Dealing with Danger
Chapter 12: Thirds (Year 3)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 12: Thirds
Near midnight on Christmas Eve, the clouds broke over Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, revealing the stars, brighter than usual in the chill air of winter. Those who were awake to watch saw a bright streak of light pass through the air over the school. The centaurs saw it. Professor Sinistra saw it. And one other saw it as well.
Centaurs do not believe in wishing on shooting stars. Professor Sinistra’s only wish was to get home safely for Christmas.
The other had something else in mind.
xXxXx
It was fun to play in the forest, especially in the winter. It was fun to run, and dodge, and hide, and sniff at things, and climb, and go down holes. It was fun to roll in the snow. Everything was fun. That was why he had agreed to stay an extra day, to give the day to someone else who wanted to leave the forest early. He didn’t want to leave early. He wanted to stay as long as he could.
But something was different about the forest right now. There was a smell that had not been there before. He sniffed, taking it in.
Food. He started off in that direction, trotting cheerfully through the light dusting of snow on the ground, licking his chops. He would see what kind of food it was. If it looked appetizing, he would have some, whether its current owner agreed to share or not.
He sniffed again, and sped up. The odor was more tantalizing by the minute, drawing him to it ever faster, insisting that he hurry, hurry, there was not a moment to lose...
No. Wait.
He stopped, confused. Why wait? Food was good.
Traps are not good.
No, traps were not good. He shook himself all over. Traps were nasty things that closed on you and either hurt you so badly that you had to hurt yourself more to get free or just held you there so you couldn’t get away at all.
This might be a trap.
He shook his head again, confused. Where were these strange thoughts coming from? He’d never thought like this before...
Oh, yes, you have. I have. You were — I was — warned about this. Getting too far into Animagus form, so far that I never want to come out again. This is nice, but I think I need to be human right now...
With a small snap, he changed forms, and memorized how it felt to do so, the process he’d gone through. It may be a while before I can do this for real, but it’s good to know.
For real. This is a dream. Which means there’s something important where that smell is coming from. Something I either should see, or shouldn’t.
Draco shrugged. If it’s a dream, then I can’t get really hurt. I might as well see what it is.
He changed back, but very consciously kept his human mind close to the surface. Fox instinct guided him, showing him how to track the scent and how to hide and sneak, and identified the odors wafting towards him — roasting meat, baking bread and biscuits, and as he got closer, human.
It was his human mind, though, that realized what it meant that he was smelling a human.
Dream constructs smell different than real people. This is someone else, a real person, dreaming with me. It could be another of the Pride — it’s possible we’re still magically linked and dreaming together — but it could be someone else too...
He turned human, took off one of the mittens he was wearing, and changed again, sniffing at it.
They’re similar. Very similar. He muffled his nose in the snow and sneezed. Whoever’s over there is related to me by blood. Closely related.
No points for guessing who, now.
For a moment, he considered walking away, but by the rules of a shared dream, they’d have to meet eventually.
I wish it weren’t on his ground, but I’d rather get it over with, I think.
He changed again and reclaimed his mitten. No use blowing our secret. No matter what happens, I have to stay human.
He took a few deep breaths in the pattern Letha had taught him, calming himself, then walked forward as if he had all the time in the world, following the smells which were now even present to his limited human nose.
Three copses of pine trees later, he found what he was looking for.
"God rest ye merry, gentleman," he said, giving a small, polite bow to the man sitting at the head of the ornate table.
"Clever," said Lucius Malfoy, rising and returning the bow. "Very clever. Will you eat with me?"
"If you wish." Draco took a seat along one of the sides of the table and watched his father fill two glasses of wine from the same bottle, then set them side by side in front of him and step back.
Very nice. Giving me the choice, thereby assuring me that neither of them is poisoned. Unless, of course, they are both poisoned. Though he’s not a pirate...
Draco told himself to shut up and selected a glass. Malfoy took the other and sipped from it.
Very, very nice. He’s smooth when he’s prepared. Draco took a sip himself. He’d had wine before — it was sometimes served at the Den for special occasions, and anyone who wanted some could have it. This was quite good.
Now, will he tell me what’s going on, or will we eat first?
Malfoy drew his wand and tapped it on the table twice. The dishes came to life, walking toward them, and the first one stopped in front of Draco and opened itself, presenting candied yams for his approval. He served himself a small portion, and the dish moved on to Malfoy, who also took some.
"Would you care for music with dinner, Draco, or shall we attempt to converse while we eat?"
The phrasing of the question warned him of the correct answer. "I think music would be pleasant, sir."
"Very well." Another wave of Malfoy’s wand produced instrumental Christmas carols, and both wizards applied themselves to dinner.
The food was very good, Draco found when he tried it, at least on a par with Hogwarts or Danger’s cooking, though rather fancier than either of those. He knew he was being watched, and was careful to utilize every session on table manners he’d ever gotten.
"This is very... companionable," Malfoy said after both of them had finished their first servings and were moving more slowly through seconds. "I see you can be polite when you choose."
Draco discarded a large belch as a possible answer, along with I see so can you or Yes, despite our primitive surroundings, my parents have managed to teach me civilized behavior towards other human beings, and finally settled on simply, "Yes, sir."
"I imagine you seldom have meals like this."
