wands. Holly would be safe with them.

Things were finally looking up for Severus. It was difficult for him not to push, but he always made an effort to spend as much time as possible with her. He still has potions to brew and order stock to replace what he has used in his potions, but otherwise, he has caught up with everything else, which should allow him to get even closer to Holly before the start of the term.

Entering his quarters, he makes a beeline for her room and knocks.

“Holly, are you ready?” he asks as she calls for him to enter.

“All ready,” she replies brightly, presenting herself in front of him for inspection. Severus shakes his head, eyeing the light clothes she is wearing, which don’t suit the damp, freezing weather of the Forest.

“You need a jacket,” he states immediately, then steps towards the wardrobe.

Opening it, he is confused to see it empty, as is the one next to it. Inspecting the drawers, he finds them bare as well.

“Where are your clothes?” he asks with confusion. Surely, they can’t all be in the wash already.

Whirling around, he sees she is digging deep into her suitcase - presumably for her jacket. Having dragged it out from the depths of her luggage, she slips her arms into the sleeves.

“Why haven’t you unpacked?” he asks with a frown. They have been here for a week and a half now, so why are her things still in her suitcase?

“What’s the point? You’re sending me away in a few days anyway. I didn’t want to unpack and then pack it all back up again,” she replies sarcastically, her previous belligerence bleeding through.

Severus is stunned at her response. He makes to open his mouth to argue the point but shuts it almost straight away. He kneels before her and zips up her jacket in subdued silence. Then standing up, he places his hand on her shoulder and guides her out.

“Come on,” he says, “Professor Sprout is waiting for us outside the greenhouses.”

Severus picks up the satchel he needs for the plants he intends to bring back, and they walk out together, the silence stifling. Almost as if they have argued. He doesn’t understand why it bothers him that her wardrobes are empty. Really, he can’t fault her logic of not wanting to unpack for two weeks. The days have passed quickly, and only a few remain before Holly must go back. However… he will miss her. It’ll be weeks before he’ll see her again, perhaps even a month. He has duties here – a House to look after.

His thoughts are interrupted when Holly runs ahead at the entrance upon seeing Lucius.

Hugging the blond as if she’s not seen him for weeks instead of breakfast that morning, she asks: “What are you doing here, Uncle Luc?”

“I came to spend time with my favourite goddaughter,” he says, picking her up and holding her tight.

“Goddaughter?” Severus drawls to distract himself from his disconcerting thoughts. “I wasn’t aware I bestowed you with that honour. Or that anyone else had.”

“You haven’t,” Lucius replies archly. Then proceeding to ignore the other part of Severus' words, continues, “But you had better rectify that soon, friend. When you die, this little darling will live with Narcissa and me.”

The Potions Master jumps on the word. “When?”

“When,” Lucius repeats firmly.

Holly giggles.

“You can’t poison him,” she pipes up. “He’s a Potions Master. He’d certainly know about poisons and antidotes.”

Severus doesn’t know if he should be pleased that his daughter is confident in his abilities as a Potions Master or alarmed that she has given his death some thought.

“No, indeed,” Lucius agrees seriously. “Poisons are very risky.”

“I wanted to poison some people once,” Holly continues, “but Oma said no.”       

 Upon hearing these words, both Lucius and Severus pay attention to what the girl has to say.

“Who did you want to poison, darling?” Lucius asks gently, still holding Holly in his arms as they head towards the greenhouses.

“Some people who would have deserved it,” she replies harshly, with a bitter expression that agitates Severus.

Lucius tries to coax more information from Holly, but she clams up tighter than a goblin’s vault, so he has nothing left to do but give up and try a new strategy later.

Pomona is waiting for them outside the greenhouse.

“Are you coming with us, Lucius?” Severus asks.

“I thought I might join,” the blond replies. “I have completed all my tasks and have the last few days free. I thought I’d spend time with my little sweetheart whilst I have a chance.”

Holly beams up at the Malfoy patriarch, though the words send a sharp pain through Severus’ heart. Lucius unknowingly hit on the same topic that distressed the Potion Master upon seeing Holly’s empty wardrobe.

“You’re going to join us in the Forest? Really?” Holly says cheekily. “Won’t your shoes get dirty?”

Severus and Pomona let out a single snort of laughter.

“Brat,” Lucius comments fondly. “I can charm them clean after.”

Holly giggles and slaps his hands playfully away from her when he reaches out to pinch her cheeks.

“Let’s go, Holly, love,” Pomona beckons. She has her satchel slung over her shoulder and is already inside for spare dragonhide gloves. “Put these on.”

Severus is glad he’s behind everyone, so none of them sees the flush on his cheeks. He should have brought extra gloves for Holly. Even though he does not intend for her to handle any ingredients, he should have still thought about protection. Children are curious creatures, after all.

“Did you bring some gloves, Lucius, or do you need a pair too? I always carry spares,” Pomona inquires, already digging into her satchel for the extras.

“No need, madam,” the blond replies. “I have brought my own.”

“What are we collecting?” Holly asks curiously, already putting on her gloves.

“Well, love, first we’re going to start at the edge of the Lake for some of the weeds that grow there,” Pomona launches into a lecture on various weeds that grow around a lake’s edge while Holly listens with rapt attention.

Severus marvels (and envies) at the ease with which others use terms of endearment. Lucius and Narcissa call Holly ‘darling’, and Albus calls her ‘dear’ though he usually uses those words for everyone. Pomona, Minerva and various other teachers who have become fond of his child over the past week and a half have a pet name for her. Even Argus refers to her affectionately as ‘lass’.

His thoughts turn to his father, Tobias, who did not take long to call her petal or flower, even in the letters he exchanges with his granddaughter – seriously, how is the man getting hold of an owl?

 Such terms of endearment feel awkward rolling from Severus’ tongue. He has never had a pet name for anyone, not the few friends he has, not his students - not unless one would agree that terms such as ‘dunderhead’, ‘spoiled brat’ and ‘idiot’ could be classed as endearments. They wouldn’t – especially in the offensive tones Severus quite often uses.

Severus has never been an openly affectionate person, either physically or verbally. Nevertheless, he should be able to converse, at least with his own daughter, as easily as Lucius does. He has never envied his friend’s ability to charm people so easily, not until he found out about his daughter.

He lets Pomona give the lecture on safety in the Forest.

“Now, lovey, make sure you stick close by,” Pomona instructs the girl strictly as they stop at the edge of the Forest.

“Yes, Professor,” she agrees.

Pomona pulls out two parchments with several plants drawn on them. Handing them to Lucius and Holly, she tells them, “These are the plants we are looking for. When you see them, be sure to call for either me or Severus.”

As they stop at the lake's edge, Severus reaches into his satchel and retrieves a pair of scissors and a small wicker basket, handing both to Lucius. Then he goes into his satchel once more for a pair of scissors for himself.

Pomona designates them all an area. Holly follows the Herbology professor first before flitting around them. Severus lets her happy chatter wash over him, finding he has to stop himself from smiling too often.

Holly still speaks more to other professors than she does to him. They still get her sweet smiles and pleasing giggles. She doesn’t shy away from touching them and hugging them. Severus has none of this yet - no giggles or smiles or hugs. But he is happy that he is no longer subjected to sullen silences, flinty glares, or grudging answers. It’s a start. He has more hope for a better relationship with his daughter than he has had all summer. He wishes he had come to Hogwarts sooner with Holly.

Although, he has to guiltily admit that the change has come from her encounter with the Boggart. Whatever scared her has driven her to behave better with Severus, and as much as he hates that she was confronted with that kind of creature at such a young age, he cannot deny the good it has done to their relationship. He banishes that guilt to the back of his mind, raising his mental barriers high behind it.

 

ooOoo

 

Holly drinks from the bottle of water Professor Sprout pulls out of her bag, grateful for the drink. Collecting ingredients is thirsty work, but then she finds herself running between three different people who are far apart from each other so they can pick from their own patch but close enough for them to keep an eye on her. None of them let her out of their sight, especially as they burrow deeper into the Forest.

Harry has told her about the Forbidden Forest, mentioning that it’s full of unicorns, centaurs, giant spiders and all manner of creatures. She wants to see a unicorn. Harry saw one in his first year once. He said it was dead because someone bad killed it. He also told her that she should never go into the Forest, no matter what. But she was with three teachers now, giving them each a look of guilt. It should be okay. Harry would understand. As long as she stayed with them, she would be safe.

As she held a basket for Professor Sprout, she thought about how else she could make Professor Snape realise she needed to stay at Hogwarts. Seeing that boggart thing had scared her. The things it said. She held back a shudder. She recognises the Professor would only send her away if she keeps being nasty to him, even if she believes he deserves it. But it has been nice between them the last few days.

If she can’t convince the Professor to allow her to stay, she won’t see Harry until Christmas. But if she got to stay, then she would see Harry in a few days! She would need to spend more time with the Professor. Maybe even call him dad. That will soften him up.

Oma always acted soft when Harry called her ‘Oma’. He could get away with anything when he did that. Not that he ever did anything that would make Oma angry. Harry was perfect.

“Holly, love,” Professor Sprout calls for attention.

“Yes, Professor?” she replies, smiling at the dirt-covered lady.

“Why don’t you go over to your dad and swap his full basket for an empty one. He looks ready to cut start cutting down the Enchanter’s Nightshade.”

“Yes, Professor,” she smiles at the other woman and takes the empty basket over to her… to the Professor. She still can’t call him dad, even in her own head.

Uncle Lucius is still collecting the Foxglove, which she’s not allowed to touch, even though she’s wearing gloves. She’s distracted by a flash of white. The Professor has his back to her, so he doesn’t see Holly move away from his as she steps away from the path for a closer look at whatever it is she sees.

Holly sneaks several looks back guiltily, knowing she should stay close. Still, she won’t go far, she reasons. She tries to look for the thing again, but it’s no longer there. Afraid to get into trouble, she moves back to the path, carrying her empty basket to the Professor.

“Sir? Professor Sprout said to give you this,” she says, catching his attention.

The Potions Master turns around, straightening up. She holds back a smile as he turns around and sees a streak of dirt on his face. Glancing around, she sees Uncle Lucius has moved a little deeper into the woods, and Professor Sprout has started to cut something with pink petals.

“Do you want some water?” Holly asks, trying to be polite as she holds her half-drunk bottle to him.

He pauses,  surprised as he often is when she does something nice for him.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, taking off one glove.

Holly undoes the cap for him, so he doesn’t have to take off the other gloves as well. To her surprise, he takes a few small sips, not even cleaning the top of the bottle from where she has already drunk. He hands the bottle back, barely drinking anymore. Maybe he’s just being polite by accepting it in the first place.

“You have a bit of dirt on your face,” she says as she screws on the cap again.

He looks startled and reaches for the wrong cheek with his ungloved hand.

“The other side,” she points to his face.

He moves his hand to the opposite but misses the dirt completely.

Exasperated, she reaches for his frock, grabs a fistful and yanks him down, “Come here, I’ll do it.”

She pulls on the finger of the glove with her teeth, and he obligingly comes down on one knee in front of her as she rubs gently on the streak of dirt until it’s gone.

With a satisfied nod, she lets go of him, takes the glove still in her mouth, and says, “It’s gone now.”

“Thank you,” he replies with an amused smile.

“What?” she says self-consciously as he continues to stare at her.

He shakes his head, still smiling at her.

“Do you want me to take your basket to Professor Sprout?” she asks to stop him from giving that silly look at her.

“No. I shall keep it in my satchel,” he replies.

She nods.

“I’m going to go to Uncle Lucius,” she says quickly and runs off without looking back.

 

ooOoo

Severus is aware he’s still smiling as he replaces his glove. Lucius isn’t far, so he lets her go without watching her leave. Later he would regret this, but for now, he carefully stores his Deadly Nightshade into his satchel before moving onto the Enchanter’s Nightshade just a few feet away.

This is the first time his daughter showed him any amount of care. Offering him water, which he took small sips of to appease her, wanting to leave most of it for her. Once more, he felt like he had let her down. Pomona had thought to bring the water. He should have thought of that also. Protective gloves and water. He should have had the foresight to bring both. He feels like he is floundering still. Why can’t he remember these things?

Moving on from his shortcomings as a father, instead, he turns his thoughts to how she cleaned his face, pulling down on his frock with surprising strength. Briefly, her manner resembled his mother’s, who had often scrubbed Severus’ face with the same exasperated care.

An hour later, lightly sweating from his exertions, he stores the other basket of cuttings into his satchel and his gloves and scissors before striding towards the voices of Lucius and Pomona. They also look to have completed their tasks. Pomona looks satisfied as she finishes latching the clasp on her satchel. Lucius takes off his gloves, storing them back into his robes.

“Your assistance is much appreciated, Lucius,” the Herbology professor says to the blond. “Without you, Severus and I would have been out here for another couple of hours at the very least.”

Lucius inclines his head in a short and gives a polite smile.

“I shall still have to apply a thorough Cleansing Charm to my shoes,” he comments, looking down at his mud-spattered footwear.“Or perhaps take Holly with me to Hogsmeade to purchase new ones.”

“Speaking of the little scamp, where is she?” Pomona asks brightly, canting her head to look behind Severus as he approaches them.

A frown begins to form on his face. He looks to Lucius.

“She said she was coming to you,” he says in a clipped tone.

Freezing in the act of slinging her satchel across her shoulder, Pomona says, “The last time I saw her, she was bringing you the empty basket.”

“She brought me the basket. Then she said she was going to Lucius,” Severus defends.

“She never came to me,” Lucius responds quietly, watching Severus carefully.

Pomona secures her satchel across her shoulder and brings out her wand. The wizards follow her lead.

“How long ago was this?” Pomona asks sharply, looking between the two.

“An hour ago,” Severus replies, his throat dry as Hagrid’s rock cakes.

               

ooOoo

Bitterly wishing she hadn’t followed the now elusive unicorn, Holly clutches her almost empty water bottle tightly to her chest.

She is so utterly lost that she can’t even begin trying to make her way out. She had been only a few feet away from Uncle Lucius when she’d seen the streak of white that she’d seen earlier. This time she’d seen the horn, and wanting to get a closer look, she stepped away from the path again.

By the time she’d caught up to the unicorn, she was very far from the three professors. The unicorn had long since disappeared, and Holly was left alone in the forest filled with dark creatures. Maybe she’d come across a centaur? Harry told her they helped him once. He said they didn’t like people but wouldn’t hurt her. As long as she didn’t come across anything like the giant spiders, then she’d be okay. The spiders would only try to eat her.

She had tried to backtrack, but she hadn’t even been able to make out her footprints at all, so that plan was short-lived.

Feeling chilled, she pulls her jacket tighter across her chest. Her face and clothes, already streaked with dirt, only collected more when she falls, having failed to see the root she trips over. Her water bottle flies from her hand as she tries to use her hands to break her fall. Falling awkwardly on her wrist, she winces in pain, pained tears filling her eyes.

She remembers being lost at the supermarket once. She’d let go of Oma’s hand, wandering off to inspect something that caught her eye. She couldn’t remember what it was now, but she remembers the fear of not being able to find Oma again. She remembers the relief of having her grandmother’s arms around her once more. Tears fill her eyes once more at the thought of Oma.

She dashes them away with a stifled sniffle. Crying would do her no good.

She looks around the Forbidden Forest. The trees are denser here, so there’s less light filtering through the foliage. Not to mention it is getting darker as well. How long has she been wandering around?

The Professors will surely look for her like Oma had in the supermarket. Grabbing her fallen water bottle, she sits down against the trunk of a tree and thinks.

Harry’s been in the forest before.

What would Harry do? She looks up once more.

Harry would climb a tree.            

 

                ooOoo

 

“Albus, we could use some help,” Pomona’s voice echoes from her robin Patronus. “Holly is lost in the Forbidden Forest. We could use the extra manpower to search.”

The silver streak dissipates into mist and disappears completely.

