Slowly coming to a stop, the Thestral drawn carriage pulled up to the front doors of the castle. The occupant, shrouded in black, stared at the imposing oaken doors for a moment, while the skeletal beasts huffed to themselves in the cool evening air, little white puffs of air betraying their presence.

The owl had arrived quite late with its tidings; but she had left her sanctuary swiftly – pausing only to pack the essentials for the next few days which now lay in the black leather trunk, the corners protected with shiny brass covers that gleamed in the moonlight, seated on the floor of the carriage. She was not entirely sure of her feelings on the matters that had been imparted to her in the letter, but she knew her duty and it required that she be here to see it through to the end.

Gathering a bundle close to her chest, the passenger descended from the carriage and, collecting an edge of the skirts in one hand, ascended the stone steps worn smooth and into little dips by the passing of hundreds of children’s feet. The moonlight shone above, lighting her way, but she took her time nevertheless. In a way, coming back here felt like coming home. The place she had just left had been a necessary sanctuary, the one before that – a gilded cage where she was expected to be the pretty bird on display when called upon. Seven years in this castle, during her most formative years, had been her favourite time of her young life and she always entered the stone facade with a grateful heart, feeling the magic of the castle wrap around her and welcome her, as it always did.

A small inner door opened upon her approach and another figure swathed in black stepped forward, only partially distancing itself from the shadows.

“Let me take her, Narcissa,” Severus offered, relieving the widow of the sleeping toddler.

“She fell asleep on the carriage ride from the village,” she explained quietly as the baby’s godfather shifted her to a more comfortable position, tucked under his chin. Miraculously, she only snuffled a little in her sleep, thumb firmly in place and never woke, accepting her godfather’s touch as soothing.

“Let me take you to your rooms. They are just this way,” he motioned towards the stairway and then led the way up to the second floor where guest quarters were located, her small portmanteau floating behind them. They travelled along an out of the way hallway, guarded by two imposing suits of armour, complete with iron mace and two-handed sword. Portraits snored in their frames as they passed by until they came to a full length portrait of a stargazing lady. Her eyes were glued to the telescope mounted on the stone ledge in front of her, papers with calculations and star charts scattered on a low camp table beside her. A flickering flame cast its light only on the papers, a shade blocking its glare from reaching the astronomer.

Severus cleared his throat to get her attention, and she startled, nearly overturning the table.

“Oh, I’m so sorry – the planets were dancing so delightfully tonight, I quite lost myself in their steps,” she apologised.

“No harm, Lucretia,” Severus murmured. “Narcissa, may I introduce your guardian portrait, Caroline Lucretia Hershel – who prefers, these days, to go by Lucretia. Lucretia, your boarder: Narcissa Black Malfoy.”

“They named a comet after me, you know,” the lively woman confided, bustles of lace bobbing up and down on her flouncy nineteenth Century dress. Narcissa smiled at her and murmured a “Hullo” to the portrait.

“Doxies, Lucretia,” Severus announced, giving the password and Lucretia curtsied to them as the portrait swung open. Narcissa drifted through the doorway and the sconces on the walls flared into life revealing a comfortable sitting room that had leaded French doors leading out to a deep porch that overlooked the grounds towards the Black Lake. A door off to the left led into the sleeping chamber replete with a modest queen-sized four poster bed piled high with a down comforter and thick bed curtains held back with tasselled silk tiebacks. A baby cot stood in one corner and Severus went over to it to lay his godchild down for the rest of the night. She sighed contentedly as she snuggled into her favourite blanket, thumb still ensconced in mouth.

Setting a monitoring charm on her, he led her mother out to the sitting room where a tea service was waiting, fragrant steam rising from the tea pot. Narcissa sat primly on the thick upholstered chair set before the small table and let Severus serve her before he took his own seat across from her.

“This certainly was not the way I meant to see you next,” he began.

“No, I suppose not. Unfortunately, it is a necessity and I must play the dutiful widow. However, I refuse to grieve. It was never a love match and after all he has done, I can truly say good riddance. He did give me beautiful children, though. How is Draco?”

“Attempting to be stoic. I think the fact that he may once again be the Malfoy heir is weighing most heavily on his mind.”