No, we gnaw bones around the fire and grunt at each other a lot. "No, sir, I don’t."
"Perhaps you would like to have something like this more often. Something sophisticated, refined, elegant."
Instead of that cave I live in now, right? "Perhaps I would."
"It is not beyond the bounds of possibility. You would need only two things to make it work properly. As distasteful as it is to mention, you would need money. And, of course, someone to guide you along the way, to keep you from making fatal mistakes."
"Money, I have," said Draco carefully. "You could, I suppose, recommend someone to me who could guide me as you suggest."
"I could. I might even be willing to teach you myself, in return for certain considerations."
"Considerations."
"Yes. Safety would, of course, be paramount. Sophistication is difficult to achieve when one must be constantly looking over one’s shoulder."
"Safety for myself, sir, or for you?"
Malfoy’s voice hardened. "Don’t play the fool with me, boy, I know you are none. For me."
"And how, exactly, would this safety be obtained?"
"There are many ways."
"Describe one."
"A small sum would be sufficient to provide myself with a permanent disguise. I could rent a house or a flat near your own home, offer to give you lessons in something you wish to learn — you could invent a good story, I have no doubt, some reason to come to me. It could begin soon, and very soon, if you wish."
"I’m sure. And during these lessons, what else would you be teaching me?"
"What else?"
"Yes, would we have sessions on Dark magic? Torture? Or maybe a little brainwashing, to try and convince me I’m still your son?"
Malfoy flung his glass aside, shattering it against a tree. "You are still my son!"
"By blood only, and that’s no fault of mine," retorted Draco, slamming his own glass down on the table.
Malfoy glared at him. "You will return to me."
Draco matched his glare. "Never."
"And if I took you now?"
Draco snorted. "Now? From here? Where would you take me? Or more to the point, how would you keep me?"
"How..." Malfoy’s face, baffled for a moment, cleared. "I see," he said, suddenly urbane once more. "I do see. And I do remember. Two years ago, was it not? Almost exactly — no, exactly two years ago, to the day, we met before. Do you recall that?"
Draco nodded, then, too late, remembered that he shouldn’t tell about that. He swore under his breath as a smile spread over Malfoy’s face. "Excellent. So you should recall this as well. Listen closely, Draco."
"Make me."
Before Draco could react, Malfoy had his wand on him. Draco felt his muscles all seize up, then go limp as his feet left the ground. He was dangling like a marionette several inches up, with a burning sensation around his neck.
Note to self — don’t taunt the bloke with the wand.
"Are you listening now?" Malfoy asked, swirling his wand in little half-circles, so that Draco’s body flopped back and forth and his head rolled from side to side. "No? You’re not? I must fix that. Perhaps a bit higher."
I am not going to hurl, I am not going to hurl, I am not going to hurl — or if I do, I’m going to do it on him. Draco swallowed hard — at least he could still do that — as he floated higher.
"Listening now?" asked Malfoy, waving his wand up and down this time, bouncing Draco’s head back and forth, so that he bit his tongue painfully. "Excellent. What I can do here, I can certainly do in the waking world. And I will. No charms, no wards will hold forever. I will find you, and I will make you mine once more. How painful that process will be is entirely up to you. If you are cooperative, it might not hurt at all. If you persist in this senseless resistance, the pain will be all your own fault."
Malfoy flicked his wand, and Draco collapsed to the ground, forcing himself to stay loose so he’d make a soft landing. He spent a few seconds coughing, then caught his breath. "Funny," he wheezed. "I know another bunch of people who say things like those. ‘Resistance is futile’ and all that. And what’s funny is, they may win for a while, but they always lose in the end. By the end of the program, the good guys beat them every time."
"How nice for the people on the program," said Malfoy silkily. "We are speaking here of real life, Draco, not some foolish escapist fantasy. You cannot hope to hold out against me forever without help."
Draco got to his feet and straightened up. "No, probably not," he agreed. "But that’s why I have help."
An owl hooted from a tree behind him. A hawk’s scream answered it from a tree behind Malfoy. A wolf and a large wildcat with a short tail and tufts of black fur on its ears stalked out of the trees on one side. A calico cat, her bright colors cheerful amid the snow, leapt onto the abandoned dinner table and began to wash her side, keeping a weather eye on Malfoy.
Malfoy smirked. "I fail to see how animals will help you defeat me," he said, looking at the cat, then up at the hawk as it sailed in to land on the table beside her.
"I’m sure you do," said Draco. "But you’re looking at the wrong ones."
The wolf chose this moment to bite Malfoy on that portion of his anatomy upon which he was accustomed to sit. As he screamed, the lynx launched herself at him, knocking him to the ground facedown. The wolf jumped onto his back as well, giving an open-mouthed grin similar to Padfoot’s when he’d just done something very clever.
The owl took wing, soaring down and plucking the wand neatly from Malfoy’s hand. She circled around and dropped it into Draco’s hand, then came in for a landing on his outstretched wrist.
Draco knelt in the snow by his father, out of grabbing distance but close enough that the man could see him. "Now you listen to me," he said coldly. "I will never come to you willingly. If you want me back, you’ll have to come and get me, and the Pack and the Pride will fight you every step of the way."
"Pack and Pride," Malfoy spat, his face turning pink. "Animals, that’s all you are, filthy animals."
