Voldemort’s Heir
Chapter Eleven
In London, at Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Isabene Dumbledore sat in a chair, her feet curled up underneath her. The chair, soft and comfy enough that her body sank into the cushions, gave her an unencumbered view of the bed ten feet away.
She’d been sitting in the chair for the past hour, simply watching the bed’s occupant as he slept. She’d forgotten how oddly comforting it was to watch Sirius sleep. He appeared so peaceful and serene that it seemed almost impossible to imagine him as such a rascal during the day.
Isabene smiled. How long had it been since she’d last done this? Just simply curled up in a chair and watched her lover sleep? Had it only been three months since she’d left to determine Fyril’s welfare? It seemed as though eons had passed since she’d last been in that chair.
Suddenly she was jerked from her thoughts by the realization that some time during her meditative state, Sirius had awakened and was now watching her, his arm bent at the crook, his head resting in his palm.
“A Galleon for your thoughts,” he said.
She laughed. “Most people would only pay a Knut.”
He grinned. “You’re worth more to me than others.”
She smiled softly, dipping her head as she thought about what had disturbed her sleep and dragged her from Sirius’ side to the chair. “Well, I’m afraid you won’t get much for your money.”
“Isabene,” Sirius said in a warning tone. “Don’t play this game again. Don’t hide from me. Something pulled you from this warm bed to that blasted chair at this hour.” He glanced at the clock mounted on the wall above Isabene’s head. “My god, it’s three in the bloody morning!”
She shrugged. “I just woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” she said. “So I decided to curl up in this chair for a little bit.”
He smiled. “Watching me sleep again?”
“You know me so well,” she replied. “I know it’s silly, but I find it comforting to watch you.”
“I know. It’s one of your more endearing quirks,” Sirius responded. “Now tell me what woke you up.”
She sighed, tossing her head. “Siri, it’s nothing,” she insisted.
“Isa,” Sirius responded. “Don’t make me brew a batch of Veritaserum.”
She looked horrified. “You wouldn’t!”
He raised an eyebrow.
She sighed. “You would.”
He grinned. “Only if forced.”
She shook her head. “Not fair, Padfoot.”
His smile widened. “You’d get me back, I’m sure,” he responded, scooting up in the bed to lean against the headboard. He motioned to Isabene.
Shaking her head again, she rose from the chair, crossed to the bed and allowed Sirius to pull her down into his lap. Once seated, she snuggled down until her forehead rested against his shoulder.
“Now then,” he murmured into her hair after placing a kiss on the top of her head. “What’s troubling my spitfire?”
She couldn’t help but chuckle.
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”
“I can’t help but wish James could see you,” she responded. “Fretting over what’s bothering me, calling me by cutesy nicknames. He would be amused.”
Sirius agreed with a chuckle of his own. “I believe you’ve managed to wind me as tightly around your little finger as Lily held James,” he said. “Nice deflection of my question, by the way.”
She gave an offended snort. “I wasn’t deflecting!”
His eyebrows lifted. “No?”
“No,” she affirmed. “I was merely reminiscing.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “So you’ll answer my question now?”
She gave a long-suffering sigh. “If I must.”
A few minutes of silence went by, then Sirius responded. “Well? I don’t hear you answering.”
“Don’t rush me!” she grumbled. “It’s hard to form into words.”
He digested that, turned it over in his head and responded, “Would it have anything to do with why you were crying out in your sleep last night?” He paused. “Come to think of it, for the last few nights, tonight included.”
She raised her startled gaze to his questioning eyes. “You. . .you heard?”
At his nod, she blinked. “And you haven’t said anything?”
“I was waiting,” he responded. “I thought you might tell me on your own.”
She shook her head, flabbergasted.
“Apparently I was wrong,” he said. “So now I’m done waiting. Now I’m asking. What is troubling your dreams? Why are you calling out ‘no’ in your sleep?”
She sat up, shaking her head as she turned away from him. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she stared at the far wall. Behind her, she heard him sigh.
“Isabene,” he said in a tired voice. “Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Death,” she said in a quiet voice.