“Hagrid, my friend. I know you have only just returned from your journey, but you know the Forbidden Forest better than any of us. Will you help us find Severus’ daughter?” Dumbledore requests.

Hagrid, exhausted from travels, still puffs out his chest and importantly exclaims, “Of course, Headmaster, sir.”

He would like to know more about Professor Snape and his daughter. He didn’t even know the Potions Master had a little girl, but now isn’t the time for questions.

“Excellent,” Dumbledore says agreeably. “I shall summon for Minerva and Filius, and we shall meet you at your Hut posthaste. Fang is eager for your return, and I hope he will be a wonderful assistant in locating Holly.”

“Yes, sir,” Hagrid agrees. Shaking off his fatigue, he leaves Dumbledore’s office. He marches across the school grounds to his hut in no time with his long strides.

As soon as he sees his owner, Fang barks and moves to jump the gentle half-giant.

“Back, Fang. Back,” Hagrid snaps, though he is pleased to see his boarhound too. Entering his hut, he reaches for his crossbow.

“Come on, boy. We have a little girl to find,” he orders his faithful companion, strapping his weapon over his back before reaching for another, smaller crossbow. He’d carved both himself and used them for years whenever he needed to enter the Forest. With his free hand, he scoops up three lanterns by their handles.

“Let’s go,” he commands as they make their way to the edge of the Forest for Dumbledore and the others.

 

ooOoo

 

Severus reluctantly allows himself to be dragged to the forest's edge, where Dumbledore and the others are waiting.

“How long has she been missing?” Minerva jumps in straight away.

“We didn’t realise she was missing for an hour at least,” Pomona confesses shamefacedly when Severus doesn’t speak. “We each thought she was with the other. As soon as we realised, I sent you a message.”

“We will find her,” Albus assures them all, though he gives Severus a gentle look that has the Potions Master’s eyes prickling.

He nods, not looking anyone in the eye.

Hagrid clears his throat uncomfortably, “Er, Professor. Have you got something of hers? Something Fang can use. He can try to sniff her out, see?”

Severus instantly reaches into his pocket for the dragonhide gloves he found when they were searching.

“She was wearing these gloves,” he says gruffly, thrusting towards Hagrid’s beast.

“Come on, Fang,” Hagrid encourages. “Have a good sniff.”

The dog sticks his snout practically inside the glove.

“We should split into groups,” Albus instructs.

“I’ll stay with Hagrid and Fang,” Severus says instantly.

“Filius and I shall stick together,” Minerva says firmly.

Lucius teams up with Pomona, leaving Albus by himself.

Entering the Forest once more, with an instruction to send their Patronus upon locating his daughter, they split up into different directions.

Close to fifteen minutes later, Fang seems to scent Holly’s trail, calming Severus’ thundering heart, if only slightly.

“I’m coming, child,” Severus mutters quietly, urging the dog to move faster.

 

ooOoo

Holly stifles her scream against her hands, almost losing her balance on the branch she is perching on.

She should have kept walking or turned back around, but it took her several minutes to find a tree with branches low enough that she could use to climb.

Now she’s stuck, not having seen the nest until it was too late. Smothering the whimper threatening to escape, she thinks desperately of Harry.

Help me, Harry! She thinks, though she knows Harry is many miles away.

 

ooOoo

Harry inhales sharply, clutching his chest as his knees hit the floor.

“Harry,” he hears voices call out for him in alarm.

His thoughts are only on his sister.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius looks up as he hears the fluttering of wings. He sees the dark outline of his owl against the orange light of the lantern he holds up.       

“Is that your owl?”

“Artemis,” he smiles. “He’s here to lead us to Holly.”

The black owl screeches and circles above them.

“Lead the way,” Lucius orders.

Together, they follow the bird on foot, keeping up as best they can.

 

ooOoo

 

“Isn’t that Mr Potter’s owl?” Filius asks as he looks up at the white owl that circles them overhead.

“So it is,” Minerva says with relief.

Without another word, she transforms into her cat form and leaps after the owl as she leads them to Holly.

Filius is left to follow as swiftly as he can using a modified Levitation Charm that makes it seem like he is flying without a broom.

 

ooOoo

Hagrid can keep apace with his boarhound much better than Severus can. Severus is huffing for breath, even with his long legs as he tries to keep up with them.

Hagrid, quietly thoughtlessly, doesn’t look behind to see Severus falling behind, intent on following his dog. As long as Severus can keep them in sight, he doesn’t care. As long as they find Holly, that is all that matters.

Somehow, Albus manages to rejoin Hagrid and Severus, so he isn’t alone.

 

ooOoo

Carefully, cautiously, Holly tries to climb down from the tree without making any noise that would attract attention.

The wrist she fell on is aching as she hangs from a higher branch trying to lower herself to the one below.

With a soft grunt, she drops, squeaking in alarm as she almost loses her footing. Climbing a tree was a good idea. Climbing a tree amongst humungous spiders who would eat her without hesitation was not.

She only needs to lower herself to one more branch before she can drop to the floor.

Two things distract her, pulling her attention in different directions: the first, the arrival of two owls, her friends Hedwig and Artemis, and the bark of a dog in the distance. She only knows of one dog residing in Hogwarts, Fang.

Losing concentration due to the combination of both these things; as relieved as she is to find her rescue is close, she falls, hitting the below branch, which snaps under her weight. The momentum carries her through, and she falls with a squeal and dull thud. Unprepared, she lands awkwardly, her ankle snapping underneath her, causing her to screech in pain.

Falling to her knees, she whimpers in terror as she hears the odd clicking sound of the pinchers. The spiders began to descend on her.

Knowing she is close to being found, she screams, “HELP!”

 

ooOoo

Severus’ lungs desperately claw for breath as he sees the others converge from different directions, moving quickly as he is.

Up ahead, out of sight, he hears Fang yelp in fear. The dog runs in the opposite direction of where they are supposed to be headed to his bemusement. Severus pauses for several seconds, then moves forward in alarm, with a speed he does not have when he hears Hagrid’s roar.

“Back! Get back, I tell you! Get away from her!”

In his haste, he trips and falls. Albus sees this and slows down.

“Go,” Severus wheezes.

With a concerned nod, Albus keeps moving.

“Severus,” Lucius calls before stopping next to him, reaching down to drag him to his feet.

An “Oof” sound escapes from him as he feels a weight on his shoulders and something fluffy flies past him.

“Was that Minerva?” Lucius asks.

“Was it?” Severus rasps, still breathing hard. He hadn’t seen.

He is about to follow the rest when he has to hastily step aside when Filius literally flies past, lest he is knocked down once more.

Severus barely takes two steps when he sees Hagrid striding back with his daughter bundled in the other’s arms.

“Holly!” he gasps, reaching for his child.

She’s unconscious.

“What happened?”

“Best to leave those questions until we get back to the castle,” Albus comes walking up to them briskly.

Minerva has transformed back to herself.

“Albus is right,” she nods, looking pale. “We should move out of here.”

Severus reluctantly lets Hagrid carry Holly. Not because she’s too heavy for him. But because he finds that when he entirely puts weight on his right ankle, he almost falls, having hurt it when he tripped earlier. He leans heavily on Lucius as they slowly head back to the castle. Pomona is carrying the satchel of ingredients she’s taken from Severus. Hagrid is ahead of them, carrying the most precious thing to Severus, with Albus, Filius and Minerva bringing up the rear, their cautious looks behind them unnoticed by all those ahead.

 

ooOoo

 

Sirius throws himself into the kitchen chair with a heavy sigh.

“Harry okay now?” Tonks asks, handing him a cup of tea.

Sirius nods, accepting his cup though he wishes she’d poured him something stronger.

“He’s fallen asleep.”

He had been on a high, coming back after a successful mission. He had expected it to take him longer, perhaps by a week or more, but they had been lucky. Hagrid had been hard to persuade, but in the end, he agreed to leave his brother’s (the brother he didn’t know he had) care to the rest of them.

Sirius would have to head back out in a couple of weeks, but he wanted to come back to see Harry on the train to Hogwarts, especially as he thought he might have missed it.

When Harry was a baby, they had all looked forward to the future in which the Marauders would see the first Mini-Marauder off for his first year at Hogwarts.

Sirius failed on that promise, but with coming back earlier than he’d anticipated, he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity now that is presented to him.

“Do you know who Holly is?”

Tonks trips over the leg of a kitchen table.

“What? Who?” she asks with a wince, sitting in the chair on the opposite side, not looking at him as she rubs her ankle.

“Holly,” he repeats patiently.

He doesn’t expect Tonks to know. Harry’s friends know because they are his friends, and Regulus knows because Harry confides in him. He hates being outside in his godson’s life, though he knows he’s brought it on himself.

“Who’s Holly?” Tonks asks, reaching for the tea she poured for herself and a scone.

“I wish I knew,” Sirius sighs, running his hand through his hair.

She moans as she bites into the scone.

“Harry made that, didn’t he?” Sirius asks, amused. She never makes noises like that when Molly cooks.

She nods, taking another greedy bite, even though she hasn’t swallowed the first.

Sirius reaches for a scone for himself.

“Oi,” he protests indignantly when she pulls the plate of them out of his reach. “I deserve one as well.”

She throws one in his direction. Sirius manages to catch it.

“That’s all you get,” she warns. At least, that’s what Sirius interprets it as, given her mouth is full.

“Very generous of you,” he says sarcastically. He shakes his head in exasperation. Andromeda had been his favourite cousin when they were younger. Though she had been in Slytherin like everyone else in their family, he had been so proud when he found out she was marrying a muggle-born and leaving the family behind. Unlike Sirius, whose rebellion had been open for all to see, Andromeda had been forced to comply until she could comply no longer.

“Who’s been mentioning Holly?” Tonks asks, picking the crumbs from her palm.

“Harry,” Sirius admits, then takes a sip of his tea. “He’s been upset all summer—something to do with this Holly person, I think. I don’t think she’s a girlfriend or an ex; otherwise, Luna might take issue with him.”

“No, Harry’s not the kind of person who would string multiple girls along,” Tonks agrees. “Even I know that.”

Sirius explains about Harry letting his owl out of the house a few weeks back, and then earlier today, his friends said Harry was ill. When Sirius went to check on him, he kept calling for Holly.

“Is he feverish? Does my mum need to come and take a look at him?” Tonks asks with concern.

Sirius, about to deny the need for Andromeda, changes his mind and agrees. What kind of godfather would he be if he didn’t get his godson checked out by a Healer?

“Tomorrow, in any case. There’s no need to disturb either of them now.”

 

ooOoo

 

Draco hears the hitch of her mother’s breath and looks up from his plate.

“What is it? Mother?” Draco prods with concern.

Narcissa’s eyes are rapidly scanning her letter. Finally, after what feels like hours of suspense, his mother relays the contents of the letter to him.

“Severus and your father were in the Forbidden Forest collecting ingredients with another professor. Holly joined them, but she wandered off and got lost-”

“What?” Draco interrupts. “How could they let her wander off? Why weren’t they keeping an eye on her? Is she okay? Have they found her? Why did Uncle Severus even take her to the Forest?”

 Draco has only been in the Forest once for detention in his first year. He’s never wanted to step foot back in there ever again. How could his godfather be so careless?

Narcissa raises an eyebrow at Draco’s demanding questions before the look in her eyes softens to understanding.

“She is fine, Draco,” his mother assures him. She passes him the letter to read, which he has to stop himself from snatching. “They were able to find her in a couple of hours. Madam Pomfrey kept her in the Infirmary overnight, but she’s fully healed.”

“A broken ankle and fractured wrist,” Draco repeats, scanning the letter frantically.

“Yes. She’s well enough that she sent her regards as well.”

“To you,” Draco says sullenly, passing the letter back to his mother. “She’s not mentioned me in any of the letters she sends with Father.”

“Draco,” Narcissa says sympathetically. At least his mother doesn’t lie to him and say she meant to include him.

“I miss her,” he confesses softly. Every time Father sends a letter, his heart leaps that Holly will perhaps include him in her good wishes this time. Each time it doesn’t happen, his heart sinks.

Narcissa runs a gentle hand through her son’s hair. He is thankful his mother stopped mentioning it’s his own fault.

“Do you think Uncle Severus or Father might bring her to King’s Cross? Maybe she could see me off on the train? She’s never been to Platform 9 3/4. We could show her how to get on the platform, ready for her first year.”

Still stroking his hair gently, Narcissa smiles.

“I shall send a letter to Severus to ask him if he’ll allow that.”

Draco nods, hoping it happens. Otherwise, he won’t see Holly until Christmas. He has to get her a brilliant Christmas present, however. He has already been looking through the various owl order catalogues, and he can see what’s available in Hogsmeade once school starts again.

 

ooOoo

 

“Hello, Mrs Figg,” Harry greets with a smile, giving his neighbour a quick hug.

“Oh, look at you, Harry,” Mrs Figg fusses over him. “You’ve shot up so much.”

It hasn’t been that long since he’s last seen Mrs Figg, though he is still pleased with her words. His smile widens. He might not have been as close to Mrs Figg as he was with Iris, but he has become fond of the elderly lady over the last few years since discovering her connection to the wizarding world.

“How have you been?” Harry asks, moving back and letting her down.

Kreacher pops in with a tea set and snacks before the other woman can answer.

“Thanks, Kreacher,” Harry smiles at the Elf.

“Will Master Harry be wanting anything else?”

“No, Kreacher. This is great.”

Kreacher gives a short bow and pops out. Harry likes Kreacher almost as much as Dobby, though Regulus’ House-Elf is much less hyper than the former Malfoy Elf. Harry has been worrying about Dobby since finding out Lucius was appointed as a teacher at the school. He’d made a request to Dumbledore that their paths should not be allowed to cross. The Headmaster assured him that he would ensure they were kept away from each other.

He can’t wait to get to Hogwarts to speak to Dobby himself.

“I’ve been well, Harry. Dudley has been keeping me company,” Mrs Figg accepts the tea Harry passes to her with a gentle nod. “The boy misses you. He’s not had a letter from you in a few weeks.”

“Hedwig’s been with Holly,” Harry confesses quietly. Errol has been resting at the Burrow, and Harry doesn’t want to impose on the elderly (bordering on decrepit) owl. Ron offered Pig, but Harry is reluctant, especially since his comments about Holly. A part of Harry has not forgiven his friend for his thoughtless remarks, though neither brings it up.

“How has she been?” Mrs Figg asks with a gentleness that has Harry’s eyes prickling.

“Good, I hope. Regulus passed my letters to her every time he went to Malfoy Manor. He’s been busy with some Order stuff recently, so I’ve not heard anything.”

Mrs Figg nods diffidently, stirring her tea absently as she listens to him.

“Regulus has been visiting me on and off for the last couple of weeks,” Mrs Figg confesses. “He rarely stays for more than a few minutes, but he’s been asking me to sort a few things out for him in the muggle world.”

Harry nods as well. Regulus returned from whatever mission Dumbeldore sent him on last week, but Harry has barely seen the man. Their paths cross for seconds, and things seem to be kicking off with style as there always seem to be people around, so there has been little opportunity to speak to him.

“There are a few reasons I asked to see you today,” Mrs Figg begins, settling her cup down, undrunk. “I’ve left a suitcase near the entrance. It belonged to Iris. It’s all the books she left for you and some personal effects.”

Harry feels a lump settle in his throat. Mrs Figg had already packed up some of Oma’s books for him before he left Privet Drive, which he’s added to his new trunk. As much as he appreciates the books, he would much rather have his Oma back.

“Oh, lad,” she says empathetically, reaching for his hand, seeing his upset.

Harry coughs to clear his throat.

“I packed a few more of Holly’s things in there as well. Other bits she had to leave behind when that Social Worker took her away. Maybe you can send them to her at some point? After you pick out what you think she’d like best? You know her so well.”

“Yeah,” Harry croaks, then clears his throat once more. “I’ll do that. She’d like her things.”

