"How's the laundry coming, Nesmay?" Draco asked casually, leaning up against the large oak tree where the clothesline was fastened.

Nesmay grimaced as she hung up another of the boys' shirts. "Sun, Moon, and Stars, but the clothes are ten times heavier when they're wet."

Draco nodded. "Tell me about it." Then he glanced at the pile of laundry in the basket. "Hey. Those are sopping wet. Did you forget to wring them out?"

Nesmay cocked her head. "Wring them out?"

"Yeah with the wringing part of the washing machine. They'll take hours to dry else."

Nesmay put a hand to her mouth in dismay. "Oh no! I forgot! Now what do I do?"

Draco could have been mean and told her to learn from her mistake, but he knew what a dreadful chore it was to do the laundry by hand, and so he took pity on her. "Relax, Nessie. This once, I'll help you." He pointed his wand and most of the water was wring out of the clothes. "There! See the difference?"

Nesmay lifted one of Severus' shirts. "Yes. This feels much lighter now. I'm in your debt, Draco. But don't call me Nessie."

"Why not? Nessie sounds more friendly." Draco teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "It makes me sound like a cow, Draco Malfoy!"

"Moo-oo!" he mocked, then danced away when she flicked the end of a shirt at his backside. "Nice try, little hedgehog."

She glowered at him. "Go away, won't you? You're making me mess up my schedule. Look at all the laundry I still have to hang up."

"I see it. Sucks getting in trouble, doesn't it?"

Nesmay rolled her eyes. "Brilliant deduction, cousin. Now, get!" she shooed him off with a hand towel.

Laughing softly, he Summoned his broom and flew away. The fae girl sighed and continued finishing her chore. By the time the summer was over, she was sure she would know all there was to know about doing laundry and would probably be the only fae princess in history able to wash her own clothes. I feel like that cinder girl in that old tale mortals used to tell. Except she was treated like a slave and I earned this. She pinned a sheet on the line, which was magicked so it never grew full and always had room for one more. Then she thought rebelliously, But I don't have to like it!

She felt the familiar prickle of her magic stirring and drew in a deep breath, breathing in and out slowly. Severus had started showing her last night how to focus her breathing and find her center, as was proper with meditation. He had explained that she needn't keep her feelings all bottled up, which would lead to wild bursts of anger and frustration, but she did need to take a look at those emotions and think about what she could do to calm down and release them in a controlled manner.

Calm down. Calm down. Go back to sleep, she silently urged her wayward magic. Several deep breaths later, she had succeeded in sending her magic back to sleep. She breathed a sigh of relief and recalled something else her mentor had told her. "Learning to control that flyaway temper of yours will be one of the hardest things you will ever have to master. It may take you years. But every attempt you make will lead you closer to mastery, so never give up. Even if at times you fail, and you will, for no one is perfect, never give up."

She had looked him in the eye and promised she never would. She meant to keep that promise, so he would be proud of her. She desperately longed for someone to be proud of her. Especially since lately all she seemed to do was make mistakes. The debacle with the wand shop had been the worst one ever, and she knew if her grandmother ever learned of it she would be disgusted with her granddaughter.

Severus had suggested that she write to the queen and ask her the reason why she had sent Nesmay to Prince Manor, and reassure herself that the queen still wanted her as a family member. Nesmay still had not written it. She did not know if she would ever have the courage to do so. The queen could not lie, and what if her answer was not one Nesmay wanted to hear?

She resolutely pushed away the anxiety fluttering in her belly and shook out Harry's trousers and hung them up. There was one good thing about doing the laundry, and that was it gave her time to practice her meditation.

I will learn to control my temper. I will. And then he'll be proud of me.

The next morning:

Harry woke up early, as the dawn was breaking, so he could fly out over the orchard and gather the merlinnas from the trees. The dawn was his favorite time, because he could feel the land slowly awakening from its night's rest. The flowers opened their petals and the green shoots surged towards the sun and the sap rose in the trees, quickening them. He could feel everything stirring and blooming, especially the merlinnas, which grew only when the land and its heirs were at peace.

Hedwig hooted sleepily from her perch near his window and her gently scratched her head and murmured a good morning to her before hopping on the Firebolt and flying out the window. He circled the orchard, hovering over the merlinna trees, carefully harvesting the purple and red heart-shaped fruits. He set them inside a soft leather carry-sack and moved on to the next tree.

