The Guest
Grimmauld Place looks somewhere between Blishwick Manor, a Victorian museum, and something out of a horror movie Harry had glimpsed one time from inside his cupboard while Dudley was watching television. It’s pretty cool. Or it would be if he wasn’t being forced to stay here with the person who had tried to take him away from his parents.
He sticks close to Petronella when they first walk in. She stands stiffly too, and holds onto Harry’s hand tightly. He’s way too old for that stuff normally, but as there’s no one around to see he lets it slide. They both startle when a portrait in the hallway screams at them;
‘Who’s this?! Petronella Blishwick? I never should have agreed for you to marry my son. I should have known you’d corrupt him – no class your family!’
‘Fuck sorry…’ Sirius scrambles to throw an old blanket over the offensive portrait, but Petra just smirks and sticks her middle finger up at the woman, who squawks something about indignity before Sirius finally manages to cover her up.
The cousins exchange a brief glance which Harry cannot quite identify, but which is certainly a lot less hostile than two seconds ago.
‘My charming mother.’ Sirius explains to Harry with a stiff smile. Ah. That explained a lot. ‘Stay for a coffee?’ Sirius offers. Petra pauses for a moment, her eyes narrowing, then she shrugs.
‘Alright.’ She says, and they follow Sirius along the hall and down a short flight of stairs.
Sirius had answered the front door very enthusiastically, and gave Harry the impression of an excitable puppy, though he also carried an air of danger around him. He had a certain tension in his body and a sharp look in his eye which felt like he might change very quickly. Harry can see some similarities between Sirius and Petronella; certain mannerisms, an energy simmering under the surface, and something about the eyes, though Petra’s are darker.
‘I’m trying to clean things up a bit.’ Sirius says as he leads them into a large, and actually sort of homely kitchen. Along the back wall underneath two large windows is a row of cupboards and a sink, on the opposite wall a huge fireplace and stove, and down the middle a long table, scarred and puckered by decades – perhaps hundreds of years of use.
‘I don’t drink coffee.’ Harry says when a cup is placed in front of him. ‘Er, thanks anyway.’ He adds, remembering his manners.
‘Right, right of course.’ Sirius mutters. ‘Er, what would you like? Milk, juice?’
‘I’m fine thanks.’ Harry says squeezing his hands together under the table.
Petra eyes him knowingly but says nothing.
There is an awkward silence which Petra seems not to notice, or is purposefully ignoring. Harry sits completely still, waiting to see what to expect from this new environment, while Sirius seems to turn over several conversation topics in his head.
‘Remember that time we snuck down here after tea and ate cream scones until we felt sick?’
Petra nods with a shadow of a smile.
‘Poor Reggie felt sick before hand I think, he was so scared of getting caught.’ She says.
‘Until he tried that pomegranate jam, then he ate more than both of us combined!’ Sirius laughs.
‘Oh, I’d forgotten about that. That stuff was amazing.’ Petra hums.
‘That was a gift from the Countess Zabini.’ A low voice mumbles from somewhere behind them. ‘Too good for mudbloods and blood-traitors.’ A house elf peers up at them, his wrinkled forehead and slightly clouded eyes only just visible above the table.
‘Oh shut up you ungrateful wretch.’ Sirius barks, reaching around and slapping a bent old house elf around the head.
‘Hey!’ Harry and Petra both exclaim.
‘Don’t treat him like that.’ Petra states.
‘He was just insulting you!’ Sirius retorts.
‘I’ve been called worse things, and it’s no reason to mistreat him.’
‘Me mistreat him!’ Sirius scoffs. ‘He treats me like an outcast in my own home.’
‘Kreature is more of a prisoner in this house than you will ever be.’ Petra states.
Sirius flinches almost as if struck, then seems to shake it off.
‘You’re right. Maybe I should just give him clothes.’ Sirius smirks, aiming the comment towards the house elf.
‘Master wouldn’t dare! Kreature has served the Noble House of Black for four generations!’ The elf half growls, half gasps, turning a terrible shade of pale green.
