A/N: Thank goodness for late assignments, I have an early Christmas gift for you, this chapter! Hope you like it like the rest. Otherwise, in school life, definitely don't want to see my grades for this semester. *sigh*
Disclaimer: Not mine, save the plot and a few characters. Ha!
~*~*~*~
The Return of the House of Black
Taking a step from her place at the window, the heavily bejewelled and perfumed Pansy offered the twins her sweetest false smile and said, "Hello girls, it's nice to really meet you. Those descriptions in the paper never do anyone justice… as you've been told, I'm Miss Parkinson, a friend of Mr Malfoy's."
She extended her hand to shake theirs, every movement exuding the supposed sincerity of her intentions.
They ignored it.
Instead Maia asked, "Mr Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? We heard that he worked for Lord Voldemort, that he was a bad man who only got away because no one could prove he did anything wrong. What does he want with us?"
Aimee added, "Why does he think we're related to him? We don't know him, Tantie Marie never told us about him."
Acknowledging their snub, Pansy had withdrawn her hand, but kept the false smile as she replied, "Haven't you two read the paper yet…?"
Their blank faces and the curious look on Professor McGonagall's supplied their answer. Her smile turned pitying, she turned their chairs to her and stooped before it, "Oh, you poor dears… you don't know yet…"
Just out the window a roar erupted from the Quidditch pitch, someone had just scored. The commentator's voice boomed a second later, "I DON'T BELIEVE IT. HUFFLEPUFF'S SCORED! SOMEONE GET OVER TO CAPTAIN CHRISTENSEN, HE LOOKS LIKE HE MIGHT FALL OFF THAT BROOM!"
Unsurprisingly, he was booed for this too.
Both girls wished they could see it. Now that they could see no importance in their visitor to them, they didn't wish to see her anymore.
Pansy's demeanour had changed, her voice nasty despite the smile as she said, "Tantie Marie was not your aunt, Amaranthe Montgomery is an Auror someone hired to look after you eleven years ago… and according to the paper, that someone may be of one of the most respected pureblood families in the Wizarding world, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. They're saying that you two are the last of that house, and as Mr Malfoy is himself a descendant, we're just trying to make sure."
"You're lying," said Aimee, "you don't know Tantie Marie. She is our aunt, and we know our family, she's never told us about any Draco Malfoy."
"The first we've heard of him was when we came here," said Maia.
Quickly realising that she would get nowhere with them like that, Pansy rose and looked around her. When her eyes fell on the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, who had perked up at the mention of his family name, she pointed to it and asked, "Do you know that man?"
The twins turned, Phineas Nigellus turned up his nose at them. Maia said, "He's Phineas Nigellus Black, Tantie Marie said that he's our ancestor."
"Ancestor?" asked Phineas Nigellus, as if the word insulted him.
"HUFFLEPUFF IN POSSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE… CAPTAIN CHRISTENSEN TAKES OUT A BLUDGER HEADED SEEKER RITCHER'S WAY… RAVENCLAW SEEKER BRANSON SEEMS TO HAVE SPIED THE SNITCH… LOOK AT THAT GIRL GO! FAILED WRONSKI FEINT AND ALMOST BLUDGEONED FOR IT… YOU PEOPLE REALLY NEED TO GET YOUR OWN MOVES! NO WONDER GRYFFINDOR'S GOING TO POUND YOU ALL TO DUST NEXT GAME!"
More boos, and then there was an "OW!" someone must have pelted him with something.
"Right, 'Tantie Marie'," repeated Pansy, and then continued slowly, reassuming her position before them, "The House of Black… is a pureblood family line, its very motto is 'Toujours Pur', and it has kept this motto throughout the years by marrying only into other pureblood families. Draco Malfoy's mother, Narcissa, came from that house. Now the Montgomerys… are half-blood, which means they have Muggle relations. In the paper, your Tantie Marie's family claims that they don't know you. Her brother doesn't have any children, and she didn't have any sisters… so that leaves you two… well, she's not your aunt, because, if you're a Black, she can't be related to you."
The girls said nothing, but Phineas Nigellus was not thus handicapped, "If they're Blacks? The Black family line ended the night that boy took my great-great grandson to his death fifteen years ago! Who's making these claims? Whose children are they? Bellatrix had none, Narcissa had one, Andromeda married a Muggle (his teeth gritted at that), Sirius died childless and Regulus died young… where do these two fit in?"