“Dudley’s sent you a letter as well. And a care package.”

She unearths both from her humungous handbag, which she still has hanging on the crook of her arm.

“Thanks,” Harry accepts. “Is Dudley okay? You know, with his parents?”

The elderly woman shakes her head.

“Dudley’s been over at my home every chance he gets. He’s fallen out with both Vernon and Petunia. They keep arguing… over you.”

“I don’t mean for them to,” Harry stammers.

“Don’t you dare worry about them, Harry,” Mrs Figg admonishes. “Vernon and Petunia have brought this upon themselves. I’ve told the lad he can come over to mine any time he wants. He’s grown up to be such a helpful lad. Never hesitates to help me with my shopping or looking after my cats. Never accepts any payment for it either. Though he never says no to a meal.”

Harry laughs. Even with his diet, Dudley loves his food.

“He’s been training hard. His boxing is coming along quite nicely if I do say so myself,” she says proudly.

“I’m glad.”

“What about your gymnastics? Have you been able to do much since you’ve been stuck in here?”

“Regulus gave us a workout room in one of his dungeons. I’m able to do some stuff. I’ve been doing some callisthenics instead. Working on my strength and core,” Harry explains. He and Dean had also started doing some parkour and free-running at Hogwarts, using trees on the edge of the Forest and the Great Lake. Or using the spectators stands on the Quidditch pitch. Harry hasn’t been able to do much of that since coming to Grimmauld Place for fear of bringing down Mrs Weasley’s wrath.

Harry and Mrs Figg chat for almost an hour, catching up. Before she leaves, she reaches into her handbag once more, pulling out another letter.

He sees Iris’ handwriting before Mrs Figg tells him what it is. This envelope is much thicker than Dudley’s letter.

“Look after yourself, lad,” she pats his cheek tenderly.

He surprises her with a hug, which she returns, then leaves him alone to stare at the letter. It takes a lot of willpower for him not to rip open the letter straight away. Clutching the letter, he carefully folds it away into his pocket. Outside the parlour, in the hallway, right where Mrs Figg said it would be, he finds the suitcase full of Iris’ things. He hefts it experimentally. It’s still relatively heavy, even with the Featherlight Charm. He expects Hermione’s trunk would weigh about the same, given how many books she packs in her trunk.

He does not encounter anyone as he walks up to this room. Everyone else is in the workout room or the kitchen. Laying the suitcase on his bed, he opens it up. The first thing he sees is a short note.

I hope you find this as valuable as I have over the years, my son. Knowledge might be a treasure, Harry. However, you and Holly have been my treasures since I laid eyes on you both.

Love,

Oma.

 

Harry carefully lays the note to the side. Meticulously, following Hermione’s library system as much as possible, Harry empties the books from the suitcase into the correct compartment in his new trunk. Given the sheer number of books, everything from Iris’ cellar, it takes him several hours.

And because he has been away from his friends for so long and doesn’t want them to worry, Harry leaves the envelope passed to him from Mrs Figg to read later. Firmly closing the door behind him, he clears his mind, bringing forth his Occulmency barriers.

Later that night, after everyone has gone to bed, Harry pulls out Iris’ final letter, silent tears flowing freely as Harry traces her last words to him with a finger.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Oma,” he whispers.

 

ooOoo

 

The morning of 1st September dawns with clear skies. Holly has gone back to being sullen and withdrawn since the Forest incident - though, small mercies, she has not been hostile.

Still, he is surprised when Holly comes out of her bedroom after breakfast, dragging her suitcase behind her with a miserable deportment.

“You’ve packed everything?”

“I never unpacked,” she mumbles without looking at him. Her hair is washed and loose around her shoulders, draping halfway down her back instead of her usual ponytail.

He realises he has not mentioned the change in plans, given his busyness with last-minute tasks that always crop up, no matter how organised he keeps himself.

“Perhaps you should go back to your room and unpack things properly,” he tells her with a straight face that doesn’t betray the joyful tumult to whose rhythm his heart beats.

“Why would I want to do that?” she sneers derisively, and it’s hard for him not to realise why others have likened her to him.

“You can hardly keep digging into your suitcase for clothes for the rest of the year,” he replies in a deceptively mild tone, observing her closely over the rim of his coffee mug.

It takes her precious seconds to understand what he is saying. She looks up at him carefully, with the mien of someone trying not to give in to hope, staring at him wordlessly as if disrupting that absolute silence would break her most coveted wish and the promise concealed behind her father's words.

“I’m… I’m staying?” she asks carefully, stepping closer to him, dragging her luggage behind her.

“Yes.”

“All year?”

Another step forward.

“Yes.”

Severus is gratified to give the answers that will endear her to him - unlike their last real heart-to-heart, which ended with her calling him her prisoner.

“You’re not sending me away?”

Another step.

This time, a slow shaking of the head, “No.”

“Promise?”

Severus puts down his mug and twists in his seat to face her.

“You have my word, Holly.”

Only then, standing in front of him, does she let go of her suitcase and throw her arms around him, slamming her forehead into his chest. His breath hitches (from the pressure of her head, he assures himself. He isn't getting maudlin.) It’s the first time she has hugged him. He gives her an awkward hug back, given her arms trap his. He lowers his head, giving her an awkward kiss on top of her head instead.

Her eyes are shining as she pulls back without releasing him.

“Does Uncle Lucius know? Can I tell him? Can I? Please?”

Severus is in such a good mood that he doesn’t even correct her grammar.

“Go on.”

Abandoning her suitcase, she races out of their rooms.

“No running in the corridors,” he calls ineffectually after her. Pointless, considering she is probably halfway to Lucius’ rooms, given her speed.

He had spoken to Albus about keeping his daughter with him the morning after recovering from her adventures in the Forbidden Forest. She had been inconsolable in Lucius’ arms, weeping over being sent away. Albus seemed to have expected the Potions Master to ask about Holly becoming a permanent resident sooner and did not attempt to make even a token protest.

With a wide grin, Severus picks up Holly’s forsaken suitcase and carries it back to her bedroom, taking great satisfaction in hanging up her clothes in the actual wardrobe. When it comes to her … underthings…   he quickly dumps them into one of the drawers of the dressing table and slams it shut, blushing the whole while. Handling her socks is less embarrassing.

Surveying the empty suitcase with approval, he opens up the bag he recalls from her first meeting with her. The one she clutched like a lifeline. Opening, he spies the photo album on top. Curiously, he pulls it out, itching to peruse through it. The dozen or so photographs Tobias handed over to him are treasured and carefully added to his own photo album. He studies them every night before falling asleep, but they are not near enough to appease his hunger to get to know his daughter.

With a rueful shake of his head, he decides not to violate her privacy by perusing her album. It has taken longer than he anticipated, but he is finally getting to a point in his relationship with Holly where she is conversing with him voluntarily. He can be patient for a while longer. Shoving the album back into the bag, he places it on the dressing table and shrinks the now empty suitcase, banishing it to the storage closet in the hallway.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius, about to finish his coffee, hears the thundering knock. The door bangs open, loud enough to make him wince. He quickly swallows the rest of his coffee, knowing he will need every drop for the day ahead. Merlin, he’s still not fully dressed.

“Uncle Luc? Uncle Luc? Guess what? Guess what? You won’t believe it!”

Holly storms like a nest of acromantula are on her tail. A poor comparison, given her experience in the Forbidden Forest mere days ago.

“What is it, my darling?” he asks, pushing away his now empty mug and pulling her onto his lap as she runs up to him.

“He’s letting me stay. Dad’s not sending me away,” she says breathlessly. “He said I can stay all year. Isn’t that great? I can see Harry today. I don’t have to wait until Christmas, not anymore.”

Lucius feels the smile that erupted at hearing Holly refer to Severus as dad slide off as she mentions Harry. While she chatters eagerly, he debates about summoning a House-Elf for another coffee - or perhaps, something stronger. However, it would be bad form to be drunk at his first appearance at the Welcoming Feast and arrive hungover for his first lesson.

It’s a real shame.

This child is breaking his friend’s heart.

Still, he is happy to see her so animated.

“Draco will be here, too, darling,” he points out gently, holding her securely, deciding to move past the topic of Potter even though this is the first time she has mentioned him directly in front of Lucius.

The animated expression leaves her face as he mentions Draco.

“He is very apologetic, my darling. He’s been missing you terribly. You will talk to him, won’t you?”

Which will appease his son for all of five seconds until he finds out that Potter holds Holly’s heart.  Unless he’s grown up in the past two weeks. Lucius doubts it very much.

“Okay,” Holly agrees, sighing exaggeratedly as if he’s asked her to move into the acromantula colony.

“Draco will be pleased,” he quirks his lips at her in amusement, but she gives him only a shrewd look.

“Did you know the Professor was going to let me stay?”

He raises an eyebrow. No longer dad? How flicky Holly is in defining her parent - not that he can blame her. He neglects to comment on it, in any case. Perhaps she’ll slip up in front of Severus at some point. Maybe, after the very much probable blowout of finding out about Potter, it will calm Severus’ ire a bit. Then again, there’s more chance of Severus wearing pink than there is of him accepting Potter.

“I might have suspected,” Lucius prevaricates.

She bestows him with a sweet smile, hugging him tightly while he drops another kiss on top of her head.

“Surprise, my darling,” he sighs happily.

“Now,” she says, pushing back slightly, “I can go unpack properly.”

Lucius gently brushes her hair with his fingers, tucking it back behind her ear.

“Did you even run a comb through your hair, messy child?” he admonishes.

She shakes her head unrepentantly, her smile not dimming in the slightest.

“Come on,” he says, standing up from his chair, still holding Holly.

Carrying her to his bedroom, he deposits her on the floor in front of his full-length mirror, summoning his hairbrush. Tenderly, he runs the brush through Holly’s hair, black like Severus’ and quite a bit longer too. So shiny and soft that they resemble the shiny feathers of a raven. If Severus took better care of his hair, he could also be like his daughter. His friend has never been vain enough to care about outward appearances. His hair only looks greasy due to its lank and limp state. Lucius had gifted him a shampoo once, which promised to add volume. Severus is too stubborn to use it.

Lucius, on the other hand, took pride in his appearance. Though he was not employed at the Ministry, he was often seen there to care about how he presented himself. Severus only cared about the opinions of a handful of people, and none of them put stock in his appearance.

“Stand still, child,” he reproves as she squirms.

She sighs again, bringing his lips to twitch in amusement. Lucius gets on one knee behind her, carefully gathers her hair into a ponytail and ties it neatly with a ribbon he fishes from his pocket.

The simple ritual of that gesture struck him like a bolt from the blue: Perhaps, if the war was not upon them, he and Narcissa could try for a child once more. Severus would undoubtedly help with the potions - as he had last time.

“What? Holly asks, catching his wistful expression as his eyes clash with hers in the mirror.

“I wish you were mine,” he replies without thinking, a yearning that takes him by surprise.

Holly looks at him as if her eyes could penetrate his soul. “I’m glad I’m not,” she responds with devastating honesty.

He cannot deny the hurt that pierces his heart, and for the first time, he experiences what Severus feels when Holly denies his paternity.

“If I were yours, I would be spoiled and bratty like Draco. I don’t want to be like him. I’m not like him.”

She is influenced by Potter’s letters, Lucius assures himself as she stares at him. Draco is a little spoiled, but he is still a good son. If Holly gave him the same chance she gave Potter, Draco would show her his worth. And, he is a good father, Lucius tells himself. He and Narcissa love Draco. They are both good parents - with flaws and qualities that have made Draco the man he is today, for better or worse.

“I’m glad you’re my uncle, though,” Holly adds earnestly, turning around and looking at him directly.

Taking her by surprise, Lucius pulls her into a tight embrace. Potter has her loyalty more than anyone. After losing her grandmother, Potter is her last lifeline. The one they all fall behind. She will measure them using Potter as a standard and find them wanting. If Lucius isn’t careful, he could lose her as well, he suddenly realises as he catches a glimpse of the Dark Mark on his left wrist when his sleeve rides down.

Lucius, Severus and Regulus are all marked in different ways to Potter. They could all lose her if she ever finds they each bore some sort of culpability during the Dark Lord’s terror.

“I am only your uncle because Severus is my brother. As – as …” he fails to complete his sentence as he releases her.

“Like Harry is mine,” Holly finishes looking into his eyes.

Lucius nods.

“He’s going to be mad, isn’t he? When will he find out about Harry?” Her eyes are wide with something quite similar to apprehension as she asks.

“You know he will,” Lucius answers honestly.

“Harry and I won’t leave each other,” she is fierce in her confidence.      

Lucius has no reason to doubt this. He finds it indicative of her own opinion of him that Holly doesn’t ask him to help her. Perhaps it is because Lucius has helped conceal her relationship with Potter than dare mention it to Severus that she believes even he cannot sway his friend’s opinion when it comes to anything Potter related.

She lays her head back on his shoulder, making his heart lurch at her affection.

“Oh no!” she gasps, suddenly pulling away, covering her mouth with both hands and giving him a look of abject horror.

Alarmed, he is quick to demand, “What is it?” as he cups her shoulders to stop her from getting too far.

“Aunt Cissa!” she wails, clenching her fists and, to his surprise, stomping her foot in frustration as her eyes fill up.

He gives her a look of confusion.

“You’re here, and Draco’s coming here, and I’m staying here as well now,” Holly rushes to explain. “That means Aunt Cissa will be all alone.”

Lucius gives her a warm smile, pleased she thought of Narcissa.

Planting a kiss on her head, he assures her, “Your aunt won’t be alone. She’s already made arrangements to move to Uncle Regulus’ house. She’ll visit us on the occasional weekend in Hogsmeade.”

Holly looks relieved, though a little sad.

“I bet you think I’m being selfish for wanting to spend time with Harry,” she asks a little forlornly.

“You’re not being selfish, darling,” he assures her.

“Do you think Aunt Cissa will like it if I send her a letter to explain everything?”

“I’m sure she will,” Lucius smiles at her. “Professor Dumbledore is going to London this morning. If you ask him politely, he might pass the letter on directly instead of sending it with Artemis.”

The Headmaster was going to deliver the secret of Headquarters personally to Narcissa.

Holly beams at him, placated.

 Standing up and stretching his legs from the prolonged kneeling position, Lucius holds back a groan. Another reason he is glad he’s defected from the Dark Lord’s side, he thinks with a bit of dark humour. He no longer has to kneel for a protracted length of time. He’s getting too old for that.

Then, he helps Holly write a short note to Narcissa. When they’re finished, Holly wears the same smile she had previously.

“What are we doing today?” the girl asks in a cheerful voice, content that things are going her way.

“Shall we go ask your father?” Lucius parries back as he seals the letter, leaving it on the desk.

She gives a happy little nod, not even making a face as she used when someone refers to Severus as her father.

Lucius finishes dressing, indulgently amused as she insists on helping him button up his sleeves, though he tenses when she does his left cuff. As long as it is possible, he wants to keep the Mark, a witness of his mistakes - and of his false, broken promises - far from her innocent sight. Letter in his pocket, they leave for the dungeons, making a quick detour to deliver the letter to Dumbledore, who takes it with a smile, promising to consign it directly to Narcissa. Lucius knows Dumbledore plans to be at King’s Cross for eleven, just after the Hogwarts Express has departed.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry trudges slowly towards the barrier, the Weasleys, Hermione, Neville, and Luna in tow, under a heavy guard. Moody’s eye swivels in all directions in his head, constantly on alert, while Tonks is disguised as a businesswoman in a full pantsuit and blonde hair in a neat bun.

Moody crosses the barrier first, insisting that Harry come next. Harry looks around the muggle side of Kings Cross one last time, particularly towards the entrance, almost expecting Iris and Holly to come bounding in. He even looks towards the coffee shop before remembering Iris will never come to see him off ever again.

“Harry?” Lupin prompts, looking confused as to his hesitation.