‘Stop it.’ Petra scowls at her cousin.
‘Wouldn’t you want to be free?’ Harry asks, earning him a terrifying look of disgust.
‘Most elves are not like Dobby. Or I’d have given Filly a sock a long time ago.’ Petra explains. ‘Enforcing freedom is just as bad; once again you are taking away their choice. And consider the society we live in; there are little opportunities for free elves, and most do not know any other way. That is not to say I think it is right, as you know, but the choice to be freed must come from elves themselves.’
Harry nods slowly, considering his mother’s words.
‘Still got the same political views then?’ Sirius comments. ‘I thought you were all in with the pureblood crowd now?’
‘What makes you think that?’ Petra asks plainly.
Sirius opens his mouth, but very wisely shuts it again, glancing at Harry. Good. At least he knows he has to be on best behaviour.
‘I should go.’ Petra states, standing up.
Harry jumps out of his seat, suddenly nervous, but tells himself not to be silly. He’s nearly fourteen years old, he can cope being away from home for a couple of weeks for Merlin’s sake. Petra takes his shoulders and squeezes them firmly. She doesn’t say anything, but Harry can almost hear what she is thinking. This sucks, but let’s just get it over and done with. Or something along those lines. Maybe with a few more swear words.
Harry wraps his arms around her, and she holds him tight for a brief moment. She doesn’t want to prolong the goodbye, Harry understands that, but he doesn’t want her to leave. He swallows down his dread and puts on a brave face.
Petra would rather have cut off her own hand than leave Harry there. In fact it feels rather like she has ripped out her heart and left the still beating bloodied mess on that old kitchen table. No amount of limb nor organ removals would alter the situation however, and logically there is no better alternative than to go along with the court’s ruling.
She doesn’t make a song and dance out of their goodbye – it would only make things more difficult, and even though Harry already knows some of her feelings about this place and her cousin, it is better to at least give the impression that she is not worried about leaving him here. No need to make him any more nervous than he already is.
She walks back up to the hallway, briefly pulling aside the make shift curtain on her way out.
‘Stick it up your cunt Walburga.’ She mutters bitterly at the old bitch, before stalking out of the door.
~~
Severus is just finishing cleaning up when Petra returns. They do not bother with polite exchanges, or meaningless questions about how it went. Leaving their son with Sirius Black was never going to be a joyous occasion, but if anything had gone particularly badly Petra would have said so. Instead they kiss briefly before preparing for the rest of their day.
Petra just about has time for a short meditation under the Rowan tree before Narcissa arrives with Draco. The crows begin squawking madly heralding the approach of strangers, and the couple stroll down to the gate together to greet their guests.
‘Apologies for the walk.’ Severus says. The Malfoys do not travel by floo when they can possibly help it, but here it is the only real option. He briefly wonders what they had made of the Crow’s Rest.
‘Quite alright.’ Narcissa gives the polite response. ‘Your wards are quite extensive.’
‘There is an ancient domain here.’ Petra explains – one of the details they had agreed would be advantageous to reveal. “Let your enemy see your strengths and not your weaknesses” was the way Severus had put it.
‘You will feel it.’ She says, as Severus beckons Narcissa and Draco across the threshold. Narcissa draws in a sharp breath, her eyes flicking to Petronella briefly before she schools her features and places that impassive smile back on her face. Draco shudders, his pale irises flashing like silver, and Petra cannot help but recall the vision she had seen of him as a young man not ten meters away from where they stand now.
‘I have arranged tea in the parlour.’ Severus states, and Petra has to suppress her own shudder. ‘Andromeda will join us shortly.’
Draco seems intrigued to meet his aunt, though is careful to remain impassive in front of his mother. The whole awkward, stilted affair is making Petra’s skin itch, so she suggests they show Draco around and leave the sisters to talk.
