Aftermaths, Part 122

by Geri ([email protected])

Rating: Mostly PG-13, but NC-17 for overall story

Pairing: Snape/Lupin, Theodore/Blaise

Warning: AU; events that occurred at the end of Order of the Phoenix were significantly altered from the book.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, and Phoenix Rising.

Summary: The various characters deal with the aftermath of the war, and Snape and Lupin try to build a family together with Theodore and Dylan. However, some people are unable to let go of the past...

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Hob, who belongs to William Mayne; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
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Draco returned home for the Easter break, feeling a little uncomfortable about knowing his mother's secret. But Narcissa obviously didn't suspect anything, because she greeted him at the train station with a big hug and kiss as usual. And as usual, he squirmed and protested, "Mum, please don't embarrass me in public," but he didn't really mind, and in fact, he secretly liked it. Snape was right; even if he didn't have a father, he still had a mother who loved him. Now that the werewolf was out of their lives, everything would be fine and go back to the way it was supposed to be.

But Draco found that a few changes had taken place in his absence; changes that had nothing to do with the werewolf. When they returned home to Malfoy Manor, Narcissa presented him with a plate of sugar cookies, saying proudly, "I baked them myself this morning!"

"You...baked them?" Draco asked incredulously. "Yourself?"

"Yes," Narcissa said cheerfully. "Aileen's been teaching me how to cook." Draco just sat there with his mouth hanging open in shock, and his mother frowned at him anxiously. "Oh dear, are they burnt? I'm still getting the hang of this cooking thing..."

Draco quickly stuffed a cookie in his mouth and assured his mother that they tasted delicious. Half of the cookies were a dark brown, overcooked but at least not burnt black; the rest were pale and slightly underdone. But even if they had been raw or burnt to a crisp, Draco would still have eaten them all rather than hurt his mother's feelings. As it was, even if they weren't perfect, they were still edible, and keeping his mouth busy chewing gave him an excuse to remain silent and collect his thoughts while Narcissa explained what she had been up to while he was at school.

After they had lost their house-elf servant, Dobby, the Malfoys had relied on a combination of human servants and magical cleaning spells to maintain the mansion. However, after Lucius's arrest, it had been difficult to find people who wanted to work for the Malfoys, and besides, it had not been safe to allow strangers inside the Manor--strangers who might see things that they shouldn't and report them to the Aurors. So Narcissa had closed up most of the mansion and looked after the remaining rooms herself. Lucius had promised that it would only be temporary, until the Dark Lord took his place as the ruler of the wizarding world--and Lucius took his place as the Dark Lord's favored servant and right-hand man. Then Narcissa could have as many slaves as she liked to take care of the mansion. Lucius had laughed and said that perhaps he wouldn't kill Harry Potter's little friends; maybe he would spare their lives and keep them around to scrub the floors and clean the toilets.

But the Dark Lord had fallen, and people no longer just avoided the Malfoys, they outwardly sneered at, and in some cases, even spat at them. Even the lowliest maidservants had turned their noses up at the idea of working for a Death Eater. So Narcissa had left the majority of the mansion closed up and continued as she had been doing. She had drawn the line at cooking, though, and instead purchased already-prepared meals, hoping that the cooks wouldn't realize that they were cooking for a pardoned Death Eater and spit in the food.

Aileen Pierce had taken pity on Narcissa and found a housekeeping service that would come in to clean and cook for the Malfoys. They were polite and efficient, but also cool and distant, and it was clear that they had only taken the job as a favor to Aileen. (The owner of the service was the sister of one of Liam Pierce's cauldron factory workers.) Narcissa explained to Draco that the housekeepers' attitudes made her uncomfortable, so she had dismissed them and taken over the chores herself.

Draco choked and coughed, spraying cookie crumbs from his mouth. "You...cleaning? The entire mansion?" he demanded, aghast at the thought of his aristocratic mother slaving away like a common servant.

