Chapter Thirty-Eight
Normality Returns.
Maeve had many thoughts in her head as she marched down the friendly corridors of Hogwarts to her first lesson. The one thought uppermost in her mind was that she was extremely grateful to be back here, in one piece and preparing to teach again. She seemed to have missed so much this year and the students really deserved better. Despite the fact she knew that the interruptions had not been entirely her own fault she still shouldered most of the blame. Beyond this thought others circled, the mental equivalent of vultures waiting to pick over the carrion of Abbeylara. She had locked Roderick firmly away in her memory as a painful reminder of the true cost of war. Professor Dumbledore had visited them once again at Grimmauld Place the previous evening to tell them that the pile of ash that was once her home had been thoroughly raked through and only a few remnants of bones had been found amidst the scorched wreckage of the Unquenchable Fire. He informed them, with some gravitas, that he was absolutely certain Roderick Rampton was no longer with them. Maeve had sought solace in Severus, finding his normal attitude and scathing manner a fine antidote to the pressures of grief.
The Irish Prophet had been dropped onto her desk first thing by one of the Hogwarts owls, an unusual event and something she assumed Dumbledore had arranged. The front page told of a mysterious pall of smoke rising from the depths of the O’Malley estate in Wicklow. The story went on to tell the reader very little beyond the fact that the smoke was not thought to have come from an ordinary blaze and that there were un-confirmed reports of a small forest fire circulated by the Garda. She smiled to herself at the diplomatic miracle that had kept the real story from hitting the lurid headlines. On the inside page she found a mention of Voldemort and his cronies. Several Death Eaters had been sighted in a small town on the outskirts of Meath and she wondered idly what they had been doing there. Of Voldemort, there was no word.
Neville was also very much on her mind. She would have to find an appropriate moment to tell him the things she had learned from her father. Maeve also realised she would have to pay a visit to his grandmother to enlighten her on her grandson’s true purpose in life. None of this was making for a straightforward return to normality, if she could ever be normal again after what had happened. There were four more months of school life left and she hoped they could get through them without too much interruption from the outside world.
In the Easter holidays she would have to make plans to deal with that other little event that would be on her before she knew it. Somehow she had to organise her wedding. The benefits of not having a family meant that she could go for a small ceremony, probably at the Ministry, with just a few guests and as little fuss as possible. She could hardly imagine Severus wanting a large celebration; it wasn’t his style. It had been with a sad, sinking sensation that she thought of Roderick and his one-time career as a party planner. He would never have approved of her low-key ideas.
So here she was, in her sunlit classroom standing before the sixth years, talking in a very authoritative manner about the properties of the Effere group of spells. Boredom abounded throughout the classroom as she used the tedious method of the blackboard and Charmed Chalk to get her point across. They balefully watched the words appear on the board and they copied them dutifully, wondering when they could get back to more exciting things like the Kraken.
“So,” she said, letting the chalk rest for a moment. “We now know what they do. Who can give me an example of one?”
Hermione’s hand shot vigorously into the air with its usual aplomb. Harry had filled her and Ron in with only the briefest details of his encounter at Abbeylara. They knew where he had been and that Voldemort had been there too, but they had no idea about Maeve’s father or the fire that had almost killed their dearest friend. No doubt Harry would feel ready to tell them the full details at some point, but for now it was a little to immediate to be translated for his friends.
Neville’s hand was also in the air and it was to him that Maeve turned.
“Yes, Neville?”
“ Smothering Smog,” he said, triumphantly. “Gran always says that it was one of You-Know-Who’s favourite weapons last time. She remembers getting almost run over by a number six bus in Piccadilly Circus once because she got caught in one.”
“Very good, and how does one clear a Smothering Smog?”
Hermione’s hand waggled again but Neville was very much on a roll.
“You can’t,” he said, without waiting to be asked. “You have to wait for it to clear itself, and that can sometimes take up to a week. Gran says that the one in Piccadilly was the worst she ever knew. Eros was hidden for almost two weeks and when it cleared they found someone had nicked his bow and arrows. That really upset the Muggles.”