He saw a pretty thrush fly by and another smaller bluebird poke its head out from the branches of a peach tree. A squirrel raced up the trunk of an oak tree and a small fallow deer stepped delicately across the grass to drink from the pond. Harry enjoyed watching the wildlife and stayed hovering on his broom observing them as the sun slowly crept up into the sky.

Finally, after watching a fox and her kits stalking a mouse for a few minutes, he turned and dipped down to harvest the last merlinna tree for the morning. Only to discover someone else had claimed that particular tree for their own.

Nesmay was sitting in the top branches, cradled easily in the fork of the tree, her face smeared with telltale reddish-purple juice, a half-eaten merlinna in her hand. She gave him a guilty little grin and took another bite out of the fruit, uncaring that the juice was running down her soft peach-colored tunic.

Harry noted that she was also wearing leather trousers and was barefoot. "Hiya. You're up early." He waved at her, flying about the tree and picking the merlinnas casually.

"I couldn't sleep." She admitted, nibbling nervously on her bottom lip. "And then I smelled the merlinnas and I just had to come out and eat some. They're the best when they're right off the tree."

"I know," Harry chuckled, though he could hardly make fun of her passion for them when he shared it as well. He had already eaten three of them. "Merlinnas are like manna from heaven."

"Mmm," she answered, eating the rest of the fruit.

"You nervous about today?" Harry asked knowingly. Today was the day when Nesmay went back to Diagon Alley to apologize to Ollivander and work in his shop, making repairs and fixing the wands she had damaged.

"A little." Harry shot her a glance. "All right, a lot. I've heard that mortals can be very . . .vindictive, especially when somebody has just destroyed their living."

"The same could be said about some of your kin, Nesmay."

"Like my uncle, aye, I know it." Nesmay admitted.

"But Ollivander's not like that," Harry said. "He's the kindest old wizard I know. I've never even heard him raise his voice. When Dad told me what he did to his nephew I was really surprised. Not that the big prat didn't deserve it for teasing you like that, but still . . .don't be scared of Ollivander. He's not going to hold a grudge, not over some accidental magic. He knows you couldn't help it, that you were provoked."

"I hope so. I feel terrible that I wrecked his shop. Now what will you wizards do for wands?"

"Well, I don't think you destroyed all his stock. Some of it probably survived and he knows how to repair a wand for those that can be repaired. He probably has some extra wood and stuff too, I mean, the shop didn't catch on fire, so the supplies could be rescued. Some, at least. And Ollivander is a popular shopkeeper, he'll have friends and neighbors to help him sort through the ruins and salvage what he can."

"You think so?"

Harry nodded. "All those Diagon Alley owners stick together. Just ask Dad."

"Won't they be mad at me?"

"Maybe, but I'd say they're probably more miffed at Abelard, since he made you lose your temper. He's an adult, he ought to know better."

"I hope I don't have to be anywhere near him. I might turn him into a frog."

"Can you do that?"

"If I get really angry, I might be able to. Transforming is one of the big fae magics, and the royal family can do it easy as blinking, most times. But I've never done it."

"Well, don't go and try experimenting now," Harry advised.

"I won't. That's the last thing Ollivander needs, a nephew who ribbets and hops on all fours."

Harry snickered. "Might be a change for the better." Then he grinned. "Just kidding. You'll be okay, Ollivander's not a hardarse like Dad. Don't worry, Nessie, your face will freeze like that."

She groaned. "Not you too! Did Draco tell you I hate that ridiculous name?"

"No. Why? I think it's cute."

"Cute? I am not cute! I can shoot a bow and track and I know kin-sa-dor. Captain Valinek taught me." Nesmay said indignantly. "I don't do cute!"

"No? You sure look cute when you're mad," Harry teased.

She almost stomped her foot on the branch. "Harry!"

Her cousin gave her a roguish smirk. He enjoyed teasing the girl, as he imagined that this would be how it would be with a younger sibling. "Come on, kid. Let's go have some breakfast. You don't want to go and grovel on an empty stomach."

He ducked a tiny hard peach she threw at him. "Harry Snape, I do not grovel!"

