To my betas, Keladry Lupin and LariLee, and for my Brit-picker, MagicAlly, best wishes for a magical May.
These characters and this entire Potterverse are the property of the incomparable JKR.
Chapter 17
Thou are not lovelier than lilacs, “ no,
Nor honeysuckle; thou are not more fair
Than small white single poppies, “ I can bear
Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though
From left to right, not knowing where to go,
I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there
Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear
So has it been with mist, “ with moonlight so.
Like him who day by day unto his draught
Of delicate poison adds him one drop more
Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten
Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed
Each hour more deeply than the hour before,
I drink “ and live “ what has destroyed some men.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Hermione had no desire to show herself at breakfast that morning, but even less did she desire to draw undue attention to herself by not appearing. After ringing down the curtain on a night of unproductive reminiscences, she had lain in her bed for two hours of fruitless tossing and turning. Eventually, Alicia had climbed out of bed and headed to the shower, then returned ready to hash over the ball. Hermione companionably sat forward and listened to her talk.
“Did you see his face?” Alicia inquired.
“Whose?” Hermione asked, beginning to yank her hair into a plait.
Alicia came up behind her and placed gentle hands over Hermione’s shoulders.
“Let me do that for you,” she urged, taking over the job of smoothing the difficult curls into sections.
Hermione subsided thankfully and allowed Alicia to arrange her hair.
“Did I see whose face?” she repeated again, making an effort to put aside her own misery.
Alicia giggled fondly. “Seamus! He was so shocked when I asked him to dance for the ladies’ choice.”
Hermione smiled. “I don’t think Seamus sees himself as a ‘Smooth Operator,’” she said, generously offering her friend a chance to share confidences.
It had been expected that the young people would be weary from dancing the night through, so an elegant buffet-style brunch was served on the Malfoy Manor terrace. The guests could come out and serve themselves as they desired.
Hermione held out until hunger drove her from her room. With trepidation, she approached the French doors leading out onto the terrace. Halting in the shadows just within the house, she scanned the group on the terrace for the two people she least wished to encounter. The professor was not present, but Miss Delacour was seated at mid-table. The seats around her were not occupied, but she appeared serenely unconcerned. Her silvery hair was plaited and her robes were demure and unremarkable.
The other guests were scattered about the terrace and out onto the perfectly tended lawn in pairs and small groups. Hermione served herself sparingly from the buffet table, then sought a quiet space on a bench beneath a tree.
Harry, who was sitting with Ron and Shadow, kept an eye on Skye. He had something to say to her, but he did not want to do it in front of other people. It would be nerve-wracking enough to say the words without having an audience.
Draco and Luna sat together, their heads bent in private conversation; they were so close it would have been virtually impossible to slip a piece of parchment between them. Their proximity, coupled as it was with frequent hand touching and long, soulful looks, clearly broadcast their desire to be left alone with one another … to everyone but Neville.
Neville Longbottom was like a boy in a bubble. The occurrence the night before with Pansy Parkinson was unparalleled in his experience and he scarcely knew what to do with himself. He had never been aware of a girl liking him in that way before and now he was full of questions. As Draco was his roommate at Phoenix House, he was very much in the habit of confiding in and seeking counsel from him. Neville’s own euphoria made him blind to the exhilaration of his roommate and Luna Lovegood.
Draco was fighting the urge to hit Neville with a Silencing Charm from beneath the table. Why? Why on this, of all mornings, must Neville attach himself to his roommate like a limpet? Draco had something particular he wished to say to Luna, a question to ask, and he meant to be alone with her when he did it.
Sitting at the head of the long, linen-draped table, watching Draco and Luna with ill-concealed bad-humour, was Lucius Malfoy. Had Draco’s wits gone begging? Pure-blood or no, the girl’s father runs a tabloid rag of the lowest sort. She is not fit to be a Malfoy, he thought to himself.
Lucius was interrupted in his dark brooding by the emergence of Sophronia Snape, with Stormy at her heels. Immediately he stood, going forward with his most charming, roguish smile to greet and compliment her.
“You are none the worse for wear after your night of raking,” he murmured to her wickedly. “You look lovely, my dear “ fresh enough to put these children to shame.”
Sophronia smiled at him and answered him lightly, moving past him. “I must prepare a plate for Stormy; she is quite famished this morning.”
“Of course!” Lucius said with false heartiness. His long strides carried him to the buffet table and he picked up a plate, humorously assuming the manners of a maitre d’ in a fine restaurant. “What would tempt Miss Snape’s appetite this morning?”
A frightened house-elf attempted to wrest the plate from his master's hands, but was waved off, and had to content himself with helping to serve Stormy's plate.
Stormy regarded this playfulness with some confusion, but she answered Lucius, following him down the length of the table stating her preferences. Unfortunately for Lucius, Sophronia was far too immersed in her own thoughts to properly notice this great show of indulgence to her youngest child by her erstwhile chief suitor.