Catching Mrs Weasley’s eyes and the compassionate look within them, he mumbles, “Sorry,” and takes the barrier at a run.

He is immediately assaulted by the noise of families chattering away as parents bid their final goodbyes to their children.

Harry moves away from the barrier, not wanting to get knocked down, and waits for everyone else to come through, waiting by Moody’s side. He looks around the platform, searching for the well-known blond heads of his enemy family.

Could they…

There!

He spots the Malfoys, or at least Narcissa and Draco. Lucius will already be at Hogwarts.

Narcissa catches his eyes at the same time as he catches a glimpse of her. Holding Harry’s gaze with intensity, she gives a subtle shake of her head that no one else sees.

Harry looks away, disappointed once more. They haven’t brought Holly with them.

 

ooOoo

 

Narcissa looks away from Harry Potter, who looks as glum as Draco. Her son had desperately hoped he would get to see Holly once before he returned to Hogwarts, and, as it seems, Harry had as well.

Keeping her face impassive, Narcissa thinks about the surprise both children will have when they see Holly already at Hogwarts.

“Goodbye, Mother,” Draco mutters, refusing to look her in the eye.

“Take care, Draco,” she tells him, giving him a final hug he is too embarrassed to receive.

She is one of the last parents to leave, and she sees that Potter’s guard also stays until the end. Waiting until the Express departs the platform, Narcissa walks past the barrier into the muggle side.

She is approached by a young woman whom she does not immediately recognise, not until she speaks.

“Wotcher, Aunt Narcissa,” the mysterious woman whispers, brushing past her.

Narcissa casually follows her disguised niece, who seems to be dressed as a muggle in formal wear. A business suit, if she’s not mistaken. She recognises the get-up from her recent venture into the muggle world.

Led to an alley outside, she finds the rest of the guard already waiting for her, along with Albus Dumbledore.

“Narcissa,” the Headmaster greets genially. “Miss Tonks shall side-apparate you to our destination if you are amenable?”

 Narcissa nods. “That will be fine.”

Nymphadora firmly grips Narcissa’s elbow, and together they disapparate. One by one, the rest of them disapparate too, and the alley is left empty.

 

ooOoo

 

Severus is pleased when Lucius and Holly come to collect him for a day out, deciding to walk down to Hogsmeade together.

Holly happily chatters away as they stroll towards the gates. Severus takes great pleasure in giving his daughter a tour of the village. The visit to the Shrieking Shack is short, Lucius stepping in to distract her from asking too many questions about the dilapidated building, knowing Severus has one excellent reason to avoid it.

Holly doesn’t ask for much when they enter Honeydukes, but Lucius secretly buys many different chocolates to spoil her with later. He also makes a mental note to speak to Severus about giving the child some pocket money at the first opportunity.

Severus avoids Zonko’s altogether, to Lucius’ amusement, and most of the establishments at the far end of the village, especially the Hog’s Head, so they end the tour at The Three Broomsticks. They are both careful as they walk around, keeping a wary out for anything out of the ordinary without alerting Holly. Diagon Alley is the hub of all wizarding activity, and while Hogsmeade is more for residents of the village, it does not mean it is any less dangerous.

Though he knows Severus wanted to keep Holly’s existence as quiet as possible, with her now living in Hogwarts with the Potions professor, it was frankly ridiculous to think they would be able to keep her importance to Severus a secret. Especially after having been visited by the likes of Parkinson, Nott and the Greengrass family. Not to mention the ever-widowed Mirabella Zabini.

Lucius is happy to see his friend looking so relaxed, and it has to do with how casually his daughter treats him. Keeping the conversation light and relevant to the village, they take a seat at a private booth, ordering some light snacks and drinks (non-alcoholic, unfortunately, due to the student's arrival in the evening); Severus even allows Holly to try a small glass of hot butterbeer.

Lucius holds back a laugh at the face she makes upon trying her first sip.

“I don’t like that,” she says, making a face. “Can I have juice instead?”

Madam Rosmerta brings over a glass of apple juice, a plate of biscuits, and nibbles, gushing over Severus’ daughter the whole while.

With more diplomacy than Lucius thinks the black-haired wizard is capable of, Severus manages to dodge all questions and then secretly places a Privacy ward around them.

Lucius gets the opportunity to speak to his friend about an allowance for Holly sooner than anticipated when she excuses herself to use the ladies' room.

“Have you thought about giving your daughter some pocket money?” Lucius asks him the second she is out of earshot. “There might be occasions where she would like to purchase something without you hovering around her.”

Severus looks back at him thoughtfully.

“I have been thinking about it for some time, actually,” Severus confesses in a low voice. “When the original plan was for Holly to stay with Narcissa, I thought I would set up an exchange with your wife of some sort until I visited her on the occasional weekend. Now that she is staying with me, I’m revising the option. What do you think is the appropriate amount to give her?”

The blond is pleased that his friend solicits his opinion on this.

“Narcissa and I started giving Draco his allowance from the age of seven for the amount of a galleon a week. Given that we bought him anything he wanted when we visited Diagon Alley, he had a hefty amount saved for when we had family outings at Quidditch matches or the theatre and such. After he started at Hogwarts, we increased his allowance to five galleons a week – after we negotiated it from fifty galleons a month,” Lucius adds dryly. “Leading up to the Christmas period, we sent him a lump sum of fifty galleons to buy presents, and if he fell short of that amount, it was up to him to supplement it from whatever he hadn’t spent from his pocket money.”

“He is on more than five galleons a week at the moment,” Severus points out.

“He is,” Lucius confirms. “Before the beginning of the new school year, Draco attempts to negotiate an increase in his allowance. Before his third year, he came to us with his Hogsmeade permission slip and asked for one hundred galleons a month.”

“Ambitious,” Severus mutters wryly, raising an eyebrow.              

“Indeed,” Lucius agrees. “Of course, he failed utterly in his negotiations. He lost his temper with me, and I cut his allowance to three gallons a week until Christmas that year.”

Severus smirks and shakes his head.

“He has since learned not to throw a tantrum when negotiating his finances. As such, he was meant to receive ten galleons a week this year. After he failed to keep his tongue civil, he is now down to seven galleons, though if he can show me that he can watch his language, Draco might get the ten as he was originally supposed to.”

Severus nods thoughtfully.

“However,” Lucius continues, “Holly has grown up in the muggle world. There the currency holds a different value.”

“Yes, her familiarity with muggle currency has to be taken into account,” Severus agrees. “It will take time for her to get accustomed to using wizarding currency. I had noticed her trying to calculate from sickles to pounds when we were in Honeydukes.”

Lucius had noticed the same.

“Jasmine’s mother seems to have instilled value for money into Holly from a young age,” Severus comments with approval. “Though she was curious around the various shops, she didn’t seem to be taken by much. I had noticed Holly seemed to be drawn to items that spoke of quality.”

Lucius has trained himself not to react whenever Holly’s grandmother is mentioned. It is difficult when he remembers his confused sixteen-year-old friend, who spent many years distraught at being unable to find out what happened to his mother.

“Perhaps two galleons a month?” Lucius suggests, bearing in mind Severus’ budget is much less than Lucius’.

His friend looks hesitant.

“You can teach her how to budget. When you venture to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley together, you can let her learn the value of what she wants to buy. And if she wants to buy birthday or Christmas gifts, you can supplement her allowance as needed. Realistically, how much is she going to spend? Whatever money she has left over by the end of the year, you can open an account for her at Gringotts and add it all in for her.”

Severus nods, looking more convinced. When it comes to money, Lucius is an expert.

“How is that working out for Draco?”

Lucius sighs with exasperation.

“One year, Draco added three galleons and five knuts to his account,” he says wryly.

Draco has a spending problem, just like his mother. Yet, unlike Narcissa, he is an idiot who refuses to budget effectively. If his son doesn’t shape up, he might have to implement drastic measures next year and reduce Draco’s allowance to a galleon a week. If he was going to act like a child, then he would be treated like one.

If Draco is to take over Lucius’ empire one day, he needs to show he can handle it. Abraxas might not have been the greatest of fathers, but he made sure Lucius learned the skills to look after himself - Something Draco is sorely lacking.

“Two galleons a month seems reasonable,” Severus agrees.

Two galleons are still quite a lot for a child. Depending on the exchange rate, it would be roughly a hundred and forty pounds a month in muggle money, give or take, depending on the exchange rate. Lucius doubts the average muggle child would actually get anything near that amount.

Any further musings are cut off as Holly comes bounding back.

Deciding to head back to the castle, they pay their bill and take their leave.

“I can’t wait to read my new books,” Holly chatters as they walk back. Given Severus’ decision to keep Holly at Hogwarts with him, he had to purchase several new books to teach her, a responsibility Narcissa would have undertaken if his daughter had returned to Malfoy Manor.

Severus had also done the clever thing and convinced several other teachers to take on different subjects for the girl. Lucius was going to teach her History and Maths, and Severus, of course, would take on Science and Literature. Minerva was going to teach her Latin, Dumbledore Geography, while Flitwick would take on Music. Other teachers had agreed to let her sit in on their lessons throughout the year, provided she behaved well. Essentially, they would act in a supervisory manner to ensure she completed the assigned work and pitch in if Holly requested help.

“Oi, Snape!” a hoarse voice calls as they head towards the gates of Hogwarts.

Both wizards tense, their wands already in hand as they turn, standing protectively in front of Holly.

“Fletcher,” Severus growls, lowering his wand slightly but not putting it away.

Lucius does not associate with the likes of Mundungus Fletcher, though he knows people who are well acquainted with this particular low-life. The blond is very aware that the Potions Master has been meeting the lowly thief for several weeks to do some work for the Order.

Holly tries to peek from behind them and asks curiously: “Who is he?”

Lucius and Severus look at each other, wondering how to answer.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry and Hermione walk out of the Prefect’s carriage straight after the meeting. The Head Boy, a Hufflepuff named Vikram Chaudhary, instructs all Fifth-year prefects a note from McGonagall to take the last carriages, meaning they have to stay until the last of the students have already left. There is no other explanation in the note, and it doesn’t help that even Chaudhary looks confused.

Ron is not happy to hear about Draco being named one of the Slytherin Prefects, but the news is not unexpected. Harry has to stop himself from grabbing Draco and asking him about Holly. Regulus told him the blond had upset Holly by using the word mudblood, and she had refused to talk to him. But that was over two weeks ago. Surely by now, Draco had managed to appease her.

 

                ooOoo

 

Sitting in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Narcissa enjoys a good conversation with Andromeda and Regulus, while Sirius, having decided to join them, looks sullen for the most part.

Apparently, he was stopped from joining the guard as he wanted to take Harry Potter to King’s Cross.

The rest of the guard has since departed to their usual duties, and Nymphadora has gone upstairs to change into less formal clothes.

“I’ll come with you to Malfoy Manor to collect your things,” Regulus volunteers. “Now that the teens and the Weasleys have gone, you have your pick of rooms. Make yourself at home.”

Narcissa is quick to agree. “I appreciate that, Regulus.”

The manor is simply too big, with the men in her life absent. The House-Elves will keep it in good condition in her absence, though she plans to visit every so often. Albus advised that he would return to place a Fidelius Charm in the morning, and Regulus agreed to be their Secret Keeper.

“You have truly transformed the Family Home,” Narcissa comments, realising that this is the first time she has visited Grimmauld Place in over a decade. Regulus always visits them rather than inviting the Malfoys to his home.

“Thank you,” he says with a pointed look at a sheepish Sirius. “Do you want to see the rest of the place?”

Narcissa agrees. The ghastly house-elf heads have been removed, thank Morgana, as have many darker portraits. The house is more open now. The library is welcoming and no longer carries an air of menace and cloying darkness. Narcissa picks a bedroom close to Regulus’, deciding not to take over any of the Weasleys used over the summer. She is sure that they will most likely be back for the holidays.

Narcissa exclaims of the dungeon room that the teens took over with their workout equipment.

“Harry and the others used this room to practice gymnastics and generally keep in shape,” Regulus explains.

Narcissa takes careful note of how each piece of equipment has been set up.

“Who set it all up?” She inquires, looking around with interest.

Lucius had bought most of the store during their last trip to the muggle world. Though he used some of the equipment, he learned to set it up from the books; much of it takes up space in Lucius' Toy Room as he doesn’t know how to set it up. Not that the proud wizard will admit it.

“Harry, mostly,” Regulus laughs. “He made a list of everything he wanted for his cousin, and Dudley made sure to order it. Arthur and I collected it, and Harry showed us how to put it together. Did you know each piece of equipment comes with instructions? Harry left a few bits for Arthur to do out of pity, but the boy did most of it himself.”

The workout room is filled with various contraptions.

“Do you use any of it?” Narcissa asks again.

“The kids taught me a few things,” Regulus admits modestly. “This is the pull-up bar.”

The ‘pull-up bar’ was simply two bars running parallel from the ground, with more metal bars for stability at the bottom. There were two handles mid-way up and two jutting out from the very top.

“Is it stable?” Narcissa queries, looking at the base with doubt.

“Harry insists it is,” Regulus replies, “but Molly pushed on adding some protection to all of it.”

Regulus has to jump and catch the top bar. His face contorts into a grimace as his arms stretch overhead, each hand on the handles that jut out, his legs hanging freely, though crossed at the ankles, at the bottom.

“Come on, Reg. You can do it!” Sirius encourages from the threshold.

Painstakingly, Regulus tenses his body, pulls himself up using his arms and then lowers himself down again. He repeats this three times before letting go and landing lightly on his feet.

“Three!” Sirius exclaims. “Pathetic.”

“I was only demonstrating for Narcissa,” Regulus says defensively, his face red for his exertions, “not doing a full workout. Besides, I already did my exercises this morning.”

Sirius jeers at his brother and pushes him out of the way.

Narcissa and Andromeda exchange amused glances, unseen by the wizards. They are reminded of their childhood days when the boys used to compete for attention. Sirius still can’t resist showing off, and Regulus has to prove he can keep up.

Sirius jumps up, grasping the bars like Regulus did earlier, demonstrating ten pull-ups.

“Ten? Regulus mocks. “You heckled me for ten pull-ups?”             

The sisters turn away, moving back up to the kitchen, leaving the bickering boys to themselves. At least, Narcissa has found somewhere she can practice her yoga. She and Holly used to spend their time together learning some moves from the books she bought from Waterstones. Since Holly joined Severus and Lucius at Hogwarts for the past two weeks, Narcissa has been left to herself.

Perhaps, as she is now residing in Grimmauld Place, she can find a Yoga Studio that Holly informed her of, to attend classes in person.

“Andromeda? Have you ever heard of Yoga?”

Andromeda gives her sister a look of confusion, but before Narcissa can expand further, they are interrupted by a knock on the door.

Nymphadora's voice is heard above them. “Is Regulus expecting you?”

A rougher, hoarse voice replies: “Needed a word with Regulus. Aberforth sent a message.”

Footsteps are heard heading into the kitchen.

Kreacher pops in suddenly, startling both sisters. The House-Elf snarls at the sight of Mundungus Fletcher the moment he appears, while the latter looks scared of the scowling House-Elf.

Regulus and Sirius are quick to come into the kitchen.

“What did you want, Fletcher?” Regulus asks sharply, while Narcissa looks interrogatively at her sister, in search of an explanation.

“Fletcher is unwelcome here,” Andromeda murmurs back. “He’s an opportunist who would steal from Regulus the moment his back is turned. Also, he’s persona non grata when he left Harry to fend for himself when Umbridge’s dementors attacked the boy.”

Narcissa nods her understanding.

“Was in the Hog’s Head. Aberforth ‘as a message for you.”

Regulus snaps impatiently. “Well, what is it?”

“He says try Brazil,” Fletchers says, holding up his hands defensively.

No one misses the way his eyes dart about the kitchen, looking for something to steal, no doubt. Nervously, the unkempt wizard darts a look at Kreacher, who looks like he wants to tear Fletcher apart as a dragon would a dead cow.