An amiable voice that made Professor McGonagall start in her seat followed this outburst, "Phineas, I do believe we can assume there is an explanation?"
The twins' attentions were drawn to the large portrait behind her desk of a greying old man with twinkling clear blue eyes and half-moon glasses, dressed in light lilac robes. They didn't need an introduction to know him.
It was the portrait of the late Professor Albus Dumbledore.
Pansy herself started, "Professor Dumbledore! I… I…"
"It's quite all right, Miss Parkinson, I assure you that I am quite dead… now what was it that you were saying about these two? That they're related to the House of Black? I'm afraid that without proper explanation I will have to agree with Phineas. I was there the night Sirius died, and also discovered the will in which he left everything to Harry Potter… what does the Daily Prophet have to say?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat, his fingers forming a steeple.
"RAVENCLAW SCORES… THAT IS AN OBSCENE GESTURE MR WILLIAMS; I CAN SEE YOU QUITE CLEARLY FROM HERE! HEY! THAT'S A BLATANT FOUL! WHERE'S THE REFEREE, HUFFLEPUFF JUST FOULED CAPTAIN ADAMS! WHERE'S ALL THAT FAIR SPORTMANSHIP HUFFLEPUFFS KEEP RANTING ABOUT? I DEMAND JUSTICE! OKAY… RAVENCLAW IN POSSESSION… AS IT SHOULD BE…! FINE…!"
Pansy recovered slowly, drew over a chair and sank into it. She looked near faint, but gave no sign of it in her voice when she replied, "The Daily Prophet are not claiming anything, they just released the information that you two are not Amaranthe Montgomery's nieces… that she was just keeping these girls somebody's little secret for eleven years now."
"She is our aunt!" snapped Aimee, fiercely.
"That's not what your name says," said Pansy, coolly. "Maia Jae and Aimee Jean Black, that's the name on the Beauxbatons Academy's records, that's the name, as far as they've found, on your birth certificates. Amaranthe had no nieces, because her brother has no children. She was an Auror, working for the Ministry of Magic, privately hired to watch over you two. And no, your name alone doesn't identify you as belonging to that noble finished house, but by your admission, this woman has told you that Phineas Nigellus Black is your 'ancestor'. And, we have the indisputable evidence of one your schoolmates that you are in possession of a lovely pair of trunks stamped with the Black family crest. I know some of the things were stolen and sold during the war, but you have to understand, it is suspicious. But like I said before, I am only here on Mr Malfoy's authority to find out if you two are really related to him… and if you insist that Amaranthe is your aunt, and everyone else here can agree that the family line is finished… clearly we were both mistaken… and 'Tantie Marie' was a liar."
"HUFFLEPUFF SCORES AGAIN…? ARE THEY OUT THERE WITH SOME KIND OF LUCKY CHARM? I DEMAND DRUG-TESTING FOR THE ENTIRE TEAM!"
"You're lying!" screamed Aimee, and suddenly, the hem of Pansy's robes caught aflame.
She sprang out of her seat shrieking wildly, Professor McGonagall rushed to her assistance ("Miss Black!"), Maia snatched her sister's arm and yanked her out of her seat and both retreated to the window.
"OW! THAT HAD TO HURT! SOMEONE JUST PUMMELLED THE HUFFLEPUFF SEEKER WITH A BLUDGER, KNOWING THEM IT WAS PROBABLY A TEAMMATE!"
Aimee was not finished though, "Tantie Marie was our aunt! She's taken care of us since we were little because it wasn't safe for our parents to! She and Papa told us who our family were! She was! She was!"
Maia still said nothing, though she looked just as distressed as her sister was. In fact, she just stood holding her sister out of harm's way while the Headmistress doused Pansy's robes and the woman repaired the ruined hem. In the midst of a loud moment between the two, Maia whispered softly, "Antietay adhay ecretsays; ouyay nowkay hesay idday; nlyoay apapay peaksays hetay ruthtay!" <Tantie had secrets; you know she did; only Papa speaks the truth!>
The paintings on the wall were in uproar, Phineas Nigellus at the head of them, decrying both girls for the attack on Pansy. Professor Dumbledore's painting was silent; he was staring at the girls with a furrowed brow and a curious gleam in his eyes. The little display of wandless magic seemed of no consequence to him.