Minerva McGonagall sat at the other end of the long table, sipping her strong, unsweetened tea and watching Nymphadora Tonks consuming scrambled eggs while glaring at her plate as if it had offended her personally.
“You did not appear to lack for partners last night,” she said neutrally, watching Tonks over the edge of her teacup.
Tonks looked up at her. “And you scarcely danced at all, Minerva.”
McGonagall shrugged. “A chaperone’s duty is to watch after her charges, not to enjoy herself.”
Tonks grinned at her. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself when you danced the tango with Sirius Black.”
McGonagall was quite pleased to see the lightened expression on Tonks’ face. “Sirius Black is a gifted dancer,” she commented.
Tonks glanced down the length of the table. Sophronia had settled Stormy and seated herself at Lucius’ left hand.
“Sophie certainly seemed to think so,” she said mischievously.
“That was her nickname at school,” McGonagall said shortly. “She and Sirius were a couple, on and off, from his third year onward.”
Tonks looked slightly repulsed. “A third year going out with a fifth year? That was definitely not done when I was at school.”
McGonagall waved her hand. “Sirius’ birthday is in September and Sophronia’s is in August. There is scarcely more than one year between them in age.”
Tonks gave her a quizzical look. “That’s an odd thing for you to know.”
McGonagall met her eyes with a quelling look before leaning forward to pour herself another cup of tea. “Sophronia just happened to mention it in passing this morning,” she said repressively.
Tonks’ gaze lit upon Hermione, who was returning to the buffet table with her half-empty plate. A helpful house-elf relieved her of the dirty dish and she poured herself a cup of coffee, adding a dollop of milk and a spoonful of sugar.
“Hermione is looking tired this morning,” McGonagall said.
Tonks spoke quietly. “I thought she was my friend.”
McGonagall snorted. “Of course she is your friend, Tonks. Don’t be silly.”
Tonks turned fierce dark eyes upon the older witch. “Have you seen her with Remus?”
Minerva McGonagall flashed upon the memory of Hermione dancing past her the night before, wearing Minerva’s own precious faerie silk dress and clinging to the Potions master. Hermione had been held unnaturally close to Severus Snape as they danced the ladies’ choice; something in the tension between them nagged at her mind.
In an uncharacteristic demonstration, McGonagall placed her hand over that of her much younger friend. “Things are not always what they seem, my dear,” she murmured.
Stormy saw Hermione come back up to the buffet table and she bounced excitedly by her mother’s side.
“Mummy, I’m finished eating. May I go talk to Hermione?”
Sophronia inspected the child’s plate and gave her permission. “Don’t plague her, Stormy. Ask if you may speak with her.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Stormy promised, trotting away.
Sophronia turned her attention to her other neighbour at the table. Lucius was sitting with one graceful hand holding his cup of tea, long since grown cold, and watching Draco and Luna.
“I believe they are genuinely fond of one another,” Sophronia said quietly.
Lucius regarded her for a moment. “Your gentleness of spirit leads you to believe the best of everyone, my dear,” he said caressingly. “It is not your habit to think badly of anyone.”
Sophronia laughed. “You have a very peculiar idea of me, Lucius,” she said. “I am perfectly capable of discerning the difference between sincerity and pretence.”
In some alarm, Lucius’ grey gaze sought out her blue eyes. Was she onto him? Had she guessed about Varen’s prolonged visit the night before? With consummate skill, he dared to lightly probe her mind. No, she wasn’t thinking about Varen; she was thinking about that infernal child of hers.
Abruptly, Sophronia lowered her eyes to her plate. “I believe that Luna worships Draco and that Draco has come to love Luna. I think they could be happy together.”
Lucius could not prevent the hateful glance he cast down the table, where Ronald Weasley sat with Shadow Snape. They were not speaking, but were obviously holding hands beneath the table, gazing sadly at one another.
“Just as young Weasley could be happy with your sixteen-year-old daughter?” he said, the sneer upon his lips marring the solicitous tone of his voice.
Sophronia looked at her daughter and felt a sharp thrust of pain in her heart.
“Of course not,” she said quietly. “Shadow is too young.”
“And Miss Lovegood is too odd,” Lucius responded before tossing his napkin onto his plate and striding back into the house.
Skye separated herself from Alicia and Seamus and strolled to the buffet table, picking up a slice of apple and beginning to eat it. Harry deserted Ron and Shadow and walked quickly to Skye’s side.
“’Morning, Skye,” he said quietly.
Skye started and quickly turned to look at him. Her expression was a bit guilty. “Oh! Good morning, Harry,” she said.
Harry gestured towards the lawn and the rose garden beyond. “Would you walk with me?”
Skye nodded and they strolled away from the terrace.
Draco saw Harry wandering off with Skye and clenched his teeth to prevent the imprecation he thought from passing his lips. How was he going to get rid of Neville?