Maeve gave a small chuckle. “Indeed, and are there any more?”
Dean’s hand went up. “The Eternal Effigy,” he said confidently. He’d seen a picture of the results of the spell in a book once and had been very impressed by the grey, still-limbed smoothness of the victim.
“No, that’s not one of the Effere group, Dean, that’s a particularly nasty spell in its own right. You have to remember the main principle of the Effere group. They are ordinary spells that have extra power. Yes, Hermione?”
“Both Sonorous Dramaticus and Unquenchable Fire are Effere spells. The first one increases sound levels to ear-splitting proportions and can’t be stopped until either your ear-drums burst or the caster withdraws the spell and the second starts a fire that can’t be put out, even by the caster.” Hermione looked satisfied with her answer and sat back in her chair happily.
Harry was now looking at Maeve with large, tired eyes and her gaze drifted towards him automatically. He gave a wry smile of acknowledgment and Maeve returned her attention to Hermione.
“Very good, Hermione,” she said. “Now for your homework,” -- here there were groans all round -- “I would like you to write me four feet on the different and unique effects of all the Effere spells that you can find and what measures can be taken, if any, to combat some of them. You never know when you will find yourself up against one of these things. Although they can only be cast by an extremely powerful wizard it is not beyond the realms of possibility that you will, at some point, face one of them.”
She dismissed the class two minutes before the end of the lesson, glad that the first one of the day was safely out of the way. The next class was the first years and they would be the easiest of all to keep occupied. As the clatter of chairs and the general rise in noise level approached Sonorous Dramaticus levels she called for a little decorum and they left in more subdued manner. As Neville slung his bag over his shoulder, she asked him to stay behind and he loped towards her desk with an eager grin on his round face.
“Yes, Professor?” he asked genially.
“Neville, could I see you after classes in my office?”
His face instantly clouded and she was quick to reassure him that he had done nothing wrong. “I just want to talk to you about your mum, and about things that happened before you were born. It’s really nothing to be worried about. Will you come?”
“Yes, of course I will. Straight after classes?” The eagerness was back, touched only slightly with concern now. He was always ready to learn new things about his parents, things that came without the slant of maternal pride on them. His gran tried to explain things to him but she always got bogged down with telling him how wonderful his father had been. Inevitably this left out a great deal that Neville would like to have known. And certainly, as he got older, he found himself wanting to know more about their lives and the things they had done while working as Aurors.
“Please. I’ll make sure I don’t take up too much of your homework time.”
He laughed at that and swung his way out of the classroom, brightened by the fact that one of his favourite professors had once again returned.
By the time the day’s classes were over, Maeve had remembered how good it felt to get through a normal day with nothing irregular happening. Having her mind occupied by mundane things that didn’t threaten death at every turn was wonderfully unexciting. As soon as she got through this little meeting with Neville she could settle down to a little light reading before having an early night. She managed to make it all the way to her rooms without being waylaid by students or staff and settled herself to wait for her visitor.
The view from her window was a stunning as ever and it relaxed her mind as she went over in her head what she would say to Neville. It would undoubtedly come as a shock to him and she wished Harry had felt able to be here when she told him, but he had firmly excluded himself from this. The forest looked as dangerous as ever, even though it lay beneath a cloak of burnished sunlight. She half expected Malachy to walk out from the canopy of trees, his gaunt face leering up at her with malicious intent, but nothing stirred below.
Even though she was anticipating it, the knock at the door made her jump and she turned to face it with a plastered smile on her face.
“Come in,” the sound of her own voice reverberated harshly in her ears and jarred her over-sensitive brain.
The door was pushed open and Neville walked in, closely followed by Harry. This was a development Maeve hadn’t been expecting and she was pleased about it. At least with Harry here some of the blow could be shared.
