Weighted Hearts & Gilded Feathers

Mattheo watched from the Astronomy tower as Hermione and her merry band of idiots flew off to the Department of Mysteries, dread pooling in his stomach. He knew something bad was going to happen. He’d raged at Evan when he told him last week that his Lord was luring Potter to the Ministry. 

—------

“She will go with them, you realize that, right? There is no way she will allow him to go without her.” Evan hung his head, refusing to meet Mattheo’s eyes. He knew what that face meant. Evan agreed with him and had probably brought up this possibility in his late-night conversations with Severus in his private quarters, but the plan had not changed. He grabbed his cloak and went for the door, “Where are you going?” Evan asked him, finally looking up. “I’m going to speak to my father since you all are too cowardly to oppose him.” 

“Mattheo, you know he will not listen. Not to us. He is not convinced that she’s your sister.” 

“I don’t care. I have to try.” 

Mattheo quickly made it down to Severus’ rooms, with Evan trailing behind him sullenly. He charged through the door and wards going straight to the floo, stepped inside and threw the powder on the floor below him. Turning his gaze full of righteous indignation on the two figures, shock-still across from him. 

He wasn't quiet when he arrived, and didn’t even try looking for his father before he began shouting through the castle, “Voldemort! Voldy! Get down here now you arrogant, thoughtless-” 

“I advise you to think very carefully before you finish your sentence Mattheo, I am having a meeting in the drawing room. I would hate to have to punish you for your insolence.” His father was in the doorway, eyes blazing red despite his collected tone. 

“A meeting, perhaps one to do with the attack on the Ministry you plan to carry out?” Mattheo sneered at him, voice full of accusation and malice. 

“You’ve made it clear you do not wish to help me achieve my goals, why are you asking?” He crossed his hands behind his back, clearly not seeing Mattheo a threat. It was a presumptuous thought to have. Mattheo felt no familial affection for the man. Had no qualms with killing him if he needed too. But he was a Slytherin through and through, just like his father, and despite his anger he would bide his time. 

“Hermione.” He didn’t need to say more, the slight tightness in his jaw and furrow in his brow made it clear that their father knew exactly what he was referring to. 

“What about the mudblood?” 

It was Mattheo’s turn to become irate, eyes flashing that molten gold before his magic pushed his father against the wall behind him.“You’ll call your flesh and blood a mudblood father? The daughter you've been looking for all this time? The one who made you cast aside the child that you had by your side? Really?” 

“There is no definitive proof that she is my child, as such, she will remain Potter’s mudblood in my eyes. Now go back to the castle and send a prayer to your mother, she is the only reason that you are not lying in a puddle beneath my feet.” 

—----- 

He’d told her not to go. Warned her that it was a trap. And yet, she’d still climbed on the back of a creature he was sure she couldn’t see though he could. He wanted to resent her. This girl, who’d grown up with parents, had holidays and friends. Joy. He wanted to hate her. Because while she was stolen, she’d lived a life he wished he could have had. Instead, he’d been sent with boys barely out of Hogwarts, to the harsh north of Durmstrang. To be molded into a soldier their father could use when he returned. 

He was no good without her. 

No better than another one of his father's Death Eaters despite their shared blood. 

He should have held on to her. Hidden her away in the dungeons, she would been furious, would fought him tooth and nail to get to her friends, to the boy she called brother. 

But she would've been safe. 

He needed her safe. 

Draco, Blaise, and Theo had joined him on the astronomy tower, bringing fire-whiskey in an attempt to distract Mattheo, the anxious energy rolling off of him in waves. 

Mattheo leaned over the banister, staring off at the horizon, Hermione was no longer in view but he couldn't help but watch the sky, hoping against all reason she’d come back into focus. She was smarter than this. Logical enough to know that trusting Potter’s nightmares and charging into the Ministry was not a good plan. They were Hogwarts fifth years for Merlin's sake. He held no ill feelings towards the institution itself but their education was lacking in the darker arts. There was no way they could stand a chance against adults wixen. 