Luna, whose soft heart was touched by Neville’s obvious distress, was talking to him about Pansy with utter patience. Draco had a question to ask this morning; he had to find someone else to baby-sit Longbottom.
“Let’s go sit with Weasley and Shadow,” he suggested cheerfully, standing and waiting for Luna and Neville to follow suit.
“Do you think they might prefer to be left alone?” Luna asked delicately, looking over at the love-sick pair.
As if that matters with this lot, Draco thought savagely.
“No, let’s go talk to them,” Draco insisted with a Malfoy smile.
Luna could deny him nothing; she promptly rose to follow him around the table, followed by Neville, who still had a catalogue of questions to ask regarding girls in general and Pansy in particular.
Ginny Weasley, the last of the young people to venture onto the terrace, came outside with a happy smile on her face. Immediately, she scanned the scattered group of her friends until she found Harry “ who was walking side-by-side with Skye Snape, heading for the rose garden.
Hurt descended upon her, closely followed by anger. She did not know if she wanted to hex Harry, or Skye, or both of them. How could he? After he had held her and kissed her in the rose garden the night before? After the things he had said to her in the rose garden?
Harry and Skye walked together across the immaculate lawn and the silence between them grew heavier with each step. Harry had no idea how to broach this subject with Skye; their dealings together had been rather superficial and he did not really know how to talk to her. When the weight of the silence became too much for him to bear, he touched her on the arm.
“There’s a bench beneath that tree. Why don’t we sit down?”
Skye acquiesced and led the way to the seat. They sat beside one another and the oppressive silence continued. Harry finally decided it was better to talk, even if he said something truly stupid.
“Skye,” he began hesitantly.
She turned to look at him, and Harry noticed again how pretty she was. The funny thing about it was that he found that he much preferred brown eyes and red hair to Skye’s angelic beauty.
“Yes, Harry?”
“Erm, well … I know we’ve been seeing each other quite a bit,” he fumbled. “I like you a lot; I think you’re really pretty and really nice.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Skye said politely.
“But I really like “”
Skye smiled at him. “But you really like Ginny,” she said.
Harry gaped at her. “You know?”
“Harry,” she said with a chuckle, “everyone knows. It’s not supposed to be a secret, is it?”
Harry grinned at her, his relief evident. “No “ but I thought I should let you know …”
Skye patted his arm in a friendly way. “Now you have done the proper thing and you can be quite pleased with yourself,” she said.
Harry was on his feet; he felt like running and laughing and singing at the top of his lungs. If his Firebolt were anywhere close by, he would hurl himself on it and fly in crazy circles. He was far too pleased to worry about Skye taking the mickey.
“Thanks, Skye. I’m going to go walk in the shrubbery, okay?”
Skye smiled and nodded as the Boy Who Lived headed for the decorative walking area winding through the carefully tended shrubbery.
It might have made him feel better if I had told him about Bill, she thought.
Skye saw Ginny standing on the terrace with Hermione; they appeared to be having a rather heated discussion. Skye had completely failed to obtain any useful information earlier this morning from Ron about his eldest brother; she had been waiting for Ginny to come down so she could get answers to her questions about Bill.
Skye headed back to the terrace.
Draco settled Neville comfortably beside Shadow, gave Ron an apologetic look, and tugged on Luna’s hand.
“Walk with me in the rose garden,” he whispered to her.
Luna instantly forgot about her other friends and placed her small hand in the larger one Draco held out to her. She was always completely attentive to him; it was one of the things Draco loved most about her. Without an explanation to the others, they walked down the terrace steps, hand-in-hand.
As they walked along, Draco looked down into Luna’s face, unable to tear his gaze away from her. Luna became aware of his regard and looked up to meet his eyes. When Draco clearly saw the love shining there and the tender smile on her lips, he promptly pulled her behind the trunk of the nearest tree and kissed her.
Luna sighed against his lips, twining her arms around his neck. At her sigh, Draco pulled back from her, searching her face carefully. “Is this okay, love? Is it too soon after “”
Luna swayed against him, lifting her face imploringly. “Please kiss me, Draco,” she said.
Draco obliged.
Hermione’s head was aching. The sleepless night was the main culprit; not knowing the current location of Professor Snape was also nagging at her, but she was determined not to ask where he was. She had managed to eat some breakfast, and she had swallowed two cups of coffee, but she still did not feel well.
Stormy’s enthusiastic descent upon her had not been welcome, but she cared for the child too much to repel her. Then Ginny came stomping up to her and began to rant about Harry, unmindful of Stormy’s avid interest. Thankfully, Sophronia came up to them then, taking Stormy by the hand and leading her off to begin their packing to return to Grimmauld Place that afternoon.
“Gin,” Hermione said, “you mustn’t call Harry a scum-sucking sod in front of Stormy,” she chided.
“But he is, Hermione. He told me “”
“Hi!”