“I’m so pleased you decided to join us, Harry.” Maeve realised the atmosphere had begun to prickle in anticipation of revelation and she ushered the two boys through to the sitting room.
“I was being selfish in saying no,” Harry muttered, not looking at Neville or her. “We all need to talk about it. It involves all of us.” He dropped down onto the sofa, folding his legs beneath him.
“Well, I agree.” Maeve registered Neville’s look of surprise and smiled to assuage his sudden sense of unease. This was supposed to be about his mother and now he was being faced with some sort of conspiracy. Added to the fact that Harry seemed fully in the know, Maeve was now smiling at him in a very complacent way. Neville was feeling as if something momentous was about to happen and he steeled himself against the worst.
Like Harry, just one day ago, Neville sat silently through the short speech that Maeve made. Her fingers twisted at the green cord that hung around her waist, nervously transferring her anxiety to the inanimate fabric. Dark eyes expressed her worry for Neville while her mouth shouldered the burden of imparting the strange news. His face worked slightly as he tried to grasp what he was being told fully, and both Maeve and Harry could see the intense mental effort this took. She finished her explanation with an imploring gaze and the entreaty to ask any questions he might have.
“I don’t know.” Neville shook is head and looked to Harry, who looked back gravely. “I don’t know what I should ask, but I feel like I should ask something.”
“Do you understand what I have told you?” Maeve asked.
“Of course I do,” Neville nodded. “It’s just a bit, well, a bit much to take in. One minute I’m a bit of a school joke “ stupid Neville with his forgetfulness and his silly toad “ and next I’m being told that some...” He broke off and looked to Harry, unsure of the right word to describe Lugh.
“God,” Harry supplied helpfully. “It may seem a bit strange but you get used to it.” In truth Harry hadn’t got used to it at all, and Harry had got used to an awful lot over the years. But having a grandfather who was immortal was a bit much, even by his standards.
“Some… god…” ” he seemed to wince over the word ” “is related to me. And so are you two.”
Maeve did her best to once again play down the relationship question. She told Neville about the lack of any bloodline but he looked about as convinced as Harry had done. A tie was a tie whether there was blood involved or not. Neville had gone a little pink and was fidgeting now, trying to conceal his agitation but failing.
“Perhaps you could discuss this with Harry,” Maeve suggested. “I think he probably has a better idea of how you are feeling at the moment than I do. I have told you everything I know but there may be some questions you feel you can’t ask me.” This idea was as much for her benefit as his, she wanted to get away from this and bury it for their allotted period of grace.
“No,” Neville admitted simply. “I can’t think of anything I would like to ask. It’s just a lot to think about. This prophecy, this job we have to do seems so… well...dangerous, I suppose.”
“I can’t lie to you, Neville,” Maeve began, remembering wryly how easily she had lied to Alice about her son’s safety. “There is every possibility it will be, but if we prepare well and make the most of the coming months, when we know we are safe, then I think we will be as secure as we can be.”
“What about Gran?”
“I will have to speak with her. I think an owl is in order and then a visit.”
They were interrupted by a knock at the outer door and Maeve was almost grateful for the excuse to leave them to their uncertainty. She opened the door to Percy’s self-important figure standing there with the ubiquitous clipboard in hand.
“Yes, Mr Weasley?”
“Professor Dumbledore has requested that you pay him a visit later this evening, if you have time. Something about your cousin.” He displayed a distinctly pleased expression when he saw her glazed smile waver at the mention of Malachy Meany.
“Thank you, Percy.” Without waiting for any further discussion she closed the door smartly in his face, just leaving herself time to see him step hurriedly backwards with a look of alarm on his face.
Harry and Neville had followed her to the office, looking as if they were ready to leave. It could have been Maeve’s imagination, but they already looked closer, the distance between them subtly smaller. Harry subconsciously began to try and flatten his hair, while Neville prepared to say goodnight with a chirruping cough.
