The Blackthorn Chronicles - Book 1: Hesperus

For the last time this evening, a small, weary exhale escaped Vespera’s nose as she settled back against the plush leather of the Ministry car’s seat. The interior was enveloped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the gentle hum of the engine and the rhythmic swish of tires on the rain-slicked asphalt. In the front, Arata had long since lost the fight against the encroaching tendrils of sleep, his head bobbing almost imperceptibly every few moments. Vespera couldn’t fault his exhaustion; a quick flick tempus revealed that it was well past midnight, the witching hour having long since passed. The prospect of finally settling behind the likely formidable wards of Black Manor, one of her properties she hadn’t visited yet, was a welcome one.

She crossed her legs, the supple leather of her knee-high boots squeaking softly as they brushed against each other, the paper bag filled with the fragrant confectionary that Kenji had so enthusiastically procured, rustling gently by her side. Despite the enticingly sweet odors wafting from the bag, her appetite remained stubbornly dormant. A profound tiredness had settled deep within her bones, the familiar ache a testament to the long hours of her travel. Yet, beneath the physical weariness, a restless energy still thrummed within her, a byproduct of the day’s intense encounters and revelations. She was satisfied enough with the progress she had made, confident in Tadahiro’s cooperation. Currently, he was in a delicate situation, a cornered lion surrounded by a pack of laughing, opportunistic hyenas, with no other viable option than to turn to her. 

Vespera blinked slowly, watching the pitch black darkness blurring outside the window. Many factors were yet unknown, like pieces of an intricate puzzle that were, for the moment, still out of reach. She remained unworried, though. She was sure in her ability to discover all the details of what had been occurring, and to solve the situation. These factors would only determine how much time she’d have to spend in the country before being able to return to the comforting embrace of the home and family she’d built back in England.

Snape would have sneered at her blind certainty, calling her over-confident and arrogant, but after years of ‘solving problems’ for the ICW, she had the unwavering self-assurance of a seasoned hunter who had tracked and cornered countless slippery prey, and knew without a single doubt that her that success was inevitable. 

Her fingers twitched slightly with a phantom desire, a need to grab for the small metal rectangle concealed within a pocket of her coat; her cigarettes. She resisted the impulse with mounting irritation, feeling a slight headache pound behind her temples.

The remainder of the ride passed in a further silence. As the need for the vice grew, Vespera glanced at her companion. Beside her, Mikael sat with her usual unnerving stillness, a slim volume of poetry resting on her lap. Her pale fingers turned the delicate pages with a quiet precision, her molten eyes scanning the verses with an unruffled focus. She looked infuriatingly awake, the long hours of travel and the late hour seemingly having no effect whatsoever on her almost immaculate composure.

The gentle sway of the driving car, a rhythmic motion against the smooth asphalt, lulled Vespera into a state of aware relaxation, her tense muscles loosening incrementally. She felt herself slump almost imperceptibly into the supple leather of the seat, the weariness of the day finally beginning to manifest physically, and though her mind drifted, she did not succumb to sleep.

The quiet rhythm of the journey and the comforting darkness of the car's interior were enough for her to close her eyes, allowing her mind to stray into a state of semi-awareness, a light doze where her senses remained keenly attuned to any subtle shift in her surroundings.

Soon enough, she felt the gentle hum of the car beneath her slow gradually, a subtle deceleration that registered in the deepest recesses of her awareness, even behind closed eyelids. Though her eyes remained shut, the distinct, molasses-like magical signature of the wards surrounding the approaching Black Manor, called to her like a sweet Siren’s song, promising the sanctuary of the comforting embrace of darkness. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her lips at the familiar magical resonance.

Her own magic inflated with the thrum of the wards, and she subtly extended a tendril of her power, a silent signal proclaiming her as the Lady of the House, keyed to the signet ring on her left forefinger. After a brief, almost imperceptible magical conversation, a subtle push and pull that none of the car’s other occupants seemed to notice, she heard the distinct, ancient creaking of heavy iron gates being drawn open. Her emerald eyes flickered open just enough to glimpse the imposing silhouette of the Black family insignia – three ravens in stark relief – blazoned in the center of the wrought iron, now split open in a somewhat morbid welcome. 

The driver expertly maneuvered the vehicle onto the long, winding path that led towards the shadowed bulk of the Manor, the dark, dense trees of a seemingly ancient forest flanking either side of the cobbled drive, their branches intertwining overhead like skeletal fingers.

“My Lady, we have arrived.” The driver rumbled quietly, his voice respectful and low, yet the simple statement was enough to startle the deeply sleeping Arata in the front passenger seat, whose eyes snapped open with a sudden, disoriented blink.

True enough. The imposing silhouette of the Black Manor, a striking edifice of Victorian-era design transplanted to this foreign soil, stood in stark contrast against the pitch-black canvas of the deep night sky. Despite the darkness, the numerous windows of the multi-storied house glowed with a warm, inviting light in the near distance.

In the center of a wide, unkept gravel courtyard, a large, circular fountain rested, its intricately carved stone blackened with the patina of age, moss and algae clinging to the coarse surface. Yet, the water within shimmered with an almost turquoise glow under the moonlight, a steady stream exiting the stone amphoras of a pair of circling, moving, sculpted sirens.