Skye Snape’s sweet voice interrupted Ginny’s tirade. She rounded to face her tormentor.
“What?” Ginny demanded aggressively. “What do you want?”
Skye took a step back, unsure of how to respond to this question.
“Ginny,” Hermione said pleadingly. “Gin, come on …”
Ginny pushed Hermione’s placating hand from her arm and took a step towards Skye. “You just won’t be happy until you have them all, will you?” she hissed at Skye.
“Good morning, ladies,” Harry said cheerfully, bounding up the terrace steps. “All right, Ginny?”
Ginny whirled on him, ready in her hurt and her anger to annihilate him.
“Harry Potter, you are a two-timer and a liar. I hate you!”
Harry held his hands up and took a step back. “Gin? What do you “”
“After everything you said to me last night? How dare you?”
Ginny pulled her wand from her sleeve and began to advance on him.
“What is she doing?” Skye whispered worriedly to Hermione.
Hermione took Skye by the arm and led her back to the table. “They’re fine, Skye; it’s just a misunderstanding.”
Harry retreated down the terrace steps to the grassy lawn, dividing his attention between Ginny’s face and her wand.
“Gin, what are you on about? I “”
Ginny’s voice reached screech status. “Do you think I’m blind? I saw you with her! And as soon as you saw me, you walked off and tried to act like nothing happened!”
“Nothing did happen Ginny “ dammit! Just shut it for a minute and let me “”
Red sparks were issuing wildly from the tip of Ginny’s wand as she followed him down, stopping just beyond arm’s reach. “Let you what? Let you lie? I’m sick of your games, Harry James Potter!”
All eyes at the table were now riveted on Harry and Ginny as they faced off at the edge of the terrace steps. Shadow grasped Ron’s upper arm anxiously. “Hadn’t you better go speak to her?” she asked nervously.
Ron snorted. “I don’t want to be hexed! She won’t hurt him “ much.”
Skye, who had joined Hermione in sitting across the table from Ron and Shadow, asked, “Why doesn’t he at least pull his wand?”
Ron and Neville looked scandalized.
“You don’t draw down on your girlfriend!” Ron sputtered.
Harry apparently agreed with his mate; he was trying to circle to Ginny’s right while still talking.
“I was just talking to her, Ginny,” he reasoned.
“Talking! It always starts with talking!” she jeered at him.
“Put down the wand, Ginny,” Harry suggested.
“After I finish with you!” Ginny raged, then made a subtle motion with her wrist.
Harry threw himself down and forward, his quick reflexes standing him in good stead once again. He felt the burst of magic skim the tips of his hair as he wrapped his arms around Ginny’s knees and brought her to the ground with him. Quickly, he straddled her and knocked her wand out of her hand before pinning her wrists to the earth.
“I’m in love with you, you wildcat!” he panted. “Now give over, Gin!”
Ginny lay upon the grass struggling to throw Harry off of her, the red haze of anger continuing to blur the edges of her vision. Dimly, the words Harry had just uttered penetrated the fog of her rage.
“What?” she gasped.
Harry bent closer so that his nose was mere inches from hers.
“I love you, Ginny “ only you. I was just telling Skye, but she already knew.”
Ginny stopped struggling and Harry loosened his hold on her arms. She promptly brought her hands up to twine her fingers in his unruly shock of hair, pulling his mouth down to hers, as she said, “You’re going to be the death of me, Harry Potter.”
He stopped his descent so close to her that his lips moved over hers with the formation of each word.
“No, I’m going to be your husband.” Then he proceeded to kiss her senseless.
Minerva McGonagall, who had been closely monitoring this altercation, allowed the kiss to go on for a bit, then broke it up by the mere expedient of calling out, “Mis-ter Pot-ter!” in her most outraged accents.
Harry and Ginny scrambled guiltily to their feet, though their hands clasped together instinctively as they faced their accuser.
Ginny blushed scarlet as the occupants of the table burst into spontaneous applause. Harry wrapped a possessive arm about her waist and led her proudly up the terrace steps.
Hermione sat before the mirror at her dressing table on Grimmauld Place. She had managed to sleep for a few hours once they had arrived back in London from Malfoy Manor, but she still felt terrible. The last thing she wanted to do was to be part of the usual Sunday evening festivities. She would have to keep up her playacting with Remus while watching the veela enjoying the favour of Professor Snape “ the very notion made her feel ill.
There was a scratching at the door. “Come in,” she said.
It seemed to her as if every girl in the house poured into her room.
Skye came up and leaned over her shoulder, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “Is your headache any better?” she asked quietly.
Hermione mustered a feeble smile. “Some,” she admitted.
Ginny appeared over her other shoulder. “Not by much,” she said, smoothing a strand of hair out of Hermione’s face. “Do you want to stay up here? We can tell everyone that you aren’t well.”
Shadow opened Hermione’s closet and began to inventory the contents. “I wish Mum would let me borrow from you like Skye does,” she said wistfully.
