Voldemort paced the room, the offending glass bauble resting atop the mantel. Even the most stupidly loyal of his subjects had seen fit to give him the space he needed to think.
What did it mean?
A power…and time?
He spun on his heel, his wrist groaning against the grip he held on his wand.
Could it be time-turners?
He suppressed a snarl and turned instead to Nagini, who lay curled near the fire. She had the right of it. There was no point in expending unproductive energy on something so nebulous. Certain sections were clear and those were the parts that mattered.
He had made the correct decision in his orders. There was nothing to do but bide his time until the Ministry had its hands full integrating that useless confederation of theirs.
He only had to wait. His most trusted subordinates had yet to let him down. Their final, simple task would be over soon and they could begin again in earnest.
Nagini uncurled and wove her way between his legs, sensing his rising excitement. Yes, he wouldn't make the same mistakes as last time. Careful planning, rather than wanton destruction, was proving effective. Cowing a country in fear was exhilarating but temporary.
His safeguards had proved useful, but he would not be reduced to such a state again.
And now he knew how to make that happen.
But his errant host needed her fledgling wings clipped.
XxX
Harry followed Ron and Hermione into the Great Hall, taking care to wave to Luna when he spotted her sitting alone at the end of the Ravenclaw table. In the few weeks since Fleur's observation, he had found that she had been right. Luna had, almost immediately, become more…tolerable. And it sat poorly in Harry's stomach. Her speech had become slower, more deliberate, and while she had only occasionally mentioned oddities the Quibbler reported on, even those rare mentions had vanished.
His wave earned him one in response and she smiled, her eyes following them as they passed.
How was he supposed to tell her that she had been fine the way she was when it was his bumbling advice she had followed?
He'd have to think on his epiphany further and try to explain himself better. Maybe Fleur would have some ideas. She was much better at communicating than he was.
His dilemma carried him through breakfast, occupying his mind as he mechanically shoveled food into his mouth. How could he explain the freedom of knowing it's all behind you, and you're free to be who you are supposed to be? More than that, how could he shape it to apply to her, admittedly different, issue?
Near the end of breakfast, the arrival of the post broke his introspection as a pair of owls swooped down towards where they were sitting. A large, dark brown owl soared alongside Hedwig, alighting on the table with the careful beat of wings. Hedwig landed next to it, bending down to nab a piece of bacon off a nearby plate.
Harry reached towards the light blue envelope tied to her leg, then yanked his hand back when she nipped at his finger. Keeping a baleful eye trained on him, Hedwig lifted the leg towards Hermione, who grinned as she untied the letter.
The brown owl, on the other hand, moved to stand in front of him, its own leg extended. Harry took the crisp white envelope with a muttered thanks and paused when he saw the waxy seal holding the back closed.
Ron whistled between his teeth from beside him.
"Ministry mail?" he asked, leaning over. "What do ya reckon they want? Think it's got something to do with the…well, the war?"
"Probably," Harry grumbled, sliding his finger under the seal and removing the letter.
Mr. Potter,
I hope you will forgive my sudden communication, but I thought it best to reach out to you via letter, rather than attempting an in-person meeting. You and I have crossed paths a number of times, but haven't had much opportunity to talk at length. Your position in our world is unique and could make for some interesting conversation between us.
I'd like to invite you and a few friends to the Ministry for a personal tour. I had the unfortunate duty of being one of the ones to witness your harrowing experience in Little Hangleton, and our Aurors would be well served to have such steadfastness among their ranks once you're out of school. Right now you would have the unique opportunity of seeing the Ministry at its most efficient while it works with our allies from all over the world to prepare to face this threat as a unified front.
I hope you'll consider this opportunity and get back to me as soon as you are able. Once we are in the thick of things, it will be difficult to make time. I look forward to your favorable reply.
Please let me know who you would like to bring with you and what departments you would be most interested in visiting.
Cordially yours,
Cornelius Fudge
Minister for Magic
Harry handed the letter over to Ron, frowning. Hermione was still reading her letter with wide eyes when Ron finished and held out the Minister's message to her.