He was tempted to charge after her. Grab a broom and follow them into London. He knew, however, that his presence would be ill recieved by both sides. He had just enough self-preservation to stay on castle grounds. Even if he had somehow managed to convince the Potter brigade that he only wanted to help, he would have to answer to him, and he shuddered to think what the consequence would be when Potter inevitably lost this battle. 

Draco approached to his left, taking a swig from the bottle before thrusting it at Mattheo, “Leave it to Potter to walk straight into a trap.” His tone bitter and full of resentment. 

“Yeah, well, he should walk into it alone.” 

Draco grunted, and Mattheo saw Blaise and Theo share a knowing look in the corner of his eye. 

He turned and examined Draco further, his hands fisted at his side, brow furrowed in frustration. It dawned on Mattheo slowly, that his presumption about Draco’s obsession with Potter was correct. He’d been so wrapped up in his issues with Mia that he never took the time to look closely enough. But it was clear as day now. Their resident dragon had feelings for Scarhead. 

“Of all of the blokes in this castle, you've set your eyes on the bane of my existence,” Mattheo chortled, taking another swig from the bottle. 

Draco’s whole body stiffened as if he’d been hit with a Petrificus Totalus, his already pale complexion blanching. Mattheo took mercy on him and clapped him goodnaturedly on the back, “Good luck with that one mate, guess I’ve got at least one person with me on the anti-Voldy train.” He looked to Theo and Blaise's eyes gleaming mischievously. “So what about you lot? Wait let me guess the Redhead for Blaise. She's right up his alley. The one they call Loony always wandering around without her shoes Theo?” 

Draco busted out laughing, the breath he’d been holding exploding out of him in boisterous laughter. Soon they were all laughing until they remembered the reason they’d all congregated at the top of the tower in the first place. They all had someone they cared about in the line of fire tonight. And there was nothing they could do but wait and hope they made it back okay. 

One bottle had turned to two before a searing pain ripped through Mattheo’s body, worse than any crucio he’d ever experienced. He laid back on the floor clutching at his chest. He imagined that this is what muggle heart attacks felt like. The lads scrambled towards him, drunkenly stumbling over him until their faces hovered over his, Mattheo’s eyes were wide, his body shaking his mind and body failing to connect enough to get his lips to form words. 

“It’s Mia. I need to go.” 

Blaise put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Mate, wait! Let's go find Evan-” 

“No. I’m leaving” 

Theo shook his head. “You can’t apparate through the wards.” 

“Watch me,” he gritted out, his teeth clenched painfully as another wave of pain washed over him. 

He felt his magic whirl around him, his eyes molten as he scrambled towards his wand now clutched in Theo’s hand. “Give me my wand, Theo.” 

“At least take a sober-up potion and let us make a plan before we go storming the Ministry, Mattheo.” 

“We? Who said we? I’m going alone. Give me my bloody wand, Nott!” 

“No, you're not mate, not without us. Not without a plan.” 

He was too busy focusing on Nott and struggling to get out of Blaise’s hold to notice Malfoy until his wand was already in his face. 

“Sorry mate, petrificus totalus.” 

He’d laid on the ground, plotting murder and dismemberment on the boys he’d called friends just moments before, at the top of the astronomy tower while Draco went in search of Evan or Severus. It felt like forever, every minute was a slow crawl through time in space like trudging through quicksand as the beacon Hermione had sent out to him felt more and more emergent. More and more painful. By the time Draco came into view above his prone body, thudding footsteps alerted him to company. 

Once freed he didn’t threaten the boys, though the anger in his blood at their interference begged him to, he didn't apparate unthinkingly. No. The moment his eyes fell on their normally stoic professor covered in blood, he clenched his jaw and followed him back through the castle to his rooms. Retribution could wait. As long as she was okay, everything else could wait. 

The clawing feeling in his chest was oppressive, a weight that threatened to crush him as he made his way through Slytherin castle. There was a tension that hung thick in the air, a fog he waded through until he made it to the infirmary. He didn't need directions, his magic was a thread leading him to Hermione, flickering in and out, stuttering. 