His inspection of the accommodations is much different to Harry’s nervous but enthusiastic explorations last year. The two children are coming from entirely opposite perspectives – Harry who had grown up literally in a cupboard and would have been grateful for a tiny cottage; and Draco who had been brought up in the height of opulence. Still he manages to hold his tongue and only sneer lightly at the fact there is only one bathroom for all four of them.
~~
‘My other sister would be jealous of the power you are accumulating.’ Narcissa comments as Petra walks her back to the gate a short while later. She had declined to stay for lunch.
‘Well, perhaps she should have been more respectful of the magic she sought to control.’ Petra responds.
‘Perhaps.’ Narcissa arches a perfectly shaped brow, her lips curling into an enigmatic smile.
‘I’ll take good care of your boy.’ Petra says as they reach the gate.
Narcissa pauses, then inclines her head, turns slowly and strolls down the driveway.
~~~~
Draco is quite well behaved, despite the near constant frown creasing his features. Petra finds it quite amusing, but Severus is a little offended by the spoiled child’s obvious disdain towards their slightly shabby home. He channels is annoyance into work, as is his way, and sets Draco to task straight after breakfast the following day.
They spend the morning measuring and sketching out the dimensions of the current kitchen, while Filly dances around worrying about the loss of her precious cooking area.
‘Filly, we have only used this room to cook in once in the whole year we have lived here.’ Petra sighs, trying to be sympathetic, yet reason with the elf. ‘And we will not be having huge Christmas dinners every year I can assure you.’
‘The kitchen in out flat will suffice for most occasions.’ Severus states, already listing out equipment and storage requirements for his brewing lab.
‘But how is Filly to serve the Master and Mistress without a proper kitchen?’ The elf whines, her large eyes filling with tears. ‘I was having nothing to do for so many years, and then the Mistress Blishwick comes home at last and Filly is thinking Filly will be useful again…’ She is practically sobbing now. ‘Please don’t send me away Mistress Petronella! I know you is wanting me to be a free elf, but Filly doesn’t want that! Filly has always been serving the Blishwick family for as long as she is remembering.’
‘They do have a habit of freeing elves.’ Draco puts in, with a little smirk at the elf. ‘She can always come and serve me, after all you do owe me for Dobby.’
‘We do not owe you for anything.’ Severus scowls at the boy.
‘Perhaps if your father treated his elves better they would not be so keen to leave.’ Petra comments, then turns to the crying creature clinging to her leg.
‘Filly. I am not going to free you or send you away if that is not what you want, but we have talked about this. I thought you were going to try to find things you like doing. Your own interests…’ Petra prompts.
‘I did used to help Mistress Tabitha in the gardens.’ Filly offers reluctantly.
‘Ok, great, well I’m sure Severus…’
‘Plants for potions often have very specific requirements.’ Severus puts in with a frown.
‘Well you can’t do everything yourself.’ Petra huffs. ‘We’re not even here for most of the year, so you’ll have to train Filly how to care for them. If she wants to.’
‘I would be liking that!’ Filly says.
‘I believe the Tonks were also discussing starting a vegetable patch.’ Severus mutters while scribbling away with his quill.
‘Oh, Filly is knowing all about vegetables! I shall be be asking the Tonksies how Filly can help right away Sir!’ The elf exclaims, then immediately pops off.
‘That’s one down.’ Severus states, staring at Petronella.
‘What?’ She frowns back.
‘Piss off.’ He states with an arched brow.
Draco’s jaw drops and he stares at them, bracing himself for a row. Lucius would never dream of speaking to his mother like that.
‘Oh, I’m in the way am I?’ Petra glares at Severus.
‘Yes. And it’s not like you.’ He replies.
Instead of it breaking into a fight though, Severus stands up and takes Petra’s hands, looking at her with concern.
Petra sighs.
‘I had been thinking of going into Birmingham.’ She shrugs.
‘Good. Just don’t disappear on me completely. I would like you back at some point.’ Severus says.
‘No promises.’ Petra smirks, then pulls Severus to her, and Draco looks away with a groan. It was one of the most strange interactions he had witnessed, and he hates how they seem to end every conversation with lewd snogging.
