Harry resisted the internal urging to open his eyes. He was comfortable, snuggled deep into his bed, wrapped in warm blankets. The Dreamless Sleep potion still had his mind in a lulled state. He just wanted to stay there, floating in peaceful darkness. He wanted the low mutterings and occasional growls that insisted on invading his sleep to leave him alone. The noise was like a feather tickling his mind, taunting him to consciousness. Shuffling feet and another, louder, growl of frustration broke through the haze that surrounded his mind. Raising his head, he watched, irritated, as his friend and soon-to-be sister paced across his room. As he stared at her, his irritation began to shift to amusement. One moment, her face would scrunch up in an annoyed, angry expression, complete with narrowing eyes and clenching her hands into fists at her sides. The next she would be waving her arms frantically, mumbling something about something not happening.
He chuckled softly to himself before calling out, “Livia?”
“Don’t call me that!” she turned and huffed at him.
He raised his eyebrow at her, tilting his head to the side as he propped himself up on his elbows, “And just what should I call you?”
Hermione shivered at the sound of his voice, or rather the quality. He had to admit, it startled even him. For a moment, his tone had been quite similar to his father’s; he didn’t think he would ever get used to that one particular change. Hermione, however, shook it off quickly and came over and dropped down on the side of his bed.
“Fine,” she said then, with a sigh, continued, “it’s just awful!”
“What’s awful?” he asked, fighting against a yawn.
“This,” she said, tossing an old journal at him before rising from the bed and beginning to pacing again. “He could have at least warned me or even come right out and told me,” she ranted as she walked back and forth.
Harry tried to tune her out as he attempted to focus his mind on the book. The language was old and formal, probably legalese since it looked like a contract of some sort. Looking closer, he realized it was an arrangement between the Snape and the Malfoy families; specifically a matrimonial arrangement between the first daughter borne to either of the families and the male heir of the same generation of the other. He vaguely remembered his father mentioning something about a contract with another family that he wanted Hermione to consider carefully before accepting his and Bella’s offer of adoption. He snorted; the first time Hermione likely didn’t do her homework and this was outcome. A sharp jab to his shoulder reminded him that it wasn’t all that funny – especially considering it was Draco Malfoy towhom she would be engaged. Looking up from the book, he met Hermione’s agitated gaze. She was standing beside his bed, arms crossed folded across her chest. All in all, she was the epitome of pissed-off and annoyed.
With a resigned and tired sigh, he scooted over on his bed. Patting the mattress beside him, he waited as Hermione climbed up next to him and got comfortable. Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He felt the slight pressure of her head on his shoulder as she started to release the tension.
“What am I going to do?” she moaned.
Harry was silent for several moments while he tried to think of something he could say to make it okay for her. “I guess you’ll just have to trust our pa..” he stopped speaking briefly, stumbling over the word ‘parents’ in reference to Arabella and Snape. “…them. Didn’t the Professor say they’d find a way around it if necessary? Besides, you’re fifteen and still have quite a bit of training to finish. I’m pretty sure I read something about Avalon Adepts having to remain pure and untouched – can’t you use that?”
“I guess it could work,” she said, although she sounded unconvinced. “At least, it would delay everything except the initial betrothal ceremony.” She was silent for a moment then added in a soft, uncertain voice, “What will Ron think?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. Ron’s reaction had been one of his own worries. While he had made up with and forgiven Ron for the disagreements during fourth year, it was still fresh in his mind. The whole experience had made him a bit wary for fear of being rejected again. He reminded himself that in the end, Ron had always come through for him. “I think he’ll be okay with it once he gets over the shock. We will just have to make him listen.”
They sat quietly absorbed in their own thoughts. Since they had made the decision to pose as a family, they had started using their new identities and roles in everyday speech in an attempt to make it feel and be more natural. The problem was that it was just hard. For his entire life, Mum and Dad had referred to Lily and James. Actually, Mum and Dad were still Lily and James as they were using the more formal terms for Severus and Arabella, but it still felt weird and a bit disloyal to use the titles.
He felt Hermione shift away from him and looked at her, immediately noticing the concerned and confused expression on her face.
“Get used to what?” she asked.
He looked down at his hands, a bit embarresed and ashamed, not only of the feelings them selves but also that he had spoken them aloud. If anyone should be having troubles adjusting, it was Hermione, but she seemed to be handling it much better than him. “Calling, much less thinking of Arabella and Severus as Mother and Father,” he said softly.
They were both silent for a moment, locked in their own thoughts. Having finally voiced part of what was bothering him, it occurred to him he wasn’t being truly honest with himself. Looking back at Hermione, it all just seemed to pour out of him, “When I was little, I used to dream that my mum would come visit me at night. My cupboard would enlarge and she’d come and hold me; sometimes she’d sing to me or read to me. She told me stories about my father. On my birthday, she’d bring me cupcakes and we would eat them together. I thought she was the most beautiful person in the world.” He grew quiet again, then in a very soft voice, whispered, “She had long black hair and light blue eyes and a smile that made me feel special. I knew she loved me. I always thought it was some memory remnant until I saw pictures of my parents – Lily and James - in first year. After that, I just chalked it up to my imagination. Well,” he paused only to continue even softer, “until I saw Bella without the disguise.”