Bursting through the doors he didn't stop, not when Narcissa ran to his side, or Regulus shook his head in warning, he stormed straight up to his father before shoving his wand into his jugular. It took a moment to recognize the man in front of him. He’d always been polished to perfection, but now he stood resigned, no fight in his eyes as Mattheo threatened him at wand point. His hair was disheveled, his clothes blood-soaked and his eyes red-rimmed. “I fucking told you, I told you and you didn’t listen.” His words bitten off in rabid anger. 

He felt that flicker again, a tug at his navel like the twisting sensation of apparition, shaking his head in disgust he turned instinctively knowing it was her. His Mia, she could hear him, her magic calling out to him. 

Blood. 

So much blood. 

His core felt like it was ripping from his chest as it connected them, attempting to strengthen her. 

She was so small, so broken, and so beautiful. Her chestnut curls had darkened to match his. She looked the same and yet, so different. He’d only seen one photo of his mother before but he could see the resemblance in them. 

Mattheo walked to the side of her bed, leaning over and pressing his forehead to hers in greeting. “What happened?” He did not recognize the sound of his voice, thickened as he struggled to contain the anger and fear that threatened to suffocate him. 

He’d just found her. Finally had irrefutable proof that she was his. 

And they’d ruined her. 

Broken her before he had a chance to tell her who she was to him. 

Who they were to each other. 

He pulled away and sat in the chair to the side of her bed, wiping the sweat beaded on her forehead away before gently tucking wayward curls behind her ear. His eyes frantically searched for injuries, scanning for damage he knew was there. 

“We can revisit that later, Mattheo. We have a ritual to complete and it must be done now. It is the only way to save her.” 

“Only way to save her after you broke her,” he bit back at his father. 

—--------------

Narcissa levitated her on top of the stone altar in the ritual chamber of the castle after preparing her. Hermione was dressed in a white cotton shift, runes and candles circled her as if she was the sun and they were stationed like planets in her orbit. 

Mattheo stood opposite Tom at Hermione’s side, their father sliced down the line of Mattheo's forearm. Blood cascaded over Hermione, he muttering under his breath as he took Mattheo’s hand in his and repeated the process on his wrist as well. 

Tom wrote the first rune in his blood on her forehead, sowilo for cleansing, alternating with Mattheo until she had five more adorning her. Mattheo chose perthro, algiz and dagaz while Tom finished with jera and othala. Mattheo scoffed at the ownership Tom seemed to place on her, but pushed the anger away for a later time. 

Their bleeding arms held above her like sacrifices. Dolohov had impressed the importance that they stay still, they could not waver. They’d warned him it would be a lot of blood. He wasn't afraid of a little blood loss. He could take a replenisher when the ritual was over. They could not let the blood loss affect them enough to interfere with the ritual. Not with Hermione's life at stake. 

There were two circles, the inner one with their father, at the east and west points, Lucius and Regulus at the north and south. The outer circle with each element represented with runes Narcissa drew on their chests, they placed Severus in water, Dolohov in fire, Thorfinn in air and Evan taking up the earth. 

sanguis sanguinis mei

caro carnis meae

praevaricator necessitudines quae ligant

ad sanguinem

veni domum

Sweat began to bead on Mattheo’s brow the longer they chanted the wind picked up around them, his eyes stung and his arms began to shake. Finally, the power in the room swelled to a crescendo, and the dais on which Hermione laid, cracked as the earth rumbled. The phenomenon was over just moments after it had begun. He closed his eyes and murmured, “laqad tama dhalik. Hi almanzil.”  

Translations: 

Blood of my blood : sanguis sanguinis mei

Flesh of my flesh : caro carnis meae

Break the ties that bind : praevaricator necessitudines quae ligant

Return to the bloodline : ad sanguinem

Come home: veni domum

Arabic: 

Laqad tama dhalik. Hi almanzil : It is done. She is home. 

Runes and their meanings: 

Mattheos- Perthro (Fate, Chance, Mystery, Destiny, Secrets) 

Algiz (Protection, Defense, Instinct )

Dagaz (Dawn, Awakening, Certainty, Illumination, Completion, Hope) 

Toms- Sowilo (Sun, Health, Honor, Resources, Victory, Wholeness, Cleansing)

Jera (Cycles, Completion, Harvest, Reaping Rewards) 

Othala (Inheritance, Ancestry, Possessions, Heritage, Experience, Value )