“We thought we’d give you some peace,” he said, putting her feelings before their own needs. “I’ll have a chat with Harry about this, like you said. It will be all right” it has to be.”
“You’re so philosophical,” Maeve smiled. “I doubt I could have been quite so calm about this at your age.”
“No point getting upset,” Harry pointed out. “I tried that last year and it didn’t get me very far. It looks like sometimes there isn’t any alternative; you just have to grit your teeth and get on with things. We can’t change this, so we may as well enjoy the break.”
Maeve was very relieved that the angst-ridden young man of last September had been replaced with this calmer version of the same model. There was no doubt Harry still had his moments but the difference was marked. No doubt the easing of the grief he felt over Sirius had something to do with it, and there may have been an element of Harry realising that he could make things change by taking a more studied approach to things. In many ways he was very like his father, always jumping to conclusions without giving things much thought. And like his father he was maturing as he approached adulthood, the similarities were pronounced between the father and son.
“Your father would have been proud of you,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Harry’s face grew dark for a moment as he tried to stop the irritation at such a trite comment. She immediately tried to repair the damage by qualifying the statement with a muddled observation about growing up and maturing.
“I know, Maeve,” Harry said. “But Dad never had to deal with this, did he? He just played Quidditch, thought about girls and tormented your fiancé.”
Neville’s eyebrows shot up and he goggled at the news that Maeve was engaged to be married. He wondered who to, but he was too afraid of entering the exchange they were having to ask.
“He was more than that, Harry, and well you know it,” Maeve retorted.
“I don’t though, do I? I just know what I saw in Snape’s Pensieve and he came across as a bit of a git.”
“Don’t, Harry.” Maeve was aware that he was proving her recent reflections wrong by this sudden display of pique. “Your father did everything he could to protect you. He matured a great deal over the years, as I believe you are doing. Don’t spoil it by being churlish.”
“Okay, okay.” The words came out in a sigh of frustration at not really knowing who his father had been. He managed a grin for Neville, who resolved to get the information about the impending nuptials out of Harry as soon as the door closed behind them. “Are we going to let this whole Lugh thing drop for now? Or at least until we absolutely have to talk about it again.”
“Yes, I see no reason why not,” Maeve agreed, glad of the opportunity not to have to think about it for a while. “But I’m here if you need me for anything.”
As the two boys made for the door Neville just had one more question.
“Did Mum know about the prophecy and that her dad wasn’t her real dad?”
“I don’t know, Neville, probably not. I didn’t know until Lugh himself told me. As a child I had no idea so I doubt your mum would have had either.”
Neville appeared satisfied by this and followed Harry from the room with his head high and his shoulders a little less hunched than they had been previously. He suddenly felt a lot more of a person than he ever had in the past. He would be able to look his gran in the eyes now and face her with pride in himself because of who he was, not because of who his father had been. Neville would no longer walk in the shadow of his father but grasp what his maternal grandfather had given him by way of a challenge and prove himself beyond all measure.
With the boys gone, Maeve allowed herself the luxury of simply lying on her bed and thinking. Her mind drifted over the many things that had happened to her recently and she found that when she laid the events side-by-side she couldn’t quite believe they had all happened to her. In the space of six months she had lost and gained a father, her home had been reduced to a nasty scorch mark on the earth, she had lost someone whom she considered a friend and gained a fiancé, she had somehow thwarted Voldemort’s plans of sending huge swathes of the population into a deathly sleep (although she was the first to admit she’d had a lot of help on that score) and she had been presented with a task that was so enormous it made her brain ache just to think about it.