Vespera straightened almost imperceptibly, a subtle shift in her posture that spoke volumes about her eagerness to stretch her legs. A near-silent sigh of relief almost escaped her lips as the car finally rolled to a smooth stop directly in front of the grand, imposing entrance of her ancestral home. Mikael, with a distinct lack of patience for the sluggish movements of the Arata, who was yet to fully awaken, opened her own door before swiftly walking around the vehicle to open Vespera’s side, her movements precise and purposeful.

Vespera concealed her burgeoning eagerness with practiced ease as she finally stepped out of the car, her heeled boots sinking slightly into the crunchy gravel of the driveway. Mikael was already efficiently busying herself at the trunk, the driver having also exited the vehicle and now assisting her with the luggage, his movements swift and his gaze carefully averted.

The witch breathed in the air, sensing the comforting scent of aged stone, forest and clean air. The night was silent, only the distant sounds of insects and the forest adding to the peace. Her attention fixed on the grand entrance of the Manor, and her heels crunched softly as she walked through the pebbles, clicking against the stone steps when she ascended towards the imposing front doors.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Arata approaching the Manor as well, his dark eyes wide with an evident surprise at the slightly unkempt state of the long-empty estate, the overgrown ivy clinging to the stone walls despite the stable structure of the house.

“Thank you for your assistance this evening, Arata,” she spoke softly, her tone almost kind, though the faint curve of her lips held a hint of sardonic amusement. “You may retire now; I believe Mikael has seen to my luggage.”

The tall blonde woman, having heard her name, raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow almost imperceptibly, her gaze flicking disdainfully towards the wizard, before turning and pushing open the large, ornate doors of the manor with a soft groan of aged wood. With a swift, almost imperious swish of her ivory wand, she sent the levitating luggage gliding smoothly into the dimly lit interior of the house, not deigning to bid either wizard goodbye.

The Japanese wizard blinked, a hesitant, unsure smile flickering across his face. He bowed deeply, his spine bending almost double in his deference, before hurrying back towards the waiting car. A sudden hesitation seemed to freeze him mid-stride, however, and he turned back towards Vespera. His hand reached into the inside of his suit jacket, a subtle movement that, though not enough to make her physically stiffen, caused her emerald gaze to sharpen imperceptibly, her senses instantly on high alert.

“Should you require anything at all, Lady Potter-Black, please do not hesitate to call upon me, at any hour. It would be an immense honor to serve one such as you.” He breathed, his voice earnest, bowing once more with his hands outstretched, a cream-colored, elegant card laid upon his open palms. She narrowed her eyes slightly, the vibrant green orbs darting to his outstretched hands, her gaze clinical and considering as she took in the delicate script on the offered card, his name, number, and address emblazoned on the paper.

A tense moment passed, the silence broken only by the gentle rustling of leaves in the night breeze and the gentle spluttering of the fountain, before she slowly reached out and took the card, holding it delicately between her fingertips, her expression unreadable.

“That is very kind of you, Arata. I shall certainly do so if the need arises.” She responded, her lips curving into a chillingly polite smile that held no warmth in its depths, her emerald eyes remaining cold and assessing. He nodded quickly, looking as though a part of him earnestly hoped she would call upon his services, while another, more sensible part desperately wished to never cross her, or more likely her companion’s, path again. With one final, deep bow, he hurried back to the waiting car and his silently observing colleague.

Vespera nodded curtly at the two men by the car, who responded with yet another deep bow, and watched with a palpable sense of relief as the sleek vehicle finally pulled away and vanished back down the long, winding path towards the distant highway.

She waited until the taillights were completely out of sight, swallowed by the darkness of the surrounding forest, before finally letting out a long, weary groan of relief. She cracked her neck with a satisfying pop, the tension of the day finally beginning to ease from her shoulders. Slipping off her heavy leather coat, she slung it casually over her arm and stepped across the threshold into the lit, if somewhat dusty, insides of Black Manor, her true demeanor finally beginning to emerge from behind the carefully constructed masks she had worn throughout the long and eventful day.

“Mistress.” Mikael’s deep voice resonated through the grand foyer, the tall blonde woman stepping out from a set of partially opened double doors to the left, her usually serene face carrying a subtle undercurrent of displeasure. 

“It seems the stasis charms were not quite as… efficacious as we had hoped,” Vespera remarked, her voice carrying a sliver of exasperation as her emerald eyes surveyed the dusty yet undeniably grand interior of her ancestral manor. Cobwebs clung delicately to the edges of the ornate chandeliers, and a fine layer of grime coated the polished marble floor, though the overall structure remained sound.

Wordlessly and wandlessly, with a practiced flick of her wrist, she summoned her silver cigarette case from her coat. The metallic click as it snapped open echoed softly in the high-ceilinged space, a sharp counterpoint to the stillness of the long-unoccupied house. She extracted a slender white stick with practiced ease, brought it to her lips, and with another almost practiced movement of her fingers, a tiny spark ignited the tip, the fragrant smoke curling upwards in a delicate plume.