What Draco considered to be lewd snogging was actually just a brief peck in Petra’s book, but she decides not to embarrass the uptight teen any further.
‘Thanks love.’ She tells Severus. ‘I’ll be back tonight sometime.’
They exchange a brief look, then Petra leaves and Severus turns to Draco.
‘Now then. Here’s a copy of the floor plan, along with a list of which elements I would like to include and what equipment I will be using. I want you to come up with your own design, and explain your reasoning behind your choices. I will be creating my own plan, but if any of your ideas are good enough they might make it into the final design.’
Draco’s face takes on a look of eager determination, and he turns to his papers. Severus smirks at the boy, then picks up his quill.
~~
Severus starts slightly, just about catching the book from sliding out of his fingers. The candles are burning low in the sconces either side of the fireplace lending a gentle glow to the seating area, which fades to darkness in the corners of the large living area. Having grown up in a very cramped little house, Severus very much enjoys this wide open living space; even if it is an apartment made out of what would once have been a ballroom, it still feels quite grand.
He checks the time. 11:51pm. Petronella is back before midnight. She had become very responsible since becoming a mother. He would not be saying that to her face though.
‘You didn’t need to wait up.’ She comments, as she appears through the French doors from the garden.
‘I wasn’t.’ Severus lies. ‘I was reading.’ He holds up his book.
‘It’s upside down.’ Petra states with a raised brow.
‘Did you enjoy your excursion?’ Severus changes the subject, placing his book on the coffee table.
‘It was brilliant!’ Petra exclaims. ‘Kim took me to see a band, and they were bloody amazing. There’s crazy things happening in metal right now.’ She pulls a bag out from under her cloak containing several vinyl records.
‘New tattoo?’ Severus comments, noticing the ink marking the skin on her wrist as she levitates the new records over to the shelf.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Petra turns over her right wrist to show a small crow, it’s wings extended in flight curving along her arm. Where the feathers are spread, they break off into a whole flock of smaller crows flying up her arm.
‘For Harry?’ Severus asks, remembering their joint patronus.
Petra nods.
‘I got one for you too.’ She raises a brow. ‘If you come to bed, I’ll show you.’
Severus smirks and follows her to their bedroom.
~~
It is already quite light by the time Severus wakes the next morning, though it is still early. Being only just past the summer solstice the sun rises before 5am.
He smiles to himself as he traces the lines of the new tattoo on Petra’s back; a snake coiled within a crown, and a crow perched on the edge. His own design for their family crest. It was a little ostentatious perhaps to create their own crest, but it wasn’t as though he was going to have it emblazoned on everything he owned. It was simply a signifier of the unity and strength of their family.
Petra only has one other tattoo on her back, having always said there was not a lot of point having tattoos where she herself could not see them. This one she had got for him. That knowledge is very appealing to his slightly possessive tendencies, but more importantly shows a huge level of trust and respect that she would mark herself like that for him.
He kisses her shoulder and pulls her naked form against his own. He will need to get up soon and prepare breakfast, but he can spare another five or ten minutes. Petra shifts in his arms, and strokes a finger up his left arm which is trapped beneath her. Then suddenly she stills, holding her breath, and Severus’ stomach clenches.
‘You see it too?’ He murmurs, hardly daring to ask. Petra sits up slightly, looking down at the Dark Mark on his left forearm.
‘It’s darker…’ She says, half stating half questioning, turning her head around to frown down at him.
‘I had hoped I was imagining it.’ Severus sighs. ‘That perhaps I was being paranoid…’
Petra turns back and strokes her fingers over his marked skin.
‘It’s very slight but…’ She doesn’t need to say it out loud. Yes, the mark has darkened.
They both contemplate the implications in silence for a moment. Then Petra kisses his arm and turns to face him properly.
‘So. How do you want to play this?’ She asks plainly.
The line between Severus’ brows is deep, and his eyes intense.
‘I’m not going to leave you.’ He states. ‘I can’t.’