And, apparently, to Pansy too, for once her clothes were fixed, she merely took a few moments to compose herself, assure Professor McGonagall all was well, and then turned to the twins again, "Okay, okay, if I'm lying, tell me something… another friend of mine, Mr Blaise Zabini-his daughter is a friend of yours, told us about the trunks-he has this theory… do you know Regulus Black?"
At this Professor Dumbledore assumed a stern posture in his seat; Phineas Nigellus quieted his fellow portraits to listen in. Professor McGonagall began, "Miss Parkinson, are you sure you're alright?"
Maia replied to Pansy's question, "Yes."
"HE WON'T BE DOING ANY SEEKING FOR A WHILE! WOW! THE GAME'S JUST STARTED! IT LOOKS LIKE THEY'LL HAVE TO FORFEIT! LIKE I WAS TELLING PROFESSOR WEASLEY THE OTHER DAY… PROFESSOR WEASLEY…?"
Pansy smiled at her, "Good, very good… now he disappeared, possibly died, in 1981, at twenty years old, thirty years ago, under mysterious circumstances. For some time before that, he had lost touch with a lot of people who knew him… so Mr Zabini has this strange idea, that Regulus Black, may be your father… or grandfather… depending on how you look at it. That in 1981, either he disappeared, and started a new life under a different name… though he gave his daughters his family name… or that he died, but not before he had a child, a son, who became your father in 1999…. Now tell me… which one is it? Who is your father?"
Aimee was still too distraught to speak, Maia replied, "We can't tell you, it's not safe."
At this all the room fell deafeningly silent, Pansy scoffed, "Who am I going to tell…? If he is your father, or your grandfather, we can help… Mr Malfoy is quite willing to take you in. As you know, with this little revelation the Ministry is going to have to take you two as wards until they find a home for you… and especially if your father doesn't show up or contact them soon… so, who is he?"
"We can't tell you that," Maia insisted, "And we do have other family, our mother's Muggle-born…"
"Muggle-born!" exclaimed Phineas Nigellus. "They're definitely not Regulus' children; he would never marry someone like that!"
"Have you forgotten Andromeda married a Muggle?" asked Professor Dumbledore.
"HUFFLEPUFF IS CALLING IN THEIR RESERVE SEEKER… THIS SHOULD BE A SHORT MATCH; HE COULDN'T CATCH THE SNITCH EVEN IF IT WAS DOING THE CRAWL ON HIS NOSE!"
"Our father's not Regulus Black!" snapped Aimee, brought to life by their exchange. "But he… he must be related to us, because Tantie Marie said that we're his (she looked at Phineas Nigellus) descendants, so he must be…."
Phineas Nigellus, miffed at being snapped at, said, "I already know Regulus isn't your father…. Tell that to that idiot 'descendant' of mine. Here's a theory, why don't you all look at that Potter boy instead… he was always an insolent trouble-maker, he could be their father!"
The twins' eyes widened and they looked at him in shock, though it also could have been alarm.
"THE SNITCH HAS BEEN SPOTTED… KEEPER ANDREWS SAVES ATTEMPT BY DAVISON… HEY… SOMEONE GET THAT BLUDGER! HEY… IT'S HEADED MY WAY! HEY… WOW… THAT WAS A CLOSE ONE! CAPTAIN CHRISTENSEN, AREN'T YOU LOOKING OUT AT THE FIELD, I'M NOT PLAYING!"
Professor McGonagall turned on him, "Now Phineas, Harry was away at war for three years! He's not their father!"
"Why not?" demanded Phineas Nigellus, "I wouldn't put something like this past him. Just like his father, or worse, Muggle-born wife… though the fact that they have my family name could mean that they weren't married… and my family money. Gives up the children and then runs like the coward he is…"
"Phineas Nigellus…!" began Professor McGonagall.
Suddenly, there was a disturbance in the staircase just outside the Headmistress' Office, and a second later the door burst open to reveal a very red-faced, wild-haired Ron Weasley. He must have run all the way from the Quidditch pitch, from his slightly dishevelled appearance, and was barely being held back by some unseen person in the stairs behind him.
Professor McGonagall at the sight of him at once sighed and fell into her seat.
He took one look around the room and roared, "You! I had a feeling something was wrong the minute I heard they had a visitor, but you! What are you doing here?"
Pansy turned to him with a smile, "Just coming to pay a visit Mr Weasley, what does it look like?"
She spat the "mister" as if it were an obscenity.
"You don't have any children, so you have no business here! Or did you and your little master finally manage to breed?" he asked, his tone returning the implied obscenity.