Her emerald eyes, now framed by a delicate haze of smoke, took in the dark splendor of the Manor’s decor. It was effortlessly rich, steeped in the understated elegance that came with centuries of old wealth, a style she had grown accustomed to after years of being the head of House Black. Walburga would have loathed this place, she thought with a flicker of dark amusement as she surveyed the Victorian-era, yet surprisingly tasteful, ornaments and portraits adorning the foyer. A particularly striking painting, depicting a lady in the midst of her toilette in a rich, Renaissance style, caught her eye. For a fleeting moment, the painted lady’s blue eyes seemed to meet hers, a mischievous wink flashing before the figure vanished beyond the painted frame, leaving her ornate vanity unattended.

“Indeed. I can sense several boggarts and a collection of other minor pests currently residing within the manor’s walls,” Mikael hummed, her tone as impassive as ever, her golden eyes scanning the shadows with an almost clinical detachment. Vespera might have interpreted her words as a sign of indifference if it weren’t for the fleeting, almost imperceptible gleam of anticipation that flickered within her golden irises as she surveyed the potential for magical extermination.

“I will explore the Manor at my leisure tomorrow morning,” Vespera stated quietly, her gaze already drifting towards the grand, sweeping staircase that seemed marginally cleaner than the surrounding areas, likely a path Mikael had already traversed. “I trust that you will have removed these… unwelcome inhabitants by the time I undertake my exploration?”

The tall woman inclined her head with a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing upon her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the implied command. With a fluid step, she moved forward, leading her Mistress towards the grand staircase and then down a dimly lit, rather ominous-looking hallway that branched off from the main foyer.

“Yes, Mistress. I will show you the master suite,” Mikael offered, her usual impassivity softening ever so slightly with a hint of her ingrained servitude. Vespera nodded, following after her ancient attendant as she led her through the grand foyer, the polished marble echoing softly with their slippered footsteps, and into the dimly lit, heavily decorated hallways of the family wing.

Vespera’s sharp emerald eyes observed and silently catalogued the surrounding area, taking in the faded grandeur and the significant amount of hard work that would be required to restore the manor to its former glory. Dust motes danced in the faint moonlight filtering through the aged stained-glass windows, and the heavy velvet drapes hung with a tired air. She knew that she and Mikael would likely not have the time to undertake such a task themselves, as their imminent move to Cross Academy would undoubtedly consume their attention. However, she made a mental note to contact the local Gringotts branch first thing in the morning, instructing them to dispatch a discreet team of skilled curse-breakers and a set of diligent house-elves to begin the extensive restoration process.

Later in the year, during the anticipated social season, once she was officially instated as ambassador – her public cover for this potentially lengthy mission – she imagined that she would likely be obligated to host various gatherings within the manor’s walls. While the current state of disrepair might have been perfectly acceptable to her own admittedly low standards for a wizarding home, 12 Grimmauld Place having that effect on people, it would certainly not suffice to showcase the might and opulence that the Council had explicitly instructed her to project to the notoriously discerning Vampire Council and the Hunter’s Association.

Mikael led her through another long, dimly lit hallway, the heavy oak paneling absorbing what little light there was, the area illuminated only by a softly glowing, floating candelabra that drifted silently ahead. Finally, she stopped before a pair of large, ornate French doors. With a silent gesture, she extended a pale hand and pushed them open, the aged wood groaning ominously on its hinges, a sound that elicited a faint frown of displeasure from Vespera. Mikael then stepped aside, her posture indicating that her Mistress should enter first

The witch stepped into the room, her emerald eyes adjusting to the dim yet sufficient illumination provided by Mikael’s floating candelabra and the faint moonlight filtering through the towering windows. 

The master suite was a cavernous space, dominated by a soaring vaulted ceiling crafted from dark, intricately carved wood, its arches meeting high above. Towering, multi-paned windows stretched along one wall, their heavy dark red velvet curtains partially drawn, revealing glimpses of the moonlit grounds beyond. A massive four-poster bed, draped in luxurious black velvet, stood prominently against the far wall, flanked by heavy, gothic-style bedside tables. In the center of the room, a richly patterned, dark-toned carpet covered the floor, muffling sound and adding a layer of opulent comfort.

A comfortable sitting area was arranged near the windows, featuring the plush red chaise lounge and several dark, ornately carved armchairs upholstered in a mix of black velvet and red brocade. A low, heavy wooden coffee table sat before the chaise, currently clear of any clutter, though flanked by her large pile of luggage, undoubtedly left there by Mikael. To the left of the sitting area stood a grand piano, its polished black surface reflecting the faint light, a scattering of framed photographs resting upon its closed lid.

Against another wall, a large, imposing desk crafted from dark, heavy wood stood beneath one of the towering windows. A high-backed chair upholstered in red velvet was tucked neatly behind it, and a single lamp with a fringed red shade cast a soft glow on its surface. Behind the desk, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the wall, filled with an eclectic collection of leather-bound volumes. An ornate crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, though it remained unlit, its delicate arms catching the faint moonlight. The space felt both imposing and strangely intimate, steeped in history and a subtle air of melancholy, matching it’s intended owner, Hesper Black née Gamp, Sirius Black’s the II’s late wife.