‘However…’ He continues after a moment. ‘You have always expounded on the interrelation between dark and light. You have never seen the world in terms of good and evil. Perhaps in this too, we can find a grey area… another path between the light and the dark.’
‘That sounds like a highly dangerous enterprise.’ Petra muses. ‘Will either side accept anything less than complete and undying loyalty?’
‘I am not suggesting that I would reveal just how grey my views are. And yes. It would be a very dangerous game. For all of us. The safest thing would be for me to leave you and Harry, and go grovelling back on my knees. He might still kill me on the spot, but the two of you would be safe here.’ His eyes search her face, stroking a strand of hair behind her ear.
‘No.’ Petra shakes her head, eyes like cold steel. ‘We’re in this together. We’ll find a way.’
~~~~
‘What in Merlin’s name?!’ Draco shouts in order to be heard above the cacophony, hands placed firmly over his ears, and a look of utter horror on his face. He had come in from the lab to get cleaned up before dinner, and found himself hit by a wall of sound he is sure must have permanently damaged his ear drums.
‘This.’ Petra turns around grinning. ‘Is the future of heavy metal.’
‘The future of what?!’ Draco looks aghast.
‘Ah, your new records?’ Severus questions, walking in behind Draco and strolling towards the kitchen.
‘This band’s called Tool.’ Petra says, turning down the sound a little with a wave of her wand. ‘What do you think?’
‘Tool?’ Draco sneers. ‘That’s a stupid name. Why does it sound like a suit of armour falling down a staircase?’
‘Ha! See he gets it.’ Petra smirks. ‘Heavy metal.’
Severus rolls his eyes.
‘Interesting time signatures.’ He comments, tilting his head and trying to tap it out, then frowning.
‘Ten galleons says you can’t figure it out.’ Petra raises a brow.
‘This one’s not so bad.’ Draco concedes five minutes later, then chokes on his juice. ‘Did he just say…’
‘Oh yes, there’s a bit of swearing. Sorry about that.’ Petra states, crouching down to check on the lasagne in the oven.
‘I would advise that you do not get used to it.’ Severus intones to the shocked young teenager.
Draco has occasionally heard his Charms Professor mutter the odd profanity under her breath at school, but since being here he realises that she had been holding back quite a bit. Only two days in, and already this has been quite the learning experience. He is going to have to be very careful about what he tells his parents about this visit.
~~
Two days later and work on the potions lab has come to a halt, while Severus considers whether to add an extra storage cupboard next to the new door as there is more space there than it had appeared on the plans. The weather has also taken a turn, throwing down some heavy summer showers on the parched land. Petra quite enjoys taking a quiet stroll in the rain, but mostly they stay inside reading, listening to music, or playing chess.
‘Filly.’ Petra growls, without looking up from the large tome she has opened on the floor in front of her.
The elf peers over the kitchen counter.
‘Filly was just thinking that perhaps…’
‘No.’ Petra and Severus chime in unison. They are both quite particular about where they like things to be in the kitchen, and it had taken quite a negotiation to arrange everything to suit them both. It would not do to have the elf messing that up with her obsessive “spring cleaning”.
‘Why not have her sort through all that junk in the loft?’ Draco puts in idly.
‘When have you been in the loft?’ Severus scowls, and Draco shrugs. ‘I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified that you are becoming more devious.’ Severus mutters.
Draco lights up as if Severus had told him he was very proud, which perhaps he had in a Slytherin sort of way.
‘I had thought about seeing what was up there, it’s just such a mess.’ Petra grimaces.
‘Oh there is being all kinds of wonderful things up there Mistress!’ Filly enthuses.
‘Fine!’ Petra huffs, closing her book with a bang. ‘Come on.’ She frowns at Draco.
‘Oh, no I’m quite alright here thank you.’ Draco drawls haughtily.
Severus directs a glare on him normally reserved for wayward Gryffindors hanging about in the corridors close to curfew.
