Truth Amid the Lies
Chapter 8
By Anne B. Walsh
Distant shrieks awakened Lily from her nap. She sighed and prepared to sit up, a larger undertaking these days than it used to be. "They say children are gifts," she muttered as she swung her legs off the couch. "Too bad you can’t give them back."
The shrieking stopped before she was more than halfway upright.
With a sigh of relief, Lily sank back to the couch. Danger must have stopped the fight, for it was her voice that echoed down the hall now, chiding and soothing within the same breath.
The Pack. Such a little word for such a marvelous invention — a family that’s large enough to let everyone do some of what they want, and still have people left over to take care of all the little things...
Two small thumps somewhere south of her navel made her laugh. "You’re awake too, are you, little thing?" she said to her belly. "Not so much longer now, little one. About six weeks, or maybe a bit more."
Someone tapped at the door to the living room.
"Come in," Lily called.
The door opened a crack, and Draco squeezed himself around it. "Can I be in here a little while?" he asked. "Meghan’s mad at me."
"Yes, you can stay. Why is Meghan mad at you?"
Draco shrugged one shoulder and appropriated the end of Lily’s couch. Playfully, Lily slid her feet around him and squeezed. A half-chuckle rewarded her.
"Are you feeling all right, Draco?" she asked, pulling herself a little higher so that she could see him over what used to be her stomach. "Still having dreams?"
The other shoulder shrugged this time. "Sometimes. Not as much anymore."
"Yes, you used to be in someone’s bed every other night." She’d been flattered, but also obliquely annoyed, the first time one of the cubs (Neenie, as it happened) decided that Prongs and Tigermum’s bed was just as good to climb into after a nightmare as any other. Still, it wasn’t as if anything had been interrupted, and it really wasn’t that different from denning.
And wasn’t that an interesting concept to get used to. A slumber party for the whole family. A time to be who you are, and be with the people who made you that way...
But on ordinary nights, she still preferred waking up with only James in the bed beside her.
"I still remember things," Draco volunteered. "Sometimes when I walk down a hall, ‘specially if it’s dark. Or if it’s a part that hasn’t been changed yet. Or if I’m hiding."
Ah, I think I may have part of it. "Were you hiding from Meghan?"
"Sort of."
"Were you hiding to scare Meghan?"
Draco grimaced. "Yeah."
"And you scared yourself instead."
A nod and a fleeting smile. "Scared her too."
"What happened?" Lily turned herself so that she was sitting on the couch more normally, giving Draco some more room, which he immediately disposed of by flopping full-length along the cushions. She hid a smile. Funny boy.
"I hid in the closet, and it smelled weird," Draco said, squirming so that he was looking up into Lily’s eyes. "It made me think of when I used to hide there from him. I yelled and jumped out, and Meghan was there, and she yelled too and got mad at me, and I got mad back at her." He frowned. "Why did I do that?"
"Do what? Jump out of the closet, or get mad at Meghan?"
"Mad at Meghan."
"You were mad at her for being mad at you," Lily suggested.
Draco’s frown deepened. "That doesn’t make any sense."
"Feelings sometimes don’t, fox." Lily leaned down and tickled Draco’s nose with a tendril of her hair. He snapped at it, making them both laugh. "There, you feel better now, don’t you?" she asked. "And all I did was be a little silly."
Draco hugged her arm. "You’re a good Pack-mum," he said. "Can I get a snack now?"
Lily checked her watch. Four o’clock in the afternoon. "Go ask Danger, but yes, I think so. And be polite."
Draco dashed out of the room, and Lily relaxed against the cushions of the couch, a fond smile on her face.
They are all so, so sweet.
But Draco’s mention of a snack had started her mouth watering, and she decided to try to get up. Little by little. Easy does it. Feet on the floor, start to shift the weight forward, then go with it...
She was up. Feeling rather ponderous, but up.
Time to lumber down to the kitchen for some grazing.
"Moo," she said aloud, smiling.
Something flickered through the crack of the door. Lily turned to regard it.
It flickered again. Red, it was a red cloth of some kind...
"Wrong sex," she said. "It’s bulls that charge."
"Well, I can’t wave it for myself," said a voice from the other side of the door. "Not without taking it off."
Lily chortled. "What a lovely image."
"You would think so. But we happen to have a small observer here, so let’s please at least try for propriety."