“Right,” Regulus nods. “Your talents as an owl are appreciated. Now, get out.”

“All right, all right. I’m going,” Fletcher shakes his head unrepentantly. He’s about to leave when he suddenly turns around and says, “Oh, by the way, I saw Snape in Hogsmeade with Malfoy. Did you know Snape ‘as a sprog? He kept that quiet, din’t he? ”

Sirius laughs as the rest of them freeze.

“Yeah, right. Sniv –”       

“Sirius,” Regulus hisses, cutting his brother off.

Sirius scowls but corrects himself.

“Snape doesn’t have a kid. You must be mistaken.”

“Nah, mate. She looks just like him, see?” Fletcher is quick to defend. “Saw ‘em both with me own eyes.”

“She?” Sirius is incredulous. “He has a daughter?”

Realizing that the situation is turning into a dangerous turn, Regulus intervenes: “Severus’ daughter is none of your business, Fletcher.”

Regulus is only delaying the inevitable; however, Narcissa sees no point in hiding the fact any longer, since Holly is staying in a castle full of students who will be introduced to the girl this evening.

“You should leave now,” Regulus continues, still facing Mundungus.

“Feeling unwanted, now, aren’t I? Got the same heave-ho from ole Snape. At least little Holly was more polite than her old man,” Fletcher grumbles, turning around with Kreacher on his heels.

“Holly?” Sirius asks, looking bemused.

Inexplicably, he looks to Nymphadora, who isn’t able to hide her guilty look in time. Sirius looks confused until he settles his eyes on Regulus’ stoic expression.

“Is this the same Holly Harry mentioned?” Sirius demands, the note of urgency evident in his voice, the consciousness of betrayal flashing on his overshadowed face.

No one dares to answer his question.

 

ooOoo

 

“Can I please go with Aunt Min? Please?”

“Why would you want to see the first years leave the boats?” Severus asks, confused.

Lucius isn’t sure whether he should feel pride or dismay at how easily she lies to her father.

“Well, Aunt Min says the carriages are coming in as well, and Draco’s going to be on the carriages. I wanted to see him before the feast.”

Severus slants a questioning look toward Lucius.

“Holly and I will wait for Draco together,” his companion answers smoothly.

“Please? Holly begs. “I haven’t seen him in ages.”             

 Little did Severus know the ‘him’ in question is actually Potter.

“All right,” Severus concedes in the end, even though he doesn’t look thoroughly convinced.

“Yay!” Holly throws her hands in the air and then around her father, and then he lets his stern eyes betray joy towards the gesture of affection received.

The smile on his friend’s face hurts Lucius.

All other teachers have left the staff room to make their way to the Great Hall to take their places, leaving only Severus, Lucius, Minerva and Dumbledore behind.

 Minerva, behind Severus’ back, looks discomforted before smoothing her expression to her usual stern one. Dumbledore’s gaze looks sorrowful for a brief second before he too smiles as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

Waiting until Severus and Holly have exited the room first, Lucius falls into step with Dumbledore.

“I feel I have lost all respect for Severus,” Lucius whispers to the Headmaster.

With a puzzled air, Dumbledore turns to his newest teacher.

“Why is that?”

“He was supposed to be your spy, Dumbledore,” Lucius responds snappishly, feeling his voice low. “Holly has been with us for almost two months, and your spy hasn’t even found out about Potter or Eileen. I am beginning to doubt Severus’ abilities.”

Dumbledore has the temerity to chuckle.

“The only suspicious thing he mentioned the whole time is not being contacted about Iris's estate,” Lucius scorns, emphasising Iris’s name.

“You cannot deny, Lucius, that come tomorrow, Severus will most definitely be suspicious.”

The blond grimaces at the truth of this.

Dumbledore splits off towards his office to bring down the Sorting Hat. Once on the ground floor, Severus breaks off to head towards the Great Hall, with a huge smile on his face and Lucius, Minerva and Holly head towards the Entrance Hall.

They hide in an out-of-the-way nook, where they can see all the students walking in, but the students can’t see them.

“What are those black horses? Holly comments innocently. “They look like skeletons.”

Minerva and Lucius exchange looks of dismay between them. A child should not be able to see thestrals, but this is a cruel world whose beauty can do nothing to save the innocent. Luckily, the little girl is too distracted to press for an answer.

Holly impatiently scans the faces of everyone, looking for the one she truly wants to see. A swarm of humanity passes them until only a few trickle past, though none are the people they are waiting for.

“Are we doing the right thing, Lucius?” Minerva asks quietly, ensuring Holly cannot hear them.

Lucius is saved from answering immediately when he hears Holly excitedly shout, “There! He’s there!”

She runs out of the nook and down the steps before either can stop her.

 

ooOoo

 

“What are they?” Harry asks, knowing he is holding up the carriage for his friends.

The other fifth-year Prefects for Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff have already left, and Harry’s friends insist on staying for the last carriage with him.

“We don’t see anything,” Hermione replies with a look of concern. “The carriages pull themselves like they always do.”

Luna is the only one to assure him. “I see them too, Harry.”

Hermione and Ron give her a sceptical look, knowing that Luna mentions creatures no one else believes in all the time. It’s only when Neville jumps in to confirm he can see them, too, that Ron and Hermione look placated.

“They’re called thestrals,” Neville explains, looking uncomfortable.

Instantly, Harry remembers the creatures from his Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them book: only people who have seen someone die could see the thestrals.

“Oh, I’ve read about them too,” Hermione gasps. “I wish I could see them as well.”

“Do you?” Harry’s voice is bitter as he looks at his friend with eyes full of regret.

Hermione covers her mouth, looking mortified, “Oh, Harry. That’s not what I meant.”

“What?” Ron presses ignorantly.

“To be able to see what a thestral looks like,” Hermione explains, red in the cheeks from the memory of the slip committed, “you have to witness a person die.”

“Why didn’t Harry see them at the end of last year?” Ron asks hesitantly, gesturing for Hermione to climb into the carriage before him.

“I don’t know,” Hermione speculates without an actual response. “Shock, maybe?”

Harry helps Luna climb into the carriage and allows Neville and Ron to get in before him.

No more is said about the thestrals as they head towards the Entrance Hall. The rest of the carriage ride passes in silence. Harry is too wrapped up in warring thoughts of Holly and his friend’s reaction to seeing Lucius Malfoy.

The carriage finally comes to a stop several minutes later. As he was the last one in, Harry is the first to disembark. He steps back to allow Ron and Neville to step down but is distracted by a familiar voice shouting his name.

“Harry!”

He whips his head around so fast that his glasses almost fly off.

“Holly!” he shouts before he even forms the conscious thought to do so.

He runs towards her, and the world seems to have returned to its original balance.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius briefly sees his son’s face light up as he catches sight of Holly. It is easy for anyone to make the mistake that she is running for Draco. Then, the boy’s face falls in confusion when Holly rushes past him without even seeing him.

Instead, she calls out, “Harry!”

Potter calls her name back, having spotted her immediately.

They only have eyes for each other. All witnesses only have eyes for the running duo, including Lucius and Minerva.

“Does that answer your question?” Malfoy senior remarks in reference to her earlier comment.

“It does,” Minerva smiles weakly. “I should go see to the first years.”

She strides away with one last look that is a cross between concern and delight at the sight before them.

Draco’s confusion deepens, as does Pansy’s, who had met Holly in Malfoy Manor several weeks ago; thinking of it, all the fifth-year prefects look perplexed at the sight.

Draco’s confusion slowly morphs into anger. Lucius steps out of the nook and makes his presence known as he calls for his son before he can interfere.

“What the hell is going on?” Draco erupts furiously as he stumbles towards his father, looking frequently backwards to watch Potter and Holly.

The embracing duo holds each other tightly, ignoring the onlookers around them. Potter is on his knees, holding the girl closely, and she is not in a rush to pull away, either. It is easier to guess from her shaking shoulders that she is crying, probably from a combination of relief and joy at reuniting with her brother.

Potter is the key to the end of the war. He is an undeniable power, no matter what Severus says. Witnessing in that single moment how much she truly means to Potter, Lucius knows then that protecting Holly is fundamental - vital.

“Father!” Draco demands when Lucius doesn’t answer.

“We shall speak of this later, Draco,” Lucius instructs him, placing a hand on his shoulder both in a supportive gesture and to stop him from storming down to Holly and Potter.

Tomorrow, he thinks. He hopes to delay the inevitable until the next day.

For tomorrow is when the dung will hit the Whomping Willow.

 

Chapter 16 -  Nip it in the Bud

 

Severus settles his expression into something neutral for the Feast. He cannot deny he is on a high right now. Relations with his daughter are better than ever. Though Holly hasn’t done so to his face, Lucius has informed him that she had called him ‘dad’ as she had run to tell him Severus had allowed her to stay.

This is what he wanted all along - from the moment he’d read Tobias’ letter and stormed over to his father’s house to confirm the contents of the missive, from the moment he’d laid eyes on the miniature version of himself.

Even watching the monsters known as students doesn’t bring Severus down. Ideally, he would have liked to keep Holly hidden away, protected from the war hovering overhead. Even if her tearful accusation of being his dirty little secret hadn’t been flung at him, Severus finds the thought of sending his daughter away from him less and less palatable.

He believes he is slowly winning her trust. Holly is speaking to him without being forced to, holding his hand, seeking his protection; he thinks of her crowding behind his legs when that cretin Fletcher had bent for a closer look. Now, she hugs him - shy as a bud at the first ray of sunshine but still with enough vigour to make her inner certainty clear.

It will not be long until she acknowledges him as her father and lays her head trustingly on his shoulder as she comfortably does with Lucius.

The students take their seats slowly, chattering amongst themselves. His Slytherins are the quieter of the lot, their watchful eyes observing the Hall. Many look up at him, and he nods reassuringly in return. The dynamics should be interesting this year. Lucius has spent much of the summer reaching out to associates and consolidating his base, with the promise of power influencing as many people on his side as possible.

Though Severus has never had any issues with controlling his snakes, Lucius’ presence is a boon. The other wizard holds more political power than Severus ever will, and the Potion Master aims to avoid losing his snakes to the ranks of the Death Eaters.

Albus looks over the students with a faint smile. All the teachers converse quietly amongst themselves, and Severus allows himself to be drawn into conversation with Hagrid.

The Acromantula colony has withdrawn further into the forest, and Hagrid has kindly gathered some left behind webbing and various other parts Severus can take for his Potions stores. Hagrid, the man who could never keep a secret, certainly kept the Acromantula as one.

Lucius and Holly enter from the teacher’s entrance and quietly take their seats. Slowly, as the students take notice of Holly, and her resemblance to the Potions Master, speculations and their voices rise.

Severus observes with hidden amusement how the Weasley twins’ jaws drop at the sight of his little girl, swivelling their heads towards the entrance doors and then back towards each other. He notes how Finnegan and Thomas shift from their original seats and move closer to the Weasleys. Ridiculous what children will do for a little bit of gossip and conjecture.

Pomona laughs as she catches Severus’ eye. “They’re all in a tizzy, aren’t they?”

“Ridiculous children,” Severus scoffs.

“You can hardly blame them,” Lucius comments as he scrutinises the students.

Draco and Pansy, the last of his Slytherins, walk in and take their seats. Severus frowns at the scowl his godson is sporting. Looking down at Holly, he gently catches her chin to get her attention, studying her red eyes closely.

“You’ve been crying,” he notices with a puckered brow. “Did things not go well with Draco?”

Did the boy upset the girl even further?

“Tears of joy,” Lucius replies smoothly, bringing a protective arm around Holly.

Only Holly’s acceptance of Lucius’ gesture calms Severus’ rising temper: in view of their various dramas, it will be difficult for him to refrain from harsh reprimand if Draco continues to behave like an arrogant prig.

When Severus continues to glower at him, Lucius resumes in a more convincing tone: “Draco’s in a bad temper because of Potter.”

The Potions Master follows the blond’s eyes to his son, indeed busy glaring daggers at Potter, who has walked in unnoticed by Severus and taken his seat close to the Weasley twins.

On the other end, Miss Lovegood splits from the group of Gryffindors and takes an empty seat, away from her Housemates at the Ravenclaw table. Severus disapproves of her association with Potter, and he’s still unable to decipher whether this annoyance is due to his innate hatred towards the Boy-Who-Lived or the sense of protection he feels towards Lovegood. He has a secret fondness for the outcast, so he tries to help her whenever possible. His snakes have been warned that the girl is off-limits in no uncertain terms, though Severus, unfortunately, cannot control what happens within the Ravenclaw tower.

If Miss Lovegood thinks associating with Potter and his posse would bring her any form of protection, she is sorely mistaken.

“Thank you for letting me go,” Holly smiles at him, bringing his attention back to her.

Severus nods, though Lucius’ frown still disquiets him.

He puts it all aside as the Headmaster gets the attention of everyone in the Great Hall, introducing the Sorting Ceremony.

The Sorting Hat’s song warns them to work together and reunite the Houses, but Severus only half-listens to it, paying more attention to the students sorted into Slytherin.

After the Sorting, Minerva takes her seat, and Albus summons the food. Holly and Severus still receive speculative glances throughout the meal, which the professor ignores, while Holly deliberately turns away from the Hall, focusing on conversations with various teachers, to Severus’ approval.

He notices the worried and anxious looks the Weasleys send Potter’s way. Conversely, Potter is the only student in the Hall who has not looked at Holly. Typical of Potter - he has to be the centre of attention and can’t seem to take someone else being talked about more than him.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Severus observes strictly, looking at his daughter’s empty plate. He fills up her plate with a selection of foods when she doesn’t answer. He is lucky in that she is not a picky eater.

“That’s too much,” she complains.

“Eat what you can,” he encourages and then has to fight a blush when Pomona sends him an amused glance. He is not the coddling type and pastes his customary scowl on his face instead.

Once the Feast is consumed, Albus finally stands up and calls for everyone’s attention. All the teachers find it amusing that, for once, the students are paying attention, even if their looks of impatience are hilarious: everyone’s eyes keep running to the now shy Holly, while Albus, without showing any sign of being bothered by the fact that he is not being listened to at all, gives the usual start-of-term warnings for contraband, Quidditch trials and warnings to avoid the Forbidden Forest.

“I am pleased to announce our newest Professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Lucius Malfoy,” Albus announces, and a stunned silence descends on the Hall. “I am sure you will all join me in welcoming Professor Malfoy.”

As expected, the news of Lucius’ position is received with raucous applause from the Slytherin table. Draco even pulls himself out of whatever strop he is in, puffs out his chest and smirks, looking around the table as if he is the one they are applauding for, not his father.

Lucius, on the contrary, acknowledges the applause with an impassive nod.

The cheers from the rest of the Houses are more polite, but Severus does not miss the way the Weasleys are steadfastly scowling in Lucius’ direction. The Weasley and Malfoy feud is still going strong. He knew there was an incident three years ago, but Lucius had been inflexibly silent on it.   Severus knows Albus did not tell the Weasleys of Lucius’ new position until the last minute possible.

“Now,” Albus exclaims, commanding their attention again, “no doubt you are all curious about our little guest. Holly, my dear, please join me.”

Albus waits patiently for Holly to timidly make her way around the Head table as the students wait with bated breath.

“This is little darling,” the Headmaster pronounces, with a protective hand on the girl’s head,  “is called Holly. As you certainly have deduced, she is the daughter of our very own Professor Snape. Due to personal circumstances that I am sure none of you will delve into, Holly will now stay at Hogwarts with her father. Please, welcome her into our Hogwarts family. You shall certainly see more of her throughout the year. And now, I believe it is time for you all to make your way to your dormitories.”

Dismissed from the Feast, the students waste no time surging to their feet. Severus watches his prefects, seeing Draco and Pansy leading the First years down to the Common Rooms; he nods to himself and leads Holly back to the dungeons.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry and Hermione lead the First years to the Gryffindor Tower, taking them via the direct route. Though Harry is sure, Hermione confuses them when she points out several passageways. Still, unlike Percy, who had been Prefect in their first year, Harry and Hermione have already decided to be up early to show the new students how to get to the Great Hall for breakfast in the morning.