"Well, not the entire mansion," Narcissa said with a smile. "I've left about half of it closed; the two of us don't really need that much space, and most of the time it's just me here while you're at school. And I don't need to do most of the actual cleaning myself; I've spent some time developing permanent automated cleaning spells. Of course, it was bit tricky getting the charms exactly right; you have to be very specific, or the spells have a tendency to knock over objects or sweep out things they're not supposed to. Getting the timing right was also a delicate matter, so that the spells go off at the same time every day. And invoking permanency takes a great deal of magical power, but eventually I got everything right."

She smiled proudly, and Draco said weakly, "That's great, Mum. But that must have been a lot of work."

Narcissa shrugged and said casually, "Well, I had a lot of time on my hands. It helped me keep busy."

And then Draco realized that his mother had not really developed a sudden fascination for cooking and cleaning. She had no job, no real social life, and she was living in this huge empty house all alone while Draco was at Hogwarts. She must be bored out of her wits.

"Mum?" he asked hesitantly. "Are people still shunning you? I thought things got a little better after Lord Severin's funeral."

"Lady Selima's acceptance has helped," Narcissa said. "And the fact that Arthur Weasley was friendly to me in public." She blushed, looking a little ashamed of herself. "Though I'm not sure why he was, after all the nasty things that Lucius and I said about the Weasleys in the past. Most people don't openly insult me anymore, but they still talk about me behind my back. They're polite to my face, but I can see them smirking, I can see the smug superiority in their eyes. I can't stomach the idea of having tea with people like that, knowing that they're secretly laughing at how far the Malfoys have fallen."

"Mum..." Draco said.

Narcissa must have seen the worry in his eyes, because she laughed gaily and said, "Oh, don't worry about me, Draco! I'm doing fine. I've been keeping busy with the cleaning spells, and I have tea two or three times a week with Aileen, and sometimes I have dinner with Sirius and Professor Blackmore. I also stop by Hogsmeade every now and then to visit Delia. I was the tiniest bit bored, so Aileen's been teaching me how to cook. It's much more practical than buying cooked meals, and I don't have worry that some cook or kitchen maid might decide to poison the food because they have a grudge against the Death Eaters. It's not so bad; it's sort of the same process and principle as brewing a potion, don't you think, dear? Of course, I wasn't that talented a Potions student in school, at least in comparison to Severus. But then, few people were." She smiled brightly at Draco. "Anyway, Aileen said I should start off with a few simple dishes, so I'm making a stew for dinner tonight."

Draco noticed that Narcissa's good cheer seemed a little forced, but he played along. "That sounds great, Mum. I can't wait to try it." Narcissa beamed at him, and he added, "Er...do you want some help? You said cooking is like making a potion, and I'm a good Potions student." In the past, Draco would never have demeaned himself by doing a servant's task, but he wanted to help his mother, partly out of filial affection, and partly out of self-preservation. He knew that his mother had received mediocre Potions grades in school, and he wanted dinner to be edible.

"Oh no, dear," Narcissa protested. "You just got back from school; I want you to relax. Besides, you're the Lord of the Manor now, and it's not appropriate for you to be working in the kitchen." She kissed him on the cheek. "You go and get settled in, and I'll take care of everything."

Draco didn't think that it was appropriate for the Lady of the Manor to be slaving away in the kitchen, either, but he didn't argue with his mother. And dinner was edible, if a little bland.

Narcissa frowned. "It doesn't taste quite the way Aileen's stew does. Maybe I should have added more salt, or a few more bay leaves."

"It's great, Mum, really," Draco assured her. In his mind, too little salt was better than too much. A little salt and pepper could be added to a plate of bland food, but it was impossible to take the salt out of food that was too salty.

"I'll get it right next time," Narcissa promised, and passed the salt shaker to Draco. Dessert, thank Merlin, was a store-bought cake.