"THE SNITCH… SOMEONE'S… COLLISION… WHO'S GOT THE SNITCH? OH BOY, THAT DIDN'T LOOK PRETTY… WHO'S GOT THE SNITCH…? IS IT… IS IT… YES… RAVENCLAW'S CAUGHT THE SNITCH! RAVENCLAW WINS! RAVENCLAW PLAYS GRYFFINDOR NEXT GAME! BYE-BYE, SEE YOU NEXT YEAR… I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU ALL EVEN BOTHER…"
"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" someone shouted, there was a strange silence after that.
"It's not as if I came to see your son Weasley, what business do you have with these two little girls… is there something we should know?" she asked, smiling nastily.
"Get out!" he roared.
"You can't put me out!" she snapped.
"But I can," said Professor McGonagall, "I should have stopped this before it began. Miss Parkinson, please leave the premises immediately, you're distressing my students."
Pansy turned back to her shocked, hastily recovered, and said shortly, "Fine then."
She gathered her things, smoothed her hair, and headed to door. Ron stepped away to allow her to pass, the persons behind him, Professors Theoden and Patil, did the same. When she got to the door though, she turned and said, "We'll have tea sometime soon again girls, I assure you. Welcome to the family."
Just before the door closed in her face, Maia said from the relative safety of Ron's arms where he had gathered them, "We were here first; it's us who should be welcoming you. And you're not welcome!"
~*~*~*~
"Our headlining story tonight: British-born twins, Aimee and Maia Black, recently transferred to the prestigious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, are being claimed as relatives of known former Death Eater, Mr Draco Malfoy.
In light of a recent Daily Prophet interview with the family of Amaranthe Montgomery, the twins' former guardian, that declared the girls no family of theirs, the school and the Ministry were left on a search for their real family. This morning, the search ended when Mr Malfoy's reported long-time girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, visited the school to meet them. After the meeting, unceremoniously ended by a 'belligerent' Ronald Weasley, the Defence professor, Miss Parkinson had this to say:
'Mr Weasley was quite out of place in the entire incident. The conversation I had with the girls was going wonderfully until he arrived. I know he does not trust Draco but he is reformed, in fact, the girls mentioned him immediately when I began speaking. And, they have confirmed that they are his relatives, but until we get official confirmation of this, Draco can't wait to meet them. He's always happy to find family, all of are, after the nightmare of war. Thank you.'
Miss Parkinson refused to confirm or deny a circulating rumour that their father is one Regulus Black. A young Death Eater himself, who disappeared in 1981, Mr Black was the younger brother of Sirius Black, the godfather of Harry Potter. Sirius, died in 1996.
A reply to her statement, issued by the school and Mr Weasley just moments ago, simply states, 'Without all the necessary facts, we are not ready to jump to the conclusion that the girls are relations of Mr Malfoy or the Black family. We are still sorting through their records, and until the time we can state without a doubt that they are, we will not tolerate any further disruption of their settling in.'
No reference was made to another rumour that this is just another more elaborate plot by persons attempting to secure some of the reported multi-million Galleon Potter wealth. We at the WWN will continue to monitor this story…"
With a relieved sigh, Hermione opened the front door of Northbridge Manor, allowing Caspar to rush in past her with his bags, and said, "Thank goodness, we're home, I thought today would never end."
"You're just lazy, Mummy," said Caspar with a grin.
She closed the door behind her, set her bags down and said, "And you want to go to bed tonight without that promised dessert. You're lucky no one recognised us, following you around and trying to prevent that is hard work!"
"You left the radio on again," called Caspar from the other room, ignoring her statement.
"You heard me," she told him, dropped her keys on a side table and began sorting through the mail.
"Can I get a toad for my birthday, or for Christmas? We've never had a pet, well, except for your cat… but I want my own. Can I get one Mummy, can I, please?" he asked, coming into the foyer again.
"You're talking to the wrong person, Santa Claus deals with Christmas-isn't it a bit early to be talking about that, Hallowe'en isn't even here yet-I deal with birthdays… write him a letter," she said.
"Santa Claus…? Mummy!" he whined.
Hermione didn't hear his reply though; she had stopped listening when her hands fell on a thick, large brown envelope simply addressed, "Hermione, I know you probably forgot our conversation by the time you got home, so here's your report, Lincoln Abbey."