"What's this?" she asked, grabbing it with her free hand.
"What's that ?" Ron shot back with a smile. "I know you're a quicker reader than we are."
Hermione folded her letter and placed it next to her plate.
"It's from Fleur, if you must know. She wrote to me not too long ago and is explaining how she managed to make that incredible notepaper of theirs." She shook her head as she stared down at her plate. "I understand most of it…but her runic choices and methods don't line up with anything we've learned so far. It must be NEWT level technique, at least."
"Well," Ron said slowly, nodding down at the letter he'd handed her. "That's interesting in a different way."
Her eyes grew wide as she read, then narrowed as she began a second read through.
"This is…something," she said, shaking her head and handing it back to Harry.
"Something rotten," he said, stuffing the letter into a pocket in his robes. "Why now?"
"Because of the war," Hermione said, a frown of her own resting on her face. "Didn't Sirius say the Minister was opposed to the idea? He might be trying to look good by being seen with the person who ended the last one."
"But I didn't do anything."
"Doesn't matter, mate," Ron said with a shrug. "You know how people are about the whole thing."
A grin spread across his face.
"Have you ever seen the children's books?"
"The children's books?"
Ron's grin grew even wider and Hermione, oddly, flushed.
"Oh, sure," Ron said, ticking off numbers with his fingers. "Harry Potter and the Golden Dragon. Harry's First Broom. A Day in Potter Park."
"I hate this."
"Potter Park isn't real," Hermione interjected, causing Ron to laugh.
"And how would you know?"
"W-well...I…" she trailed off, looking helplessly between them. She blushed all the way to the roots of her bushy hair and picked at the table with a finger. "After first year, I was curious...so I bought a few from Flourish and Blotts."
"Fantastic," Harry said dryly. "I'm being dragged into politics and I find out that kids listen to bedtime stories about me."
"At least your girlfriend is French, and as far as I know, the books are only in English," Ron said with a laugh. "Imagine how awkward it'd be to find one of them on her bookshelf."
Harry's shudder was only partially for show. Fleur hadn't been enraptured by the story of the Boy-Who-Lived at all and had only been incensed by his other adventures during his time at Hogwarts.
"Fleur is older than us," Hermione pointed out. "If it would be anyone, it would be Gabrielle."
"Can we go back to wondering about why the Minister wants to see me? See us? He said you guys could come along."
"Hooray," Ron said dryly. "I've been with Dad a few times, though it was just to the Misuse office. The atrium is kinda neat, but that's about it." He eyed Harry. "Besides, I'd have thought you'd want Fleur to go with you."
"She works there," Harry said with a shrug. "I don't know if she'd want to go on a tour at all."
"I'm sure if you asked her she would," Hermione said, grabbing her letter and folding it before sticking it in a pocket. "Regardless, you should probably ask both her and Sirius about it. I'm certain the Minister wants you for some sort of networking opportunity, but you can't exactly ignore someone like him."
"Sure you can," Ron said. "Dad's always said Fudge is a bit of a blowhard."
"I'll ask Sirius," Harry said. "I want to ignore it, but what if the Minister gives Sirius a hard time when he's ready for reinstatement?"
"I'm sure that's not something he can do," said Hermione, shaking her head. "His reinstatement process was court-mandated, right? There have to be certain channels to go through to take that back."
"The same channels that gave him a trial in the first place?" Harry asked.
"Fair point," Hermione conceded. "We had better get going. I doubt Professor Polder will be lenient if we're late so close to OWLs."
"We still have months," Ron said, rising to his feet.
"Not that many. I doubt your mother will be thrilled when you get T's on all your exams because you had so much time left."
"I don't need two mothers," he snapped. "I'm studying plenty, just not all of it is for OWLs. Get off my back, Hermione."
"Right," she said, smiling apologetically. "I forgot. Sorry."
Harry waved again to Luna as they passed, ignoring his friend's bickering. She seemed sad and...expectant? He let out a long breath. What he wouldn't give for everyone to be as easily read as Fleur.