Hermione smiled sympathetically at him, “When I was 5, my best friend’s father died. When we were 9, her mother remarried. She had a lot of problems with it, even though she liked the guy.
She felt like she was betraying her father. My Mum told her that her father be glad to know that someone was there to love and care for her and her mother and to give them all the things he couldn’t. That’s what I’m trying to remember, what I want to believe. It makes it easier to think my parents can rest knowing that I have someone to take care of me.”
She fell silent again and grabbed the throw that rested at the foot of the bed. Shifting back to rest against his shoulder, she whispered to him, “Besides, the Professor is your biological father and Bella is your godmother and stepmother. She’s been watching over you your whole life.” She grew quiet again and nestled in closer to him. He felt his eyes begin to grow heavy as the rising of her chest against his side grew even. He thought of what she said. Deep in his heart he knew she was right. He’d read his mother’s letter to Bella, he knew that his mother wanted him to have the love a mother, wanted Bella to love him. He just hoped the guilty, disloyal feeling would fade soon. As he sank lower into his bed and drifted to sleep, he swore he saw the door to his room shut softly.
** == ^ == ** ** == ^ == **
A gentle voice drifted into his sleep-fogged brain. It was a familiar voice; one that often visited his dreams. Only this time, the voice was calling the wrong name.
“Darrius. Darrius, sweetie, time to wake up.”
He felt the soft touch of fingers brushing loose hairs from his face and recognized the soft, memorable scent of flowers that he long associated with his dreams of a loving mother. “Mum, lemesleep,” he mumbled, turning his face into the pillow. A soft chuckle and a flutter of a light kiss brushed against his hair drew him further into consciousness.
“Come on, Darrius, you need to wake up. There is plenty to do and discuss before dinner. I want you and Livia to pack up your things so we can leave early tomorrow.”
At the mention of Hermione’s new name, he shifted, rolling over slightly to see her sleeping on her side with her back to him. He saw Bella move around the bed toward Hermione and sit down beside her. She repeated the process she’d used on him, stroking Hermione’s hair away from her face and talking to her softly, “Livia, darling, its time to get up.” She groaned softly and tried to pull her blanket over her head, causing Harry to chuckle softly. The next thing he knew a pillow was tossed into his face and Arabella was laughing. The sound was relaxed and happy and the joy it contained compelled him to smile.
“Come on, Liv,” he said as he climbed from the bed. Coming around to the other side, he pulled Hermione first into a sitting position and then off the bed. She followed him out of the room, the throw draped around her shoulders. As he stepped out into the common room, he saw his father, Sirius and Remus sitting amongst a slew of packages. Sirius smiled at him, his eyes flashing merrily. His father narrowed his eyes warningly at Sirius, although he didn’t seem angry. Bella turned and took Hermione’s hand and maneuvered her onto the sofa beside Harry. Bella then reached for a box on the table and before handing it to Hermione, said “We have a bit of a surprise for you. One I hope will help you feel more at home with us, more like family.”
Hermione looked at her quizzically before pulling the lid off the box. Looking over her shoulder, Harry’s eyes widened at the light, almost white wood wand on a cushion of sky blue silk. Just staring at the wand, he could feel its innate power. It felt as if the wand itself were singing to him. Hermione looked questioningly at Arabella and then Sirius and Severus.
“This wand belonged to my grandmother. It’s nearly one thousand years old. Legend says that the wand was made of rosewood and cherry, bleached and waxed until it gleamed white. The core is from a phoenix – it contains not only a tail feather, but also the phoenix’s tears. Since its creation only a Figg Healer and a direct descendant of the previous wielder has been able to claim and use the wand,” Sirius explained.
Hermione’s eyes grew wide at the implications of such a wand being presented to her. Her eyes darted from Sirius and Arabella to Severus and Remus. Harry felt his heart leap in his chest as the anticipation grew and a smile spread across his face. He watched, feeling his own excitement building as Hermione reached a quaking hand into the box and grasped the wand. Immediately, the room was filled with a soft glowing light that seemed to fill him with a sense of warmth and wellbeing. With a rush of happiness, he reached over and pulled a stunned Hermione into his arms, hugging her tightly.
“I don’t know,” Hermione whispered after separating from Harry, “Thank you.”
Bella smiled at her, “It is rightfully yours, Livia. You are the direct descendant of Grainne Figg. I think she would want you to have it.”
Hermione nodded and swallowed hard as she blinked against tears. Harry squeezed her hand then, in hopes of drawing attention away from her and giving her a chance to regain some composure, he asked, “What is the rest of this stuff?”
Remus and Sirius laughed. His father leaned back in his chair, smiling slightly. It was becoming an almost familiar expression on the man’s face – and a reassuring one.
“These,” his father said, making sweeping motion with his hand that spanned the multitude of boxes, “are the basic items every wizarding child needs.”
Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise and a bit of confusion at his father’s words as he already had the basic items he needed – clothes, a wand, trunk, and money. He even had a broom and an owl. Glancing at Hermione, he saw her wide-eyed expression at the mountains of boxes and bags in front of her; at least for her it made sense. She had lost everything when the Death Eaters had destroyed her home. Sirius rose from his seat and retrieved two wand size boxes, placing one in front of Hermione and himself. With a flick of his wand, both boxes enlarged – nearly quadrupling in size. The box looked large enough for a broom and Harry smiled slightly as he began to understand. Those things that tied him to Harry Potter would have to be put away; he wouldn’t be able to continue using them.
He stared at the box until he felt his godfather’s hand on his arm. He looked over into the man’s blue eyes full of understanding and empathy. Harry tried to smile reassuringly back at him before turning to the box and removing lid. Inside the box rested an object that, to Harry’s mind, was beautiful. A Firebolt X3. Harry knew there was no real difference between this model and the original one Sirius had first given him; the changes and updates were merely cosmetic. At most, the spells had been slightly tweaked.
“My nephew deserves only the best,” Sirius said playfully. “Besides, the way I see it, you could pass on the Firebolt to Ron or another member of the Gryfinndor team.”
He heard his father snort under his breath and Remus laugh outright and couldn’t help but laugh softly with them. Turning toward Hermione, he saw that she to had opened a Firebolt – a Firebolt XL3; designed to be flown both astride or side-seated. He smiled at her awkward expression; he could tell she trying to seem pleased and happy with the gift and failing quite miserably. She smiled tightly as Sirius looked at her, his eyes twinkling.
“Thank you, Sirius. It’s lovely,” she said.
Sirius laughed heartily at her attempt to seem grateful. “It’s alright, Livia. I know you are not fond of flying. However, it would not seem right for Darrius to be using a broom three years old, nor would it be right for him to receive a new one and you not get one at all. Besides, Bell and Mum always preferred the side-seat, it’s why I asked her to get one for you.”
Sirius explanation seemed to soothe Hermione, who smiled genuinely as she examined the changeable stirrups. Harry turned his attention back to the other boxes before him; two were rather large and covered in brown paper. From their size, he suspected they were new trunks. As if on cue, the coffee table slid toward the fireplace and the two large packages floated down in front of Hermione and him. Within an hour, they both had gone through all but one package; inside their new trunks were robes of all sorts, shoes, books, supplies, regular clothes and toiletries. Everything you could think of that two teens from the wizarding world could want or need. And there were still two packages left.
His father cleared his throat, causing Harry to look over at him. “Before we present with the last two items, I would like to explain.” He looked directly at Harry then, “I was hoping to find the means to allow you to keep Hedwig.” At the mention of his beloved pet, Harry cringed. He had tried not to think about the inevitable – that he would have to give her up. He looked up hopefully at his father. “If you will allow me, I can use some charms and transfigurations to make subtle changes to Hedwig.” Lifting the cover off one of the last packages, Severus revealed a Snowy Owl comparable in size to Hedwig with darker and more abundant markings. “Essentially, I can disguise Hedwig, make her look like this owl and vise versa. My suggestion would be to then have Dumbledore present this owl to the Weasley’s.”
Harry looked at the large bird; it had wise, gentle eyes like his faithful companion. To his father, he said, “I’ll get to keep Hedwig. It won’t hurt them?” His father shook his head and Harry smiled, feeling tension he hadn’t been consciously aware of drain from him. “Thank you Father,” he said, the last word had come so naturally to his lips. He knew it was partly from the practice they had all started in using the new names and titles. The small, answering smile that spread across his father’s face and the way the man’s eyes lit happily made Harry feel oddly safe and pleased.
His father nodded at him, then turned to Hermione, “I selected this one for you.” Reaching over he pulled the cover off a second travel cage, revealing a dark grey eagle owl. Hermione rose from her seat and walked over to the cage. Harry watched the smile spread across her face when the owl hooted at her softly.
“Thank you, sir, but you already given me so much,” she said, the regret very clear in her voice.
“Nonsense,” Severus replied, “I, we, wish you to have her. You are Figg; you will be a Snape. Snapes and Figgs do not use ordinary school owls.” His tone was sharp, almost condescending. Harry, however, could see through the harsh tone to the sentiment harbored beneath. He could see that his father genuinely wanted to give this gift to Hermione. Harry smiled when Hermione did, knowing she understood.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Well, then, dinner is in an hour. I expect you all their on time,” Arabella said, then turned to the two. “You two have some packing to do.” She then turned to Severus and Sirius, “You two – go get those potions and spells ready.” Finally, she turned to Remus, “And you, Remus, are with me. We have work to do.” With that, she grabbed Remus’ hand and strode from the room. For a moment, the rest of the room’s occupants stared after her, a bit perplexed.
Sirius just shrugged his shoulders, “Well, I guess we have our orders.”
“Indeed,” Severus commented, sounding a bit amused before he turned and left the room.
Shrugging, Sirius exited to the library leaving Hermione and Harry alone in the common room. With raised eyebrows, Harry turned back to Hermione. “Guess its time to pack,” he said. She merely snorted and collected her things and headed to her room. Following her lead, Harry did the same.