She took in the dark, predominantly red and black gothic decor with a cursory glance and offered a slight shrug. It was acceptable, if a touch ostentatious for her personal tastes. With a weary sigh, she stepped further into the spacious chamber and bent down, toeing off her knee-high leather boots and discarding them carelessly near the entrance, her bare feet sinking slightly, curling her toes into the thick, patterned carpet.

Unburdened by her shoes, she continued to undress with an equal lack of ceremony, her movements fluid and unselfconscious. 

Vespera stretched languidly, her spine popping audibly, a small sound in the otherwise quiet room, as she brushed her dark curls behind her now nude back. Mikael stepped forward silently, presenting a light ivory silk robe. She slipped her arms into the wide sleeves, and Mikael moved behind her, her cool, pale fingers deftly wrapping the fabric around her slender form, and tying the sash securely at her waist. 

Vespera’s gaze fixed on the moonlit grounds visible through the towering windows, the ancient trees casting long, skeletal shadows across the unkept lawns, as Mikael gently pulled out strands of her dark hair that had become caught beneath the back of the robe, swiftly gathering it into a high, elegant ponytail. 

The servant then vanished with her usual swiftness through another set of large French doors, connecting this main chamber to an adjacent room. Vespera heard the muffled sounds of further cleaning spells being cast, followed by the distinct rush and gurgle of running water, the promise of a hot bath a welcome thought.

She took another glance at the grounds, before stepping towards the neatly arranged pile of luggage, near the plush, dark red chaise lounge adorned with numerous black and silver embroidered cushions. Finding her more personal, smaller travel bag amongst the collection, she knelt down to retrieve it, the soft silk of her robe pooling around her bare legs.

She opened the bag, its leather soft and supple from years of use, and rummaged through the familiar contents: several well-loved books, a few carefully folded clothes, and various other personal items. Finally, her fingers wrapped around the cool, intricately carved metal handle of the antique, handheld mirror she had been searching for.

With a small smile, she straightened, settling into one of the plush, dark velvet armchairs near the unlit fireplace, crossing her legs with a comfortable ease. The silken fabric of the robe pulled taut against her skin with the movement, revealing a fleeting glimpse of milky-white skin and delicate collarbones, a fact she remained utterly unconcerned about as she raised the aged mirror, its silvered surface reflecting the dim light of the room, and called clearly, “Draco Malfoy,” at her reflection in the antique, spotted glass.

The surface of the mirror swirled slightly, the silvered backing shimmering almost like quicksilver caught in a breeze. A few tense moments passed, the silence of the room amplifying the faint magical hum emanating from the artifact, before the reflection within darkened, coalescing until her friend’s, and distant cousin’s, sharply defined, handsome face appeared in the surface, his usually cool grey eyes looking undeniably relieved at the sight of her, illuminated by the late afternoon light of the English sky.

“Potter. How was the trip?” He began, a familiar, almost involuntary haughty sneer twisting his lips ever so slightly, a habit she had long since found more endearing than offensive. She simply laughed softly, a low, melodious sound that echoed in the quiet master suite. 

“Exhausting, as always. But we arrived ahead of schedule, thankfully. I even had the… distinct pleasure of a rather illuminating conversation with the Minister,” she said, a hint of a sharp smile playing on her lips. At that moment, Mikael stepped out of an open doorway, presumably leading to an en-suite bathroom, offering a silent nod to her mistress, indicating that the bath was prepared.

Without lowering the mirror, Vespera turned and walked towards Mikael, passing through the doorway into the adjoining bathroom. Her sculpted eyebrow arched almost imperceptibly as she took in the sight of the enormous, opulent bathroom.

Its walls were paneled in dark, ornately carved wood that reached up to a high, vaulted ceiling, a series of tall, arched windows featuring intricate stained-glass designs that depicted scenes of dark forests and mythical creatures, though the night outside rendered them largely opaque. 

Dominating the center of the floor, inlaid with large, hexagonal tiles of polished black marble, was a magnificent, circular bathtub, positioned beneath a magnificent crystal chandelier hung from the high, its delicate arms catching the candlelight. Despite its design, the tub burrowed deeply into the floor, resembling a small, private pool more than a conventional tub, its generous dimensions easily capable of accommodating several people if so desired, an unwelcome thought when connected to the origins of this house, the honeymoon retreat for the unconventional Blacks.

A substantial, intricately carved vanity unit crafted from dark wood stood against the left wall, its black marble countertop supporting antique silver-topped bottles and a large, heavily framed mirror. The ornate brass fixtures of the sink and the circular bathtub gleamed with meticulous polish. Heavy, dark velvet curtains hung to either side of the arched windows, adding to the room’s dramatic decadence and shadowy elegance, the air thick with the fragrant steam from the bath, mingling with the subtle scent of beeswax from the candles.

Mikael stepped forward, her movements as silent as a shadow, and Vespera handed her the handheld mirror. 

While she moved towards the inviting steam rising from the colossal tub, Mikael and Draco exchanged a few quiet, subtly barbed greetings in the background, their voices a low murmur against the sound of running water. 