"Do you even know the meaning of that word?"
"Propriety. Noun. Proper or decorous behavior."
Lily mock-gasped. "Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"
"All right, you caught me." James stepped into the room, still in his red work robes, one arm behind him supporting Harry piggyback. "I’m actually your son all grown up. I traveled back in time because I just had to see if my mother really was as beautiful as everyone said she was."
"Very inspiring, Oedipus. Come here and kiss me if you mean that."
He meant it.
Harry made gagging noises.
"Like it or not, midget, this is how you got started," said James, letting go of Lily to tickle his son.
Harry dropped to the floor. "With a kiss?" he said. "Is that how babies get made?"
"I don’t think we should go there just right now," James said swiftly. "Why don’t you ask Padfoot or Moony about that later? They’re much better at explaining it than I am."
"Coward," said Lily, elbowing James. "And you call yourself an Auror."
"Hey, Dark wizards I can handle, no problem. This?" James indicated Harry, now watching his parents in mild confusion. "Scares the daylights out of me."
"I’m scary?" Harry asked, still more confused.
"No, you’re not scary," Lily told him, coming forward to hug him against her side. "Your father is just being silly."
Harry turned in her grasp to regard James. "He’s good at it," he said with the air of an expert.
"That’s right." James leaned down and got an arm around Harry’s waist, hoisting him out of Lily’s hug and aloft. "Thanks for holding him still for me, love. Off to the kitchen with him — we’re having baked kid for dinner!"
Harry screeched happily and fought as James carried him out the door. A few seconds later, James yelped theatrically, and small feet pounded a running tempo down the hall. James stepped back into the room, rubbing his hand. "He bites," he said ruefully.
"You’re surprised?" Lily accepted her husband’s arm. "Consider who raised him after we started taking our little nap."
"Good point."
xXxXx
Sirius drummed his fingers on the typewriter keys, frowning. This scene had to go just right, with all three parts coming to a head at exactly the same moment, so that they would all be cut off by the same event. He had one of them in shape, but the other two didn’t want to behave.
"‘Are you still telling that same old story?’" he muttered aloud in a deep voice, staring at those words on the page. "‘Haven’t you realized yet we don’t believe you?’" He threw his voice up high. "‘I can’t tell any other story when I’m already telling the truth.’" Back to the deep tones. "‘You expect me to believe that’s the truth?’"
He stopped, frowning. "And then what?" he asked in his normal voice.
"If it wasn’t the truth, why would I keep saying it?" suggested a high-pitched voice.
"That’s it." Sirius pounded out the sentence. "And then he’ll say, ‘If you were lying, you wouldn’t dare change your story at this point,’ and she’ll say, ‘If I were lying, I would have started with something easier to believe,’ and he’ll say... yes, that’ll do just fine."
His fingers kept moving for a few moments, then slowed and stopped. "Wait a minute..." he said slowly.
A giggle came from under his desk.
Sirius pushed back his chair and looked down.
Neenie smiled at him. "Hi, Padfoot."
"Hello. What are you doing under there?"
"Helping you?"
"Well, yes. But I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me you’re there next time."
Neenie pouted. "That’s no fun."
"Just call me the fun-destroyer, then. Up and out." Sirius pointed at the door.
"But I want to help!" Neenie’s pout grew larger. "You never let me help with anything! Nobody lets me help!"
Sirius checked his watch. "Go get a snack," he said.
"I don’t want a snack. You don’t love me."
"I’m not arguing with you. Go get a snack, and then you can come back and help me write."
"Don’t want to."
"All right, you don’t have to. Come back," Sirius added quickly. "But you do have to go get something to eat."
"I’m not hungry."
"I don’t care. Go down to the kitchen and remind Danger what time it is." Hermione was less than rational when she hadn’t eaten in a few hours. "Go on, right now."
Glaring at him every step of the way, Neenie stalked out of the room and slammed the door.
Sirius returned to his typing. She’ll be back. Probably all smiles and oh-can-I-really-help-you-do-real-writing. And the answer is, as long as she doesn’t kick up a huge fuss, yes.
Neenie was back within a minute and a half, apple in her hand and an important look on her face. "Danger says please come down to the kitchen unless you’re in the middle of something you can’t stop because we have guests," she recited breathlessly, and darted away again.
"Guests?" Sirius said to an empty hallway.
A small head popped around the corner. "Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape."