She made a little moue with her lips as she thought over the implied question. “That will be something that the lawyers will have to deal with. I have no idea what Lucius had done with that – even if that cow he was with this weekend is enceinte, he hadn’t married her and Draco – as the true born son – would be the rightful heir, disowned or not. That would be the normal set of events. But we all know Lucius was devious – and he was incredibly spiteful at the time towards you and your budding family, which he looked upon as poaching in his territory – so I have no idea what he has waiting in the wings for us to trip over.” She sighed quietly, letting the tea soak its warmth into limbs that felt weighed down by burdens.

“Do you think the manor is closed to you? Have you tried to get in?” he asked. “You could never divorce, so you should be able to access it,” he pointed out.

She nodded. “I made sure of that as soon as I got your owl. The wards are still mine to command,” she assured her friend. “However, it is easier to have the services here. He truly did love this school – and, I admit, the power it afforded him to be on the Board of Governors didn’t hurt either. It would be too much trouble for me to adjust the wards to let in the number of people who would want to attend his services at the family vault. Here, the board members can pay their respects and we can have his services quietly and then move him.” She nibbled on a wafer, brushing away the crumbs from her skirt quickly.

“I’ve already notified the Vicar here in Hogsmeade that we will require his services tomorrow.” Severus nodded – she seemed to be handling everything admirably.

They sipped in silence for a moment before she looked up at him, concern in her face.

“And how is Harry? I read the reports before I took off – how horrendous for him! Of course Fudge is denying everything – but some of the Aurors who went with Mad-eye gave their stories to Lovegood who is printing everything in his rag.” She shook her head and chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day where that ridiculous magazine would actually get it right – but I had a bit of a time trying to get hold of a copy; it’s flying off the newsstands!”

“He’s pretty traumatised, as you can imagine, and Albus has gained the number two spot on Harry’s shite list – right behind the Dark Lord.”

She raised a finely shaped eyebrow at this. “How in heaven’s name did that happen? By all reports, Albus wasn’t even present most of the year – being locked up in a seven-layer trunk in his own bedroom.”

Severus settled back in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other as he cradled his saucer and cup on his lower abdomen. “Ah, but he was there in the beginning – and was the one who placed Harry’s name in the cup to begin with; then we discovered last night that he has been manipulating Harry, placing obstacles and “opportunities” in his way for the last four years in order to test him.” He snorted.

“Testing him? For what? That ridiculous prophecy from all those years ago? Really, Dumbledore is going too far! I’ve heard everything that has gone on since Harry has entered the school; all of it was to test his readiness? How absurd!” she scoffed.

“Most of it, as far as we can tell, yes. Lucius was responsible primarily for letting the basilisk out – even if he never knew what he was truly loosing on the school, but Dumbledore used the situation to his advantage.” He set his saucer and cup down on the table, leaning forward on his forearms. “I don’t know if we can return next year, Cissy. I don’t trust Albus anymore; I warned him three years ago that if I found out he had interfered with my son I would pull the whole family out faster than he could say Quidditch. After this revelation I feel like I must follow through – unless something drastically changes in the running of this school.”

She reached out a hand and laid it against his cheek, her thumb stroking his temple, before letting it fall and rest against his arm. “I understand, Sev. Why don’t you let the idea percolate for a few weeks before making a decision? Let’s get through with burying Lucius, get the boys back to the Manor and away from here – relax before you decide.”

He gazed into her pale blue eyes. Some people would say they glittered like ice crystals; and when she directed her glare on them, those crystals could cause your heart to freeze in fear. But for him they held warmth, a promise of good things to come, and love. “I promise, as long as you and Calista join us,” he insisted.  “We can be a family, Cissy – a proper family.” He laid his own hand over hers and she rewarded him with a brilliant smile and a blush that put colour back in her face; something that had been missing until now.

“If you’re sure...” she demurred.

“If I could coerce you to stay forever, I would. I know it is probably not the right time to speak of this, but...” He held her gaze, leaning in for a tender kiss. “I love you, Cissy – I know you understand that, and I want to marry you as soon as it is proper to do so – sooner if it wouldn’t make you the talk of the society pages,” he smirked.

“Is that a proposal, Severus Snape?”

“Do you take it as such? I was pretty much just letting you know my intentions – but if you want to take it as...” He had to stop as his mouth was soon busy kissing her back, and his hands were occupied with keeping her tucked into his lap. And mixed in with her kisses were breathless little exhortations of “Yes, yes, yes...”