"Whatever, Nessie." He flew away, laughing.

Nesmay glared at him. Boys! They were so annoying!

That afternoon

Diagon Alley:

"Lucian, my ward has something she wishes to say to you," Severus said to the wandmaker, his hands resting firmly upon Nesmay's shoulders, as if fearful she might bolt.

"Indeed?" the aging wandmaker raised one bushy eyebrow. "Let's hear it then." He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Nesmay cleared her throat and gathered her courage. "I wish to tell you that I am deeply sorry I destroyed your shop, Master Ollivander. I should have controlled my temper and my magic better, sir. I would like to help make amends in any way I can, sir. Will you please forgive me?" She gazed up at him with earnest golden eyes.

Ollivander could tell she was sincere, and his heart melted. He had been furious a few days before, despairing of ever recovering his business, until some of his colleagues and friends had helped him remove over half the debris and reveal that the damage, while considerable, was not quite as bad as he feared. They had helped him restore half the shop, enough so he could mend the wands that were broken and craft new ones. The shop would be closed for two or three months, but he would eventually re-open his doors.

"Aye, lass, I forgive you. You young ones always have a time controlling your emotions, 'till you attend school, that is. And besides, my fool of a nephew provoked you."

"Where is your nephew, Lucian?" asked Severus pointedly.

"I've sent him down to Kent, to cut more wood for my wands. So he won't be annoying your lass any more, Mr. Snape and we'll have no more repeats like the last time, aye?"

"No, sir." Nesmay said quietly.

"That's the spirit!" Ollivander clapped her lightly on the shoulder. "Well then, let me show you what you'll be doing for the next four hours, my lady. . . " He turned and looked at Severus. "Mr. Snape, I'll have her sign off at four o'clock. You can pick her up then."

"Thank you, Lucian, for allowing her to learn from you. I'm sure she appreciates the opportunity." He handed the wandmaker a small cloth bag with some Galleons in it. "For your shop."

Ollivander coughed and looked uncomfortable. "Mr. Snape, I really shouldn't accept this . . .I mean, your ward's time is one thing—"

"Think of it as a donation," Severus said simply. He turned to go, adding over his shoulder, "Mind your manners, young lady. I shall see you at four." Then he Apparated away.

Ollivander led her into the partially restored shop. The front of the shop didn't look too bad, it had the doorway and the window restored and the roof was partially fixed too. The sign was crooked and another larger board was stuck to the door that read—CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.

Inside the shop, new floorboards gleamed in places and the old counter had been mended, though there was a large crack that had been sealed with filler across the counter. A single cabinet stood with the seventy-five wands that had survived the unexpected explosion. Boxes and crates were everywhere and they all held various pieces of wood and chisels and wood polish and other things Ollivander used in crafting his wands.

The back of the shop was still a dirt floor and had a tarp stretched across the place where the roof had been, spelled to keep out the rain. The walls here were partially covered with wood paneling, in other spots the plaster showed through. Piles of wooden boards were stacked in a corner as were fragments of a desk and boxes of parchment.

"Old receipts and records of wand combinations," Ollivander explained at her curious glance. "I lost quite a bit when the roof caved in, but not everything. Luckily, the most expensive wands were in a protective glass case, and so they didn't come to any harm when the roof collapsed. But most of my other wands were damaged, some beyond repair, and so was my workshop, here in the back." He gestured to the dirt floor and the tarp covered area. "But it could have been worse."

"I'm sorry, Master Ollivander."

"So you've said. No need to repeat it, girl." The wandmaker said gruffly. "Now then, I need to be fixing up this portion of my shop so I can start crafting again. While I'm doing that, I want you to start sorting the wood for me. Here are boxes with different lengths of wood—oak, hazel, rowan, maple, holly, ebony, yew, and so forth." He indicated each kind of wood in turn. "What I need you to do is to find the wood that feels right for a wand."

"How do I do that, sir?" Nesmay asked. "I've never held a wand until recently."

"Do you have the kingwood with you?"

"Yes, sir." She withdrew her wand from her belt holder.

"Good. Now, don't do anything but hold it in your hand." Ollivander instructed. "Close your eyes and feel the wand. Not just with your fingers, but with your heart."