"And those filthy animals beat your arse pretty good," Draco shot back. "Keep in mind it’s been nearly ten years since my brother and sister knocked you out. Think about what they could do to you now, if they wanted to. And that’s without counting all our other friends, or our parents. So get a brain. Get a life. And save yourself some trouble. Stay away from me."
The wolf and the lynx leapt off Malfoy’s back, taking up stations beside Draco, half-encircling Malfoy. The owl fluttered off his wrist and took a place on his other side, and the cat and the hawk completed the circle, jumping and flapping into position.
The wolf growled, then waved a paw dismissively, spattering Malfoy with half-melted snow. The other animals did so as well, flicking paws and wings at the man. Finally, Draco picked up a handful of snow for himself and packed it. "Goodbye," he said, and hurled the snowball into Malfoy’s face. As it struck, the wizard disappeared.
Draco shook his head. "Waste of a good snowball," he said. "Who wants some dinner?"
"Me," said Ron, standing up where the hawk had been.
Draco grinned. "No surprises there. Anyone else?"
"I think I could eat," said Ginny, brushing snow off her hands.
"I suppose so," said Luna, shaking her hair out of her face.
"Well, just to keep you all company," said Hermione, already heading for the table.
Harry made a face. "Let me go rinse out my mouth first."
"I was going to say," said Ron. "Why’d you bite him there?"
"So he wouldn’t see me coming. Why? Where would you have bitten him?"
"I don’t know. Maybe on the nose or something."
"The nose? How was I supposed to reach his nose?"
"I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about me!"
"Why?"
"Because you asked me where I would bite him!"
"I meant if you were me!"
"I’m not you!"
Ginny made a trumpet sound. "I hereby proclaim my brother Ron to be the one, the only, Captain Obvious," she said, framing him with her fingers. "So, Captain Obvious, what are you going to do now?"
"Eat," said Ron, pulling up a chair and sitting down at the table. "I’m starving."
"And once again, you earn your name, Captain Obvious," said Hermione, passing a tureen of mashed potatoes down. "You’re always starving."
"I’m a growing boy. I need lots of nourishment."
"You’ll grow as big as Hagrid if you keep eating like you do," said Luna, sitting down. "Pass the turkey, please?"
"Not after you just insulted me, I won’t."
"Good. It’s not by you anyway. Ginny?"
Despite the wintry forest around him, Draco felt warm. Life was once again as it should be, and it was going to be a happy Christmas.
xXxXx
Christmas morning cub-watch fell to Sirius. He wasn’t really expecting anything to happen — Meghan had slept for a week after she’d healed Harry, and it had been barely two days since the Pride had healed the Longbottoms. But they had to be watched.
We could have a scry on them, like we had on Frank and Alice, but the point of that was to give them some privacy, watching just closely enough to know if they needed help. Which they didn’t. The cubs know to expect us here when they wake up. They might even be afraid if we weren’t here.
So they’d been taking it in turns to spend a few hours in the room where the Pride slept, each of them with a project of his or her own. Since there was little chance of waking them, Remus could bring his violin, and Aletha a vocal piece or two, or even a piano piece to practice, though she had to conjure the instrument. Danger occupied her time with a book or her knitting, usually both. Sirius had his latest manuscript, which he was in the process of revising and polishing.
Might be ready for the publisher by the end of January, even...
A noise caught his attention. Someone had just yawned.
Sirius set his quill down and scanned the room, looking for movement on a larger scale than breathing or shifting in sleep.
Ah-ha. There. On the other side of the room, close to the door...
Wait a second. That doesn’t make sense. Pearl and Neville are over there, and they should be asleep longer than anyone. Shouldn’t they?
But he couldn’t argue with facts.
Time to get over there, I think.
xXxXx
All his limbs felt heavy. Even his eyelids were a burden to lift, but the burden was getting lighter by the second. Soon he’d be able to see where he was, and figure out how long he’d been asleep. The sour taste in his mouth told him it had been a long time, longer than he usually slept...
I wonder why?
Another moment, and memory supplied the answer. With it came a rush of adrenaline, burning away the weight in his body in an instant. Neville sat up with a gasp, his eyes flying open.
Mr. Padfoot jumped back from him. "You almost had me there," he said quietly, but with his usual good humor. "Good reflexes."
"Did it work?" Neville blurted. "Are they all right?"
The older wizard smiled. "It worked, Neville. You did it. They’re back."
The room was suddenly much too hot, and the air seemed to have gotten thicker. By his side, Meghan stirred, but for once he had no eyes for her. "Can I see them?"
"Right away." Mr. Padfoot went over to the fireplace, drew his wand, and lit a fire in the grate. "Bathroom’s through there," he said, nodding over his shoulder, then tossed some Floo powder into the fire. "Crimson suite," he said, and stepped into the green flames.
Neville got to his feet, a little awkwardly at first, as his muscles protested this sudden usage after a long period — how long, he wondered? — of inactivity. But he couldn’t be bothered with petty details like that. He needed to get cleaned up, and fast.
His parents were coming to see him.
xXxXx
"You look happy," said Aletha as Sirius stepped out of the fire in their quarters.
"I am. Confused, but happy. Do you know where the Longbottoms are?"
"Up in their suite with Frank’s mum. Why?"