Narcissa's cooking experiments continued over the break, and most of them were edible. A few of them got burnt, but usually the burnt part could be cut away or scraped off. But the burnt food did not disturb Draco nearly so much as his mother's behavior did. On the surface, she seemed cheerful, bustling about the kitchen or checking on the mansion's cleaning spells, although it was decidedly weird to see his mother acting like Molly Weasley.

But beneath the surface, she seemed a little frantic, as if she were trying very hard to keep busy and keep up a good front for Draco's sake, much as she had tried to hide her worry from Draco while Lucius was imprisoned. He saw her sitting alone in the drawing room one night when she didn't realize that he was watching. There was a book open on her lap, but she wasn't reading it. Instead she just sat there staring at nothing in particular, looking tired and unhappy. That expression seemed familiar somehow, and Draco realized that he had often seen it on Diggory's face of late, ever since Draco had forced him to break up with Narcissa.

Narcissa informed Draco that they had received an invitation to a party at Snape Manor that weekend. She seemed excited about it, and Draco was happy, because he thought it would be good for his mother to get out of the house for a change. Such invitations were once commonplace for the Malfoys, but this was the first time that they'd been invited to an important party since Lucius's death. Narcissa was a little worried about how people would treat them, but Draco assured her that Professor Snape wouldn't let any of the guests be rude to her.

But Narcissa returned from tea at Aileen Pierce's house a few days later, looking pale and very upset. "We will not be attending the party at Snape Manor," she said tersely.

"Why not?" Draco asked, feeling puzzled. Had Lady Selima rescinded the invitation? But surely Snape wouldn't let her snub them that way.

"I have found out the reason behind the party," Narcissa said, her voice sounding odd--flat and hollow. "Ostensibly it is a party to celebrate the coming of spring, but its true purpose is to introduce Cyril Diggory, alias Lukas Bleddri, into society."

"What?!" Draco shouted.

"Lady Selima is throwing her full support behind the werewolf," Narcissa said. "No one really understands why she's so determined to help him, except that he's the son of one of her old friends, but still, it's very out of character for her." Her voice was starting to grow a bit shrill, and she paused to draw a deep breath. "In any case, I do not feel that it is appropriate for us to attend."

"I understand, Mother," Draco said, trying to keep his voice calm and indifferent. "Our reputation is damaged enough as it is. We should not be seen supporting a werewolf's claim to a pureblood title."

Narcissa looked surprised. "I thought that you liked Master Diggory. At least, you liked his Physical Defense classes well enough to ask me to buy you a sword."

Draco shrugged. "I like the classes well enough, but I don't especially like him. He's gotten rather full of himself lately, as if he's already won the title." Narcissa gave him a strange look, and Draco realized that he might have said too much. Draco smiled carelessly, as if none of this really concerned him. "I think it would be prudent to withhold our support until we see how things fall out. And besides, I don't really care to spend my free time associating with my teachers. Snape and Diggory will both be there, and probably Blackmore as well, and they're the strictest teachers in the school. It's like a Hogwarts student's worst nightmare!"

Draco laughed, and so did Narcissa, and they dropped the subject. But later that night, Draco was having trouble sleeping, and decided to go to the library to look for a book to read. He passed by his mother's bedroom along the way, and heard Narcissa weeping softly. He stood there paralyzed for a couple of minutes, then quietly tiptoed back to his own room. He lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling profoundly shaken. Could it be that his mother missed the werewolf? Could it be that she had actually cared about him...maybe even loved him? No, that couldn't be! His very proper pureblood mother could not possibly be in love with a beast! Except that she wasn't as proper as he had thought she was, or he wouldn't have seen her meeting Diggory at the lake in the first place.

Maybe she wasn't crying over the werewolf, Draco tried to tell himself. Maybe she was crying over her lost social status; maybe she was even crying because she missed his father. But Draco didn't really believe it. He tried to cover up his confusion with anger, telling himself that he'd kill the werewolf for making his mother cry.