He blinked. “Isabene, it’s a perfectly natural part of life. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
She shook her head. “No, I mean, it’s what I dreamt about.”
He frowned; waited for her to continue.
She took a deep breath, then said, “I dreamt of you. You were. . .dying.”
He tilted his head to one side, gazing at her back. “I’m sure it’ll happen one day.”
“Sirius!” she hissed, glancing over her shoulder. “Don’t make light of this!”
“Sorry,” he said quietly.
“It terrifies me,” she responded. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t,” he said. He hesitated for a moment. “How did it happen?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Avada Kedarva curse.”
He was silent for a moment. “Who?”
“That bitch cousin of yours,” she responded. “Narcissa.”
He scoffed. “She’s no match for me with a wand and you know it.”
“It was a cheap shot,” she said dryly. “You stepped between the curse and me.”
He blinked. “Oh.”
She rose up on her knees, turning to face him. “Sirius, if I ever lost you, I don’t know what I would.”
“Shh,” he said, gently cupping her face in his hands. “It was just a dream, Isabene.”
“I know, but I can’t help-”
He silenced her with a firm kiss. “Don’t think about it,” he ordered between kisses.
“It’s. . .hard not to,” she whispered against his mouth.
“I know what you need,” he murmured as he trailed his lips down her throat.
“Hmm?” she wondered as he gently laid her back on the bed.
“Remedial kissing,” he answered. “And more.”
******
“Expecto Patronum!” Eric shouted. He watched as a silver wisp flowed from the tip of his wand, then cursed as it turned into a mist and then vanished.
Jason shook his head. He stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest. “No, you’re not trying, Eric,” he said.
“I am bloody well trying,” Eric growled.
Jason raised an eyebrow. “You’re not focusing,” he said. “And congratulations on learning how to swear like an Englishman.”
Eric glared at him. “I am focusing.”
“You’re not focusing enough,” Jason amended.
“Maybe I’m not cut out for this,” Eric responded.
Jason sighed. “Eric, you’ve got it in you,” he said. “Now, c’mon, again.”
Eric sighed, then raised his wand. Taking a deep breath, he cried “Expecto Patronum!”
Nothing happened.
“Dammit!” Eric hissed, dropping his wand.
Jason sighed. “Eric, you’ve got to focus,” he instructed. “Think of every happy thought you can. That dementor is going to suck the happiness right out of you. You’ve got to fight it. Think of, of the first time you morphed. Or marrying Krista. Hey, think about having sex with that hot tamale.”
“That’s the problem!” Eric cried, grabbing Jason by the front of his robes and shaking him. “I can’t stop thinking about Krista!”
Jason glanced down at the hands clutching his robes and saw Eric’s knuckles were white. “Eric, ease up,” he said in a calm voice. “You need to calm down. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Eric let out another curse and released Jason’s robes, turning away from him and pacing. “I just can’t. . .I just keep picturing in my head what that bastard could be doing to her.”
“You’re going to rescue her,” Jason assured him. “You just gotta focus and learn these spells.”
Eric sighed, running his hand through his hair and then scrubbing it over his face. “I dunno, man,” he said in a quiet voice. “I just. . .”
“Let’s try an easier one,” Jason said. “The reducto curse.”
Eric nodded. He bent down, picking up his wand as Jason grabbed a rubber tennis ball from a table behind him. Stepping away from him, Jason suddenly tossed the ball into the air.
Eric responded by whipping his wand up, pointing it at the ball as he shouted “Reducto!”
Almost immediately, the ball exploded. Jason grinned, clapping.
“Very nicely done,” he said.
“Oh yes, because a tennis ball is going to be a key point in rescuing Krista,” Eric muttered, scowling.
Jason didn’t seem to appreciate his sarcasm. “Maybe not a tennis ball, but the reducto curse sure as hell helps if Voldemort or one of his cronies decides to throw something at you.”
Eric rolled his eyes. “How very unwizardly of them,” he said dryly. “Besides, I would think they would be above such a Muggle approach.”
“Not if they banished it toward you in the first place,” Jason said.