"Neville’s awake. Mind taking cub-watch for a moment until we get back?"
"Not at all," said Aletha, standing up with a smile of her own. "I think I can honestly say this is one of the best things I’ve ever done."
"I’ll second that." Sirius added Floo powder to this fire as well. "Ginger suite," he said this time, and let the fire carry him away again.
"Sirius," said Frank, standing up to greet him, as did Alice and Mrs. Longbottom. "Something wrong?"
"Not at all. Are you doing anything you can’t put off?"
"No, I don’t think so. Why?"
Sirius grinned. "There’s a young man who’d like to meet you."
xXxXx
Neville had just finished in the bathroom — used the toilet, washed his face and hands, finger-combed his hair, and done the fastest toothbrushing of his life — when he heard the door open. He dashed back out to the main room and froze in the doorway.
There they stood, both of them, looking at him with everything he’d always wanted to see in their faces — pride, joy, and immense love. His mother’s eyes were threatening to brim over, his father’s smile was trembling ever so slightly. They stood that way for a long moment. Then his mother opened her arms.
Neville had no recollection of crossing the floor. He knew he must have, he had no idea how to Apparate, but he couldn’t remember doing it. He was in the doorway, and then he was hugging his mum, and feeling his dad’s arms around them both, and hearing them say his name. Somehow, they moved in an awkward group through the nearest open door, and heard it close behind them, and somehow they found a way to sit down, still holding each other, and then they all started to cry in earnest.
The dream that Neville Longbottom had cherished his entire life had finally come true.
xXxXx
Aletha shut the door behind her friends and turned away, blinking back a few tears of her own. She had someone to tend to herself.
"Mama Letha?" Meghan blinked up at her mother a bit foggily as Aletha sat down beside her. "Where’s Neville?"
"He’s with his parents, sweetheart. You did it. They’re all right again."
"Oh." Meghan smiled and curled up next to Aletha. "That’s good."
"Pearl, my love?"
"Hmm?"
"Why are you two awake first? It doesn’t make much sense. You and Neville did the most, so you should be asleep the longest."
"Oh, that." Meghan frowned, counting on her fingers. "Yeah. We should’ve been asleep until Tuesday. And everybody else should’ve woken up today. But everybody else took a day for us. So we can be awake today, and they’ll all be awake tomorrow."
Aletha frowned, then did some quick calculations. Today to Tuesday is three days. Six if you count them both. And the rest of the Pride is six people. So "everyone else took a day for us" — I suppose they can share energy the same way they share magic, and take some of the burden from these two. Which is wonderful for the Longbottoms, and the rest of us won’t suffer unduly for waiting one more day. We can have Christmas as soon as they’re all awake and ready to appreciate their presents.
Meghan had drifted back into a light doze. Aletha stroked her daughter’s hair. "Happy Christmas, my little love," she murmured. "May they all be so joyful for you."
xXxXx
It was a good hour or more before the Longbottoms paid attention to anything but each other, and that was only because Neville’s stomach suddenly and noisily reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in several days, which embarrassed him tremendously but made his parents laugh. Frank summoned a house-elf and had breakfast brought up for the three of them, and they continued talking while they ate.
Neville had just finished a grilled tomato when he recalled what he’d been working on this whole term, in hopes of a day just like this. "I have something to show you," he said. "Meghan and I made it together. Can I go get it, or send a house-elf for it or something?"
"Before you do," said his mum, setting aside her own plate, "I’ve heard a great deal about you and Meghan. Now I want to hear it from you. I know she’s your friend, and that you spend a lot of time together..."
"Tell us about her," his dad supplied. "What is she like? What do you do together?"
Neville knew, from experience, that these same questions could have been asked in a tone of voice that would make him want to shrivel up, give as short an answer as possible, and run away. But his parents weren’t his gran, and they sounded interested and open, without any premade notions of what it necessarily had to mean when an older boy became friends with a younger girl.
We’re too young for that stuff anyway...
"We do almost everything together," he said, answering the last question first. "We like each other a lot. We get along well, and she always thinks the best of me." He smiled, a little embarrassed. "I think that’s part of why I like her, because she would always talk like I was really the best at everything I did, and just hiding it so other people wouldn’t feel bad. Even when I was the worst at things, she wouldn’t believe I was really the worst. And... I started being not the worst, because she thought I wasn’t."
His dad was nodding, and his mum looked thoughtful. Neville kept on. "She loves to dance. She taught me how, and I really like it now. We practice a lot, when we can get time and somewhere with enough space. It makes me feel all free and light, and really strong, because I have to pick her up to do some of the moves, and she’s so little that I can do it. I worked hard on getting my arms strong enough to do the fast dances, the ones where you have to pick the girl up and spin her around or something."
"I’d love to see you dance with her," said his mum. "Maybe sometime soon."
Neville nodded. "We will," he promised. "And over the summer, we worked in her garden together a lot. I showed her how to tell if a plant’s strong enough to stay where it is, or if it needs to be moved somewhere else, and how to tend climbers right — so many people just let them go any which way. The summer before that, back before second year, I taught her some of the magic we’d learned in first year, and she taught me how to read music."
"Taught you?" his dad asked. "You didn’t already know?"
Neville shook his head. "Should I?" he asked, a little timidly.