He made another mental note to ask her about Luna and then focused himself on the upcoming Defense lesson. Professor Polder's classes weren't as intense as his lessons with Dumbledore, but they had been excellent practice to try out Dumbledore's method of feeling a spell while you learn it. It was challenging, but Harry had found success with the technique, usually performing new spells at almost the same time as Hermione.
He grinned and redoubled his pace. If he could manage it first just once, it'd drive her absolutely crazy.
XxX
"What do you think?"
Sirius's face turned contemplative as he pondered the Minister's odd offer. The mirror added a strange layer of haziness to the image, but Harry could still see rusty political gears turning in his godfather's mind.
"To be honest, it seems like it'd be a golden opportunity for someone who's into networking at that sort of level. For us, it sounds like a bit of a nightmare."
Harry nodded and blew out a breath, then hastily wiped the condensation from the mirror.
"So how do I turn him down?"
At this, Sirius pursed his lips and scratched at his chin.
"I'm not exactly sure you should. The Potter seat has been vacant for a long time, and when I step down, you'll inherit my seat as well…" he paused a moment, then grinned. "Provided I don't meet some lovely lady between now and then."
Harry groaned and dropped backwards onto his bed, holding the mirror up in the air so he could see.
"But politics? Really? That's not what I want to do when I get out of school."
"Oh?" Sirius said, raising an eyebrow. "And what do you want to do?"
Sirius's rugged eyebrow arched over his grey eyes was not as elegant as the one he was used to seeing during this conversation, but it was just as effective at conveying the message.
"I don't know. Not politics though."
"Fair enough. But that doesn't mean it wouldn't be a good thing to understand how your government works, no matter my…personal feelings on its efficiency. Besides, I'm not being a very good caretaker if I don't make you do at least some things that you don't want to do."
"So what? I should just owl the Minister back? Say we'll be there?"
"Not just yet," Sirius said with a shake of his head. "I don't like how he might be trying to pull you into some sort of image war. Let me do a bit of investigating and I'll let you know. Worst comes to worst, I'll just come with you and can shut any of that down."
"I guess…"
There was a pause, and even through the tarnished mirror, Harry could see Sirius tense before he spoke again.
"Harry, listen," Sirius said, his face falling into a more serious set. "Are you alone right now?"
Harry almost dropped the mirror for the powerful thud of his heart in response to Sirius's tone. He sat up and double checked the dorm room.
"Yeah…why?"
"I was going to owl you, but I guess this'll do." Sirius cleared his throat and squared his shoulders before speaking. "I've been…keeping tabs on your relatives."
Though he'd just checked the room, Harry's eyes brushed across it again of their own accord, his heart thundering in his throat.
Why hadn't he bothered to learn any privacy charms? Maybe he should get under the covers? What if someone heard?
"U-um…" he managed, blinking in an attempt to gather his thoughts together.
"I'm sorry for bringing it up so suddenly, but I thought you should know. They've hired a squib lawyer who's got a lot of experience dealing with inter-governmental cases like this. From what I've been able to discover, he's pretty good at his job, but nobody can work miracles."
"But…what does that mean?"
"Just that they're going to fight the Ministry and their ruling. It's a bit more complex than usual because of the shift between courts. In reality, it probably means that it'll be a bit longer than we wanted to see justice done."
"Oh."
"I know it's not much fun to talk about," Sirius said with a slight shrug, "but we're nearly there. The Dursleys will get tried, I'll get reinstated, and that'll be that."
"Okay."
Harry felt as though he should say something more, something to appease the worried frown on Sirius's face, but his thoughts were hardly more than half-formed worries and a gnawing pit of anger in his stomach. Better to keep it down than to lash out at one of the few people who was supposed to care about him.
"I'll let you know if anything major happens," Sirius said, swiping a hand through his hair. "Best not to worry about it till then. For now, I have to go meet up with Andy and Cissy. We're trying out an experiment where we see if we can all three be alone together without curses flying."
Harry could only manage a nod and a quick, 'Good luck,' to his godfather before tucking his mirror back into the bottom of his trunk.
How had it been that a horrible future of politics and ambition had mingled so easily with the horrors of his past?