“She will when you leave school, Shay,” Skye consoled her.
“When I leave school I won’t have Hermione’s closet in the same house to borrow her things!” Shadow objected.
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, then said, “No, but you’ll have Fleur’s closet handy, and from what I’ve seen, she has loads of sexy things.”
There was a general snort of disgust in the room, quickly interrupted by Shadow.
“Oh! I forgot to tell you!”
She abandoned the closet and threw herself on Hermione’s bed; Ginny, Skye, and Hermione turned to her attentively.
“I heard the strangest thing this morning,” she said. “I was in that little music room, the one with the piano, right next to Mr. Malfoy’s library?”
The other girls nodded their remembrance of the room in question.
“I had been in there playing on the piano, but had stopped, and was just looking out the window “”
““ brooding,” Ginny supplied helpfully.
Shadow made a face at her. “I was quiet, so there was no way to know I was in there. And I heard Severus and Fleur in the library.”
Hermione immediately became more alert.
“The thing that was so strange about it was that Severus was speaking to her in French,” Shadow continued.
“Severus speaks French?” Hermione asked in surprise.
“Papa made sure we all speak French,” Skye said. “We girls had the same French master that Severus had before he went to Hogwarts.”
Shadow cleared her throat impatiently. “Anyway, I don’t suppose I would have paid much mind to them if he hadn’t been speaking to her in French.”
Skye looked puzzled. “Why would he do that?”
“He said he didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding of what he wished to say to her,” Shadow answered.
Hermione knew she should interrupt now and tell them it was wrong to gossip about their brother’s private affairs, but she could not bring herself to do it.
“What did he say to her?” Skye demanded.
Shadow leaned forward eagerly. “Well, I didn’t understand everything they said; he spoke a little too quickly and I didn’t know some of the words. But she must have done something after the ball last night to make him really angry with her!”
Ginny sounded gleeful. “What did she do?”
“First, he told her about what happened with Val and Luna. Severus took Val back to Mr. Delacour and told him that if he ever sees Val in Britain again that Val will go to prison! And, Severus told Mr. Delacour about how he saved Val from Ron and Harry and Draco. Fleur sounded really upset and she didn’t even try to defend her brother “ do you think she knows what he’s like?”
“If she does, then she’s as bad as her brother is,” Ginny said angrily. “Taking him around other girls without warning anyone? That’s inexcusable!”
“What else did he say?” Skye asked.
“He lit into her about that improper dress she wore to the ball and said that it was a disgrace to him and to both of the families and that he wouldn’t stand for it. He told her off for coming into his room uninvited “ he said that her ‘dramatic antics are uncalled-for and demeaning.’” On the last part, Shadow managed a fair imitation of her brother’s tones. “He said that his wife would never behave in such an unseemly manner, if she wished to please him!”
Hermione’s heart was racing and she could barely catch her breath.
“What did she say then?” Skye demanded anxiously.
“She sounded like she was really close to tears and she begged his pardon and promised to be good,” Shadow said sadly.
Ginny looked confused. “She came into his bedroom in the middle of the night and he yelled at her?”
Shadow nodded. “That’s what it sounded like to me,” she said. “Then he thanked her, when she said she would not do anything else to displease him, and told her that he would be out of town for a few days on family business.”
With sudden energy, Hermione popped up from her seat and walked to her closet, throwing open the doors to survey her clothing.
“I’m sure we can find something for you to wear that your mama would not object to, Shadow,” she said, flipping through her dresses.
Ginny looked at her oddly. “Is your headache better?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” Hermione said with a little smile.
That evening found the ladies of Grimmauld Place entertaining their friends informally, as they did every Sunday. The large game table was set up and stocked with Pick Up Stix. Stormy was at one end of the long table, scarcely able to contain her excitement as she waited for the others to finish eating and to join her. Her only two companions thus far were Sirius Black, who was keeping her entertained with silly stories, and Fleur Delacour, who was studiously ignoring Sirius while attending solicitously to Stormy’s every word.
Though no one had spoken of it, Fleur's change of appearance was striking. Her hair was dressed very simply, with an Alice band holding it back from her face; she was wearing nicely tailored but very plain robes in a flattering shade of blue.
Skye led Bill Weasley into the room, speaking with him quietly as they sat together on a sofa. As the Weasleys, the elder Snape sisters, and Harry Potter had chatted together in the dining room while eating their casual supper, Bill had been filled in on the gossip of Fleur’s chastisement. Fleur had nodded to him politely, if distantly, as he walked past her; it was rather amusing, considering the nature of their previous acquaintance, to see how aloofly she treated him.
“Where’s Luna?” Alicia asked as she settled at the game table next to Seamus.
Ginny’s smile was luminous. “She and Draco are with Mr. Lovegood, tonight.”
“Did he propose to her?” Viktor Krum inquired, leaning around Tonks to speak to Ginny.