"I don’t know about should, but I’d thought Mum would have made sure you got lessons in something..."
His mum leaned over and whispered something, and his dad’s face cleared. "Of course. That makes sense. Do you play an instrument, Neville?"
"Not yet." Neville hesitated — this was something he hadn’t even told Meghan yet — but these were his parents. Who else should he tell? "I wanted to learn to play the guitar."
His mum laughed, his dad grinned. "That’s my boy," he said. "Or did you not know I played?"
"You do?" Neville had thought his day couldn’t get any better. "Gran never said — will you teach me?"
"I’ll be delighted. I’d always hoped you’d want to learn." His dad leaned over to give him a hug. "You used to watch me play and try to grab the tuning pegs. I suppose they were shiny enough that they caught your eye."
"Do you sing too?"
"When we feel like it," said his mum. "We used to sing and play you to sleep every night with a special lullaby. Aletha composed it for us when you were just a few months old and cranky. It would put you out like that." She snapped her fingers.
There seemed to be no limit on how good this day could get, Neville thought. "Can I hear it?"
His parents looked at each other for a moment. "All right," said his mum, resettling herself on the couch. "Let’s see..." She hummed a note, and his dad came in with a low harmony line.
Dearest child, go to sleep.
Earth is quiet, skies so deep
Now do neither smile nor weep.
Sleep, my baby, sleep.
Lovely child, hush-a-bye.
Sleep until the sunny eye
Of morning brightens up the sky.
Bye, my baby, bye.
Sleep, my child, until this night
Is over and the dawn’s first light
Does make the flowers all bloom bright.
Night, my love, good night.
xXxXx
Red yarn wound around brown fingers as Meghan worked diligently on her crochet project. She had begun it soon after meeting Neville, and she knew she was nowhere near finished, but it didn’t matter. She had years yet.
Her mind wandered as her fingers looped and pulled in rhythm. I hope his parents like me. I hope I like them. I hope they like what we made for them...
She looked up at a slight squeak of hinges. Neville was peering out of the room where he’d been closeted with his parents for nearly two hours now, and he was looking straight at her. She quickly held up the gold-leather-bound book she’d had a house-elf bring her from his dorm. He smiled and beckoned her closer.
Meghan shot a glance at her mother, who nodded to her and waved her onward. She tied off her work so it wouldn’t unravel, got to her feet, and carried the book to Neville.
"I should have known you’d have it ready," he told her quietly. "Will you help me show it to them?"
"But I’m not in most of it."
"But you know about it. And we made this together. We should show it together."
In the back of Meghan’s heart, a secret fear eased. Neville wouldn’t stop liking her just because he had his parents back. She would still be part of his life.
But it’ll be even better now, I think...
She stepped into the room, and Neville shut the door behind her.
xXxXx
Alice wasn’t terribly surprised when both children began to yawn shortly after noon. Aletha had warned them that Neville might well be tired for a time after he woke, and Alice had no doubt the same went for Meghan, whose power it had been that allowed the healing in the first place. Frank saw it too, and with a little deft maneuvering, got Neville and Meghan ensconced together in one of the room’s large armchairs.
Within a few minutes, Meghan’s head was resting on Neville’s shoulder, and Neville himself was blinking sleepily. "’M sorry," he said on the tail end of a yawn. "Just so tired..."
"You sleep," Frank told him. "We’ll still be here when you wake up."
"We love you." Alice kissed his cheek. "Sleep well."
"Thanks, Mum. Dad." A smile blossomed on Neville’s face as his eyes drifted shut. He shifted his weight once, to accommodate Meghan better, then he was still.
Alice picked up the photograph album which Neville and Meghan had been showing them for the past hour or so. She flipped to near the back, where rested the pictures of the group the two called the Pride. She turned the pages, noticing how, in almost every photograph, Meghan stood next to Neville, or very near him. There were a few pictures of him with just the other boys of the group, but in every group picture, her son and Sirius Black’s daughter were side by side.
"You see it too, then," said Frank from over her shoulder.
"I thought Letha might be exaggerating, but it seems not."
"They’re very comfortable with each other." Frank looked at the pair in the armchair. "Not to mention cute as the dickens. Quite honestly, I don’t see a problem."
"Nor do I. It might become one as they get older, but at the moment, they’re good friends, and that’s something everyone needs."
"And friendship can always grow into something more." Frank winked at her. "You know that."
Alice elbowed him. "You were just too shy to date me properly, or even propose. Every other woman I know has this romantic story about how her husband proposed marriage to her. I have, ‘Well, I suppose we’ll be getting married one of these days.’"
"It worked, didn’t it?"
xXxXx
Sirius knocked on the door of the Defense teacher’s quarters. "Moony? Danger? You in there?"
There was no reply. Sirius knocked again, louder. "Hello?"
Still no reply. Sirius frowned and tried the door. It swung open under his hand, and he stepped into the darkened living area. "Anyone home?"
Silence answered him. A little worried, he felt for his wand as he moved through the room. Remus didn’t usually sleep this late, and even if Danger had wanted a lie-in, Remus would have been awake and telling Sirius to shut up by now.
Something’s not right here.
Carefully, he twisted the doorknob of the master bedroom. The door opened, and he peered in, squinting to let his eyes adjust to the darkness within.