She tore open the seal, and threw out a dark blue folder packed of possibly more than a hundred pages with her name on tape on the top, "Granger, Hermione Jane" and beneath, the word "Confidential" stamped in black. On another piece of tape beneath the stamp, was the sentence, "Examination report on patient: Granger, Hermione Jane. November 5th, 2000."
Five days before, on Hallowe'en, Voldemort had died and Harry disappeared.
Caspar brought her back to consciousness, "Mummy, what did you get? Did you win something? Noel Collins' mum won something in the mail yesterday, he was boasting about it all day today. Miss Warrington sent him to the office…"
She cut him off, "Caspar, why don't you go watch a cartoon, since you did such a wonderful job of taking me out and about, I think you deserve a treat."
Caspar was staring at her with a clear look of distrust on his face, but he said, "Okay… but don't you want to see what I'm looking at?"
"No, you're a big boy, my little man, I trust you," she said, not once looking at him. She was still staring down at the folder.
Caspar hesitated at the door for a little while, then decided that he should not waste his good fortune, and went off to the living room with a quick, "Okay! I'm going to watch a scary movie that'll probably give me nightmares!"
She was not too out of it to catch that though, "Don't you dare, or I'll tell Harry and Louis and Christian that you sleep with a night-light."
He made no reply, and she was left alone with the folder. And alone with the folder, she put her palms down on either end of the side table and muttered, "Oh gods…"
She was not sure why this was affecting her so. She had already told Healer Abbey that she had had no children before Caspar. She was quite sure of it, and of the fact that when she married Viktor Krum she was still a virgin. She and Ron had never gotten that far, and with the war before, that was the furthest thing from anyone's mind.
But somehow, and this was all probably because she respected Healer Abbey so much, she couldn't help but….
This was ridiculous.
Gathering up the mail, including the folder, and her bags at the door, she went up to the study.
The window was open, the cool night air of early October flowing freely in bringing with it a scent of decay that was uniquely autumn. A gentle silvery-white light, which was that of the waning moon, floated softly unto her desk. Somewhere outside a cricket sang, a lone car passed in the street, she heard Caspar's cartoon clearly from below. She walked into the room, flicked on a light, dropped the bags at the door and went to her desk.
Lying in the centre of it as always, was Mrs Weasley's gift, the photo album.
She had so far stuck to her plan of slow perusal, and nothing she had seen so far revealed anything out of the ordinary. But, tonight, she would break that. Just to disprove the Healer's assessment, assuage Healer Abbey… she would have to break her little rule… and possibly hurt herself in the process.
The pictures were supposedly of her time in recuperation, so they were all the proof she would need. Being pregnant would have hurt Harry, it would have made her a liability, it could have… no, she didn't want to think like that.
But it implied, it could mean… that she… that because of her….
This was all wrong and ridiculous.
She closed the window, discarded her coat, and drew closer the small lamp on her desk. Settling into her chair, she opened the album to her last page: her and Harry at Grimmauld Place, most of them of their faces and one in the dim light of the full moon coming through a window. She had no time for such patience tonight though; she quickly skipped seven pages and scanned the one she came to for any evidence of something "off".
The pictures there were a disappointment; she was alone in the library behind a mountain of books and glaring slightly at the photographer.
Harry was no where to be seen, that was good, she never wanted him to think she was tired in the war. He would have found some way to send her home.
One was of her sleeping on the same pile, possibly later, and Lupin coming in with a blanket to cover her. In another he had wrapped the large blanket round her and was helping her out of the room.
She skipped two pages.
She was heavily bundled up on a sunny, late winter evening seated on a bench in the backyard of the Burrow with Fleur. Fleur was balancing a very adorable baby, nearly lost in his clothes, of about six months or more on her knee. Hermione was teasing him.
She skipped another two pages.
It was spring time; she was standing at the window of Grimmauld Place with her back turned looking down at the street. There was a heavy mist without, diluting the light and somewhat distorting her image, but she couldn't help and see that something was… wrong.
The rest of the pictures on the page yielded nothing much, other than her seated at a desk, full cheeks pink and reading, an odd one of her with narrowed eyes glaring at Phineas Nigellus followed.
And then she turned the page.
And then her breath hitched as her mouth opened in surprise.
She was standing in a room. A large room with yellow and white wallpaper, a moving scene of ducks in a pond on one wall, little teddy bears running along the ceiling… and a baby's cradle, pram, changing station, toys, bassinet… and she was very visibly, very heavily… pregnant.