He settled back onto his bed and pulled out his Potions book to study. OWL level potion procedure was complex enough that it should engage his mind enough to avoid the buried fears trying desperately to resurface. The ingredients and theory behind the potions swirled in his vision as his mind dragged him unwittingly back to the glimpse he'd gotten of the Dursleys on their way into the hearing.
His aunt's frightened sneer. His uncle's barely controlled features, the veins on his neck standing out in warning of oncoming danger.
He wrestled with the images, fighting to grab hold of the nebulous anxiety and put it behind him where it belonged.
XxX
That seems strange.
I know.
But…not altogether unheard of. The Minister is often seen in our department, especially recently, and takes great care in making sure he is seen working with Madam Bones.
Speaking of-
No, I have not heard anything about being an assistant yet. I am sure Dumbledore was being truthful, but I have no doubt her priorities have shifted due to the integration of the ICW.
Is it as bad as I've heard?
It is…chaotic, to say the least.
Sounds like the perfect time for an assistant.
I will be sure to let her know. Papa is one of the main liaisons and is working almost every single day. His experience working in multiple Ministries has proved invaluable, but he is only one man. It will take some time before things settle down.
Seems like an interesting time for a tour. I don't suppose I can convince you to come with me? Considering you work there and all?
I had assumed it went without saying that I would be joining you. I see very little besides the DMLE, so it will be interesting for me as well. Besides, if I want to work at the ICW one day, seeing how they integrate into various departments will be valuable.
I know Hermione wants to go. I don't think Ron is going to be too upset that he's not going to be able to come.
I had not thought about that. If he wants to go with you, I can wander the Ministry some other time.
I don't think it'll be a problem.
If you are sure.
I can ask him if you want me to, but I really think he'll be fine.
Please do. It is not fair that he be excluded simply so I may be included.
Give me a second, I'll ask, he's right here.
He laughed at me. Said he'd rather keep reading until he has a headache.
Then I will be looking forward to it. It is a strange date, but I will endeavor to picture it as one.
Wandering through the Ministry as a date?
We cannot go out together very often, so we might as well make the most of it.
I'd rather cook.
And I would rather you cook as well, but spending time together, no matter how monotonous the goings-on around us, is something I enjoy.
Me too. I guess I'll send my reply once Hedwig gets back with your letter to Hermione.
I sent it about an hour ago. Knowing her, she is probably already there.
You're probably right.
I have a bit more work to do. I brought some files home for sorting, since it gets so boring here, and want to be finished before it gets too late.
I should probably study. Hermione will have my head if I haven't started looking over the OWL stuff soon.
She is smart. You should listen to her.
I know. Goodnight, Fleur.
Goodnight, Harry.
Fleur set down her quill and turned a dour eye on the stack of papers that occupied most of her desk.
What had she been thinking? She already worked more than was expected of interns, and now she brought extra work home with her?
She was turning into her father.
The fire roared behind her, pushing much-needed warmth into the drafty room. She shifted beneath her blanket, the absorbed heat a comforting presence as she started to dig through her paperwork.
The unbearably dry Auror reports were a necessary evil, though it was one she often wished had found its way to someone else's desk. But if Dumbledore's suggestion had been anything more than a pleasant thought, she needed to ensure each one got a thorough check for anything that could be construed as Death Eater activity, no matter how small. Each time she felt her attention wane, she imagined that it had been a tiny detail in a seemingly unimportant report that had finally tipped the ICW team off that had found her so many years ago.
Midnight found her hard at work and departed the same, spinning into the early morning hours with barely a noticeable passing. Ice patterns decorated the window above her desk when she finally finished, clinging to the glass in opposition to the dying fire behind her.
With a contented sigh, she placed the final piece of paper on her orderly stack and stretched her arms above her head. Her forearms issued complaints about their alleged misuse in such monotonous repetitive work, but they were ignored in favor of the much louder complaint that drew her towards her bedroom.