Vespera untied the silk robe and let it pool on the cool marble floor. She swiftly twisted her dark hair into a loose bun atop her head, securing it with a few quick flicks of her wand, before hissing quietly as her bare skin met the nearly scalding water, leaning back into the steaming water, the fragrant foam and bubbles offering a modicum of decency. Mikael then returned the mirror, its aged silver handle now slightly slick with water from Vespera’s damp fingers.

“I will get started on a light dinner, Mistress,” Mikael hummed, her voice a low murmur that barely registered over the gentle sloshing of the bathwater, before she vanished seemingly into the shadows of the expansive bathroom with her usual uncanny swiftness, leaving Vespera no opportunity to respond.

Turning her attention back to the antique mirror, Vespera found Draco now in motion, seemingly pacing through one of the elegant rooms of Malfoy Manor, the mirror tilted just enough for her to catch glimpses of the sharp line of his jaw and the crisp collar of his shirt.

“Anyway, my initial assessment of the Minister appears to have been accurate; he does not seem to be directly involved in the more… unsavory aspects of this assignment,” she hummed, the warm water sloshing quietly and pleasantly around her as she shifted slightly in the large tub. Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow, glancing at her fleetingly through the mirror’s reflection before entering a richly furnished study. He walked a few measured steps before settling into a high-backed armchair, now tilting the mirror to face him properly, his silver-blonde hair catching the soft sunlight.

“And what of… them?” He asked, his lips slightly pursed, his usual air of casual detachment replaced by a more serious and concerned expression, the emphasis on the pronoun laden with unspoken meaning. Vespera hummed thoughtfully, her gaze distant as she stared at the swirling foam.

“It’s far too early to draw any definitive conclusions yet, Draco. I have yet to delve into the Ministry’s archives and examine the specific files I require. But at least Tadahiro has granted me carte blanche access to anything I deem necessary. If they are indeed involved, I will know sooner rather than later, I assure you.” She mused, her emerald eyes momentarily losing their usual vibrant hue, becoming frighteningly empty as she idly played with the frothy bubbles, though a small, almost predatory smile still curved her lips.

Draco observed her for a long moment through the mirror’s surface, his grey eyes narrowed with a familiar mixture of concern. “If it is them, Vespera, then I want you to tell me immediately. I’ll catch the first available Portkey, or even…” He visibly shuddered, a sneer of utter disgust twisting his handsome features at the very thought of resorting to Muggle transportation. “Or even the next flight to Japan and join you. You won’t have to face them alone.”

She laughed, the light, melodious sound momentarily disrupting the heavy atmosphere that had settled between them. Turning slightly in the large tub, she propped the antique mirror against the cool, marbled floor, her arms crossing as she rested her chin on her forearms. With a delicate tilt of her head, she smiled, the deep, cherubic dimples framing her cheeks softening her sharp features.

“You and your enduring disgust for the mundane, even after all these years, Draco,” she teased, a playful glint in her emerald eyes. “I’ll have you know, traveling via Muggle means can be quite the luxurious experience these days. Why, you might even use the long hours to occupy yourself with more… pleasurable pursuits. I’m sure Pansy would be absolutely delighted to be of assistance, hn?” She mocked gently, the jab delivered without a trace of genuine malice.

Draco rolled his eyes, a familiar, fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite his attempt at maintaining a serious facade. “Your scandalous suggestions aside, Vespera, I am quite serious. I want you to give me regular updates. And actually, you know what?” He suddenly sat up straighter in his armchair, a determined glint in his grey eyes.

“I will be coming. I’ll settle some outstanding matters here and be there as soon as I possibly can.” He declared with a touch of his old pompousness, his nose tilting slightly in the air. Vespera laughed again, the sound echoing off the bathroom’s marble walls, until she registered the seriousness in his expression.

“Wait, really, Draco?” she asked, straightening up in the bathtub as well, the warm water sloshing precariously close to the rim. “Who’s going to take care of Teddy?”

He froze for a millisecond, the confident smile plastered on his face faltering and then vanishing entirely, replaced by a brief flicker of something akin to panic. He cleared his throat rather loudly, a tell-tale sign of his embarrassment.

“Well,” he commenced, his tone attempting to regain its earlier bravado, and Vespera narrowed her eyes, bracing herself for the likely foolish excuse he was about to offer. “Mother and Father are… actually quite fond of Edward. Especially Father, which is very surprising, in fact. They’ve taken a rather unexpected shine to his company. So, I highly doubt they would be in the slightest opposed to taking care of him for a short while. They’re formidable, I’m certain they’ll be more than capable of keeping the boy perfectly safe and sound.”

Vespera raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow, her gaze fixed on his face, silently conveying her skepticism.

“Draco,” she said flatly, the single word laced with a wealth of unspoken nonbelief and a clear demand for the truth.

“What! It is true!” He protested, his tone rising in mock indignation, though a genuine undercurrent of worry now shadowed his features. “Honestly, Vespera, you don’t know half of what… they’re truly capable of. I know you’re exceptionally strong, and, well, practically undefeatable in most circumstances, but they are intelligent, frighteningly sadistic, and ruthless. I am just… exceptionally worried about you.” His voice dropped to a near whisper, the worry in his deep tone now unmistakable.