Nesmay did as he had ordered, feeling very foolish. What did Ollivander mean, feel the wand with her heart? "I don't understand, sir. How can I feel a wand with my heart?"

"By opening yourself up to the magic within." The wandmaker explained patiently. "When the kingwood chose you, it did so because your magic resonated with it. All you have to do to feel that connection is to concentrate a bit."

Nesmay did so, and felt a warmth spread through her, caressing her like a sunbeam. "I feel it!" she cried excitedly.

Ollivander nodded. "Just so, my lady. Now put your wand away. Do you remember how you felt? Good. I want you to sort through these boxes of wood and keep out any piece that resonates like that. For that is how a wandmaker determines what wood is suitable for a wand—he listens for its song. All wood has an inner voice, one that you can hear if you're taught how to listen properly, or have a strong bond with the earth. I'm told the Summer fae have strong earth magic, is that not so?"

"Mostly, sir. The royal line has always been strong in earth and air magics. Fire too. My grandmother could conjure stone golems with a snap of her fingers," Nesmay told him. "My cousin Harry has a strong earth bond, since he's the Heir to Prince Manor. His father does as well. But I . . .I can cast glamours but I'm a half-blood and I don't know a lot about my magic yet . . ."

"You'll learn, young Nesmay. For the kingwood to bond with you means you have a latent earth talent. Which of your parents was a mortal, lass?"

Nesmay gulped. She had feared someone would eventually ask her about her heritage. "It was my father, sir. But I never knew him. He . . .left court and the Summer Realm before I was born."

"Ah . . .I see. Born on the wrong side of the sheets, were you?" Ollivander said bluntly, but not unkindly. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time that's happened, eh? There's no shame in it."

Nesmay gaped at him. "No shame? But—"

"No shame to you, girl." The old wandseller said simply. "The shame belongs to them that begot you. You are blameless."

"Pity my uncle doesn't think so," she blurted before she could think better of it.

"That's backwards thinking, but many do still cling to the old ways, and blame the child for a parent's mistake. Foolish! It's not what you are born as, but what you become that matters."

"That's what Cousin Severus says."

"He's a smart one, your cousin is. Listen to him, he knows more than just potions." Ollivander Summoned a bottle of butterbeer and took a long drink from the bottle. He offered one to Nesmay as well. "Now then, to work. Remember, concentrate upon the song within the wood, girl."

Nesmay watched as he turned about and pointed his wand, made of elder and holly, at a wooden board and it flew into place, Sticking itself to the plaster and concrete wall. She had not thought a mere mortal could be so perceptive . . .or so accepting of her status as a bastard half-blood. It made her feel even more guilty that she had wrecked his livelihood and more determined to set things right.

She turned to the first box of wood-- hazel strips, which were rough cut and from eight to thirteen inches in length. One by one she picked them up and held them, concentrating on feeling the "song" inside the wood. She went through five strips before she felt one sing to her, vibrating slightly in her palm. Smiling, she set it aside by her left foot and continued her task.

An hour passed, and Nesmay had found seven hazel sticks that sang to her, and the box was nearly empty. She quickly identified two more and then put the discards back in the box and moved onto the next one—a box of oak sticks. The oak seemed more responsive and had a deeper song than the hazel wood, she found ten before she had gone a quarter of the way through the box. Another hour went by and Nesmay had thirty sticks of oak before Ollivander called a halt.

He looked over at her pile and nodded. "Very good, my lady. You have a feel for the wood, as much as any apprentice wandmaker I have ever had."

"I do? But there are more oak sticks than hazel ones."

"That's usually the way of it. Oak takes better to magic than hazel, which chooses only the wisest to become wands. But now my stomach tells me 'tis time for lunch."

He opened a large knapsack and pulled from it two plates and two thick ham and cheese sandwiches slathered with honey mustard and pickles. He also withdrew a bowl of cucumber salad and a treacle tart for a sweet, plus bottled pumpkin juice. He set the fare up on a rickety wooden table and pulled up a stool. "Feast fit for kings, yes?"

Nesmay smiled shyly. "Or princesses." She took a sandwich and bit into it hungrily. She would have preferred merlinna juice and roast beef, Swiss, and sautéed onions, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Besides, the ham was salty and sweet and the cheese a sharp cheddar, a good pairing.