It took her only a second then to start out of her seat, slamming her chair back against the wall while she stifled what could only be described as a scream.
From below Caspar called up, "Mum, are you okay?"
She was still so stunned he had to repeat it before she replied, "Yes, Caspar, I'm fine… Mummy just had… I'm fine, walked into my chair!"
"You're getting clumsy too, you know that?" he called again, his voice much closer than before.
She realised then that he had come up the stairs. That he was just in the hall in fact. If he came in and saw her like that… she couldn't let him….
She immediately slammed the album shut, dumped the folder atop it and began to push the chair back from the wall as he came in.
"I'm not clumsy, you haven't met Auntie Tonks yet have you?" she said casually, hoping that her face was not displaying the alarm that was sounding off within her.
Caspar shook his head, "Who's that?"
She forced a smile, "Keep visiting the Weasleys, you'll meet her soon enough… she has a son, much younger than you boys, quite surprised she hasn't dropped him yet."
Caspar grinned, "I'll tell her."
"Back to the television, young man, you're distracting me!" she ordered, fighting to make her smile genuine.
Caspar shrugged and went away at once. She waited until she was sure he was gone, when the television's volume returned to the earlier level he had no doubt set to let her know he was watching a cartoon, and then sat down and let out the cry that had followed the suppressed scream.
She could do nothing else then than just sit there a while. Her cries coming in stifled gasps, one hand covering her mouth while the other went to her stomach and crumpled her clothes above it, her voice breaking through, "Oh gods… oh… I… oh…"
The cricket outside sang again, a low mournful tune that reminded her of the fable of the cricket and the ants. Another car passed in the street, someone walking a dog called it back, a wind bended the leaves of the tree just out the window.
But the longer she sat there crying, she knew it was the less she would understand. She was in shock, distressed even, but there had to be an explanation. This was no immaculate conception. There had to be a father and a birth and….
She dragged her seat back to the desk, cleared away the folder and opened the album again.
This time she hurriedly scanned every page from the one that openly revealed her pregnancy and found an abundance of pictures to make it true.
There was no denying that it was her.
Bushy brown hair, bright brown eyes, same face, small build, head in a book, but her body filled out more accommodating… was it a boy or a girl?
At the Burrow, at Grimmauld Place… in the library, in a bedroom, in the kitchen, it was her and she was pregnant.
Did Harry and Ron know? Lupin did, Mrs Weasley-there she was-knew, Fleur-she had to have known-what about the others? But if they knew… how come they didn't tell her… remind her? Did she have some kind of accident that made her forget? Did she give it away and erase her memory? Did it… oh gods no… did it die?
At this last thought she stopped looking through the album and began crying in earnest. Tears flowing freely down her face, her vision blurred and she could not suppress the bawl that came then.
It had to have died. That was why they… why she must have forgotten… why they didn't mention it. She had a baby, in the war, she had a baby and it died… oh gods….
This time Caspar came running up the stairs-she had to wonder how he heard her over the television-and rushed to her side calling, panicked, "Mummy! Mummy, what's wrong? Mummy, did something bad happen? Mummy!"
He somehow managed to clamber into her lap, wrap his little arms round her neck and tried to soothe her. She did not stop crying though, and eventually he started crying too.
"Mummy, why are you crying? What happened? Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice more terrified, she was sure, than hers.
She had no time to comfort him though, no matter how much she knew she should. She just couldn't, she had to let all of it out. She had to cry.
And when she stopped, or maybe just a little before when she was sure of herself again, she would attend to him. And then… when they were both alright, when she could come up with a reasonable excuse for this. Caspar would not understand or accept "I just needed to cry". He would probably be confused by the pictures of things he had never seen, just as she was though she had done them and couldn't remember. And when he started asking questions… then she would get some answers.
~*~*~*~
"Finally, I was beginning to wonder if you were foolish enough to disregard my order," said Snape coldly, as his guest finally came down into the darkened kitchen of Grimmauld Place.
It was the meeting place of more than one clandestine party.
The reply was just as cold, "I'm not your servant! I don't have to come to your every beck and call… now what's going on?"
Snape surveyed the arrival in one, quick glance and said, "You're looking tanned, where were you?"
"Vacation… (Snape fixed him a look) it's a Muggle tanning product, it'll wear off in a few days… what's this about Mrs Weasley making a decision that my wife will know about soon enough?" he asked, not at all concealing his impatience.