****

Draco, Harry and Hermione stood near the entrance to the small chapel tucked away off the side of the Great Hall. Built during a time when religious observation was much more prevalent amongst Wizard Society, it rarely was in use now. Today, most of the rows were filled with members of the board of Governors, their families and various other officials and dignitaries. Albus had even descended from his seventh floor office to attend the service – glad-handing his way through the group, taking their wishes for his continued good health.

Dedicated to a long-forgotten saint, it was a small room with a triptych of stained glass windows dominating the far wall featuring the adoration of the Magi – their gifts floating in mid-air towards the infant.  As they were taught in History of Magic, the students knew that the Wise Men were actually Wizards in their own lands. Sconces on the walls and standing candlesticks burned brightly, lending a soft glow to the area. Soft murmurs from the mourners swooshed through the air, almost sounding like sea surf on sand.

In front of the altar rail, on an ornate raised bier, lay Lucius Malfoy’s body. Preserving spells had been set upon him and he appeared to only be asleep. His hands were clasped across his chest, his wand under them. Dressed in exquisite black robes, his white hair shone as a beacon in the dusky chapel. Any wounds that had occurred during the duel were hidden away. A casual observer would never be able to tell how he’d come to his end. The witch he’d been escorting the day of his death was seated in a back corner, daintily dabbing her eyes with a silk handkerchief. Draco had seethed when he saw her, his brother having to forcibly restrain him and Hermione deftly relieving him of his wand before he let loose with a hex. They had hustled him out of the chamber, letting him cool off in the corridor while waiting for his mother and sister to arrive.

A tapestry funeral blanket covered the lower part of Lucius’ body, depicting the Malfoy family arms and motto - Planto Nex non Bellum. Draco had explained, when Hermione had commented on the workmanship, that the covering had been in their family for many generations and always was used to cover the bodies during funeral services.

Hermione and Harry had accompanied Draco earlier in the day to the chapel after the House-elves had prepared Lucius for services and burial. They had sat quietly behind him on the hard wooden benches as he stood respectfully near the bier, gazing upon his sire. Many emotions had crossed through him these last few hours – he hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night – and Hermione had explained the stages of grieving to him, something she had gotten from some Muggle book. He wasn’t quite sure if he was in Anger or Acceptance – probably a little of both with Depression thrown in. He hadn’t even thought of Bargaining, and Denial had lasted about a whole minute before relief had settled in. But he was definitely angry; angry that he’d been left with such a mess, angry that his sire had chosen to follow the megalomaniac in the first place – angry that he’d forced Dad to kill him. But he also knew that there was nothing he could do, now. What’s done, was done.

Draco was quite grateful for his girlfriend who had checked in on him numerous times over the last few days, always there when he needed her the most, letting him weep and rail at her about anything and everything – the perfect sounding board. It had been during one of these rants when she had told him about the stages of grief and they had discussed his feelings.

One of the things he had been most angry about was how his brother had been forced into this competition, and had been manipulated by the headmaster for years. Harry had enough on his plate, he didn’t need this type of manoeuvring behind his back – placing him in dangerous situations without his say, making him think they had been random events when in truth, much of it had been calculated to test his worthiness for the title of “Saviour of the Wizarding World”. He was a teenager, for Merlin’s sake, not some Muggle Messiah!

Standing in the corridor, he’d managed to use his meditation techniques and had calmed down enough to greet the stragglers who were filing in along the corridor politely. A tug on his sleeve from his brother focused his attention to the opposite gallery where he espied his father escorting his mother and sister. They walked slowly, Snape near Narcissa, but never touching, keeping a watchful eye on the little girl in front of him.

Calista, sturdy on her toddler legs now, spotted the boys immediately when they came around the corner and ran full pelt at them screaming in joy, blond curls bouncing in her wake, causing several of the older Witches and Wizards to turn in shock – but they eventually smiled indulgently upon the tot and continued to file inside. Severus and Narcissa approached at a more sedate pace, close but not touching. Narcissa smiled as she saw Draco gather up his baby sister and hug her tightly, Harry and Hermione petting and cooing over her. As the adults grew nearer, Hermione took the little girl from Draco allowing him to greet his mother properly.

He bowed low to her, kissing her hand first before straightening up and embracing her, bestowing kisses to her cheeks.

“Mother, I grieve with thee,” he greeted her formally, offering her his arm which she took – leaning a bit more than usual on it as the polished black doors opened revealing the interior of the sanctuary. They paced up to the bier quietly, Severus staying with Harry and Hermione.

Harry leaned into his father to catch the older man’s attention.