By the time the four hours were up, Nesmay had a mild headache and was weary from kneeling beside a box for so long, but she had gotten a good deal accomplished, or so she felt.

Ollivander had replaced one whole side of the workshop and some of the floor by the time Snape returned to pick up his ward, and pronounced it a good day's work. He bid the fae girl and the Potions Master a cheery farewell and said he looked forward to seeing her tomorrow at the same time.

"What did you learn today?" Severus asked as they walked across the lawn towards the manor house.

"I learned how wandmakers choose wood for wands, Severus. And that Master Ollivander doesn't share the prejudices of my people towards half-breed bastards," Nesmay answered honestly.

The Potions Master nodded, pleased. "That is well, Nesmayallindra. Now, go and change for supper. I believe Draco caught a bass and is broiling it."

Nesmay cheered, for she had a fondness for fresh fish, and ran into the manor.

Over supper, she told the boys how Ollivander was teaching her about wand making and Harry said wistfully, "That sounds really interesting, Nesmay. I've always wondered about how a wand was made."

"Me too," Draco added. "It's too bad we couldn't go and learn as well."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You wish to assist Ollivander in his repairs?"

"Yes. It's not that we're bored or anything, Dad," Harry said quickly. "But it sounds like a real interesting topic to study. And now I sound like Hermione."

"Miss Granger is to be commended for her zest in learning," Severus said. He was actually pleased by his sons' enthusiasm. "However, I feel that you shouldn't accompany Nesmay the entire time, since this is partly a punishment for her which she is expected to learn from. I shall speak to Ollivander and ask if he wouldn't mind an extra pair of hands or two during the last hour of Nesmay's time."

"That would be great, Dad," said Draco. "Then we could Floo home and you needn't Apparate us all back. That is, if you removed the Floo Block for us." Prince Manor had Floo Blocking spells over all the fireplaces to prevent unauthorized entry, and they could only be removed by the Heir or the Heir could recalibrate them to admit certain wizard only.

Severus, who used the summer time to experiment with various new brews and elixirs, would not mind his sons escorting Nesmay home, freeing him to work in his lab without interruption for most of the day. "I shall think on it," he replied, not wanting to give in too quickly. "I will speak to Ollivander tomorrow."

The three children exchanged grins and finished their dinner eagerly. Then they all played Dragon's Wild until Nesmay fell asleep over her last hand and Severus carried her up to bed. He tucked her in and left a small glowlamp burning, for he had learned from Harry that she too hated the dark, having been punished as a small child by being shoved into a dark cellar when she misbehaved.

"Kind of like me and the cupboard," was what his son had said.

Thus Severus left a lamp on and wished her pleasant dreams before returning to the kitchen to finish the card game. He mused briefly on whether Titania was aware of how her grandchild had been treated by her tutors and nursemaids and if so, why had nothing been done about it? Perhaps it was time for him to write a letter of his own.

But then he hesitated. Nesmay was related him through a blood tie, but it was not a strong one. And he did not wish to anger the Queen of the Seelie, for Titania made a very formidable enemy. He was not even sure if he had the right to bring such a thing to the queen's attention. Then his mouth firmed. If he did not, then who would? She had been entrusted to his care, and he had sworn upon his honor to treat her like one of his own children. Helping her heal was paramount to teaching her control over her magic. Plus, did not Titania deserve to know the truth about what had happened to her granddaughter?

He would write the letter tomorrow, he decided. Perhaps if he did so, the queen might also write to Nesmay and reassure the girl that she was still wanted and loved by one member of her family. That would go a long way towards healing the child's spirit.

Ollivander was quite happy to have more help restoring his shop, and having the famous Harry Snape and his brother Draco Malfoy assisting him was good for morale. Then too, he was always happy to spend time teaching young wizards and witches about his favorite pastime, and perhaps encouraging a budding wand maker or two.

Harry and Draco Flooed over to The Leaky Cauldron later that same afternoon, once they had finished all their chores at the manor and taken a short nap. Ollivander welcomed them cordially, then set them to sorting wood the same as Nesmay. Much to everyone's surprise, it was Draco who proved to have the most talent for doing so.