The next six months would be a strange time, an interlude that was to be savoured and treasured like a flower that only blooms once in a lifetime. Her wedding would be a deeply symbolic event that would confirm her place in society after so long wrapped away inside the false protection of Abbeylara. It would be a chance for her to stand alongside Severus and show some public solidarity with another human being. It would also, and for her this was the most important, mean they could inhabit married quarters here at Hogwarts if she returned next year as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
She wondered what they would do about houses and whether she should sell Abbeylara now that there wasn’t a house to be lived in there. She remembered the sense of power in the walls beneath the main building and reflected that, even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t be able to part with the land. It wasn’t hers to sell but belonged to her family and would be there to pass on to… but whom would it pass on to? She couldn’t bear a child until Voldemort was vanquished and who knew when that would be? If she tried to go against what the gods had decided for her then there would be some sort of price to pay. Maeve squashed the thought of children into a small, inconsequential corner of her mind and promptly forgot about it. It did not do to dwell on things you had no control over. She would enjoy Severus and their time together as best she could and forget about the idea of having a family to pass that great lump of land on to.
She must have nodded off because when she next opened her eyes the clock told her it was well past eight. With a flutter of annoyance Maeve recalled Percy’s visit and knew she would have to make herself presentable to go and see Dumbledore in his lofty office. With a quick comb of her hair and a splash of water to her face she trudged out onto the corridor. It made a pleasant change for her to be able to move around the castle freely and without thought for her safety. Of course, there was still the general safety of the school to consider but even if Meany did put in an appearance in her room there would be nothing he could do to her. She wondered just what form the gods’ protection would take and her mind took of on a flight of fancy that involved flashes of lightning striking down maleficent attackers on the spot. She was still smiling at her own imagination when she reached the statue and said “ Liquorice Allsorts” in a distracted manner.
A few moments later and Dumbledore was ushering her into his warm room with a smile on his face and a Gobstopper bulging at his cheek. He ambled across to his desk and sat down, disposing of the slippery sweet as he did so.
“My dear, my dear, so good of you to come. So tell me, how was your day?”
“It went well,” Maeve said. “My lessons went by in a flash and I managed to tell Neville about our little connection.”
“And he took it well?”
“As well as one would expect. Actually, I rather think it’s given him a raison d’etre in life. He left my office with a spring in his step and a gleam in his eye that was only ever seen when he had his head over a plant.”
Dumbledore took this in good spirits and even proffered his bag of Gobstoppers as a celebratory offer, but Maeve declined the little balls of sugar in favour of keeping her teeth.
“Well then, that is good, is it not?” He hoped to lure her into his mood of a job well done but she wasn’t entirely convinced.
“It is, for now. But sooner or later he will have to face up to the fact we will be in danger eventually.”
“And you do not think he is ready for that? This is the boy that performed so valiantly at the Ministry just under a year ago. He has shown loyalty beyond measure to his friends and he possesses a good heart.” Dumbledore watched her with eager eyes.
“But this is different, Professor. This carries with it a weight of expectation that will grow and grow over the coming months. I hope it will not be too much for him, or for Harry.”
“Or, for that matter, you,” Dumbledore observed.
“I am under no illusions about my own mental fortitude,” she admitted. “I can only hope that the love of a cantankerous man and the chance to be happy for a few months will prepare me for what may come.”
“Ahh... now that brings me to one of the things I wanted to discuss with you,” he said with a huge smile. “Your wedding.”
“Oh?” She hadn’t expected that and was flummoxed for a moment.
“Have you thought about the organisation of it yet?”
“Not really. I was going to devote the Easter holidays to it.”
“How would you feel about indulging an old man and one of his little unfulfilled wishes in life?” His smile got wider, something which seemed barely possible.
“I don’t understand?”
“Allow me to organise your wedding for you.” He held up a hand before she could respond. “I know, it is an enormous position of trust that I would be placed in and I also know that a wedding is often very close to a woman’s heart. I have never had children of my own and nothing would give me greater pleasure than this.”