Except...it was really Draco's fault that she was crying, wasn't it? Because he was the one who had forced Diggory to leave her. Draco tried to soothe his conscience, telling himself that it was good that he had interfered before things had gone any farther. The werewolf didn't care about her, after all; he would have ended up breaking her heart sooner or later.

But for some reason, Narcissa's weeping made him think of the lonely, mournful howls that he had heard on the night of the full moon. The howling--was that Diggory's way of weeping? Draco told himself not to be ridiculous; Diggory had been baying at the moon like a wolf because he was one. Because he was a beast. He didn't care about Narcissa.

But Draco's pesky conscience--which had been dormant for most of his life up until now; what a fine time for it to awaken--kept nagging at him. If Diggory didn't care about Narcissa, then why had he insisted that Draco not tell her that he knew about them? The proud werewolf leader had actually begged Draco not to say anything to her. He had taken all the blame upon himself, and had seemed quite anxious about sparing Narcissa's feelings. For the first time, Draco wondered why Diggory should care whether or not Narcissa's feelings were hurt if he had just been using her. At the time, Draco had been so furious that he hadn't stopped to think about why Diggory had chosen Narcissa as his conquest. In the back of his mind, he had vaguely assumed that Diggory, who despised most of the pureblood elite, had taken pleasure in seducing and despoiling a pureblood woman. But if that were the case, wouldn't Diggory want to expose Narcissa's secret and humiliate her rather than protect her? Could it be that he had made a mistake by breaking them up?

But Draco couldn't picture the werewolf being a part of their life, living in the mansion with them, sitting in his father's chair, sleeping in his father's bed... Draco shuddered a little at that thought, and the image it conjured up, of Narcissa and Diggory together in bed. And what the hell would Narcissa do during the full moon? Could she handle seeing Diggory in his animal form? Would he just lock himself away for one night every month? Lupin might be willing to wag his tail and be scratched behind the ears like a tame dog every full moon, but Draco couldn't picture Diggory behaving that way. Diggory was fierce, not gentle like Lupin. Draco tried not to think too much about the battle that had taken place on the school grounds last summer, but he did remember seeing a large blond wolf leading a pack of werewolves into the fray, remembered seeing that wolf with the blood of a slain Death Eater dripping from its jaws. Although he had not known it at the time, that wolf, of course, had been Diggory.

But...Diggory had been gentle with the children at the clinic. Well, maybe "gentle" was not exactly the right word, considering the way he had been tossing them into the air, but he had caught them every time, with what looked like a secure yet gentle grip. Certainly the children hadn't seemed to fear falling, and even their guardian, despite her protests, had not really looked worried. He had laughed and played with the children, hugging them unselfconsciously, and the children had treated him as if he were their father, or at the very least, a favorite uncle.

Draco wondered, a bit wistfully, what it would have been like to have a father like that. Then he came to his senses and recoiled in horror, feeling like he had somehow betrayed his father. Which was stupid, because his father had already betrayed him; he owed nothing to Lucius Malfoy. But still, he could not bear to let anyone take his father's place in either his mother's life or his own.

Filled with a mixture of anger and guilt, Draco suddenly remembered his drunken pledge to challenge the werewolf to a duel. He heaved a sigh; it would certainly simplify things if he could get rid of Diggory permanently. But now that he was sober, he knew that it was a stupid idea. He knew that he could never win against the werewolf's lightning-quick reflexes. No, if he wanted to kill Diggory, it would have to be an assassination, an ambush when he wasn't expecting it, and Draco wasn't willing to sink that low. For one thing, it was the kind of thing that the Death Eaters would have done, and Draco no longer wanted to emulate them. For another, it was risky, again because of the werewolf's inhuman reflexes; if he didn't kill Diggory immediately, there would be no second chance, because the werewolf would probably kill him.