"Oh."
Sirius considered staying where he was, but Danger did his editing, and she was canny enough to do a time-spell on his work to find out when it had been created. If he claimed he was in the middle of a scene, then didn’t produce anything in that time period, she’d eventually know about it, and then he would hear about it. Probably at length, and loudly.
Besides, Snivellus is allowed to visit us. Sirius chuckled. He can see how nice we have it, and get all jealous because he’s too nasty even to get a girlfriend.
Pushing back his chair, he stood up.
Time to go downstairs and rub it in. But gently.
xXxXx
Severus Snape wasn’t sure whether or not to be displeased.
He was currently in the presence of three of the people he’d spent ten years hating. The hatred, however, was oddly slow to respond even for them, and seemed unwilling to project itself outward onto the other people in the room.
I do not like them, he had to remind himself. I do not want to be here.
He didn’t know what would happen if he forgot this, but he was sure it would be bad.
Facts. Facts are my friends. Make a simple catalogue of facts, and emotions will keep their place.
He began with the room. The kitchen of the former Malfoy Manor had originally been designed as a place only servants would ever have to see. The new owners of the house had other ideas.
As little as I know about Lupin’s wife, I doubt she would take kindly to being designated a servant.
The stone walls were now whitewashed, making the room seem much larger and more cheerful. The appurtenances had the look of an older time, but Severus had no doubt that the stove burned gas instead of wood or coal, that the icebox was every bit as efficient as a Muggle refrigerator (of course, magical iceboxes had held that distinction long before refrigerators were dreamed of), and despite its whimsical brick exterior, that was still a toaster on the counter. A large table took up the center of the room, ringed with ten chairs, and several others sat against spare patches of wall.
So much for the room. Now for the people.
Most of those chairs were currently occupied. Dumbledore sat across from Severus, facing the little Granger girl, who was chattering away at a high rate of speed in between bites of apple, relating some tale of exploring parts of the "Manor Den." Lupin sat beside the girl, listening and occasionally chuckling.
That child has a larger vocabulary than some of my seventh years.
Draco — Black, Severus reminded himself — was watching James Potter doing something with a knife and a slice of orange peel. As Severus watched, the man turned the peel inside out and popped it into his mouth. The slit he had cut in it lengthwise, crossed by several smaller slits widthwise, created a bizarre illusion of teeth. The boy shrieked with laughter and demanded a set of his own.
Unbidden, the image came to Severus’ mind of the silent and withdrawn child he recalled from occasional trips to Malfoy Manor in the past, when Lucius would hire him to brew some particularly esoteric potion or to pass judgment on an ingredient bought on the black market.
I cannot deny they have done much good in that regard.
Lily Potter and Aletha Freeman-Black sat together talking quietly off to one side, one of Lily’s hands resting on her pregnant belly. From the gestures, Severus guessed they were discussing something to do with potion making. Perhaps I will join them, in a few minutes, if they will have me...
The final group stood together at the stove, Black slowly stirring a deep pot — I must admit I like seeing him domesticated at last — while Lupin’s wife — I wonder why they call her Danger? — whisked something more briskly in a saucepan, showing it every so often to Harry Potter, perched on a chair by her side.
I wonder what James Potter thinks of that? His only son, and one of the boy’s great interests, or so I’m told, is cooking.
It was almost criminal how much material he was gathering here. If his old hatred had still been at full strength, he could have sniped at the men for weeks to come, taunting Potter about his son’s prowess in the kitchen, Black about the way another man’s wife ordered him around, Lupin about his devotion to a little Mudblood girl...
Not that he’s ever cared about blood. Unless it was another’s, and shed by him... he was certainly horrified enough by nearly mauling me in school, and it took him nearly three months to forgive Black for it...
Severus shook himself in irritation. Something was very wrong with him, if he was finding the good in these men. He should be looking for their flaws, their weaknesses, not their strengths...
I am acting as if I like them!
At this opportune moment, something pulled at the hem of Severus’ robes. Teeth clenched, he looked down.
Meghan Black looked up. "Oops," she chirruped, scooting back so that she was no longer sitting on the cloth. "Sorry."
And with that, she rested her back against one of Severus’ chair legs and returned to her work, looping strands of blue yarn around her small brown fingers with a gleaming copper hook.