Remus lay alone in the bed, snoring gently. There was no sign of Danger.
I don’t like this. Sirius transformed into Padfoot and began to sniff around. Danger had been here, that was certain. From the scent, she had slept in the bed all night, the way she should. But at some point a couple of hours ago, he guessed, she’d gotten up, gone to the bathroom — his nose wrinkled at the odors coming from there, odors he’d have been able to detect even in human form — and now she was somewhere else.
Where?
He followed her scent across the hall to the other bedroom, and into it, over to...
What in the world is she doing in the closet?
Tentatively, he retransformed and reached for the doorknob. "Danger? You in there?"
"Go AWAY!" screamed Danger’s voice, and a blast of fire shot out of the barely opened door. Sirius yelled and dropped to the ground, and the fire vanished before it could hit anything.
"That was a warning shot," said Danger, sounding hoarse and unhappy. "The next one won’t be. Go away, Sirius. I don’t want to see you."
Sirius got to his feet and backed away from the closet, sitting down on the bed. "Are you ill?" he asked.
"No, I’m just fine. In the bloom of health. Now will you please leave?"
"No. You’re not fine, not if you’re upset enough to be shooting firebolts around. And why isn’t Remus awake yet? We’re making enough noise."
"He’s not awake because I charmed him asleep. I didn’t want anyone to bother me right now. Is that all right with you, or do I need to check with you every time I need a little privacy?" The words were bitter and angry, but Sirius sensed something else beneath them, something oddly familiar.
"You’ve been acting a little strange for months," he said conversationally. "Not quite yourself. People are starting to notice. Is there something going on I can help with?"
"No... well..." There was a shaky laugh from the closet. "Yes, I suppose you could help, but you wouldn’t. Not if you’re the man I think you are. Because it would be so incredibly wrong... we’d be breaking at least a dozen sets of promises, not to mention how weird it would be... I suppose, though, it’s a little inevitable I should think about it, with my name and all."
Her name? "Which name is this?"
"Gertrude. With what she did... but wait, that’s right, you don’t read Shakespeare. You don’t know what she did. Go away."
"No. Let me think." Sirius played with a string on the bedspread, remembering everything he could about that particular Shakespeare play. Gertrude is from Hamlet. She’s Hamlet’s mother, and Hamlet’s angry with her for marrying her dead husband’s brother...
Oh my God...
"Danger, you don’t... this isn’t... you’re not jealous of Letha. Are you?"
"Don’t flatter yourself, you mangy bum-sniffer," she snapped. Then her voice rose into a wail. "Oh, Lord, I’m making a mess of this. Go away!"
Suddenly Sirius realized why this felt familiar to him. Just after Halloween, two years ago...
Think, Padfoot. I know you don’t do it much, but do it now. Something has Danger really upset. And she charmed Remus asleep, which means she doesn’t want him to know about it. Which means it’s something about him. Something I could help with, but I won’t, or I shouldn’t. And something related to... yeah. Maybe it’s something I can do that Remus can’t...
Ego aside, one difference came immediately to mind. Sirius would have discarded it, except that as he thought it over, it made more and more sense. And Moody used to say, go with your first reaction, it’s most likely to be right...
"Danger?"
A frustrated shriek rose from behind the door. "Why won’t you just leave me alone?"
"Because crying your eyes out in the closet isn’t going to solve anything. Are you going to hurt me if I open the door?"
"Yes!"
"All right." Sirius drew his wand and pointed it at himself, murmuring a mid-power fireproofing spell. Now I’m protected if she flames me. If she changes forms, I think I still remember how to take down a wolf from Hogwarts days. And if she pulls something else...
Well, I’ll just have to be ready for it.
He opened the door. Danger glared up at him from her huddled position in the corner and told him to go do something that Aletha wouldn’t appreciate at all, then followed it up with a suggestion for an unpleasant dietary supplement.
"You are in a mood." Sirius lit his wand, stepped into the closet, and pulled the door shut behind him. "Danger, what’s this all about?"
"It’s none of your business!" She added a description of him that would have tallied with what the Daily Prophet was printing while he was in Azkaban.
"Things that affect the Pack are my business. And this is obviously not just going to go away. You’re reminding me a lot of Letha, a couple years back. You remember, after the cubs’ first Halloween here, when Meghan started showing an interest in Healing?"
Danger flinched at the mention of Meghan’s name. Sirius’ eyes narrowed. I’m getting closer...
"This started over the summer, I think. After Draco ran away, and we got him back."
Danger snorted. "It wasn’t that. You men, you’re all alike, think it’s all about you."
Something else, then. But something around that time, and something about the girls...
"Neenie started her cycles that night. Is this related to that?"
Danger’s whole body stiffened for an instant. "Get out," she said, baring her teeth.
"No. I don’t abandon a trail just when it starts getting easier to follow." On a hunch, Sirius changed forms again and sniffed. Danger’s scent was all around him, rank with powerful negative emotions — anger and fear and guilt and something he had a hard time pinning down, save that it was not pleasant in the least. And there was something else, something physical rather than emotional, but it was related to the emotions, and might even be the cause of some of them...
That can’t be the whole answer, but it has to be part of it. He snorted slightly. And tonight’s full moon. Wonderful. They have coinciding times of the month...