And finally, deep down, Draco didn't really want to kill the werewolf. What he really wanted was for his family to be whole again, and that was impossible. But he profoundly wished that Diggory hadn't complicated all their lives by getting involved with Narcissa.
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Aric moped around the house while everyone avoided mentioning the Tierneys or the marriage contract. His family seemed to think that he would be fine once he had some time to "get used to the idea". Or, as his grandfather had put it, unaware that Aric had been eavesdropping, "Eventually he'll get tired of sulking and accept reality."

Which only made him sulk all the more. He was sprawled across the couch one morning doing just that, ignoring his father's suggestion that he go out for a ride on his broomstick since it was such a nice day, when a great horned owl arrived with a letter.

Alison opened the envelope and said in surprise, "It's a party invitation from the Snapes!"

"What?" Aric and Karl exclaimed simultaneously. Aric abruptly stopped sulking and sat up on the couch. He felt a sudden flicker of hope; was Lupin up to something? Professor Snape would never willingly invite Aric and his family to a party, so surely this must be Lupin's doing!

"What is the party for?" Karl asked suspiciously.

"The invitation says it is a party to celebrate the coming of spring," Alison replied. "However, I've heard gossip that Lady Selima is using this party to build support for that werewolf." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Aric's teacher, the one who claims that he is Cynric Diggory's son."

Karl shook his head. "I can't understand why Selima Snape has suddenly developed a fondness for werewolves. I hear that she lets Snape's lover, Lupin, visit the house as if he were family."

"Well, Severus is the last living Snape," Alison said reasonably. "I'm sure she doesn't want to risk losing her heir and having the Snape line die out." She smiled cynically. "Because if the Snape line dies out, so does her influence. I'm not sure why she's so intent on championing this other werewolf, but I've heard that Anya and Cynric Diggory were childhood friends of hers. She must believe that this werewolf really is their long-lost son."

"Selima Snape was never the sentimental type," Karl said dubiously. "Perhaps she means to gain control of the Diggory estate through the werewolf. She was a Bashir before she married, you know, and they have always been very shrewd in their business dealings."

While his parents dissected Selima Snape's possible motives, it suddenly occurred to Aric that there was one more person who knew what it was like to be cast out of the pureblood world: Master Diggory. He had lost everything--home, family, and inheritance--and had been cast out on the street, as Aric's grandfather had threatened to do to him. He would know what it was like to live on his own. Diggory didn't like to talk about his past very much, but maybe he would be willing to talk to Aric, if he asked very nicely. Thinking back over his classes and his detentions at the clinic, as well as the occasional sparring session outside of class, Aric realized that the werewolf had been kind to him, in a very gruff way. Yes, maybe Diggory would talk to him, help him decide what to do...

"We must go to the party!" Aric said emphatically, and his parents turned to stare at him in surprise. He couldn't tell them the real reason that he wanted to go, of course, so he quickly made up a logical excuse. "Like it or not, the Snapes are a very influential family, and they have powerful allies. I've heard that Professor Snape is friends with the Minister of Magic."

Alison looked thoughtful. "Yes, I heard that Arthur Weasley made a point of showing up at Lord Severin's funeral. It might not be wise to snub the Snapes, if they are close to the Minister. But I wonder why Lady Selima invited us? It isn't as if we are friendly with the Snapes; in fact, we are very close to being enemies..."

Aric didn't want to bring up this particular subject, but he needed to persuade his family to attend the party. "Word has already begun to leak about the betrothal negotiations at school. And before you ask, I wasn't the one who leaked it. But Lady Selima is very good at gathering information, so I hear. Perhaps she decided to invite us because we are allied with an important Ministry official."

"Quite likely," Karl agreed. "A good observation, Aric. I'm glad to see that you are thinking as a pureblood heir should." But he was regarding his son with a bemused, almost suspicious look.

Aric smiled slyly; he knew better than to affect an air of innocence, because that would only make his father even more suspicious. "I'm bored," he said casually, "and a party sounds like fun. Besides, it will be interesting to see how the werewolf fares, don't you think?" Actually, he thought that Master Diggory would fare just fine, and if anything went wrong, he would be more worried about the other guests than his teacher; it was like turning a wolf loose among a bunch of pampered lapdogs. But he knew that his parents would enjoy the idea of seeing the werewolf--and by extension, the Snapes--humiliated.