"Don't you want to sit down, you look tired," began Snape casually, almost charmingly, but he was speedily cut off.
"I don't have time for this…" the arrival began but Snape stopped him in turn.
"Oh, you have plenty of time, you haven't done a damn thing in eleven years Mr Potter, and I know you're not doing a damn thing now! Have a seat," he told him, his voice curt.
Harry glared at him, but despite the childish urge to keep standing, walked into the light to the table and sat down. Snape gave no outward sign of delight in his victory, and said, "Now that we're seated, tell me… why, didn't you divorce the girl? This would have been so much easier…"
Harry gave a growl of frustration deep in his throat; a faint smile played at Snape's lips, but never touched his eyes.
"You know full well why I couldn't divorce her… a few years after he's declared dead Harry Potter files for divorce from a woman who doesn't even remember marrying him? I can't even get an annulment without raising eyebrows… is this your way of asking for gratitude for your convincing Hermione to marry Krum in Bulgaria? I won't thank you for it, I'll never thank you for that at all," Harry told him.
Snape waved away his speech, "I don't want 'thanks', (the smile played at his lips again), but tell me, when Krum fell… were you in Bulgaria… should I assume his death no accident?"
Harry's voice was deadly ice when he said, "I had more than six years to kill Krum if I wanted to. Why would I do it in a public place in front of my wife and his son? Now tell me, what is going on with Mrs Weasley."
Snape seemed finally satisfied with his ribbing for the evening and said, "She's decided to tell Miss Granger the truth. She's given her an album of photographs from the war complete with images of her pregnancy. There are no pictures of the children, of course, we gave those to Amaranthe… but Hermione's going to start asking questions, and with the girls at Hogwarts now… and Mr Weasley… I don't expect it to be too long before mother and daughters are reunited."
Whatever reaction he had assumed Harry to give to this news, he surely did not expect the non-reaction he got instead. Harry just sat there staring at him a moment, before finally asking, "Am I supposed to be disappointed by this, I never wanted Hermione to give them up in the first place."
"Oh ho, this is news to me; you didn't look too keen on stopping her back then. As a matter of fact, you're the one who gave her choice," said Snape.
"I didn't expect her to choose me over our children!" said Harry, a hint of frustration in his tone.
"No, of course not, I forgot, you seem unaware of how much the world revolves around you," Snape told him, dryly.
Harry refused to rise to the bait, asking instead, "Since this could have been conveyed in your little letter, why am I here? 'Be prepared for backlash', I'm dead remember, Hermione finds out the truth, goes home with our daughters and I stay this way for their safety."
"Unfortunately, that excuse doesn't work anymore; there hasn't been a major Death Eater attack in three years. Your wife's worse enemies now are her in-laws, I have it on good authority that your daughters have been receiving gifts from you, and a letter recently…" Snape said and was cut off.
"You've been spying on me?" asked Harry, through gritted teeth.
"I don't trust you that much, Mr Potter," said Snape, "And according to my spies, I have good reason not to. If you intended on staying dead you should have remained that way and not contacted your daughters at all, but you couldn't resist. Once their mother knows about them, they're going to inevitably mention your letters and when they do, she's going to track you down… possibly to kill you."
Harry scowled, "They know it's not safe to talk about me."
"They're your and Miss Granger's children, believe me, it won't take that long for someone to slip up. And besides, she's their mother, why ever would they think it's wrong to mention you to her?" Snape told him.
"Do you even know that Hermione stole ingredients from your cupboards in Second Year to brew the Polyjuice Potion?" asked Harry.
Snape looked unmoved, "I miss nothing, Mr Potter. Now, how do you intend on working your way back into their lives, with the number of impersonators running around a grand return is not going to help you. They'll be suspicious, the press won't buy it and you'll possibly be arrested for being… yourself."
That brought a smile to his lips, but it was wiped away a second later by Harry's reply, "I don't intend on doing a damn thing, you called me, I'm moving home. I'll buy a house, move in, and let them come to me."
"Are you insane, you're supposed to be dead, the dead don't just show up and buy houses," Snape pointed out.
Harry shrugged, "You're right, they don't… but I have an advantage over them, I'm not dead."
"And when Miss Granger and Mr Weasley show up demanding answers, as well as every Tom, Dick and… well you know the rest, what are you going to do?" asked Snape.
"Who said anything about coming back here as Harry Potter?" asked Harry.
This time, Snape really smiled.
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