“Erm, you should know that the woman that Lucius was with is here, over in that corner.” He indicated with a quick sweep of his eyes to the far right of their seats and Severus frowned. “Draco nearly hexed her on the spot, but Hermione nipped his wand and we took him into the hallway.”

“Well done, son. Thank you for letting me know; I’ll keep an eye on the situation,” he whispered back, settling further into his seat.

Calista nestled into her godmother’s arms, eyes large as she took in the strange room and all the strange people, thumb stuck in her mouth. Zeroing in on the man laying on the table as the being the main reason they were all there, she patted Hermione’s cheek to get her attention as the vicar from Hogsmeade entered from a side door, previously hidden under an arras.

“Aunty ‘Mia, who dat man? Why he asleep?” she asked, her childish voice piercing the gloom with its innocent query. This evoked several chuckles from the more kindly minded in attendance, and shushes and glares from those who thought solemnity needed to be the order of the day.

Hermione looked at her professor for permission before beginning. He had noticed Narcissa looking back with a pained expression from her seat next to Draco in the first row, but she had nodded that Hermione should try and Severus had waved a hand at the Gryffindor to continue, casting a muffling charm over their little group. So, very quietly, explaining that they had to whisper in respect for the service about to happen, Hermione told the little girl in simplest terms what was transpiring in front of her and who the man was.

“What’s a papa?” Calista asked and Hermione started, taken aback for a moment before realising the child had never known what a father was – never knowing her own. She thought a bit before she answered, looking at Harry, hoping he would give her some help – and, unknowingly, he did.

“You know how Uncle Severus is Harry’s daddy?” she asked. The little girl nodded, sneaking a look at the dark professor. “Well, Mr Malfoy was your and Draco’s daddy.”

“But Uncle Sev is Dwaco’s daddy!” Calista announced shrilly, her own world order becoming confused. Hermione could see Harry’s shoulders beginning to shake with hidden mirth until the professor laid a hand on his son’s shoulder to remind him about needed decorum.

Hermione shushed the little girl, bouncing her in her arms for a moment. “Yes, he is – now, because Draco didn’t want to do some bad things that Mr Malfoy wanted him to do. So Mr Malfoy  - hmm, allowed your uncle to become Draco’s new daddy.”

Mentally, Severus rewarded Granger ten points for managing to explain to his goddaughter the family dynamics in a way the child would understand. Calista, for her part, sat quietly on Hermione’s lap while the vicar continued on with the prayers for the deceased, obviously mulling over what her godmother had explained to her – eyebrows knitted in concentration.

At the end of the short service, a casket rose up around Lucius, the cloth cover disappearing with a pop to return to the Malfoy family vaults and Narcissa took off her wedding rings, placing them on Lucius’ finger before closing the lid. This was the signal to magically transport the casket to the family mausoleum where the family House-elves had already prepared his niche and were only waiting for the coffin to appear before sealing it up forever. A wail rose up from the back corner and Narcissa turned around slowly to pierce the woman with the coldest and most annoyed glare she could muster. The witch was too hysterical to even notice the reaction she was getting, or she was a very good actress – was Hermione’s stray thought, wincing at the nails-on-chalkboard effect the screech was evoking.

Severus sighed heavily and wandlessly caused the woman to faint dead away in her bench corner – effectively shutting her up. People nearby immediately turned their backs on her and made their way forwards to greet the widow.

After murmuring the appropriate thanks to the vicar (slipping him a generous donation to his parsonage), the widow and her son slowly made their way to the little group of people at the back. Graciously, they listened to condolences the entire way along the short walk to where Severus patiently awaited them and then led the family group to her rooms for a small private luncheon.

Calista kept them all entertained with her antics, the seriousness of the day making little, if no impression, upon her after her enquiry during the service. The three teens found themselves sitting on the floor playing with the little girl and seeing who could make her laugh the loudest, finding her innocent laughter a balm for raw spirits.

****

The third night in a row, Severus had looked in on his boys to find them both sharing the same bed, back to back. Obviously, both were experiencing bad dreams again. The first two nights, he’d found Draco curled up on Harry’s bed and tonight Harry had come over to comfort Draco. If they were doing this so often, it was probably time to call in Whitney McDonald for a mental check-up. He floated the blankets over the boys, tucking them in against the perpetually cool dungeon air and closed the door, resolving to call in the Child Advocate in the morning after the closing breakfast. The students were being sent home early, exams being called off in light of Voldemort’s return, the excitement of the tournament, and the need to begin strengthening the wards around the school immediately. He and the boys wouldn’t be leaving until after the weekend, needing to get several things done for the end of term.