Alison tittered, a malicious gleam in her eyes, and Aric was struck by how catty she looked and sounded. "We'll see if Selima has been able to teach her pet werewolf proper table manners."

Karl laughed, "It's a waste of time. Putting a gold collar on a mongrel won't turn it into a pureblood."

Aric laughed along with his parents, although he found himself growing angry at their offhand insults. For Merlin's sake, they had never even met Master Diggory!

"I suppose we should go," Karl continued, oblivious to Aric's true feelings. "If only to see what the Snapes are up to. They're a sneaky lot, all of them, and I wouldn't put it past them to have some sort of hidden agenda."

His parents continued talking politics, and Aric went to his room, afraid that he might lose his temper if he stayed any longer. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering when his parents had become so shallow and spiteful. Then he realized that he was the one who had changed, not them. Before he came to Hogwarts, he too would have laughed at the idea of a werewolf trying to become accepted into pureblood society. He reached into his pocket and touched the good-luck charm that he always carried, the small wolf carving that Takeshi had given to him for his birthday. He ran his fingers over the smooth, cool stone, finding it both comforting and disturbing. Everything would be so much simpler if he had never met the werewolves or the mediwizard, and yet...his life would also be emptier, and deep inside, he didn't really wish that he had never met them.
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Lukas was dancing in the Snapes' drawing room with Branwen as her husband and Lady Selima watched with a critical eye from the couch. Snape lounged in an armchair in the corner of the room, looking mildly amused, while Lupin perched on the armrest next to him, not even trying to hide his grin. A sullen Bane perched on Snape's shoulder, glaring at the man dancing with his mistress. Theo and Dylan had made themselves scarce as soon as they had seen the expression on the werewolf's face when he arrived at the mansion. Like most Slytherins, they had a very good sense of self-preservation, and decided that it was probably safer not to be party to what their teacher considered a humiliating experience. They were reasonably certain that Snape would be able to prevent the werewolf from killing them, but they would still have to take Physical Defense classes from an irate werewolf. Besides, they reasoned, they could always watch him dance at the party--from a discreet distance, of course.

Lupin had thoughtfully allowed them to borrow his music box for the dancing lessons, and Branwen called out instructions to Lukas as they waltzed around the room. "Step, step, turn--yes, I think you've got it. You'll do fine at the party, Lukas."

"Do you have to hold my wife that close?" Sirius complained in a voice that was only half-joking.

Lukas scowled at him, although he did not stop and break the pattern of the dance. "Are you sure that you're not part wolf, Black? I'm a little tired of dealing with jealous alpha males who seem to think that I have designs upon their mates, which I do not." That little barb was obviously directed at Snape, who scowled back at him.

"I'm part dog," Sirius said. "I suppose that's close enough."

"Wolves mate for life, and dogs don't," Lukas said. "We tend to be more possessive."

"This is one dog who will never stray, if you'll pardon the pun," Sirius said with a grin.

"Especially if he doesn't want to be 'fixed,'" Branwen said with a positively demonic smile. "If you'll pardon the pun."

Snape smirked and Sirius winced. "She's all yours," Lukas assured him.

Lukas moved smoothly and gracefully through the steps of the dance, but Selima was frowning. "The dancing is fine, Cyril, but don't scowl. Remember to smile."

He smiled, but it looked more menacing than inviting, with his lips pulling back to expose his sharp canine teeth.

"With less teeth, please," Selima said dryly. "You'll send the guests running in terror."

"That's the point," Lukas muttered under his breath, but smiled again, with his mouth closed.