She sighed, a soft puff of air that barely disturbed the fragrant steam rising from the bathwater. “I fail to see what the problem is, then, Draco. I am also remarkably intelligent, possess a certain flair for cruelty when the occasion demands it, and can be quite ruthless when necessary. To be perfectly honest,” she added, pursing her lips in mock offense, “that’s a little insulting, implying I’m somehow ill-equipped to handle them.”

"Especially when we both know precisely how I... removed, dear Tom from his self-proclaimed seat of power," she added, a hint of dark satisfaction coloring her tone, the memory of the deranged man’s murder at her own hands pulling the corner of her lips up in a small smirk.

His expression darkened further, worry seeming to shadow his elfin features.

“By the end of his… reign, the Dark Lord didn’t possess half the cunning, power, or sheer force of will needed to truly lead, not in the way you do, Vespera. But there is a very distinct reason why they were in his innermost circle, why he entrusted them with so much. In his warped perception, he liked how blatantly cruel and utterly sadistic they were.” Vespera hummed in acknowledgment, swimming slightly backward in the large tub, the warm water swirling around her, before reaching for a delicate crystal vial of fragrant soap resting on a nearby marble ledge. She began to gently lather the skin of her arms, the years of close friendship between them rendering her unconcerned with the casual exposure of her skin to his familiar gaze through the mirror.

“I have hunted most of them, Draco, tracked them across continents like the vermin they are. Three years I have spent traversing the globe, smoking the last Death Eaters out of their hiding holes, cleansing our society of their filth. If they are indeed here, lurking in the shadows, and involved in these murders, as I strongly believe, then there is absolutely nothing on this green earth that will stop me from crushing them under my heel like the insignificant cockroaches they are. Especially them.” She said lightly, her tone conversational, yet the underlying resolve in her voice was as hard and unyielding as steel.

“Besides,” she remarked, tilting her head slightly as she worked the fragrant soap into her skin, “Macnair and the Carrows are hardly paragons of intelligence, are they? They have only managed to evade their inevitable demise at my hands by scurrying behind the considerably wider and more capable skirts of Dolohov and Rookwood, but even that dubious protection will not last forever.” He sighed, rubbing a weary hand over his face with an almost undignified air.

“Yes, they are… remarkably stupid, especially when compared to the likes of Dolohov and Rookwood. But what they lack in any semblance of intelligence, they more than make up for in sheer, unadulterated sadism and cruelty, Vespera. You of all people should know that.”

She dipped her head into the warm water, her dark tresses fanning out around her as she began to lather them with the fragrant soap, the rich viscous liquid clinging to her scalp. With a gentle push, she swam towards the edge of the tub where the mirror lay propped, her hands carefully scrunching and washing her hair.

“Will you cease this entirely unnecessary and frankly rather tiresome conversation if I agree to allow you to come to Japan?” she asked, her voice laced with exasperation, the playful tone from moments before now completely absent. He rolled his eyes dramatically. He almost looked like his godfather in that moment, a thought that made her shudder.

“Yes. While I most certainly do not need your permission to do anything, Vespera,” he sneered, the familiar aristocratic drawl back in his voice, “I do require your… aggreement, shall we say, to leave Teddy in my parents’ capable care.”

“Then consider it granted,” she conceded with a dismissive wave of her hand, dipping her head back into the water to rinse the soap from her hair. “I will do what I can to prepare for your eventual arrival, though I will likely remain situated at Cross Academy for the duration of my official mission.”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze sharp and assessing through the mirror. “Cross Academy? The… Vampire-Muggle boarding school? Why? I thought that you would only need to maintain a presence there in the initial stages of your assignment.” He questioned, his silver eyes narrowing with suspicion. Vespera froze almost imperceptibly, a momentary stillness in her movements, before continuing to rinse the suds from her hair as if she hadn’t noticed his pointed inquiry.

“I do not know with any certainty yet, Draco. But… there is something about that place, a certain… pull that I cannot quite explain.” She hummed softly, her mind drifting for a fleeting instant to the enigmatic and undeniably handsome face of the pureblood vampire she had met, before she gave her head a small, decisive shake, banishing the intrusive thought.

His eyes narrowed further, a familiar prickle of brotherly protectiveness – a self-given role that he’d taken up when they met at eleven-years-old – telling him that there was undoubtedly more to the story than she was currently revealing. However, whatever suspicions were beginning to brew in his mind were abruptly shattered by a loud, excited squeal that echoed across the magical connection.

Edward Lupin-Potter-Black, now a whirlwind of four-year-old energy, burst into Draco’s elegant study with a triumphant battle cry, a brightly colored toy sword clutched firmly in his small hand. Vespera could only hear Draco’s undignified squawk of surprise as the child began to playfully whack his legs with the soft weapon, his infectious laughter and joyful squeals filling the room.

A loud crash, followed by the distinct sound of shattering porcelain, shook the room – the noise thunderous even across the long-distance magical connection. Draco shot to his feet, shock momentarily overriding his aristocratic composure, his usually smooth features creased with alarm.

“Young Master!” Kreacher’s familiar, gravelly voice could be heard squawking in the background, adding to the escalating chaos emanating from Malfoy Manor.