She pulled her blanket up around her shoulders as she stood and shuffled across the cold wooden floors to her thankfully carpeted bedroom. Once inside, she shut the door, and with a few well-placed warming charms, finally felt the cold seep away from her skin. She dropped down on the edge of her bed, her body following the routine, no matter how desperately she wanted to just collapse backward and fall straight to sleep.
Her hand found her brush on the nightstand in its usual spot, while her other untied her ribbon and set it next to where the brush had sat. With a smooth motion, she drew her hair over her shoulder and began to brush the ends with slow, practiced strokes. Slight tangles unknotted as she drew her arm down with long, careful motions. The sound of her hair through the bristles lulled her closer to sleep, even as each snag carried a painful twinge to her scalp.
Her lids were heavy when she finished, returning her brush to its place at her bedside. She cast another warming charm on her blanket, then draped it over top of her duvet and slid beneath them all, burrowing deep. As sleep claimed her, she said a silent thank you to her earlier self, who had the presence of mind to slip into her pajamas earlier in the evening.
Thoughts of paperwork intermingled with a tour through her workplace, resulting in a jumbled mess of a dream where Harry tried to help her sort through a mountain of reports. She fumbled with the papers, trying to make sense of the disorganized pile. But with each report she touched, Harry pulled a handful, until he had buried himself beneath her paperwork.
She jerked from the dream with a gasp, skin clammy and cold. She dragged a hand across her face and squinted at the clock on the wall.
With a relieved sigh, she dropped back down onto her pillow to try to enjoy the final few hours of rest she had left.
XxX
"Ten minutes," Andromeda said from where she sat at the small circular table nearest to the door. "You are ten minutes late."
"Sorry," Sirius said, sliding into one of the ornate chairs to her left. "Had to have a quick chat with Harry."
The small cafe was loud in the only way a cafe can be. Hushed conversation from a handful of occupied tables filled the room with indistinct mumbling chatter, punctuated occasionally by one of the waitresses behind the short counter fumbling with a dish. It was the sort of uncoordinated noise that made Sirius either relax or drove him straight out of his mind.
"In the middle of a school day?"
"Couldn't wait." He lounged in the chair, stretching his out in front of him. "Though it seems like we can."
"You don't get to complain," Andromeda said, lifting the cup of tea in front of her to her lips.
Sirius waved down one of the waitresses wandering the small cafe and ordered a cup for himself.
"Should I have ordered for Cissy?" he asked, frowning after the short waitress. "I can call her back real quick."
"She'll have to order for herself...if she shows up."
Sirius shook his head and turned to look through the large window to his left out into snow-covered Diagon Alley. Even with the holidays so closely passed and the ankle-deep snow on the ground, the ancient street still bustled with activity. Witches and wizards in colorful winter cloaks hurried past, a few steaming slightly from whatever mix of warming charms and Freeze-no-Eezy potions they picked up from the more stubborn street-vendors.
"It's been months, Andy," Sirius said after a short silence, drawing his attention back into the warm aroma-filled teashop. "Doesn't she deserve at least a tiny break?"
Andromeda's cup hit the saucer with a loud click that made Sirius wince. Surely the fine china had cracked from the blow.
"She lives in a house full of people who would kill my family, if they didn't try to convert Nymphadora for her utility, or worse," she snapped, her voice barely more than a hiss. "A few months ago, I would have sworn she was one of those people. The fact that I am here is her 'tiny break.'"
Sirius dragged a hand through his hair, then nodded his thanks to the friendly-looking brunette that brought his tea.
"I know," he said, staring down at the steam rising from his cup. "I know. I just…I can't tell what's actual suspicion, and what's leftover from my parents trying to force me to suspect everyone of ill intent. 'As heir to House Black, you will have all manner of leech vying to find their way into your good graces.'"
He lifted his cup and took a small sip, then set it back down, pretending he hadn't just burnt his tongue.
"It'd just be nice, you know?"
Andromeda stared out the window in front of her, her expression cool enough to put the late February weather to shame.
"I know precisely how nice it would be to have my sister back," she said, her eyes unblinking as her gaze followed a mass of black and blond through the front door.