"That's a little better, but it still looks more like a grimace," Selima said. A low, rumbling noise started to form in Lukas's throat, and Selima snapped, "And no growling!" Lukas subsided, looking sulky. Selima looked annoyed, then thoughtful, and after a moment's silence, said, "Pretend that you are your father. Imagine how he would react at a party like this one. Imagine that you are not annoyed, but amused by all these people, because you are superior to all of them, these petty backstabbing, gossiping little social climbers."

And instantly, Lukas's face seemed to transform, his lips curving slightly in a smile of amused condescension. He turned his head, carelessly tossing back his long, golden hair, and a lazy, arrogant, yet charming grin slowly spread across his face. Lucius Malfoy could not have done it better.

Branwen's eyes widened, and she actually stumbled and came to a halt. "Oh my, you certainly can turn on the charm when you wish!"

Sirius glared at the werewolf, and Selima smiled. "You look just like your father, Cyril. All the girls used to swoon over him when he did that. It's a combination of the smile and the hair, I think; we used to joke that he had hair prettier than any of the girls'. But of course he only had eyes for your mother."

Lukas smiled, a genuine smile this time. "I used to watch my parents entertain company sometimes. I had to stay hidden in my room, since we were keeping up the fiction that I was sickly and bedridden, but my father enspelled a set of mirrors for me so that I could watch what was going on downstairs."

Lukas was smiling nostalgically, but the image of a young boy sitting alone his room watching a party going on downstairs through his mirror made Lupin feel a little sad. He knew what it was like to feel lonely and isolated, to not be allowed contact with the outside world. And the more time that Lupin spent around Lukas and his pack, the more he realized that he was actually one of the lucky ones, who had at least been able to attend school and lead a semi-normal life.

"My father was amused by all the scheming for power that went on amongst his peers," Lukas said. "He was a Slytherin, so he knew how to play the game, but he considered himself above it. Or maybe that was part of the game, to act as though he didn't care. The truly powerful can remain indifferent, while those of the middle and lower ranks exude an air of desperation, a frantic need to move up the social ladder. At least, that is what my father used to say. But the Diggorys were much more powerful then than they are now." Lukas frowned. "And I don't think it's solely because my father spent so much of the family wealth."

"No, it isn't," Selima told him. "Your grandfather was not the ambitious type, and while Amos did have a certain amount of ambition, he didn't have the skill necessary to follow through on it. Which is how he came to be stuck in a mid-level position at the Ministry. A respectable job, obtained through your family's contacts before their decline, but I doubt that he will ever rise any higher." She smiled at him reassuringly, an expression that looked very strange and unfamiliar on Lady Snape's normally cold face. "I'm sure you'll do fine at the party, Cyril. Your parents would be proud of you."

Everyone stared at her in shock, except for Lupin, who grinned happily. Selima flushed, then gave Lukas an icy glare and said in a more threatening tone, "You will do fine at the party, Cyril--or you will answer to me."

"Merlin have mercy on us," Lukas muttered under his breath. "I'd rather face Voldemort."

"I heard that!" Selima snapped, then relented and gave him a very small and dry smile. "You inherited your father's sarcastic sense of humor as well as his looks, I see."

Lukas just grinned at her wolfishly, and Lupin shouted, "No teeth!" and everyone laughed. Even Selima smiled a little.

"I just wish the party were over and done with," Lukas sighed.

"It has the potential for disaster," Sirius observed, although he looked more pleased than disturbed by that idea. "Mixing together a bunch of stuck-up purebloods, two werewolves, a Muggle-loving Minister of Magic, the half-blood hero of the wizarding world, not to mention the Gryffindor black sheep of a Slytherin family..." Sirius grinned at that obvious reference to himself. "It's actually starting to sound like fun!"

"I'm sure that the party will be a great success," Branwen said, giving her husband a reproving look.

"Of course it will," Selima said, sounding a little miffed. "All my parties are."

"Well," Lupin said with a smile, "we certainly can't argue with that." Snape gave him a sour look but wisely chose to remain silent.
 

Chapter 123

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