Was it her imagination or did he look slightly shifty when he said this? Maeve blinked at him for a few moments, not sure how to respond to his bright face and expectant expression. Granted she was not entirely looking forward to organising it herself. She would have to spend a lot of time booking things, ordering clothes and flowers, sending out a handful of invitations and dealing with Severus and his grumbling nature about anything that required him to be polite and sociable. In many ways this was a gift that would free her up to enjoy the forthcoming holidays without worrying about orders of service or fabric. But she looked at Professor Dumbledore, rustling his paper bag of sweets, hair flowing wispily from his rather extravagant hat and feet encased in socks that clashed violently with each other’s oddness. He wasn’t exactly a paragon of style and she couldn’t help but worry about what she would end up wearing or, more importantly, what Severus would end up wearing. The prospect of Severus walking into the Ministry wearing pale-blue robes made her smile, but also raised the prospect of having to hex him to get him into the outfit.
“I will take only the best advice,” he said, trying to encourage her faith in him. “And I know that Severus won’t wear anything but black.”
She smiled at his insight. What harm could it do, she thought. What could Dumbledore possibly come up with that would be so different from what she would have wanted? So perhaps the wedding breakfast would consist of Chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour beans… that was a chance she would have to take for having the nonsense of organising it taken from her hands.
“Very well,” she agreed finally. “But I hope you can find the time. You are a very busy man.”
“It will not be beyond the realms of possibility to discover a few unused hours here and there,” he smiled. “I understand you have asked Harry to be Severus’ best man.”
“Yes, something has to stop them carping at each other,” she said.
“And you think the constraints of the occasion will demand it?” he asked, failing to keep the amusement from his voice. “You are a braver woman than I first presumed.” He paused for a moment before asking her the question that she had given no thought to. “And who will give you away, my dear?”
“Oh, well… Remus, I suppose. It’s not as if I have a father to do it… unless you…”
“Oh, no, no,” he demurred humbly. “I think that is better left to someone who would benefit from the honour. Remus will be back in France soon enough but I am sure he would be delighted to be back for this occasion. I think an owl would settle this matter, from you, I think.”
She nodded, and was thankful already that she had handed over control of this to someone else. Maeve could imagine the amount of owls that a wedding would generate… yes, all things considered she was happy enough that she had handed over the reins.
“Now,” Dumbledore’s face grew more serious and she concentrated on what he was saying and shooed away the thoughts of Severus in a blue top hat. “I should also tell you that Malachy Meany has been seen in Diagon Alley, which considering he is a wanted Wizard, was rather foolish of him. It was Kinglsey who almost apprehended him but fortune favoured your cousin and he escaped us once again. I have taken a good look at the security on your side of the castle and can only assume that Meany is able to access your rooms because of some connection with you. Unfortunately there is little I can do about this and while he is free you must be cautious.”
Maeve had already decided that there would be no apprehension of Malachy if he came near her again. Next time he trespassed on her person he would be dead before he had the chance to open his mouth. Sometimes it wasn’t worth the effort of giving second chances or the opportunity to talk. It had also ceased to matter what information he might have or what he might lead them to. She could easily excuse his killing with the fact that she couldn’t afford to be targeted, given the task of the gods. And she had her six-month cushion in which to watch for him, time enough to achieve what she wanted to do with him.
“I understand how you feel.” Dumbledore interrupted her thoughts gently. “The temptation will be great to rid yourself of him once and for all, but be wary. Don’t sell your own peace of mind for the sake of revenge, Maeve.”
“It would be more than revenge,” she insisted. “It would be the culmination of all my rage and hatred over what the O’Malleys have done to my family.”
“Whatever you choose to call it, it would still be revenge, Maeve, and you are greater than that.”
She wilted slightly under his hard stare, bowing her head in an attempt at submission. Nothing would turn her from her resolve to send Malachy the same way as his brother-in-law though. Nothing.
“I understand what you are telling me, Professor,” she said from beneath lowered lashes. “I can’t promise anything though.”
“Just think carefully before taking action,” he said. “Well, I think that is everything, unless you wanted to ask anything of me?”
“No, I’m just glad of the opportunity to get back to normal. This has been an eventful few months. When I came to Hogwarts I had no idea what I was letting myself in for. Had I done I might never have come with you.”