"I am sorry for my tardiness," Narcissa said, a quick shiver running across her body. She pulled out a thin, near-white wand from her cloak and passed it across her body, sighing in relief.
"Fifteen minutes," Andromeda said, taking a final sip of her tea. "You can pay for my next cup since I was forced to buy an extra one while waiting for you two."
"It's not exactly a simple matter to leave my house these days," Narcissa said, though she didn't argue the sudden stipulation. She raised a hand into the air and the waitress came over, a smile on her face.
"A coffee for me, and another cup of tea for my sister."
"Coffee?" Sirius echoed, his nose wrinkling of its own accord. "You too?"
"Yes. And what do you mean, me too?"
"I discovered over the holidays that Harry likes to have coffee in the morning. A habit he picked up at his relatives, it seems. Stank up the whole kitchen every morning."
Narcissa pursed her lips, then let out a slow breath between them.
"Lucius is the one who converted me. He fell in love with it during his travels during the summer holidays in our Hogwarts years. Refused to drink anything else once we were married."
Sirius held back his quip with admirable restraint and instead just shook his head.
"I'll stick with tea, thanks."
The waitress returned with two steaming cups and set them down in front of the two older women.
"So," Narcissa said. "Why did you ask us here? You neglected to mention why in your owl."
Andromeda nodded along to the question, then lifted her cup and blew on it while staring pointedly at Sirius.
He took a long drink of his now cooler tea, then tried to plaster on a smile.
"I just wanted to visit, and I wanted to do it somewhere nice. I'm still getting used to being a free man and I don't often get the opportunity to do something like this."
The sisters stared at him without speaking, both with the same unnerving gaze he had received often from Druella when he and Regulus had gotten a little too rowdy with Bellatrix.
Narcissa lifted her drink to red-painted lips and took a slight drink before speaking.
"I suppose I would not have come on such a vague invite if I did not have the time, and I can understand the sentiment behind wanting to get out of the house."
"Yes…" Andromeda said slowly before shaking her head. "Yes, I suppose catching up over tea might be nice."
Sirius couldn't help but smile at the cordial, if a bit stilted, conversation that followed. The sisters navigated the battlefield of hurt feelings and distrust with precision, each inquiry into family carefully constructed to steer the answer away from unsavory thoughts.
Narcissa spoke most about Draco, who had been struggling somewhat at Hogwarts. Now that he was at Durmstrang, however, his marks were steadily improving and he had come to near the top of his class, however reluctantly. Sirius had heard a great deal about the young Malfoy from Harry, and there was no denying Lucius's hand in the boy's demeanor. He couldn't fault his cousin though, for choosing to remove her son from the…company that plagued her on a day to day basis.
Andromeda, in turn, talked about her daughter. Though her speech was slow at first, she picked up speed and vibrancy as she progressed through Dora's Hogwarts years and into her early acceptance into the Auror program. Being a near-apprentice to Mad-Eye Moody was a particular point of pride, though she did recollect a rather disastrous dinner they had invited Moody to in an effort to get to know their daughter's mentor. Her tame recollection had Sirius grinning, as he could easily spot the events that were glossed over for propriety's sake.
"Moody exists in a whole different world from us," Sirius said with a laugh. "I saw him in action at the…the uh…well, a few times. There's no denying the man found his calling."
He cursed himself as he finished. How did they make dancing this strange dance seem so easy?
"And what about you, Sirius?" Narcissa asked, her voice calm enough to smooth over the rough edges of his near-mistake. "How are you finding sudden parenthood?"
"It's good," he said simply, though not entirely untruthfully.
There wasn't enough time in the day to explain what it felt like to muddle through the delicate waters of Harry's past that so frequently informed his actions.
Their patient gazes indicated they expected some elaboration and he cast his mind back to find something he could brag about. A corporeal Patronus came to mind first, though he had yet to see it for himself, and he doubted such an outlandish claim would be believed without proof. He knew word was out at school about his relationship with Fleur, but he doubted Harry wanted him spilling such a private aspect of his life. Eventually, he settled on something that was likely to be public news soon anyway if it happened, and entirely useless information if it didn't.