Teddy shrieked with a roar, utterly delighted, apparently mistaking the wizards' startled expression for playfulness. Vespera struggled to stifle a laugh as she heard Draco’s increasingly frantic pleas for the child to “calm down this instant,” his voice receding as he likely moved away from the mirror to manage the miniature mayhem. She heard several more crashes, punctuated by Teddy’s gleeful shouts, before Draco reappeared in the mirror’s reflection, a wiggling, giggling, and now distinctly purple-haired Teddy held firmly, if somewhat awkwardly, in his arms.

“Childrearing suits you remarkably well, Draco,” she mocked gently, a fond smile softening her own features as she watched the scene unfold. He shot her a weary sneer, his usually immaculate silver-blonde hair now disheveled, likely a casualty of Teddy’s enthusiastic attack. He sank back into his armchair, pulling the wiggling child onto his lap, slightly breathless from the unexpected burst of energy.

Upon hearing Vespera’s voice, however, Teddy stilled, his wide, bright blue eyes – currently a vibrant shade of violet – turning frantically, searching for the familiar sound. He spied her face in the antique mirror, his small face illuminating with a wide, gap-toothed smile as he recognized her and waved enthusiastically, his purple hair bouncing with the movement.

“Mama!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with pure, unadulterated joy.

“Hello my darling,” she cooed, her tone softening to an almost saccharine sweetness, a stark and somewhat comical contrast to her usual sultry voice. Draco, looking slightly harried but undeniably fond, tried to keep the squirming child still as Teddy made a determined grab for the antique mirror clutched in the wizard’s other hand, his small fingers reaching with surprising strength. “Have you been behaving well for Uncle Draco, my little wolf?”

Teddy nodded his head eagerly, his purple hair flopping adorably, seemingly having completely forgotten that his recent enthusiastic attack on his Uncle with a toy sword might be considered less than exemplary behavior. Vespera stifled a genuine laugh, a warm amusement bubbling up inside her, as she swam closer to the edge of the tub where the mirror lay propped, exchanging a knowing, laughing glance with the long-suffering Draco.

“That’s very good, my baby,” she cooed, her smile widening with genuine affection. The boy grinned, his bright blue eyes sparkling, before his expression turned momentarily thoughtful. 

He leaned closer to the mirror, glancing conspiratorially at his Uncle, before whispering loudly, his small voice carrying perfectly across the magical connection, “Mama, Uncle Draco talks funny. When are you coming home?” he confided in a comically loud whisper, clearly not grasping the concept that Draco, who was sitting right next to him, could hear every single word, making the wizard sigh deeply and roll his eyes heavenward. She glanced at the wizard, her green eyes twinkling with restrained laughter.

“I’m sorry, little wolf. Mama is very busy with important work at the moment, so I can’t come back home just yet. Buuut,” she cooed, drawing out the word playfully, “I promise I’ll bring you back something incredibly fun and special once I do!” Teddy’s shoulders slumped momentarily, a flicker of sadness crossing his bright face at the news that his maternal figure wouldn’t be returning immediately, before he straightened up, his infectious smile returning almost instantly. Mama always kept her promises, a fact ingrained in his young heart, so he knew she would keep this one too.

“Vespera, it’s nearly dinner time. This young man needs to eat a proper meal before it’s his bedtime,” Draco interjected gently, bouncing Teddy slightly on his lap, the movement eliciting a giggle from the boy. She nodded, a tendril of bittersweet longing tugging at her heart as she looked at Teddy’s familiar, radiant smile, the same heart-melting grin his mother Tonks had worn before her tragic death.

“Yes, of course. It’s time for you to go eat your dinner, baby. I’ll talk to you again very soon, okay? I love you.” She smiled warmly, her attention shifting as Teddy’s gaze was caught by something behind Draco, his head turning with a sudden burst of curiosity. Draco took the opportunity to set the boy gently on the floor, telling him to follow after the old, bitter house-elf.

The wizard turned his attention back to the mirror, the earlier lightness returning to his eyes, though his expression remained serious. “I’ll speak with my parents about watching Teddy, and sort things out with Pansy. Hopefully, we can be there within a few days.” He said, his tone resolute. She raised a questioning eyebrow.

“You, and Pansy?” She echoed, a hint of confusion in her voice. He nodded firmly. “You aren’t seriously thinking that I would go anywhere remotely dangerous without that particular Viper at my side. She’s worth at least ten grown wizards in a tight spot, and honestly, what with this whole ambassador business of yours, she’s been rather enthusiastically contemplating joining your… diplomatic entourage anyway.” He shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a mental image of Pansy’s perpetual mean smirk and silver tongue running through her mind. Yes, that did sound remarkably like her Slytherin friend. With a shrug that sent gentle ripples across the surface of the bathwater, she conceded, “Fine, you and Pansy. Only you and her though, or we’ll have to have a rather… lengthy discussion upon your arrival, Draco,” she warned, wagging a playful finger at her reflection in the mirror. The gesture, however, made him notice the bareness of her left ring finger. His brow furrowed, his silver eyes narrowing with a sudden intensity as he leaned closer to the mirror.