“Oh, I think you would still have come and faced the challenges, even with foresight.” Dumbledore remained seated, allowing her the time to say whatever she wanted to say.
“I suppose I am most grateful for the second chance with Severus. That in itself seems to have made up for all the other things. I know people will be surprised, probably to the point of not being able to conceal it, but it’s impossible to explain how he makes me feel.”
“And I wouldn’t dream of asking you to,” Dumbledore said. “I know only too well that the ways of love are strange and inexplicable. Severus keeps all his goodness shackled at the bottom of a deep well, somewhere at the heart of himself. You wrench it from him, for the most part against his will, and I think that given time this will make him a kinder man. Or at the very least, a less unkind one.”
“Well,” she said, flustered by Dumbledore’s knowing eyes. “I should be going. I have classes to prepare and homework to mark.” She almost leapt from her chair at the prospect of such everyday work. It was hard to picture herself in September, anxious about teaching children and with little else to be afraid of but her own shadow. How silly her small fears had been when compared with what had later transpired.
“You are a good teacher, Maeve,” Dumbledore said. “I would hope that you will return in September for a second year. It would break with a very wearying tradition for Hogwarts and something I hope you will think carefully about.”
“I had never imagined myself not returning, Professor. After all, my husband will be here. Where else would I go?”
Dumbledore’s face was happy with contentment as he said, “Where else indeed, my dear?”
Maeve closed the door behind her and returned to the real and settling world of the school. Her step was light with happiness and she hummed a Muggle tune as she returned to her rooms. The castle was quiet as the students congregated in their common rooms, rooms that would be thick with gossip and talk of homework, rooms that would be filled with students full of high spirits at the news that Voldemort had suffered a defeat with his plans for the Somnus Funestus vapour. She could picture Harry and Neville’s dark heads huddled over a table as they drank Butterbeer and talked about their future. Ron and Hermione would be disagreeing over something and wondering at Neville and Harry’s sudden conspiracy.
Her mind moved to Severus holed up in his dungeon, frowning at his students’ parchments and trying not to think about frilly weddings. She allowed her heart a moment to leap at the thought of Severus and the surety of his love. It was a love that had survived a long and lonely separation, endured the best efforts of the gods to keep it from flowering and which had finally overcome all obstacles to explode in the forest at a time when it was needed most.
Drifting further afield she saw Alice sleeping peacefully in the closed ward at St Mungo’s, her tired fingers clutching the blankets with a little less ferocity. Her thoughts bounced to Draco Malfoy, lying sleepless in his starched bed at Malfoy Mansions and she pitied the private tutor his mother had engaged to provide her son with the education that Hogwarts had denied him. Maeve wondered how long it would be before Narcissa tried to get Draco back into Hogwarts ” the pressure of having her son around might well prove too much for her, despite her enormous love for him.
And finally she thought about her father, sitting in his golden world of light and trying his best to tread the fine line between gods and mortals. She had been hard on him, unjustifiably so, but he needed to know she was his daughter and not some soppy girl who would give in to his every whim without protest. How did it feel to have children you could not be in regular contact with, she wondered. As she pushed open the door to her room she realised it probably didn’t feel that much different to having your child in boarding school. Pouring herself a Firewhiskey she wondered just how much the parents missed their children and vice versa. It made her realise that she had always been right to try and be a friend to the students as well as a teacher. In the absence of parents they needed something more than just dispassionate teaching methods. Thinking about Severus, she realised that was something she would have to work at with him.
Standing by her window and looking across at the now familiar view she felt the Firewhiskey, and the love of life, rush through her veins, imbuing her with a sense of well being she had not felt since the first time she had been here at Hogwarts all those years ago.
Life was good and so full of promise that she couldn’t stop the flash of fire that erupted from the very core of her being, illuminating the night sky with a snap of golden lightning that served to remind her of who she was. She was a daughter of light.