"He got an invitation for a private tour of the Ministry from the Minister," he said, taking a drink of his tea. "Fudge is probably trying to boost his image after openly opposing Dumbledore."
He cut that thought short as he trod into dangerous territory.
"Did he?" Narcissa said, her coffee paused halfway up to her lips. "I still speak with the Minister regularly. He had not mentioned as much to me."
"Yeah, but he's not sure if he wants to go. I can't really blame him. It takes a special sort to enjoy all the regulation and politicking that goes on there."
Narcissa raised a single dark eyebrow and he held up his hands defensively.
"Someone's got to do it and that someone isn't me. Better you lot who enjoy it."
"There are some benefits to be gained by playing along with the highest elected official in our government," Andromeda said. "It could be a valuable connection in the future."
"Perhaps," said Narcissa, finishing off her coffee. "But no matter how you perceive the Minister, he has been moving in these circles for decades. Without caution, he will easily get what he wants from Harry. That may just be the validation that comes with working with the Boy-Who-Lived, or it may be an attempt to direct his future career. Either way, he did not get to where he did by being ill-suited to careful planning."
"I was afraid of that," Sirius grumbled. "I had hoped that it was just a tour, maybe as an apology of sorts for what happened last year. I thought it might be good for him to see some of the workings of our government, considering the seats we hold inside it."
"A remarkably responsible thought," Andromeda said with a slight smile. "Have you thought about escorting him? That would help temper the Minister's ability to bend Harry's ear."
"He's allowed to bring a few friends," Sirius said, scratching at his chin. "I don't see why I couldn't go as well."
"I think that would be wise," Narcissa said as she gathered her cloak around her and stood. "This has been genuinely pleasant. Thank you for the invitation, but I must be going."
With a quick round of goodbyes, she was off, leaving Andromeda and Sirius to sink back into their seats.
"Merlin, that was awkward," Andromeda said, blowing out a long, shaky breath. "We can barely talk about anything at all."
"But it wasn't bad, was it?"
"No," she said, her gaze following Narcissa as she strode past the front window, cloak billowing behind her. "It wasn't."
XxX
Slick cobbles materialized beneath her feet as the world came into view around her. From the outside her home appeared as it always had; an ancient marvel covered in architectural designs and giant open windows that made her heart swell with pride. Inside, however, a miasma of distrust and barely contained desire for action had gutted her home of the comfort it once held, rendering the proud visage it showed the world nothing more substantial than a painting on canvas.
She steeled herself, keenly aware that attempting to reconnect with her estranged family had instilled far less dread than the idea of returning home.
But she needed answers.
Her careful maneuvering had yet to yield the results on either side that she needed. Andromeda was much too obstinate to make the offer she needed, but Sirius…if his boasts were true, he would have the power soon.
She swung open the front door with a wave of her wand and handed her cloak to the house-elf that waited inside. It wasn't until she was partway to the foyer that she realized the oddity of it. The little thing was usually too busy catering to her…guests, to perform his old routine tasks.
Her shoes clicked across the stone floor of the halls, echoing through too-silent rooms and setting the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Light flickered against the wall opposite the large opening to the foyer, the dancing orange of a roaring fire. A shadow bisected the light, its darkness stretched long and distorted, reaching back to the unseen person inside the room.
She froze when she turned the corner. There was no wand-tip pressed into her face, nor was there the terrible fury of the Dark Lord. She had prepared for both.
Instead, firelight played across near-white hair and in the contours of a face that was far too near to being a man's. His father's smile peeked out from the tired grin he offered her as he turned.
"Mother," he said, straightening when her step faltered. "I got your letter. I'm going back to Hogwarts?"
Her fingers twitched, itching to grasp for her wand and run away with him. Across borders and continents until they were lost in the sea of humanity.
But as always, the Dark Lord's message—his threat—was precisely as clear as it needed to be. A forgery in the shape of shackles.
She rubbed her hands together as she approached the fire, brushing off the last remnants of a nice coffee in a cozy café.
"It would seem your talents are needed here, Draco. Let's put all that work you've been doing to good use, shall we?"