Severus stared down at her for several seconds before realizing his mouth was hanging open. Quickly, he shut it and sat up. No one seemed to have noticed.
Not even Black.
I cannot believe this.
He turned his eyes to Dumbledore, who was still listening to the older girl’s monologue. You insisted I come here tonight, old man. Did you expect something like this? Did you think the time was ripe for reconciliation, for us to all become one big happy family?
But Severus had never been one to fight facts, and the hatred that had sustained him through so many years was beginning to waver.
He recalled how the older children had treated him upon his invasion of their home. Until my presence was officially accepted, they fought me. Once Lily established that I was welcome, they treated me as they might any adult of their acquaintance.
Reconciliation was still too much for him to accept. The hatred had not receded that far, and Severus was unsure he wanted it to. But something less might not be out of consideration. Perhaps... a truce?
Harry Potter laughed aloud at something Lupin’s wife had told him. Draco had his own orange peel teeth now, and James Potter was holding the boy’s hand around the knife to help him cut a third set. Lily was turning her head, looking for something. Her eyes brightened as they fell on Severus, and she raised her hand and beckoned him closer.
He looked down again. "I am moving," he said awkwardly to the child sitting beside his chair.
"Okay," said the girl unconcernedly. The yarn came off her fingers, and she tied a quick knot in the end before rewinding the rest onto the ball. "Where to?"
"Just over to your mother and... Mrs. Potter."
"Mama Letha and Tigermum," the girl corrected. "I can go there."
"Good." Severus repressed an urge to laugh inanely and started across the kitchen, praying that Black would not choose this moment to turn around, nor Potter to look up. Neither was likely to have a good reaction to Black’s daughter trotting tamely at his heels.
Dumbledore glanced up, his eyes twinkling brightly, as Severus passed him. One lid dropped in an unmistakable wink. Severus paused just long enough to hold the eye contact and think two or three obscene thoughts before he went to take the chair Aletha had drawn up for him.
And may you have those in your head all night, old man, instead of whatever pristine images you usually entertain.
xXxXx
In Godric’s Hollow, the strange hole in the air opened once more, as it had been doing with increasing frequency since that first night. Each vortex was a bit larger than its brother before, until this one was large enough to admit a man.
But the figure that stumbled out of it was manlike only in general shape. Its body was ridiculously thin, making the rich black robes seem a travesty. No hair grew on its head, and its face would have been rejected by any horror house in the world as too much — the noseless, bone-white expanse, now with the bones of the skull visible in relief through the papery skin, the hungry, deep-set red eyes with their slit pupils...
It looked out over the night, as the vortex closed behind it. It inhaled through its two slit nostrils. And a voice, dry and painful as from overuse, issued from it.
"Potter."
xXxXx
Far away, two wizards jerked in their chairs. Snape hissed between his teeth, right hand wrapped around his left forearm. Harry cried out, both hands pressed to his forehead.
Sirius ducked around Danger and caught his godson before he could fall. "Easy there, Greeneyes," he said, sitting down on Harry’s chair with the boy in his lap. "What’s wrong?"
"It hurts. Right here." Harry rubbed a finger across his lightning-bolt scar, then pressed his face into Sirius’ robes. "Padfoot, make it go away," he said muffledly.
"As soon as I can," Sirius promised. He looked across the room. "Snape, what’s wrong with you?"
Wordlessly, Snape peeled back the sleeve from his left arm and held it up.
"Shite," Aletha breathed at the sight of the bright red skull-and-serpent marking.
"I think that sums up the situation accurately," said Dumbledore, standing. "Whatever spell brought you here through time, James, Lily, it seems to have worked on Lord Voldemort as well. I suspect I know where he will be, and it is possible I may find him there..."
"And if you don’t?" Remus asked. The cubs were silent, moving closer to whichever adult was handy.
"Then I will continue to search until I do." Dumbledore’s voice was calm and certain, two feelings Sirius wished he could share. "You will forgive me for hurrying away, I am sure."
"Go, for heaven’s sake, go," Lily said. "Severus, what about you?"
"I doubt I will be of much practical assistance," said Snape, pulling his sleeve down again. "But if you wish me to come along, Headmaster..."
"No, Severus, I think you would do better to remain here. I will be able to contact you just as quickly here should I need you, and you will be able to join me faster than you could if you returned to the castle. I bid you all good night, then."