“Yes, but they won’t announce it until Mr. Lovegood agrees,” Ginny answered him, darting a glance at Harry.
Harry took her hand and smiled into her eyes. “Too bad your parents were out tonight,” he said quietly.
“Harry “” Ginny’s voice broke a little.
“It’ll be okay, Gin,” he said calmly. “Everything will work out.”
Viktor gifted Neville with one of his wicked smiles. “Where is your lovely partner from last night?”
Neville gulped audibly. “She “ she said she should stay home with her parents tonight, to tell them that Draco is engaged to someone else.”
“Have you talked to her today?” Alicia asked him curiously.
“No, not since last night,” Neville said sorrowfully.
“But Draco wasn’t engaged last night,” Seamus objected.
Neville looked a bit puzzled, then shrugged. “Pansy said he was,” he said firmly.
Tonks snorted. “It sounds to me as if Pansy knows Draco pretty well.”
Krum laughed too, taking Tonks’ small hand and pressing a kiss to it. “It sounds to me as if she knows her parents very vell,” he said.
Tonks flushed and looked involuntarily over at Remus Lupin, who was sitting and conversing with Professor McGonagall. When she found his unwavering topaz eyes riveted upon her, she tilted her chin defiantly and leaned up to kiss Viktor on the cheek.
Viktor looked surprised and gratified; Lupin, however turned pointedly away and continued his conversation with McGonagall, a faint frown marring his brow.
Hermione came into the room, closely followed by Percy Weasley. Percy had devoted himself entirely to Hermione from the first moment of his arrival that evening. He insisted upon serving her plate from the buffet table, then he sat at her elbow and monopolized her attention. As Hermione entered the sitting room and saw Fleur, with her hair and clothes befitting a matron twice her age, she was seized with inspiration.
“Percy,” she said, turning to him with a smile.
Percy smiled back at her. “Yes, Hermione?”
Hermione spoke softly, so that Percy was obliged to lean in close to her to hear her words. “Miss Delacour is looking so lonely this evening, without her fiancé “ would you be so kind as to sit with her and keep her company for me?”
Percy took a deep breath and his chest filled with self-importance. “You may depend upon me,” he promised, before seating himself next to Fleur.
Hermione spied Remus Lupin sitting across the room with Sophronia and Minerva McGonagall. She made her way over to him and sat beside him on the sofa.
“Where were you when I needed you?” she demanded with mock indignation.
Lupin cast a humorous glance towards Percy. “Staying well out of the line of fire,” he responded.
“Well, I certainly don’t call that helpful,” she retorted.
McGonagall surveyed them shrewdly as Sophronia choked back a little laugh. The room then became entirely silent as Lucius Malfoy entered, pausing in the doorway to look about him. The sneer which came to him when he discerned Sirius Black softened to a smile when his eyes came to rest on Sophronia’s serene countenance. Nodding a greeting to the game players, he trod across to press a kiss to the hand of his hostess.
“It seems an age since I saw you last,” he murmured with an incorrigible gleam.
“Rather than just since lunch?” she responded lightly, removing her hand from his grasp. “Please, sit down,” she added.
Lucius disposed himself on the sofa at her side and Sophronia felt a tiny pang. He was so very handsome, and he had gone out of his way for the last several weeks to please her in every way. It would give her pain, but she could not accept him, now, if he were to offer for her.
Her eyes wandered to Sirius Black, who was entirely focussed on the pile of coloured plastic sticks before him, joking with Stormy as he attempted to remove one without dislodging the others. No one could say that Sirius was less handsome than Lucius; only that their patrician good looks differed, with one so fair, and the other so dark. The divergence came not so much in degree of physical beauty, nor even in magnitude of allure, for they both could be said to possess an excess of charm. The variation came in how and why they appealed to Sophronia. She knew that her attraction to Sirius was much stronger; she simply could not yet say why this was so.
Lucius noted her line of sight and his lips tightened in annoyance. Sirius, however, was entirely oblivious of her attention, so occupied was he with Stormy and the Pick Up Stix.
Shadow and Ron sat together on a settee in an arrangement before the hearth, at some distance from both the chaperones at one end of the room, and from the game table at the other end of the room. Ron furtively held Shadow’s hand and spoke to her in an urgent tone.
“Don’t be silly. I won’t look at my mum’s stupid list of girls to find one to marry. I only want one girl for my wife, and I’m not giving up, Shay.”
Shadow turned tragic eyes to his beloved face. “Look at Luna and Draco! Look at Ginny and Harry! We will never be like they are. They’re so lucky! Everyone thinks it’s just wonderful that they’ve fallen in love and gotten engaged. I’m just one year too young and my mum and Severus behave as if I am ten years too young. They will never give their consent, Ron.”
As Shadow finished on a querulous, tearful note, Ron hastily retrieved a handkerchief from his inner pocket and passed it to her. Ever since his romance with Shadow had begun, he had developed the habit of carrying a handkerchief. Shadow never seemed to have one, though she frequently needed one. He dimly hoped that she would not cry so often when they were married.