Harry is certain that Hermione is running a commentary to stop herself from interrogating him about Holly.

“The password for this week is Mimbulus Mimbletonia,” Hermione announces. “When it’s changed, don’t hesitate to ask the Prefects for the new one. However, there’s usually an announcement on the noticeboard, so make sure you check it regularly.”

Harry hides a smile. Neville will love the new password, inspired by the gifted plant; he had had to clean up the stink sap quickly before getting off the train.

After leading the First years to their dorms and leaving them to settle in and fall asleep, most likely, Harry returns to the Common room.

Wishing he could avoid this until the morning, but knowing that is an impossible wish, he approaches his friends as if approaching the gallows.

Throwing himself into one of the comfortable chairs around the fireplace, he looks at them all in turn without speaking.

The Common room is mostly empty, save for a few Seventh years. He sees Angelina and Alicia from the Quidditch team sitting near the window seats; the former is the new Quidditch Captain, her shiny badge pinned to her robes.

They all look at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. The silence is broken by Seamus and Dean coming down from the fifth-year dorms.

“So,” Seamus pipes up first, looking uncomfortably at them all, “Snape’s got a daughter.”

Having already had a confrontation with the Irish wizard on the train about his mother refusing to let her son back to Hogwarts due to rumours of Voldemort’s return, Harry is glad Seamus isn’t looking at him with the same accusing eyes as his friends. However, the sandy-haired boy is still looking at Harry with confusion.

“Did you know?” Ron asks, his jaw clenched, while Harry debates about how much to reveal.

“Will everyone sit down?” he sighs, lifting his glasses and rubbing the fatigue from his eyes. “I don’t want you all looming over me.”

Without waiting another second, Seamus presses on with trepidation: “Are you related to Snape?”

A startled laugh escapes him before Harry can stop it.

“No,” he denies.

There are some things he can’t tell them, like Iris’s real identity and how he already knew Lucius Malfoy would be the new Defence teacher. He can’t tell them how he discovered Holly was Snape’s daughter due to the newspaper article he’d found about Eileen Prince. Also, he has to be wary of what he can say due to Seamus and Dean’s presence. They know nothing about Sirius, Regulus, or the whole thing about the Order and the Headquarters.

“I didn’t know Holly was Snape’s daughter or at least not initially. I found out, in any case. After I left the Dursleys, I asked someone I trusted to look for Holly after Social Services had taken her away.”

For the sake of Seamus and Dean, he quickly adds, “Iris, Holly’s grandmother, passed away. I didn’t find out until the next morning when I went to Surrey.”

Harry acknowledges their commiserations with a sad smile and a nod; he has to pause and swallow the lump in his throat before continuing.

“Holly,” he croaks, pausing to clear his throat again. “Holly was alone, and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her when she had lost the last of her family. Oma had never mentioned Holly’s dad, so I thought he was out of the picture. The person I asked to look for Holly told me midway through summer that her dad had found her. Then, he told me Snape, of all people, was Holly’s dad. I never expected her to be here, at Hogwarts.”

He looks around at his friends with an earnest look, knowing they have figured out that the trusted person is Regulus.

“Does Snape know about you?” Neville asks, looking nervous at the thought.

“I don’t think so,” Harry replies uncertainly. Regulus had assured him that Snape didn’t know. But Regulus hasn’t been around Grimmauld Place for the last two weeks, and he doesn’t know what Holly might have said.

“Come off it,” George butts in. “We all know Snape hates Harry.”

“Unless it was all an elaborate act,” Fred points out.

 Harry is quick to assure them, “It definitely wasn’t.”

“In any case, Snape doesn’t know about Harry and Holly’s connection,” George continues.

“Exactly,” Fred agrees. “Otherwise, Snape would have poisoned Harry’s food.”

“He’s too clever to kill Harry straight away,” Ginny inputs. “He’d use something slow-acting and undetectable.”

“If Harry doesn’t wake up in the morning,” Neville adds, not in a very reassuring way, “we know Snape’s killed him.”

“Unless he doesn’t sleep in the first place,” Dean points out.

Harry appreciates the twins trying to lighten the mood, but all this talk of possible excruciating death within twelve hours only heightens his anxieties at having just re-embraced Holly and caring for her secretly from Snape.

 Ron, bringing them back to the topic, inquires: “Why was Holly all buddy-buddy with Malfoy?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admits, wondering how Malfoy had managed to get on Holly’s good side. “But I don’t trust him at all.”

He notices the Weasleys, and Hermione, relax at his words. He knows he is keeping a lot of information to himself, but at least he can tell the truth in this. Between Regulus’ warnings and Iris’ letter, not to mention his own experience, he doubts he could ever trust Lucius Malfoy - or his son.

“Harry,” Ron begins hesitantly, “now that Holly has her dad, even if it is Snape, why don’t you let her go? I mean, before you said it was because she was alone. Well, she’s not alone anymore.”

Harry feels his face settling into a cold mask. Surprised at how Ron managed to bring up the issue he thought they had solved, he is too slow to say anything in defence of his brotherly relationship with Holly. Ron notices, and a hint of a satisfied smile paints his lips.

Astonishingly, it is Fred who snaps. “Shut up, Ron! Harry’s kept a picture of Holly since he first stepped foot in Hogwarts.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Ron says obstinately. “She’s not really his sister, is she?”

“And Percy was really our brother but guess what? That didn’t stop him from taking Fudge’s side over ours,” Fred retorts angrily, crossing his arms. His eyes, usually lit by a hilarious playfulness, are now inflamed with anger.

Dean, Seamus and Neville look uncomfortable at the turn in conversation. Neville is already privy to Percy’s defection from the Weasley family, but Dean and Seamus are hearing a lot of this for the first time.

“Blood doesn’t make a family, mate,” Dean chimes in with a low voice, giving Ron a dirty look, surprising Harry with his support.

Seeing Ron doesn’t look convinced, Harry decides to make his position clear once and for all.

“I don’t know what your issue with Holly is, Ron. But if the need ever arises to choose between Holly and someone else, I wouldn’t even think about it.”

That said, Harry gets up abruptly from his seat and heads to his dormitory to prepare for bed.

More than half an hour later, Harry, having stripped to his boxers and a t-shirt, lays on his back in bed, still wide awake when the others return.

Their voices are subdued as they change into their nightwear, their movements muffled.

“Harry?” Ron’s quiet voice cuts through the drawn curtains of his bed.

He ignores his friend, wondering if he can even call Ron his friend anymore - not when he keeps trying to deny Harry’s relationship with Holly. It hurts that Ron would try to get Harry to abandon Holly yet again, especially after promising him that summer that he wouldn’t repeat it. Harry loves his friends, grateful to have them at all after a childhood of any chance of friendship ruined by Dudley, but Iris and Holly have always been there for him. And now that Iris is gone, he only has Holly left. He cannot lose her - not again. And now, he has to fight Snape.

He waits until Ron moves away, the lights are out, and all the other boys are in bed; he remains awake until their snores and soft breathing fills the dorm. Then he turns to his side, with his back to the rest of them. Tears prickle at his eyes, but he fights them back. Instead, he breathes deeply, clearing his mind and concentrating on the playground he uses for his Occlumency shields.

Like every night since they were separated, he falls asleep at the thought of Holly by his side once more.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius is up early at a ridiculous hour. Summoning a House Elf to bring him breakfast, he showers and dresses in record time so he can spend more time eating breakfast at a sedate pace rather than having to choke it down quickly.

Due to the early hours, only the portraits are awake, barely, as he makes his way to Dumbledore’s office.

Entering the Headmaster’s office, he sees the old fool is already sitting at his desk, quill in hand, working away on his parchments.

“Ah, good morning, Lucius,” Albus greets him brightly - too brightly for this early in the morning.

“Headmaster,” Lucius replies, in place of the slovenly grunt he wants to give. He wishes he could go back to bed for a few more hours. Today is going to be a stressful day.

Apart from the first day of classes and establishing his authority, one of which is Potter’s class, he still has to speak with Draco about Potter, talk to Potter about an alliance, and listen to Severus yell at him for keeping Potter’s relationship with Holly a secret the whole summer. But before getting to any of that, he must go with Dumbledore and ask the old man to cast the Fidelius Charm over the Manor.

Inviting Dumbledore to his Manor is a necessary evil, a small price he’s willing to pay if it means keeping his family safe.

“Have you studied the blueprints for the Manor?”

“I have, indeed,” Dumbledore reassures him, standing up from his chair. Picking up the large roll of parchment, he beckons Lucius closer, opening it up and lying it smoothly over his desk with a Sticking Charm to stop it from curling back.

“These are the focal points, according to my calculations,” Dumbledore begins, pointing at five different spots in the blueprints. “I shall add these runes,” he brings out a slip of parchment with the Fidelius runes drawn on them, “at each of these points, including your main wardstone. It will encompass the whole of the property, including the land.”

Lucius studies the runes with interest. Uruz for Endurance, Isa for Stillness, Algiz for Protection, Berkano for Sanctuary and Dagaz for Invisibility. At least, that is how Lucius interprets them, given the context for the Fidelius.

Dumbledore gestures towards the Floo. “Shall we take our leave?”

When Lucius consents, Dumbledore rolls up the blueprints and opens a drawer pulling out his carving kit, which he then pockets.

Taking a pinch of Floo powder, the blond throws it into the already lit fire, calling out, “Malfoy Manor.”

Narcissa and Regulus are already waiting for them as Lucius steps through, and the first thing he does is pull Narcissa into a hug, giving in to the impulse to kiss her.

Regulus coughs pointedly as Dumbledore steps through, and both wizards give the couple an amused look.

“Morning, my darling,” Lucius whispers before pulling away.

“Morning, Lucius,” she murmurs back.

Feeling slightly more revitalised after seeing his wife, Lucius straightens up, ready to protect his family and home.

 

ooOoo

 

Severus needs a gallon of coffee before he feels awake. Circe knows what’s gotten into Holly. She is so far from the sullen girl he’s used to seeing; though she has behaved better with him for the last week, she is practically hyper today.

Last night, it wasn’t easy to get her to bed. Severus is certain she hadn’t slept at all when he got up the following day, finding her sitting at the kitchen table, already bathed, her hair flowing loosely down her back, dressed, and her school bag placed next to her. Perhaps he underestimated how much she missed Draco.

Still, he cannot leave for breakfast until he greets the new Slytherins.

“Can’t I go to breakfast without you?” she says plaintively.

Holding back a sigh and perhaps a little of his rising temper (he really needs coffee to function), he states without further replies, “We’ll go together.”

She pouts but obeys.

He gets ready quickly, striding out of his quarters towards the Slytherin Common room, muttering the portrait’s password and entering.

Draco and Pansy already have the First years ready and waiting. Severus gives his traditional speech of making the House proud, to come to him if they have any problems and that any in-House fighting should stay in the House.

Releasing the first years, he calls for Draco.

“Yes, Professor?”

Pansy hangs back, looking curious.

“As you were, Miss Parkinson,” he dismisses her smoothly.

Pansy leaves reluctantly, shooting an inscrutable look towards Draco as she does so.

Concerned at his godson’s uncharacteristic downcast expression, Severus says, “Holly’s been impatient to meet you all morning. Do you want to walk with us to the Great Hall? Perhaps she can join up at the Slytherin table if you are amenable?”

Draco’s subdued expression changes in an instant, “Really? She asked about me? I don’t mind showing her around. Blaise and Theo were asking about her last night as well. She can sit at the Slytherin table with us.”

Severus’ lips twitch as if to smile.

“Do you want to come with me as we can all walk to the Great Hall together?” he prompts.

A disgruntled expression settles over Draco.

“Not today,” he says. “I already told the others we’d go up together. Theo wants to discuss something about his Transfiguration homework before we go up.”

Severus nods, though he believes Draco needs assistance with Transfiguration rather than Nott.

“I shall see you later, Draco.”

Severus heads back to his quarters, where Holly impatiently waits for him to return. She jumps out of her chair as soon as he enters the kitchen.

“Can we go now?” she scowls, wrinkling her nose at him.

Severus has an almost irresistible urge to boop it.

“Let’s go,” he sighs, feeling old at her energy.

All smiles now, she snatches her school bag from the kitchen table, shrugging it over her shoulders. She grabs his hand and practically drags him out of his own quarters. He tries in vain to calm his racing heart. Deciding to keep Holly with him seems to have been the right decision, given her current behaviour. Things seem to finally be looking up for their relationship.

To his amusement, Holly lets out an actual scream of frustration when he insists on detouring by his office so he can pick up the schedules for his students.

Even with his long legs, he finds he has to pick up his pace as she drags him along by the hand. As they leave the dungeons, he remembers to keep his face aloof as the stream of students entering the Great Hall becomes steady. He still has a reputation to maintain. Using the staff door, they enter the Great Hall, where his daughter charges ahead, making a beeline for Minerva.

“Is he here yet?” she asks the Scottish witch breathlessly.

“Not yet, pet,” Minerva informs her.

Scanning the Slytherin table, Severus notices that Draco indeed hasn’t come up yet. Yet, he doesn’t understand why Minerva looks so despondent.

“Is all well, Minerva?” he inquires quietly.

Pomona, who sits on Minerva’s other side, turns with a concerned look as she hears the question.

Shaken from her distraction, Holly pierces Minerva with a look of distress.

“I’m sorry. It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

Severus and Pomona are confused at this declaration, while Minerva makes a visible effort to shake herself out of her funk. Pulling Holly into a firm hug, she assures her, “Never.”

“Minerva,” Pomona begins to question, but her colleague makes clear her desire to change the subject by clearing her throat and passing a plate of kippers to the Herbology professor, “Try these, Pomona. They’re particularly delicious today. And Severus, you better drink some coffee; otherwise, you shall be more of a grouch than usual.”

Quite suddenly, Holly happily announces.“Oh, he’s here. There’s something I have to do.”

To Severus’s bemusement, she pulls out a notebook and pen from her school bag. Before he can ask what she is up to, she scrambles from her chair and walks around the table. Severus, expecting her to head for the Slytherin table towards Draco, is instead baffled when she walks down the Gryffindor side.

Following her with his eyes, he feels a rising bewilderment and irritation when she stops in front of… Potter?

A hush falls over the Great Hall as they watch with the same puzzlement Severus feels.

Potter looks no less confused when Holly stops before him.

“Hello, Harry Potter. Can I please have your autograph?”

 

ooOoo

 

Having showered and readied himself for the day ahead, Harry waits in the Common room for Hermione so they can take the first years down to breakfast together. Ron is still getting ready, and though Harry doesn’t feel like talking to his friend right now, he’s not so petty that he won’t wait for the redhead.

“Morning, Harry,” Ginny calls brightly as she wanders down from the girl’s dorm, yawning.

“Ginny,” he greets. “Listen, I meant to ask. About last night-”

“Ron’s just being stupid,” she cuts him off with a scowl she directs up towards the boy’s dorms. “You know what he’s like. The rest of us will support you with Holly. We understand how much she means to you.”

Harry feels warmed by her words.

“Thanks,” he smiles at her. “But that’s not what I meant.”

At her questioning look, he clarifies, “I just wanted to check you were okay with Malfoy being here. I mean, it’s different from seeing him at the Quidditch World Cup, where you only had to see him for a few hours, but it’s something totally different seeing him all year round.”

Ginny takes a deep breath before she answers.

“Mum and Dad were really angry with Dumbledore for not telling them sooner.”

Harry feels a dart of guilt go through him at her words, knowing he could have warned them as well.

“None of us believes he’s actually changed sides,” she continues, crossing her arms defensively. “Dad said he’s probably playing both sides to see, you know, who will win. Dad said the Malfoys have always been clever like that. I overheard him talking to Mum, saying whatever Malfoy saw in the graveyard showed him you were someone to watch out for.”