‘It was your idea.’ Petra states, causing the boy to fold under the joint scowls of his Professors, though not without another put upon sneer. Filly hurries over, takes both their hands and apparates them to the loft.
There are indeed a number of interesting objects among the detritus of a hundred years worth of discarded items. Broken chairs, wooden boxes of various sizes, some containing grimed old crockery, antique nick-knacks with no practical usage, a lot of wicker baskets for some reason, a framed collection of corvid feathers, which Petra puts into the “keep” pile, a huge rusted old typewriter which she also seems very excited about, suitcases full of moth eaten clothes, and right at the back under a lot of other things three ancient trunks which refuse to be moved or opened.
‘Ah.’ Petra smirks. ‘This is where the real treasure is. I wonder why mother was unable to open them.’ She mutters mostly to herself. Honestly she had not expected to find anything of even the slightest worth up here, assuming that her parents would have sold anything and everything of value. She remembers when she had found out at the age of fifteen that they had sold the entire collection of books from the manor library in order to create space for another apartment. Petra had cried for a week.
Draco is trying to hide the eager look on his face, as Petra moves a decrepit old armchair to the side, it’s springs sticking out and stuffing spilling onto the floor. Petra sits cross legged in the space she has created, and pats the floor in front of her.
‘Sit down Draco.’
He grimaces, and casts a cleaning charm, before sitting gingerly in the small dust free circle.
‘Do you know what it’s called?’ She asks.
‘What what is called?’ Draco frowns at her.
‘Kleptomania.’ She pauses and Draco shift uncomfortably.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Your Latin is usually quite good.’ Petra comments. ‘It is an impulse to steal without necessity.’
Draco is uncertain how to play this, because the Professor is not acting in the way people usually behave when they catch someone doing something wrong. But then she is rather different in her methods of discipline. At school her go to punishment is simply to exclude the student from her class – which they all quickly learned was not as fun as it sounded. Would she send him home? Draco is surprised to find that he doesn’t want that. Should he try to deny what he has done?
‘If you take everything out we’ll have a look and see if there’s anything I can let you keep.’
Draco’s head snaps up and he stares at her in surprise.
‘But, I…’ He doesn’t really know if he was going to deny it or protest. He doesn’t even know why he wants the stupid things filling his pockets. He does however feel as though they are burning a hole in his trousers. He looks down at the dusty boards, and cannot help the blush in his cheeks.
The silence stretches out, thick and heavy with dread. Eventually Draco can stand it no longer and slides his hands into his pockets, depositing the items onto the floor between them.
An old key, a small satin bow, a cheap copper ring which had probably once been plated with gold or silver, several brass buttons, and one large dark marbled one which was probably made from some sort of animal horn, a miniature spinning top, a bulldog clip, and a small wooden box inlaid with mother of pearl.
‘Please don’t tell Severus.’ Draco mutters.
‘What do you think he would do?’
‘He might not let me in the lab, but I’ve never stolen any potions ingredients, I swear.’ Draco looks up emphatically. ‘I would never!’ The boy insists.
‘We don’t generally keep secrets from each other.’ Petra says. ‘And I won’t lie to him. But, I also do not wish to violate your privacy.’ She sighs. ‘Is there a reason that you stole from me and not him?’
‘No! I respect you both.’ Draco hurries to say, surprised to find it is the truth. ‘It’s just… it gets worse when…’ He bites his lip. ‘When I’m unsettled.’
‘When you are stressed or in an unfamiliar situation?’ Petra prompts, and the boy nods.
‘I do not know a lot about the condition, but you may have noticed that I have my own reactions to stress. I will do some reading, if I find any interesting books would you like me to pass them on to you?’
‘I’m not a nutter.’ Draco growls defensively.
Petra says nothing more on the subject, and turns her attention to the items.
‘I think I’d better keep this.’ She says, picking up the key. ‘It might be for something important. The rest of it you’re welcome to keep.’
‘I… I don’t know if I actually want any of it.’ Draco admits.