“It has to work out, Shay,” he murmured, patting her surreptitiously on the back. “It has to.”
Bill Weasley sat beside Skye, eyes hungrily consuming her lovely face, while he simultaneously absorbed the gentleness radiating from her. Ah, he was a dog to benefit from the situation Snape had presented to him, by asking him to stay in Grimmauld Place for the next three nights to help McGonagall guard over the young ladies. How to press his advantage without overstepping the bounds of propriety?
Who would have thought that a creature who was as comforting as an angel could elicit such primal desire in him? Was he a beast to wish to possess such beauty, imbued with infinite peace?
No! He was very much in the right of this, he was sure of it, for who could possibly appreciate her as he did? Now he simply had to secure her for his own, before some other man discovered her and stole her away from him.
Simple? Yeah, right, Bill, he thought.
It was a tricky precipice to trod, between attentive courtliness and deferential respect. Difficult, but not impossible. Percy was not the only diplomat in the family, after all.
“I won! I won!” Stormy squealed, watching Sirius botch his last move, sending several sticks tumbling.
Sirius looked humorously indignant. “Must you announce my shortcomings to the entire world?”
Stormy giggled and bounced out of her seat, circling behind Sirius’ chair. “I beat you! I am the champion!”
Fleur spoke up kindly. “Not too loudly, Stormy. Young ladies must be polite, even when they win.”
Stormy continued unabated, oblivious to Fleur’s unusually quiet protestations. Sirius cast Fleur a look of amused derision, then proceeded to demonstrate how to manage an over-excited Stormy.
“You have not established your supremacy over all-comers yet, Miss Snape. You must give Miss Delacour a chance to unseat you.” Stormy willingly returned to her seat as Sirius set about preparing the Pick Up Stix for another game. “Let us see if she is more adept at managing bits of plastic than she is at managing … other things.”
Fleur began to play with Stormy as if Sirius had not spoken, but Percy spoke up indignantly. “I say, Sirius! No call for that kind of talk!”
Sirius gave Percy a twisted smile, but made no reply. He moved over to stand behind Stormy’s chair, crouching so that they were on the same level, and began to instruct and encourage her. When Stormy won again, she cast her arms about Sirius’ neck and squealed with such delight that all eyes in the room were upon her.
Sirius emitted his great, barking laugh and whirled Stormy is a small circle. As he did so, his eyes met Sophronia’s, and the glance they exchanged in that moment would have melted steel.
Sirius set Stormy back upon the ground and knelt to her eye level. “All right, you are now the undisputed champion, and I did promise that you might have whatever you wanted if you won.”
Stormy sparkled in her glee. “Then you will come with us to the zoo on Wednesday!”
Sirius placed his right hand over his heart and bowed his head. “I shall not fail you, Miss Stormy. I shall be there.”
Lucius Malfoy had surged to his feet at the exchange of passionate looks between the woman he wanted and the puppy-dog of Azkaban.
“It is late,” he ground out, holding hard to his composure. “I shall bid you good-night.”
Lupin stood also. “It is time the boys and I were gone, too. It has been a long weekend.”
The young men of Phoenix House began to say their adieux to the young ladies of Grimmauld Place and the crowd began milling out of the sitting room and down to the door. For a moment, in the middle of the movement, Lucius and Sirius stood face-to-face.
“Bad move, Malfoy,” Sirius murmured, pretending to be busy returning the Pick Up Stix to their colourful container.
“I do not know your meaning,” Lucius spat.
“Retreating and leaving me with a clear field to be the last to say good-night to her? Tsk, tsk.”
Lucius’ grip tightened on his ebony cane, which he lifted ever so slightly, before moving past Sirius disdainfully.
“Commoner,” he muttered maliciously, for Sirius’ ears alone.
“Arrogant prig,” Sirius responded, his eyes innocently glued to the task before him.
Lupin, who had been close enough to hear the last exchange, stepped between the two men.
“Neither the time, nor the place,” he said with quiet authority.
Lucius exited the room without another word.
“Nice work, Moony,” Sirius said with a grin.
“Oh, grow up, Sirius,” Lupin said with some degree of disgust.
Sirius looked up in surprise, then saw that Lupin’s eyes were glued to Tonks, who had been backed into a corner by Krum and was flirting outrageously.
“She knows you’re watching her,” Sirius murmured.
Lupin jerked his attention away and began to collect his charges from around the room.
Stormy was excitedly recounting the play-by-play of her victory to Hermione. Sophronia approached them and placed one hand affectionately upon her daughter’s shoulder.
“It is past your bedtime, Stormy,” she said.
Hermione glanced over at Sirius, who was dawdling over the chore of tidying the game table. “I’ll take her up and tuck her in,” she said. “Stormy and I will enjoy that very much.”