"I never would have thought . . ." the blond wizard said, staring at the rowan stick in his hand in surprise. "Harry's the Heir Apparent to Prince Manor, he's got the earth bond . . ."

"Ah, but you have inherited your family's estate, is that not so?" Ollivander asked.

"Uh, yes. Not officially, since I'm underage, but when I turn seventeen, I'll be the Lord of Malfoy Manor."

"Then you must have a strong bond with your land, young Malfoy. Have you been back to visit since your parents' demise?"

"No. But I've met with my solicitor."

"I would wager that if you went back and set foot upon the property, you would feel the bond between you and the land deepen." Oliivander eyed Draco keenly. "Besides which, I believe you possess a natural talent for feeling the magic hidden within things. Do continue, Draco."

Draco did, smiling broadly. It felt good to be praised that way, and to be better than his brother at something. Sometimes he felt as if he was always in Harry's shadow, and it was nice to get out from under it. And who knew? Perhaps he could become a wandmaker someday.

"Hey, Draco, maybe you could become a wandmaker someday," suggested Harry.

Draco wondered if his little brother could read minds, or was he just intuitive, like Professor Snape?

"Have you considered a career yet, young Draco?" asked the old wizard.

"Umm . . .no, but I guess I could keep it in mind."

"You do that, young man. Something to think about. If you still feel the same way when you finish school, come and see me. Normally I don't take on more than one apprentice at a time, but Abelard is proving to be difficult. He's gifted with certain types of wood, but his patience with people and attitude towards customers leaves a lot to be desired. It's not enough to craft a wand, one must be able to relate to the wizard searching for one as well, since that is how you can make the best match. The wand chooses, but the wandmaker helps guide the two together. In the meantime, I need to get this shop ready. Harry, if you would assist me in moving those boards over there?"

While Harry worked with Ollivander to replace the floor, Draco and Nesmay sorted wood diligently. Occasionally, Ollivander would pause to lecture them about the different properties of each wood. Oak was known for its strength, willow was excellent for charm work. Lily, Harry's mother, had had a willow wand. So did Ron. James, his foster father, had had a mahogany wand, which was pliable and good for transfiguration. Holly was meant to repel evil, as was rowan. Maple was known for its longevity and black walnut for its protective qualities. Vinewood was known for its peace and healing qualities. Hermione's wand was made from vinewood. Draco's wand was hawthorn, which was known for its ability to guard the entrances to the Otherworld as well as slay undead, such as vampires. Severus' wand was pure ebony, which was one of the most magical woods, and gave the wielder a great deal of power as well as being the best protective wood ever known.

By week's end, they had sorted all the wood Ollivander had on hand. Next week they would learn how to trim and polish it. The wandmaker was very pleased with the Snape childrens' industriousness and praised them lavishly when Severus came to the shop to inquire about them on Friday. As a reward, the Potions Master took them to dinner at The Green Dragon Inn, a new inn and restaurant that had just opened a few months before.

It had very good food, and they all ate heartily of the stuffed pork chops with apple gravy and fried potatoes seasoned with rosemary and onions and fresh broccoli. Afterwards, they went to the ice cream shoppe for dessert, and had their favorite ice cream sundaes.

Harry liked the triple chocolate twist, Draco the butterscotch and vanilla nut, Nesmay's favorite was a banana split, and Severus chose a pecan espresso, rich, dark, and creamy though not overly sweet.

By the time the family emerged from the ice cream parlor, it was dusk, and they made their way leisurely to The Leaky Cauldron to Floo back home. The boys were in high spirits, teasing Nesmay affectionately, as well as each other. Severus was even minded to join in a bit, and so intent were they on each other that no one noticed the shadowy figure watching from Knockturn Alley.

The watcher's hands clenched into fists and his slanted eyes burned with bitter fury. But he made no move to follow the quartet down the street, simply watched until they were out of sight. Someday soon, there shall be a reckoning. And then I shall take what is mine.

An instant later, the watcher vanished, taking the chill from the shadows with him, and Knockturn Alley was empty, save for a few rats pawing through scraps on the rubbish heap and a skinny cat who stalked them. The cat shuddered as it passed the space where the unseen watcher had been, laying back its ears and hissing at the stench of evil that still lingered in the air. Then it continued to hunt, for the night was still young and it was hungry.