Harry doesn’t like to talk about the graveyard and what happened there. When he spoke to Cho on the train, he knew she wanted to learn more and, after all, she deserved it; Cedric had been her boyfriend, and his sudden death could not have been easy to accept.

“I got lucky. That was all,” Harry mumbles. That is all he is prepared to say.

Ginny’s expression softens.

Harry has never spoken about any of his adventures outside of those who have been there with him. Besides making sure Ginny was okay after the Chamber incident, Harry has never spoken to her about that.

“And maybe if you spoke to McGonagall or Dumbeldore, I think they can excuse you from Malfoy’s classes. I’m sure they’ll understand. Hermione and I can catch you up on whatever work you need for Defence. Hermione can tutor you in theory, and I’ll help you in the practical.”

“Thanks, Harry. I’ll speak to McGonagall.”

Fifteen minutes later, they are joined by Ron, Neville and Hermione. Matters are still awkward between Ron and Harry, and Hermione, who had been curiously silent last night, greets them with a stilted  “Good Morning.”

Harry has a sinking feeling she came on Ron’s side of the argument, though uncharacteristically refused to comment. He feels hurt that both his closest friends believe he should let Holly go because Snape is her dad. At least Neville and the other Weasleys are on his side - however much he hates that there are sides to take.

Holly is his sister; that’s the end of the story. Hermione, Ron, even Snape – none of them can do anything to change that. Even if Holly someday decides she no longer needs Harry, a genuine fear of his, he would still watch out for her from afar.

“Oh, those idiots,” Hermione exclaims in frustration as they walk past the noticeboard.

Hiding a grin, he sees what has her riled up. Fred and George must have got up early this morning (or done it late last night) to put up a poster advertising for product testers.

“Harry, we’ve got to tell them to stop this,” Hermione urges him hotly, and Harry promises they’ll talk to them soon.

“Rather you than me,” Ron mutters behind them.

Harry wonders how Ron might have handled them if he had become Prefect instead of him.

Making wooden conversation, they clutch their school bags tighter and lope off together to the Great Hall.

Harry and Hermione trail behind them with the first years, wearing expressions that cross between nervousness and excitement.

As he did last night, Harry exercises great willpower to not look up at the Head Table for either Holly or Snape. Instead, he concentrates on the Gryffindor table, looking for spare seats near Fred and George.

Because he is concentrating on the twins so ardently, he fails to understand why a slow silence fills the Hall until an energetic Holly stops in front of him, thrusting a pen and notebook, asking with a bright smile for his autograph.

There’s a choking noise to his left.

“I – er, I –” he stutters, wondering what she’s up to.

“Please?” she pleads beseechingly, giving him a doe-eyed look.

He looks helplessly at his friends, but the traitors only look at him with amusement. Harry catches the mischievous look in his sister’s eyes, and it clicks for him: she’s somehow found out about the whole Boy-Who-Lived business, and now she’s teasing him for it.

Little monster, he thinks affectionately.

“Sure,” he agrees, now feeling relaxed knowing she’s pulling his leg. “Do you want to sit down with us?”

“Really? You want me to sit down with you?” the little drama queen hams it up. “I’ve never sat down with a celebrity before.”

Ginny giggles across from him, hastily hiding her mouth behind her hands.

“Do you know our Harry?” Fred pipes up, knowing everyone is listening.

Apart from Harry’s roommates and friends, no one knows of Harry and Holly’s relationship.

“Harry’s a hero. I read about him in books such as Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century,” she replies, sounding so much like Hermione that everyone looks at the witch in question, who flushes under their attention.

“Sounds about right,” Neville nods, lips twitching.

Thankfully, the hubbub begins to rise once more as they all take a seat at the Gryffindor table, though those closest to Harry still strain to hear the conversation.

“Malfoy looks madder than Fluffy,” Ron mutters in Harry’s ear, but he refuses to look behind him. Draco means nothing to him.

“Have you eaten yet?” Harry asks, pulling a plate and adding two pieces of toast.

 

ooOoo

 

“Why is she down there?” Severus mutters irritably.

With a scowl, he listens to her reel off the list of books she has read about Potter. Ridiculous that she’s buying into that Boy-Who-Live hype. Feeling mortified, he pours himself some much-needed coffee.

“Bless the child; she’s just a fan of Mr Potter’s,” Pomona sighs with a sappy grin. It’s a far cry from her angry mien from last year. Usually fair-minded, Pomona had vindicated Severus the previous year when she joined him in slating the boy’s character. Like Severus, she believed Potter had entered the Triwizard Tournament for glory, needing all attention on him, only denying it because he’d been caught. Pomona’s ire only lasted until the end of the First Task, at which point she’d changed her mind believing the innocent boy had been entered against his will.

Severus himself had at first believed Potter did himself, regretting it only until he realised what he would be facing. Not until Crouch confessed that he had been behind Potter’s entry into the Tournament that Severus believed the brat didn’t do it.

Now, his innocent daughter was enamoured with a strutting peacock like Potter. And Potter, the fiend, is lapping it up, inviting Holly to sit with him for breakfast. Well, if the brat thought Severus would go easy on him in Potions because he was friendly with the Potions Master’s daughter, he had another thing coming.

And look at the arrogant sot!

Inviting Holly to sit with him but not even ensuring she was eating. Instead, the selfish brat concentrated on piling food on his own plate whilst starving his daughter!

 

ooOoo

 

“No, not yet,” she answers as he finishes buttering the toast.

On one slice, Harry adds three bacon rashers, slices up two sausages, places them on top, piles a scoop of scrambled eggs, adds a dash of salt and pepper, and then reaches for the ketchup, which he squirts on top. He adds two hash browns before adding the second toast, then carefully slices the sandwich diagonally into two.

He swaps Holly’s empty plate with his own, then pours her a glass of milk.

“Milk first,” he says, falling back on old habits even though it’s been more than a year since he’s had breakfast with Holly.

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” he hears Lavender coo and feels his face heating up.

“Thanks, Harry. I’ve never had a hero make me a sandwich before,” she teases him before picking up half a sandwich and taking a bite.

His blush deepens.

Ron coughs and splutters, to everyone’s disgust, accidentally spitting pumpkin juice everywhere.

 Dean laughs out loud. “That’s a mighty heroic sandwich.”

“Harry,” Ginny mockingly admonishes, “you’ve never made me a sandwich like that.”

“So ungrateful,” Neville shakes his head at the redhead. “He saved your life. Isn’t that better than a sandwich?”

“It would have been nice if he’d brought a sandwich down to the Chamber,” Ginny gripes.

“I did,” Harry snarks, “but Ron ate it.”

Ron’s ears turn red as they all laugh at the joke.

 

ooOoo

 

“Isn’t he so considerate?” Minerva smiles at Severus as Potter pours Holly a glass of milk.

“He knows we are watching,” Severus scowls down at Minerva’s darling Potter. It is the only explanation. Neither Holly nor Potter have looked up at him.

Beastly boy, corrupting his daughter already. Looking over at the Slytherin table, he checks how Draco is handling it.

His godson’s scowl is fiercer than Severus’, and it looks like Nott and Zabini are holding him back. Probably best Draco stays away, though Severus would like nothing more than to storm down there and snatch Holly away from Potter.

 

ooOoo

“Have you been okay?” Harry asks quietly, looking Holly over carefully.

She smiles at him in response, her eyes shining.

“I missed you,” she mumbles, placing her sandwich back down and hugging him around the middle.

“I missed you, too,” Harry replies, returning her hug and then nudging her glass of milk towards her. “So much.”

“Aren’t you eating too?”

“Yeah,” he nods and begins to pile some scrambled eggs on his plate, then takes the platter of sausages that Hermione hands him.

“Oh, Harry,” George begins breathlessly, “are you going to show us how a hero eats?”

“Shut up,” Harry mumbles, his face reddening again, while Holly giggles as she picks up her sandwich again.

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you?” he asks her, anxious for her answer.

“No,” Holly replies innocently. “I could never be mad at a hero.”

Harry groans as his friends laugh again. Parvati and Lavender look confused at Harry and Holly’s familiarity. Of course, as they are not close friends and have never seen Harry’s photo album in the dorms, they don’t know Harry knew Holly before Snape did.

“All right, all right,” Harry concedes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

 

ooOoo

Get your backside back up here, child, Severus screams at his daughter in the privacy of his own mind. Get away from that boy!

He doesn’t see the look Minerva and Pomona exchange, nor does he notice he is shredding his dry toast into crumbs.

“I should hand out my badgers their timetables,” Pomona declares and pushes back her chair.

“Don’t forget yours, Severus,” Minerva reminds him as she, too, stands up.

Severus merely grunts in acknowledgement.

 

ooOoo

 

Ron groans as he looks at his timetable. McGonagall moves further down the table.

“History of Magic, Double Potions, Divination and Double Defence Against the Dark Arts… Binns, Snape, Trelawney and Malfoy. All in one day!” Ron looks toward his brothers. “Are those Skiving Snack boxes ready yet?”

“Harry and I have Ancient Runes instead of Divination,” Hermione comments thoughtfully, studying her schedule.

“Bully for you,” Ron states bitterly with envy.

Holly gives Harry an uncertain look.

“Is he horrible?”

Knowing Holly is referring to Snape, Harry says lightly, trying to reassure her: “Nothing we can’t handle.”

Ron whips his head around in horror, having forgotten Holly is there.

“Nah,” he denies, his ears turning red. “Your dad… he’s top class. He’s just really strict.”

Ginny giggles, “Yes. Just ask Neville how strict he is.”

“Hey,” the guy in question frowns, offended.

“Watch out,” Dean warns. “He’s on the move.”

At these words, they all tense.

“False alarm,” Seamus mutters. “He’s heading to the Slytherin table to hand out their schedules.”

Everyone relaxes.

“Harry?” Holly says his name plaintively.

“Yeah?”

“Can you… can you do my hair?”

Lavender, about to leave with Parvati, abruptly sits back down at the little girl’s request.

“Sure,” Harry acquiesces, not looking at anyone. “Do you have a brush or a comb?

“I do,” Lavender exclaims perkily, looking way too interested, digging into her bag and throwing a hairbrush at Harry from across the table.

“Thanks, Lavender,” the bespectacled boy says. To Holly, he asks, “Did you bring a hairband?”

“Oh,” she puts one hand on her forehead. “I left it in my bag. I’ll go get it.”

“It’s okay,” Lavender pipes up yet again. “I have a spare band you can use.”

“Thanks, Lavender,” Harry repeats dryly. “Turn around, Holly.”

Holly straddles the bench with her back to Harry. He thoroughly cleans his hands and does the same behind her, glad Snape is no longer sitting at the Head Table, still handing out class timetables to his Slytherins.

Trying to ignore the scrutiny he is under, Harry gently brushes Holly’s soft hair to eliminate any knots.

 

ooOoo

“Is he brushing her hair?” Tracy exclaims incredulously.

Blaise is left reaching for air instead of the parchment he was actually aiming for as Snape whips around rapidly, hissing a furious “What?” as if Potter is doing something improper. “He’s doing what?”

“Sir?” Blaise tries to get his Housemaster’s attention. “My schedule?”

He is soundly ignored as Snape glares furiously at Potter. Blaise doesn’t understand what is happening between Potter, Snape’s daughter and Draco. His friend had come back to the dorms cursing Potter and spent most of the night fuming, to the point where the other boys had to apply Silencing Charms to their beds to drown him out. Pansy told them this morning that Holly had run to Potter the second she had laid eyes on him, ignoring Draco completely.

Of course, this pissed Draco off fiercely, especially as his father told his son to lay off. Draco’s mood picked up this morning when he told them that Holly would join them at their table for breakfast. Snape had told him that Holly was eager to see him.

Clearly, one of them had made a mistake this morning, and Blaise isn’t going to put his head on the chopping block by suggesting it is the Potions Masters.

“I think he’s doing a French braid,” Tracy comments. “That’s ambitious of him.” 

At their incredulous looks, she flushes but unrepentantly stands her ground, “Well, it is.”

“Sir? May I have my schedule?”  Blaise tries again, standing up and reaching across the table, fingers outstretched. “Please?”

Snape steps away, unknowingly denying his student the timetable once more.

Blaise holds back a huff and wants to comment that Snape is as obsessed with Potter as Draco but refrains from doing so. He’s not suicidal.

 

ooOoo

 

“Morning, all,” Lucius greets, taking a seat next to Minerva, and a chorus of greetings welcomes him in response.

He turns to Minerva while reaching for the coffee. “Care to fill me in?”

It has been a long morning, and classes have not even started yet. Fortunately, he and Dumbledore have made it back just in time for the tail end of breakfast. The Headmaster, having completed his second Fidelius in as many months, though on a much bigger property, had decided to go straight to his office to recuperate, while Lucius immediately had headed for the Great Hall.

“Severus seems out of practice as a spy,” Minerva mutters in an undertone.

Lucius holds back a chuckle. He had said much of the same thing yesterday to Dumbledore. Though Severus cannot spy for Dumbledore within the Dark Lord’s ranks, he still ventures out to aid other Order members - not that he shares with Lucius precisely what his duties are.

Minerva catches him up on the situation so far. The blond holds back another chuckle as the Scottish witch explains Severus’ assumption that Holly only approached Potter because he is a famous celebrity with whom she has become enamoured.

He silently applauds Holly’s cunning, wavering between pride and worry. Severus might have got the wrong end of the wand for now, but the day is still young, and it will not be long before he figures out the truth of the situation.

For an intelligent wizard and a seasoned Slytherin, Severus can be remarkably close-minded. In some ways, the other wizard never grew up or dealt with the negative emotions in life as he should. James and Lily Potter might be dead, but he never lays their ghosts to rest. Until Severus did that, Harry Potter would always field the brunt of those emotions.

Eyeing Potter and Holly sitting amongst the sea of redheads, he hopes they are prepared to weather the storm that is Severus Snape.

“Are you ready to face the day, Lucius?” Minerva enquiries, piercing him with a shrewd look.

Picking up the strange inflexion in her voice but not knowing the reason behind it, Lucius raises a questioning brow.

“No, not at all,” she answers her own question with concern. “I believe you are still unprepared.”

She turns away from him before he can press further.

 

ooOoo

 

“Hi, Luna.” Harry smiles as the Ravenclaw joins them at their table. Pausing with Holly’s partially braided hair in hand, he introduces Luna and Holly to each other.

“Lovely to meet you, Holly,” Luna greets. “Harry talks about you all the time.”

Holly returns the greeting shyly and then asks, a little bit bolder. “Are you Harry’s girlfriend?”

Before Luna can answer, Harry nods vigorously, his cheeks immediately flushing. “She is.”

“Lucky Luna,” Parvati giggles. “You get the benefit of Harry’s hair braiding experience.”

Harry blushes but continues to braid the rest of Holly’s hair.

“It’s not too tight, is it?” he checks on her, but she shakes her head, reassuring him.

“Then stop moving,” he scolds her softly, making her lips curl into a fake pout.

“You kept that skill well hidden, Harry,” Lavender marvels as she watches the Boy-Who-Lived expertly tie a hairband to the end of the braid.

“A hero has many talents,” Fred adds, puffing his chest out.

 George juts his chin up. “One never knows when the skill of French braiding will come in handy.”

“You’re braiding my hair tomorrow,” Lavender announces in a tone that dismisses any further replies.

“Hair by Harry?” Neville jokes. “That’s a costly service.”

“Heroes charge?” Ginny asks ironically.

“Oh, yes,” Dean adds seriously. “Heroes have to make a living too.”

 Colin Creevey, who has crept up to them holding a camera, asks: “Can I take a picture, Harry?”

“Yes, please,” Holly pipes up with a wide smile. “I can add it to my album. I’ve never had my picture taken with a hero before.”