"Good hunting," James said, tossing Dumbledore a salute. "What is it with that b...bloke, that he just won’t die?"
"That is part of what I hope to find out." Dumbledore nodded to the company and hurried from the room.
"Is that why my scar hurts?" Harry asked, as Lily and Aletha crossed the kitchen to join Sirius and Danger by the stove. "Because Voldemort’s back?"
"Probably," Aletha said, Summoning extra chairs. James and Remus pulled over their own. "But he won’t touch you. We won’t let him."
Her lips moved silently. Sirius, long-practiced at the husbandly art, interpreted.
Please, God, don’t turn me into a liar.
Harry nodded, accepting what Aletha had said as the simple truth, and closed his eyes, leaning against Sirius again. Sirius looked up and met James’ eyes. "You want him?" he asked quietly.
"He’s happy where he is," James said as Meghan found space on Lily’s seemingly nonexistent lap. "Let him be."
xXxXx
Danger slipped out of the group and crossed to Snape. "May I ask you something?"
"You may ask," Snape said through his teeth. "I may not answer."
Danger’s eyes strayed to Snape’s forearm, now covered but still resting on his thigh. "That thing hurts you," she said. "Do you want something for it? That’s not my question," she added hastily.
"Potions will not help this. But... thank you for offering."
Danger did her best to ignore the half-sarcastic tone in which the thanks were given. "Does that do anything besides hurt?" she asked, indicating what she meant with her eyes rather than a finger or hand. "If the stories I’ve heard are true, you’re good with a wand, and I don’t think you’d be able to convince Voldemort you were still on his side, not after coming out publicly for ours."
Snape gave her a long, skeptical glance which seemed to sum up everything he could have said about her assumption of sides in a war she’d had no part in. Danger glared right back. Maybe I wasn’t there then, but I’m here now, and good luck getting rid of me.
After a long moment, Snape looked away. Danger suppressed her childish desire to hoot over the victory and kept quiet.
"There were rumors," Snape admitted under his breath. "Stories of those who had displeased the Dark Lord, who bore his Mark. The stories claimed that the Mark existed not only on the body, but on the soul. The home of magic. Supposedly, a Marked man could be drained of his magic, temporarily..." A slight movement in the throat which might, in another man, have been a nervous swallow. "Or permanently."
"And Voldemort would grow stronger."
Snape looked up and met her eyes once more, locking on. "You have no idea the risks you flirt with when you say his name so openly," he hissed. "He could annihilate you with no more thought than he gives to breathing..."
"If he were here. Which he’s not."
"Speaking his name," Snape said slowly and distinctly, "may attract his attention. Which would bring him here. And if he found a herd of Muggleborns, half-bloods, and blood traitors inhabiting the former home of Lucius Malfoy..."
He stopped. By the look of horror creeping onto his face, he had just had the same thought currently inhabiting most of Danger’s mind.
What? Remus demanded, picking up her mood.
Danger opened her mind and let him see it.
Oh.
"Moony, what’s wrong?" James said from across the room. "You just went dead white."
"Do you realize where we are?" Remus demanded. "We’re in Malfoy Manor. Home of one of Voldemort’s favorite Death Eaters. One of the places he liked best to come — or am I wrong?" he asked Snape over Lily’s and Aletha’s shoulders.
"You are not wrong," Snape said darkly. "Though I wish you were."
"I wish I was too."
Hermione whimpered aloud and clung tighter to Remus than she was already doing. Lily swallowed hard, but her hand on Meghan’s back was steady. Aletha slid her hands into the tight ball that was Draco on the chair next to her and uncurled him enough to get him onto her lap. "So what you’re saying, Severus, Remus," she said in a matter-of-fact tone, "is that Voldemort might at any moment show up on our doorstep."
"Yes," both men said together. Danger stifled a hysterical giggle.
"Well," said Lily, her voice shaking only a little. "In that case, I think we ought to get ready for him."
"Get ready?" James said. "Get ready how?"
Lily’s lips curved up in a smile that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Dumbledore himself.
"I have an idea," she said.
Author Notes:
Quite a weekend, huh? I’ll try to make it a pattern.
VcP and LSSR are due for updates next week, so talk ‘em up on group to get me thinking about them! And don’t obsess over Luna’s vision in FD — what’s coming will come, and you’ll meet it when it does. And that should tell you who you ought to be worrying about...
See you next time!