That thought set off a chain reaction in his mind. Time of the month. Something Remus can’t do. Hermione becoming a woman — the Longbottoms and Neville — Draco thinking about his father...
The unidentified scent was suddenly clear to him. Envy. Raw jealousy, for something Danger knew she’d never have.
He changed back. "You want a child," he said, fighting to keep his voice even and free of emotion, even the embarrassment struggling to show itself on his face. He couldn’t afford it now. "You want to have a baby."
Danger’s breath was coming short as she glared at him. Her eyes could have set things on fire — and for once, that’s not a metaphor. Sirius swallowed surreptitiously and prayed his protections would work.
Danger braced herself against the floor with both hands, tipped her head back, and screamed. Flames erupted all around the closet. Sirius flinched away automatically, but felt nothing. Then, daring greatly, he scooted himself forward and touched her, feeling the tension of her muscles beneath her skin. Have to keep it low key, brotherly at all costs...
"Sssh," he told her, pulling her to him gently. "Sssh, it’s all right."
Her scream died away, and the flames with it. "It is not," she said hoarsely, shoving at him, but he wouldn’t let her go. "It is not all right. I’m bad, I’m bad to want it, I’m bad to want anything else when I have so much..."
"You’re not bad. How could you ever think that?"
"I am. I don’t love him enough, I’m not good enough for it not to matter to me..."
"Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you should give up your own dreams." God, I sound like a character in one of my own novels.
"It does if the dream will hurt them." She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Sirius, I don’t dare tell him about this. He’d take it all wrong — he’d think it meant I don’t love him because we can’t have children, and that’s not true..." Her face crumpled again.
"I think I understand," said Sirius, praying he was right. "You love Remus exactly the way he is, and you wouldn’t change anything about him. You’re afraid that if he knew about this, he’d feel either that you regretted loving him, or that he’d failed you somehow. But it’s tearing you apart inside."
She nodded.
Sirius took a moment to put his thoughts together. "I don’t know if you should tell him about this or not," he said. "I promise you no one will find out from me, though. This stays between us, unless you tell someone about it."
Danger sniffed. "Thank you."
"That’s what big brothers are for, isn’t it?"
"You’re not that much bigger than me."
"Oh, really?" Sirius squeezed her just a little tighter. "But remember this. It’s not by Remus’ choice that he can’t give you children. It’s part of something he never wanted, and I’m sure he’d get rid of it if he could..."
He realized too late that he’d just put his foot in it, as Danger tensed up again. And I was just getting her to settle down. "What’s wrong?" he asked.
"I could have gotten rid of it for him. I could have changed everything — maybe even made it so Harry never had to face Voldemort — I don’t know, but I know I could have helped Remus! And I didn’t, and now I’ll never have the chance again..."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Before your trial. When I was gone. I could have made it so that you’d all be safe and happy for the rest of your lives..."
Oh. "If I remember right, that offer had a price tag on it. Spelled D-A-N-G-E-R. Am I right?"
"That doesn’t matter — what matters is that I had the chance, and I didn’t take it!"
"It doesn’t matter?" Sirius stared down at her. "Hell, yes, it matters! I don’t care what advantages we got from it, or what else might have changed. None of us would be happy without you. Especially not Remus. Didn’t he tell you that himself?"
Danger wouldn’t meet his eyes.
"That’s what I thought. He came after you, remember that? And he told you point-blank that he’d be happy to transform every night of his life, as long as he knew he’d see you in the morning. Danger, he loves you. You, not just what you do for him. And he knows you love him back. I can’t say he won’t be hurt if you tell him this — he’s not perfect, and no one likes being reminded that there are things he can’t do — but I can promise you he won’t think you don’t love him because of this."
He felt the tension gradually leaving Danger’s body. "How’d you get so smart?" she asked finally.
"Practice." Sirius pushed the hair out of her face and looked down at her. "Danger, I swear to you, you’re not bad. There’s nothing wrong with wanting children — most women do, I think it’s in their genes somewhere, like belching and Quidditch are for men."
"Oh. Well, if that’s all this is to you — if it’s only as important as a good burp and a stupid game..."
"That’s not what I said," Sirius began, then felt her shaking in his arms and realized it wasn’t with tears. "Why, you little..."
"Yes?" She looked up at him, smiling cheekily.
"You’re horrible."
"Thank you. Honestly, Sirius, I couldn’t resist — belching and Quidditch?" She laughed aloud, shakily but still a laugh. "Thank you," she said again. "Thank you for listening, and for being there, and for not going away."
"Despite your telling me to repeatedly."
"Exactly."
"You know, this is why men don’t understand women. How are we supposed to know when ‘go away’ really means ‘go away,’ and when it means ‘I need you, come here’?"
"You seem to be doing pretty well."
"I’m just too dumb to take a hint. An intelligent man would have been out that door the instant you nearly burned his nose off."
She scowled at him. "You stole my comeback line."
"I’m terribly sorry."
"Like hell you are."
"You see, this is what isn’t fair. Men can’t understand women, but women get to understand men. Or at least figure out some of what they mean."
"No one ever said life would be fair." Danger heaved a sigh. "I suppose I need to remember that. And count my blessings. I have children, even if they weren’t born to me. I got to watch them grow up, and help them along the way. It’s more than a lot of women get. I should be grateful."