“Merlin, seriously?” Harry grumbles but still gives in to Holly.

He pulls her close, smiling down at the mischievous imp. She reaches up and kisses his cheek just as the camera flashes.

 

ooOoo

“Is Potter having a photoshoot?” Draco jerks incredulously.

That’s it, Severus snaps. Potter will not be exploiting my daughter.

Thrusting the rest of the class schedules to a nearby prefect, growling, “Hand these out,” he marches over to the Gryffindor table to take his daughter back.

 

ooOoo

 

“Should we intervene?” Pomona asks uncertainly, exchanging a glance with Filius, who has returned from handing his Ravens their class timetables.

Lucius and Minerva exchange a look of their own before standing up together. Too late, they watch in astonishment as Severus stops at the Gryffindor table, glares at Minerva’s lions, particularly Potter, snatches Holly from the bench, throws the girl over his shoulder and strides away without another look back.

“Bye, Hero - I mean, Harry,” she calls, waving at Potter, almost making Severus stumble before he continues moving.

Students throw themselves out of the warpath he is on.

“Bye, Holly,” Potter and his group yell out together.

Seeing Holly’s school bag left by her chair, Lucius quickly picks it up.

“I better return this to her,” he throws over his shoulder before leaving via the staff door, heading down to the dungeons.

 

ooOoo

 

Reaching his office, Severus gently deposits an unresisting Holly onto his desk, setting her down, so her legs dangle over the edge. She looks at him innocently, her previously loose hair now tied up neatly in a French braid that Potter somehow knew how to do.

Severus resists the urge to undo Potter’s efforts. How dare that boy touch his daughter?

“Why did you take me away?” she asks, canting her head to the side, studying him closely. “I was having a great time with Harry.”

Severus’ scowl deepens.

“Stay away from Potter,” he orders, giving her a look of warning and rebuke at the same time.

“No,” she says, crossing her arms across her chest. “He’s my friend, and he said I could hang with him anytime.”

“Potter is only using you to get better grades,” he warns, looming over her. “Believe me, child, that boy will use you and throw you away when he gets tired of you.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” Holly retorts with a mulish look, standing up on his desk, glaring at him. Had she been a head taller, she would be practically nose-to-nose with him. 

Severus scoffs and shakes his head. One breakfast where the boy caters to her whims, and she thinks she knows him. If he didn’t know any better, he would imagine the boy Confunded her. It’s only because Potter doesn’t have the skills to cast a Confundus that he knows it isn’t true.

“I know him a damn sight better than you do,” he grinds out. “I have taught him for four years. Potter is a mediocre student, putting no effort into his schoolwork. If he thinks cosying up to you will earn him better grades, I’ll soon put him in his place.”

“Harry’s not a cheater,” Holly defends. “He’s a hard worker, and you never give him fair marks.”

Severus steps back, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache he feels coming. Dear Merlin, the boy has his hooks into her already. Over one breakfast!

Before he can reply to that, a knock sounds at his door.

“Enter!” he snaps.

Lucius’ blond head peeps through the door.

“You left your bag up there, my darling,” he states, holding up said bag.

Holly jumps off the desk and runs up to Lucius, throwing her arms around his waist, ignoring the bag completely. Lucius protectively places an empty hand around her head.

“Have you been yelling at my goddaughter?” Lucius admonishes Severus over her head.

“He’s being nasty,” she complains, her voice muffled as her face is pressed against Lucius’ body. “He’s telling me to stay away from Harry.”

“Talk some sense into her, Lucius,” Severus sighs. “Tell her the truth, that Potter is only using her.”

Before Lucius can speak, Holly moves away from the blond, facing Severus completely.

“Harry is my brother. He’s not using me, and I know him better than you do. You’re the horrible one. You-”

“Holly!” Lucius tries to stop her, holding her by the arm as if to prevent her from throwing herself at her father, but by now, the damage is done.

Severus’ brows snap together in outrage.

Brother? The boy dare insinuate himself into his daughter’s life?

 

ooOoo

 

“Is Dobby all right?” Hermione asks as Harry slips into his seat next to her.

The class started ten minutes ago, but Harry made a quick trip to the kitchens to check on his House-Elf friend before History of Magic.

“He’s fine. He said Dumbeldore’d assigned a House Elf to Malfoy, so Dobby doesn’t have to go anywhere near him.”

Hermione gives a relieved nod before turning back to diligently taking notes. She is the only one who manages to stay awake through Binn’s lecture. The decrepit ghost hadn’t even noticed Harry’s late entry into the room.

Harry pulls out his history book and notes Iris had given him years ago. After reviewing his history texts, the elder witch declared that Binn’s lectures were always the same and said he should use the standard notes she had filed carefully. Harry had been diligently using these notes ever since. He shared them with his friends, but Hermione preferred to use her own.

Conversely, the end of the usually dull class comes too soon, and the Gryffindors all exchange glances of trepidation as they head towards the dungeons. Breakfast hadn’t been too bad, though Harry and his friends speculated that Snape hadn’t quite twigged why Holly was so familiar with the Boy-Who-Lived.

It still means that Potions will be a fraught class. Though he had grown much more confident since joining Harry’s friends during their third year, Neville is still shaking as they head towards the Potions. Though more distant than usual because of their semi-altercation on the train, Seamus shares their anxiety.

“What do you think he’ll be like?” Dean asks in a hushed voice.

“Worse than usual,”  Ron replies grimly, though his voice is still hushed.

No one misses the looks the other students throw at Harry. Snape’s animosity towards Potter and everything related to him is well-known within the school. No matter that very few people know about Harry and Holly’s actual relationship, no matter what, it looked like Holly was the one who instigated the conversation at breakfast; they all knew that Snape’s hatred for Harry Potter is unrelenting. And those who saw how Snape snatched Holly away from Harry know nothing will change.

“Listen,” Harry begins, halting just before entering the dungeons. “I’ll sit at the front by myself. Everyone else should stay away. Snape’s bound to use any excuse to take points, and none of you should get caught up in that.”

They all look at each other in silence for several seconds and then speak simultaneously.

“Don’t be daft,” Ron says as Neville nods his head in agreement.

“We’re not sure what’s going on,” Parvati speaks up for the first time, “but Dean said Holly is important to you. And we saw how you were at breakfast with her. Are you sure she’s Snape’s daughter? She’s too…”

“Good-natured?” Dean supplies as Parvati trails off.

“Sweet?” Neville adds with a grin.

 Lavender smiles. “Cute?”

“Adorable,” Parvati finishes.

Harry feels his heart fill with joy, hearing the qualities his comrades listed. Holly is all of those. She’s also his little monster.

As they continue their slow walk to the Potions, it’s decided that Neville will sit next to Harry. He still thinks he’s better off sitting alone, but none of the others agrees to let that happen.

The Slytherins are already waiting outside the Potions classroom, curiously quiet, observing Harry.

Draco doesn’t miss the chance to extract information and spits out as soon as Harry is close enough, “What do you think you’re playing at, Potter?”

Harry wonders what’s different about Malfoy, and then he realises.

“Where are your bookends?” he blurts out.

This makes Draco even more furious.

“Back off, Malfoy,” Ron snarls at the other.

Nott and Zabini pull Draco back to the blond’s displeasure, giving him an unreadable look.

Before he can make another move, the classroom door clangs open.

Silently, they enter the classroom, Snape’s furious gaze boring into the back of Harry’s skull.

“Hiya, Harry,” Holly waves cheerily at him.

Harry smiles, despite the situation and waves back.

Everyone else gets a small smile. When Draco calls out, “Hey, Holly.” He scowls, not receiving the same personal greeting Harry got.

Snape slams the door shut, making them all flinch.

“Settle down,” he says coldly.

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen, and all fidgeting stopped. Snape’s mere presence is usually enough to ensure a class’s silence.

“Before we begin today’s lesson,” Snape begins, sweeping over to his desk to stand behind Holly and staring around at them all, “I think it is appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an “Acceptable” in your OWLs or suffer my… displeasure.”

His gaze lingers this time on Neville, who gulps.

“After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me,” Snape continues. “I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of you will certainly be saying goodbye.”

His eyes rest on Harry, and his lip curls.

Harry glares back, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that he would be able to give up Potions after fifth year. He flicks a quick look to Holly, who looks at him encouragingly, a fact that does not go unnoticed by Snape. He already planned to go down the Independent Study route if he decides to take Potions at NEWT levels. Snape will never mark him fairly in class, but at least the other wizard has no hand in determining his Potions OWL. Iris believed in Harry; she thought him capable of scoring an Outstanding - and that’s what really matters to him.

“But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell,” Snape counters, “so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

“Today, we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients, you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing.”

On Harry’s left, Hermione sits up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention.

“The ingredients and method –“ Snape flicks his wand “– are on the blackboard –” (they appear there)”‘– you will find everything you need –” he flicks his wand again “– in the store cupboard –“ (the door of the said cupboard springs open) “– you have an hour and a half… start.”

The ingredients have to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture has to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it is simmering have to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient is added.

“A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion,” calls Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Harry, who is sweating profusely, looks desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron is issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam; Ron’s is spitting green sparks. Seamus is feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seem to be going out. The surface of Hermione’s potion, however, is a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Snape sweeps by he looks down his hooked nose at it without comment, which means he could find nothing to criticise. At Harry’s cauldron, however, Snape stops and looks down at it with a horrible smirk on his face.

“Potter, what is this supposed to be?”

The Slytherins at the front of the class all look up cautiously; usually, they love hearing Snape taunt Harry, but they seem curiously subdued.

“The Draught of Peace,” replies Harry tensely, trying not to look at Holly.

“Tell me, Potter,” asks Snape softly, “can you read?”

Draco Malfoy laughs, looking in Holly’s direction for her reaction.

“Yes, I can,” says Harry.

“Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter.”

Harry squints at the blackboard; it is not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multi-coloured steam now filling the dungeon.

“Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.”’

His heart sinks.

He has not added syrup of hellebore, but has proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.

“Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?”

“No,” Harry responds very quietly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“No,” repeats Harry, more loudly. “I forgot the hellebore.”

“I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco.”

The contents of Harry’s potion vanish, and he is left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.

“‘Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing,” orders Snape. “Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday.”

While everyone around him fills their flagons, Harry clears away his things, seething. Holly looks between the board and Harry in dismay, whilst Snape stalks around the classroom with a triumphant smirk.

His potion is no worse than Ron’s, which is now giving off a foul odour of bad eggs; or Neville’s, which has achieved the consistency of just-mixed cement and which Neville is now having to gouge out of his cauldron; yet it is he, Harry, who would be receiving zero marks for the day’s work. He stuffs his wand back into his bag and slumps down onto his seat, watching everyone else march up to Snape’s desk with filled and corked flagons.

Harry is the first to leave the classroom, not wanting Holly to see him angry.

“That was really unfair,” Hemione says consolingly as they exit the dungeons.

Before Harry can tell Hermione to leave the topic alone, Holly comes rushing up to him.

“Harry, you need to come to the Hospital Wing with me,” Holly says before Harry can tell her to go back to Snape.

He instantly forgets his irritation with the Potions Master and drops to his knees, examining her as he lets his bag fall at his feet.

“What? Why? Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“Please,” she begs, pulling on his hand desperately, “please just come with me.”

“Yeah, come on. Yeah. Hermione – would you-?”

 Hermione agrees without question. “I’ll let Professor Snape know.”

Harry picks up Holly, who holds him tightly. Heart hammering, he races to the Hospital Wing, uncaring of the people in the way. He’s unaware of the rest of his friends and Housemates who have followed him up.

“Madam Pomfrey,” Harry yells upon entering the Hospital Wing, opening the doors with more force than necessary in his worry.

The Medi-witch comes out of her office with a look of alarm.

“Mt Potter, what is it?” she asks, brandishing her wand.

“I don’t know,” he says, panicking. “Holly said she needed the Hospital Wing.”

He gently tries to place her on one of the beds, but she stands on it instead.

“It’s not for me,” Holly denies instantly. “It’s Harry who needs your help.”

It takes Harry precious seconds to calm down and understand.

“What?” he asks, somewhat breathlessly.

Holly explains to Madam Pomfrey, “Harry missed something from the board.” Turning back to Harry, she continues, “You’re not an idiot. You’re not careless. I know you’re not. You wouldn’t have misread the board if there wasn’t something wrong. I brought you up here so Aunt Poppy could check your eyes.”

Harry gapes at his sister, feeling frustration rise.

Taking a deep breath to bite down on his rising irritation, he snaps, “You idiot. I thought something was wrong.”

Pulling her into a tight hug, he feels his throat closing up, and he manages to choke out, “I thought you were hurt.”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Holly’s muffled voice comes from his neck.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” he warns, pulling away. “Twit.”

“You’re the twit,” she snipes back. “You should have got your eyes checked before.”

Madam Pomfrey, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, clears her throat pointedly, “I assume there is no emergency any longer?”

Harry feels the heat rising in his neck.

“I’m sorry, Madam Pomfrey,” he apologises sheepishly. “I thought Holly –”

Madam Pomfrey’s expression softens at his upset.

“It’s quite alright, Mr Potter,” she waves away his apology. “In fact, your prompt action is admirable, notwithstanding your own excellent healing skills.”

Harry blushes even more. Last year, due to having to compete in the Tournament, Harry had spent a lot of time in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey, learning Field Healing, in case he needed it, as well as learning Defensive Magic for the tasks.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Now,” the medi-witch says brusquely, “Take a seat and let’s have a look at your prescription.”

Harry, about to sit down next to Holly, is startled when the Infirmary door bangs open suddenly. Holly grabs his hand, and Harry pats it calmingly.

This is what Madam Pomfrey felt when I stormed in, Harry thinks wryly as he turns to face a furious Snape.

“Sir,” Harry begins, hoping to explain.

“Silence,” Snape hisses as he stalks closer.

Harry doesn’t miss the look he gives Holly or how his lips press together when the Potions Masters sees them holding hands. Noticing this, a smile makes its way to his face. Since Snape found Holly, Harry has been worried about his sister, despite Regulus’ assurances that Snape really cares about his daughter.

Seeing Snape here, rushing to the Hospital Wing after thinking Holly might have been hurt, pleases Harry, assuring him that Snape really would look after her.

Snape, catching a glimpse of his smile and misinterpreting it, turns his fuming gaze on Harry.

“What did you do, you insolent boy?” Severus questions with tightly controlled fury.

“Sir? I didn’t –”

Snape moves faster than Harry expects, pushing Madam Pomfrey aggressively out of the way, then reaching out to wrench Harry’s hand away from Holly.

“You dare touch my daughter, Potter?”

“Professor –” Harry begins to protest but is cut off once more.

Holly tries to intervene, denying everything her father accuses him of, but Snape unthinkingly pushes Holly back. Angered, Harry shoves at Snape.

“Don’t touch her -” whatever Harry is about to say is lost when Snape grabs a handful of Harry’s robes in both fists, clutching so tightly his shirt rides up from his trousers.

“She’s mine, Potter,” Snape roars, spittle flying. Harry finds himself pushed backwards until his back is against the window. He shakes Harry so violently that it’s difficult to draw breath. Harry, face twisted in a snarl of his own, tries to fight back, but Snape is too strong, too powerful from the wrath that burns him from within, and his anger is ferocious right now. Snape’s wand is on him without the boy being able to do anything to prevent it.

“Stop! Stop hurting him!” Holly cries out, but she is prevented from interfering and risking injury by Dean, who Harry wasn’t aware had followed him up.

Several voices call out, “Professor!”

Harry darts a quick glance in Holly’s direction, which enrages Snape even more. He shoves Harry back so forcefully that his head cracks the window, and pain radiates at the back of his skull.

 Madam Pomfrey shrieks in horror. “Severus Snape!”

“Harry!”

The last thing Harry sees before darkness descends is an arm wrapped around Snape’s torso, the Potions Master’s horrified look and Holly rushing toward him with a worried expression.