“Where’s your ring?” he questioned, his voice suddenly sharp with curiosity. She sighed, a hint of irritation in the sound. Tilting her head with a raised eyebrow, she gave him a look that made him visibly wince, pulling an awkward face.

“Actually, never mind. Perhaps I truly don’t want to know what you and Theo are getting up to these days.”

“Good. See that it stays that way,” she said haughtily, snatching the mirror from its propped position and standing from the bath, her feet ascending the submerged steps of the tub, stepping out of the now cooling bathwater. Wordlessly, she summoned a fresh robe, the soft fabric flying across the spacious room and into her outstretched hand. Maneuvering one arm awkwardly, she began to shrug it on, still damp, as Mikael had yet to reappear.

“Anyway, you both have some time yet. I don’t need either of you two here until the beginning of the next semester at the Academy, so don’t come rushing over too soon. It might disrupt some… delicate plans,” she said nonchalantly, cinching the belt of the robe around her waist. Draco nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes despite his earlier worry and clear desire to join her immediately.

“Very well. We’ll aim to be there within three months then. That should give me ample time to get my affairs in order and… thoroughly convince my parents to embrace their temporary grandson.” He said, a slight shift in his tone hinting at the true nature of that particular task.

She narrowed her eyes, a flicker of suspicion crossing her face. “I thought you’d said they wouldn’t mind watching Teddy,” she questioned, her voice sharp.

He froze, a deer caught in headlights for a fleeting moment, before letting out a rather forced and overly enthusiastic laugh. “They won’t! Absolutely not! Anyway, I really must dash now, dinner, and all that. Call me if anything… interesting happens!” He rushed to say, severing the connection before she could press him further, the reflection in the antique mirror fading back to its normal silvered surface. She could see her own exasperated face staring back at her, before she sighed and rolled her eyes.

Walking out of the steamy bathroom, she left the antique mirror lying on the vanity table in her path, her hands now vigorously toweling dry her long, dark tresses, leaving them hanging damply down her back.

Mikael was just returning to the bedroom, balancing a laden silver tray on one hand with effortless grace, her ivory wand held loosely in the other. The tall woman approached with silent, almost spectral steps, setting the tray gently on the low coffee table in front of the plush, dark red divan. Vespera had settled onto the divan, facing the table, the soft silk of her robe pooling around her.

“Thank you, Mikael,” she praised quietly, her voice still slightly husky from the bath, as the sentinel-like woman lifted the silver dome from the tray, revealing a steaming bowl of fragrant chicken soup and an assortment of delicate, crustless sandwiches. Vespera wordlessly summoned the black leather briefcase containing her files from across the spacious room, the lock clicking softly as it landed beside her. Crossing her legs, she opened it, extracted a thick manila file, and began to flip through its contents, her other hand reaching for one of the small sandwiches.

She began to eat slowly and deliberately, her thoughts already consumed by the information contained within the document, her sharp eyes focused intently on the intricate lines of Tadahiro’s family seal embossed at the bottom of the aged parchment.

“I want you to go to the Ministry first thing in the morning, Mikael, and make a complete copy of all the files I was granted access to,” she ordered her ever-vigilant servant, who had stepped to stand silently and attentively behind the divan.

“Yes, of course, Mistress. I shall see to it at first light. I will utilize the remainder of the evening to continue cleaning the rest of the mansion,” Mikael replied politely, her golden eyes lowered demurely.

“Good. Oh, and before I forget,” Vespera hummed, pausing in her meal to take a small, appreciative sip of the steaming soup, carefully arranging the scattered documents around her on the divan, “Pass by Gringotts as well. I want them to draft the contracts for a pair of young, bright house-elves – preferably a bonded couple or a parent-child pair– and I also need them to dispatch a reputable Goblin architect to assess the structural and magical damage to the house and provide a detailed estimate for its complete restoration.”

 The tall woman nodded again, her movements precise and economical as she withdrew a small, elegant notepad from within her breast pocket, swiftly jotting down Vespera’s instructions in neat, concise script.

“Of course, Mistress. Is there anything further you require?” she asked lowly, her gaze unwavering. Vespera hummed, crossing her legs and reaching for another small sandwich. She ate it slowly, her thoughts a whirlwind of strategy and anticipation, pondering her next calculated move.

“Yes, one last thing, Mikael. I want you to gather as much detailed information as you possibly can about the Ichijou Group. Particularly focus on any publicly available records, family histories, and business dealings concerning Asato and Takuma Ichijou,” she ordered lightly, her emerald eyes drifting back to the photograph in her open file. The image captured a handsome, blonde teenager with a wide, open grin that radiated kindness and happiness. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Vespera’s lips as she looked at the rose pin on his breast, the emblem of Cross Academy.

This will be fun, she thought, a thrill of anticipation mixed with a cold, unwavering resolve settling within her as she summoned and lit another cigarette, the tip glowing like a malevolent ember in the dimly lit room. 

As a faint, almost predatory smile touched her lips, she remained blissfully unaware of the intricate web of struggles, both personal and professional, that lay waiting for her just beyond the horizon of the near future. 

Nor could she possibly foresee the profound and irrevocable ways in which her life, and the lives of those closest to her, would be forever altered once she finally returned to the familiar yet now strangely distant shores of her true home.