"Danger?"
"Hmm?"
"If there’s ever anything I can do — besides..."
"You didn’t think I meant that, did you?" Danger shoved him, laughing. "First Letha would kill us, then Remus would resurrect us and kill us again, and then we’d get the fallout from breaking the Pack-oath..."
"At least we don’t have magical marriage oaths to break. Both our marriages were Muggle-style."
"They’re still legal, aren’t they?"
"Oh, legal, of course. But some magical marriages have other things bound into them. Things that are often a tad more repressive to the witch than to the wizard..."
"No big surprises there. So you’re saying that if we were married magically, and we did... ah..."
"Stray?"
"Yes, that. That I’d be in more trouble than you would?"
"With a contract like my parents had, I wouldn’t be in any trouble at all. I think my dad had a new girlfriend every few months. But Mum, of course, never strayed. She couldn’t."
"Makes sense, I suppose, if you’re interested in preserving the purity of the line. With that kind of system, there’s no way any, shall we say, adulterating factors could creep into the bloodline..."
Sirius snickered. "D’you think that’s why they call it adultery?"
"Quite possibly." Danger sighed. "And I should get out of this closet and go take that spell off Remus. This is not the way to spend Christmas."
"I beg to differ. Do you feel better now?"
"Well... yes."
"Then this was a fine way to spend Christmas. And it isn’t over yet, not nearly. Go wake up your husband and wash your face, and I’ll go see about some Christmas dinner for us. And a little horsie told me that the rest of the cubs ought to be awake tomorrow."
"The rest?"
"Oh, that’s right, I never got a chance to tell you — Neville and Meghan are awake. Or they were. They might be asleep again by now. But they were up for a while, and Alice and Frank got to meet their son and his best friend."
"Sirius, that’s wonderful. But — oh, now you’ve gone and missed Meghan’s being awake, just for me — you shouldn’t have..."
Sirius gripped Danger’s shoulders and shook her gently. "Enough with the guilt already. The world’s not about to end because I didn’t see Meghan awake today. I’ll see her tomorrow. And I helped you. You’re worth it, and don’t start in that you’re not, because I won’t put up with it. All right?"
Danger sagged, then nodded. "You know me way too well."
"Side effect of the whole Pack thing."
She embraced him. "Thanks again."
"Anytime."
"Really?" Her eyes sparked mischief. "Any time?"
Sirius groaned and pushed the closet door open.
xXxXx
Albus Dumbledore stepped out of his fireplace and lowered the hood of his cloak. Home for the holidays. And with the prize I went to gain. He removed a small bottle from his pocket and set it inside one of the drawers of his desk, which he locked securely with his wand.
Now to catch up on the news here...
Fawkes appeared in a flash of fire and soared to Dumbledore’s shoulder, trilling cheerfully. Dumbledore smiled. His friend would not be so happy if anything had gone severely wrong in his absence.
"How go things, friends?" he asked the portraits hanging on the wall. Several of them volunteered answers, all of which amounted to the same things — everything was all right, nothing out of the ordinary...
"Oh, except that young couple you were interested in," said Phineas Nigellus, stepping into his frame and leaning on the back of his chair. "The ones my three-greats-granddaughter was trying to help, whatever their names are. Shortbottom or something."
Dumbledore hid a smile. Phineas never forgot a name, and was as addicted to gossip as any witch, but he tried to hide it, and most of the time Dumbledore let him get away with it. "Yes, and what news of them?"
"They seem to be all right. Moving about under their own power, and their conversation is no madder than any I’ve heard lately. They’ll probably be along at some point to see you."
"Or perhaps I will go to see them," said Dumbledore, holding out his arm so that Fawkes could sidle down to his perch. "Have they had Christmas dinner yet?"
"They’re just getting ready to sit down. In a suite on the fourth floor, I think."
"Then I believe I shall join them there." Dumbledore took off his cloak and hung it up, then went to change into his holiday robes. "The staff will forgive me if this once I take dinner with some old friends."
xXxXx
"Ronald!" scolded Hermione, smacking Ron’s hand. "You’re not supposed to take thirds!"
"Why not? It’s a dream, Hermione. We’re not going to get stomachaches or anything, and there’s always more. Why shouldn’t I have thirds?"
"Just... just because!"
Ron looked at Harry and Draco. "Just because," he repeated. "Does she make any sense to you?"
Harry shook his head. Draco looked thoughtful. "I think she means, ‘Because I’m going to be sick if I watch you eat any more,’ but she’s too polite to say it," he said.
Hermione bristled. "That is not what I mean!"
"Then what do you mean?" asked Ron, looking at her in bewilderment. "Just because — because what?"
"Because I think we’re going to wake up soon, and we haven’t even had a decent game of hide-and-go-seek."
"Oh." Ron set down the spoon. "Why didn’t you say so? Not Seeker."
"Not Seeker," chorused Harry and Hermione, with Draco and Ginny an instant behind them.
"I suppose I’m the Seeker, then," said Luna. "How much should I count to?"
"Do a hundred by fives," said Harry. "On your marks, get set, go!"
Animals raced into the brush on all sides. A white owl hid her head beneath her wing and began to hoot to herself.
One of the first rules of the Pride was, Have fun whenever you can.