“Yes, Mummy, let Hermione take me!” Stormy begged.
Sophronia smiled. “Very well.”
Hermione swung the spindly eight-year-old up and headed for the stairs, wishing her departing friends good-night as she passed through them.
Stormy rested her head upon Hermione’s shoulder. “Why are there so few people here tonight? Where are all of our friends?”
Hermione chuckled. “Well, many of our friends have become engaged, and some of them have gotten married. They are with each other.”
Stormy tightened her hold on Hermione. “You won’t do that, will you Hermione? Marry some icky boy and go away?”
Fleur, who was lingering in the hallway, looked up sharply as she heard Stormy’s words.
“Do not put yourself about, Miss Granger; I will be happy to put Stormy to bed,” Fleur said, reaching out her arms imperiously, apparently expecting Hermione to obey her without question.
Stormy squirmed out of Hermione’s arms, as if to prevent Fleur from obtaining possession of her. “I’ll meet you in the nursery, Hermione!” she piped, scampering up the stairs.
Hermione looked into the veela’s blue eyes. “It appears that some members of the Snape family do not care to have you enter their bedrooms uninvited.”
Having waved the Phoenix House men through the fence connecting the two back gardens, Bill and Skye lingered beneath the dark of the moon, admiring the stars.
“Is it true?” Skye asked him. “Are you going to stay here, in Severus’ place, whilst he is away?”
Bill smiled down at her. “It is indeed true.”
Skye stepped a little closer to him, feeling rather bold. “It will be lovely, having you here all the time.”
Bill saw the longing in her face, and for a moment he imagined taking her in his arms and kissing her perfect little mouth. Instead, he put his hand in the small of her back and began to walk back to the door that led into the solarium.
“I am here as your protector, Miss Snape, not as your suitor.”
Skye stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him. “Oh, no!” she lamented.
Bill tucked her unresisting hand in the crook of his arm and began walking to the house again.
“My thoughts exactly,” he agreed.
Minerva McGonagall exited the emptied sitting room, but not before saying, “Don’t keep her up all night!” to an obedient Sirius Black.
“I promise I won’t, ma’am.”
McGonagall snorted, whether in amusement or disapproval it was not clear “ but she did close the door behind her as she departed.
Sirius watched Sophronia as she moved aimlessly about the room now, her nervousness bringing a feeling of tenderness to season the desire banked within him.
“Your girls are beautiful, Sophie. I can see why you love them so much.”
Sophronia stopped her wandering and looked at him with a soft, happy smile. “I am very proud of them. They are my life, Siri.”
Slowly, he began to approach her, watching for signs of objection or displeasure.
“They should be your life, Sophie. I would have given anything I had to have my mother love me the way you love your children.”
Sophronia’s ready sympathy leapt to the fore. “Poor Siri,” she murmured as he stopped before her. She reached up and brushed his over-long fringe from his forehead. “She was so unkind to you.”
Sirius captured her hand and pressed his lips to her palm; he could not but be aware of how she trembled.
“But you were always kind, Sophie. Always accepting “ including when I was an idiot.”
She flowed into his arms even as he reached for her, and his lips found hers for the first time in twenty-two years. By the time the long, gently exploring kiss ended, Sophronia’s knees were too weak to properly support her and so she held onto Sirius. She tilted her chin to look at him when she heard his chuckle.
“That summer in London, you used to get all quivery when we kissed, just like this,” he whispered.
Her eyes closed blissfully. “I remember,” she whispered back. “I always remembered, Siri.”
He began to stroke her hair. “Did your husband “”
“No.”
“Not even “”
“No.”
She reached for him greedily and he complied, kissing her until they were both breathless and shaking.
Sirius emitted a ragged breath. “Sophie …”
“Come upstairs with me,” Sophronia said.
“God, no!” Sirius exclaimed. “Minerva would have my ears in a jar!”
Sophronia held tightly to him and shuddered her acceptance. “You’re right, you’re right, I know you’re right,” she muttered like a mantra.
Sirius took a step away from her, keeping a hand on her until he was sure she could stand without support. “You had best go upstairs while I can still let you go,” he said.
Sophronia turned limpid bluebell eyes upon him. “When will I see you again?”
Sirius struggled against the urge to take her back into his arms. “You’ll see me every day,” he told her.
Sophronia nodded, gathering the shreds of her maturity and dignity about her as she forced herself to walk away from Temptation Incarnate.
“Sophie?”
She stopped and turned back to him, knowing that her answer to any question on his lips was, “Yes.”
“I just want you to know that I am going to marry you and be a good father to your daughters. I don’t care who else has been courting you, or what anyone else, including your step-son, has to say about it. It’s going to happen. I will not lose you again.”
Sophronia felt the cloud within which she was dwelling lift a few more feet into the air.
“Good-night, Siri,” she said before leaving him standing in the middle of his own sitting room like a man enchanted to stone.