‘Hmm, well I might have this box if you don’t want it?’ Petra asks, picking up the little wooden box with the pearl inlay. ‘Buttons are always useful.’ She muses, then looks at him and tilts her head. ‘Is there anything else you’d like? Something to take home with you?’
‘I… don’t know.’ Draco murmurs. He is very confused by this whole situation, and cannot even muster a good sneer.
‘Alright, well, let’s get these open and then we’ll see if we can find you something.’ Petra states, turning her attention to the chests.
It takes a smear of her blood, and a strong push from her elemental magic for the locks to click open. Inside there are several scrolls, some very old books, a jewellery box, some old bits of silver, and a number of ancient looking candlesticks.
The reason for those becomes obvious when they open one of the scrolls to find an annotated family tree going back to the 15th Century. Apparently the Blishwicks had been a family of prestigious candle makers from Normandy, with links to both the Blacks and the Malfoys. After emigrating to England in 1534 the first marriage seems to be between a Jean-Bertram Blishwick and Branwen Ferch Cade.
‘Hmm. Seems one of my ancestors did marry the crow witch.’ Petra muses.
‘Well that explains the…’ Draco trails off without finishing his sentence, and looks away.
There is also a more recent family tree, which includes the connections to the Black family, as well as the Rosiers, Bulstrodes, Flints, Notts, and Ollivanders.
‘Your family got around a bit didn’t they.’ Draco comments haughtily.
‘Didn’t seem to help with the fertility issues.’ Petra comments. ‘Unless there is a reason most of my ancestors chose to only have one child.’
‘The line will end with you if you don’t have any children of your own.’ Draco murmurs, as he pours over the family trees. He seems very interested in family histories, perhaps unsurprisingly.
‘I do have a child.’ Petra responds.
‘Not one of your blood.’
‘There are more important things – more powerful things – than blood.’ Petra states.
Draco is so fascinated by the family tree, as well as the bits of family history written in a couple of journals they find amongst the other books, that Petra makes him a copy to keep. He shows it proudly to Severus later, showing the connections between their families, and chatting away about his own family trees, while Petra and Severus prepare dinner, exchanging the odd amused glance.
~~
‘A letter came from the Headmaster this morning.’ Severus says, as he pours two glasses of a nice French Voignier later that evening.
He hands Petra a glass, and the parchment, then sits down next to her and waits for the swearing.
‘The Tri-Wizard Tournament?!’ She exclaims a moment later, almost spilling her wine. ‘I thought that was banned? What pea brained wanker thought it would be a good idea to revive that fucking idiotic competition? And hold it at a school?! Has Albus lost his fucking mind? He must have lost his fucking mind. How in the stinking depths of hell could anyone possibly think it would be “fun” – look here he says it’s going to be “fun”!’ She dangles the parchment in one hand, pointing with her wine glass at the offending sentence.
‘I have read the missive.’ Severus comments, sipping slowly on his wine.
‘- To let a bunch of teenagers risk injury and death, while their classmates all watch on? As if it wasn’t bad enough that there could be another fucking war coming – oh no – let’s get them prepared for that by seeing one of their peers have their head bitten off by a fucking manticore, or whatever ridiculous bloody challenge they’re going to make them do.’ Petra screws up the parchment and chucks it into the fire grate, then flicks her hand to quickly incinerate the offending letter.
Severus smirks slightly at her tirade, though he had been quite irate himself earlier when he had read it. Somehow it’s nice to have someone else voice his own feelings in a less than calm manner.
Petra drains her wine and takes a deep sigh.
‘Harry will not be competing.’
‘Absolutely not. And I shall be advising my snakes against putting their names forward.’ Severus responds.
‘Draco wouldn’t would he?’ Petra frowns.
‘No, his instincts of self preservation are quite well honed.’ He postulates. ‘You have taken him under your wing.’ He then comments with a slight twitch of a brow.
‘He’s one of us.’ Petra states casually.
‘You might not want to tell him that quite yet.’ Severus flickers a wry smile.
‘Ah, he’ll figure it out.’ Petra smirks back.
~~~~~