Narcissa and Calista had left for Malfoy Manor that afternoon after the small luncheon, needing to meet with the family solicitors. The sooner she gained control of the Malfoy estate, the better. They would be joining the Snapes at Prince Manor when she had a better understanding of where the family finances stood, not having been involved with them for the last eighteen months.

He headed down the hall to the sitting room where he found Runeskin had anticipated his needs this evening, a glass of elf wine and his current book sharing the small round table next to his chair. The evening had a bit of nip to it, especially in the dungeons, and a small fire was crackling in the hearth. Onyx – now a full grown male cat and easily approaching the ten pound arena – and Silicia were sharing the warm flag stone, basking in the warmth. A contented purr escaped the cat as Severus bent over to pet the feline, and Silicia tasted the air once as he ran a finger along her head behind the eyes, settling into a more contented position.

Sipping his drink, he settled back as well, opening his book to where he’d last left off.

****

“Thank you, Whitney, for your prompt response,” Severus said, welcoming the man at the door to the Great Hall.  After the closing breakfast where school awards and prizes were handed out, announcements made concerning apprenticeships won and the formal awarding of the final points for the tournament, (which Harry and Cedric had insisted on taking together), the students had said final farewells to their guests for the year – watching in awe as the ship slipped away into the lake, and the winged horses – their hooves sounding like rolling thunder – take off for the sky. Then, after saying goodbye to their classmates, taking longer with some more than others – promising to make time over the summer to meet up, Harry and Draco had grabbed their brooms, heading for the sky themselves as soon as they were able, losing themselves in the pure joy of flying.

Severus led him out to the pitch where the boys were flying rings around each other. Whitney was experiencing deja vu – as this was nearly identical to the first time he had met the boys, three years before. This time the men watched from the stands as the boys flew instead of calling them down immediately.

“So, if I can believe the papers, your family has been experiencing quite a year, Severus,” Whitney began.

“Depends on the paper,” Snape quipped. “If it is Skeeter, don’t believe a word she says,” he warned. “On the other hand, Lovegood is actually printing near factual information – for once,” he mused.

Whitney chuckled, pushing his glasses up onto his bald forehead and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees while looking over at his host. “They look happy enough, Severus – why call me in?”

“What the papers don’t relate is what really happened during the last task, and what was revealed afterwards.” He stared off into the sky while he spoke to the advocate, keeping his eyes focused on his sons and their antics. “I was forced into a duel with Draco’s sire and had to kill him in self-defence. Harry found out some nasty truths about the Headmaster and their relationship, and was forced into a ritual that brought the Dark Lord back into being – as well as duelling him in a fight that was meant to be his death.” He continued to explain things further, Whitney soaking in the narrative as he watched the boys fly above him.

“I see. And you say they are experiencing nightmares again? Well, that should be expected after all this, shouldn’t it? Have they been using the Journals?”

Snape nodded. “As far as I know, they still religiously write in them each night – I know they always get each other stacks of new ones each Christmas.”

“And has Harry spoken to the Headmaster since the last task?”

“He systematically avoids him. With good reason, and I must admit I’m still debating as to whether or not to pull them out completely because of his actions.” He sighed heavily before continuing.  “It wasn’t just him entering Harry’s name in the tournament – that was the last straw, actually. It was everything before it – things that didn’t make sense until I was finally able to step back and view the picture from a larger scale in order to see the patterns of machination.

“I’m a ruthless man, Whitney, and I’m not proud of some of things I’ve had to do over the years – forcing Lily away was one of the worst. But what Albus has done to Harry over the years... How can I continue to keep him here?”

Whitney peered over at the conflicted father sitting next to him. “Am I here for the boys, Severus, or you?” he asked teasingly.

Severus smirked at the Advocate. “Triple bill me, then.”

“Nah, here’s my free advice to you. Do what you think is in the best interests of your family. If that means letting them continue their education among their friends – with added safeguards in place – then do it that way. If it means withdrawing them and going to ground until you can find a way to fight back decisively, do that. I know – I’m only repeating what you know yourself, but why not ask them what they want to do. Their answer may surprise you,” he foretold.

“Perhaps. Well, shall we call them in and go picnic by the lake?” Severus asked. Whitney agreed and Severus pulled on his link with Harry, reeling the boy in – his brother following.