“And that makes perfect sense,” Eric responded sarcastically.
“No one ever said your grandfather makes sense,” Jason pointed out. “For example, it’s a little known fact that Voldemort’s father was a Muggle.”
Eric’s eyebrows lifted. “And yet he goes around preaching anti-Muggle stuff?”
Jason nodded. “Exactly my point,” he said. “He’s all against Mudbloods and yet he’s not pureblood himself.”
“So. . .uh. . .are you a Mudblood?” Eric asked.
“Technically,” Jason answered. “My mom’s a Muggle. Besides, just about everybody these days has mixed blood.” He clapped Eric on the shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s try Patronus again.”
******
Mackenzie crossed her arms over her chest as she wandered through the halls of Hogwarts. She smiled, remembering her years spent there. She ignored the whispers and stares of the students. The rumor that she was Snape’s girlfriend had spread, and all the students wanted a glimpse. Well, she’d always known that news traveled fast in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.
At least no one knows who my father is, she thought. She chose not to let the student’s whisperings bother her. After all, she wasn’t Snape’s girlfriend.
Or was she? They had come to some sort of reconciliation. She’d spent the last two nights in his quarters, held tightly in his embrace, almost as if he were afraid to let her go, for fear she would flee.
But they had by no means come to terms with the reason why they’d split up in the first place: the decision to send Fyril away. Snape had agreed with Dumbledore’s plan while Mackenzie had been reluctant, feeling that they could protect Fyril better if he remained with them.
They had argued, and in the end, she had relented. A spell had been cast, giving Fyril false memories about the first years of his life, and he had been sent to live with a Muggle family.
She’d never forgiven Snape. They’d divorced a few years later.
Mackenzie sighed. She still hadn’t forgiven Snape. . .but having Fyril back helped soften the edges of her resentment. And she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t missed nights spent with him. . .
With a start, she realized that during her internal musing, she had managed to walk down to the dungeons. The door leading to Snape’s office loomed ahead of her, and she froze as it opened and he exited.
His head was down, his attention focused on the parchment held in his hand. She could hear his soft muttering as he read the parchment, but couldn’t make out the words. As she watched him, Mackenzie was struck with the oddest urge to tuck behind one ear the hair that had fallen into his eyes from the downward tilt of his head.
She had just started moving toward him, her hand unconsciously lifting, when he suddenly looked up. His eyes widened as he saw her, then he momentarily looked away.
“Mackenzie,” he said in a calm voice once he’d glanced back in her direction. His face was once again emotionless. “What are you doing down here?”
“I was just walking around, reminiscing,” she said, lowering her hand and tucking it behind her back. “I ended up here.”
“Oh,” he said dully, his face becoming moody.
She hesitated, recognizing the expression. “Severus, James never meant any of it.”
Snape drew himself up to his full height. “I will not hear you make excuses for Potter,” he said. “He teased me because he got some kind of perverse pleasure from it.”
“But he stopped,” she pointed out.
“Eventually,” Snape responded. “But not until after he’d completely humiliated me in front of the school countless times.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t come down here to debate the actions of a friend long dead.”
“Then why did you come down here?” he asked, curiously raising an eyebrow.
Mackenzie sighed. “I’m not sure, really,” she said. “I was just walking around, thinking about the old days. The next thing I knew, here I was.”
Snape nodded. “I was just on my way to Dumbledore’s office.” He glared down at the parchment he’d been reading. “It seems the famed Auror team of Potter, Granger and Weasley has had a brainstorm.”
“What do you have against them?” she asked curiously.
He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing.”
“Oh, I know why you dislike Potter,” she said, ignoring his response. “You see too much of James when you look at him. But even you have to admit, Harry’s nothing like his father.”
“He’s every bit as arrogant and even less impressive,” Snape scoffed.
Mackenzie sighed, shaking her head. “Severus, I know we’ve been avoiding it, but we need to talk sometime,” she said, changing the subject.
“About what?” he asked. “Things are going smoothly. You’ve spent the last two nights with me and-”
Mackenzie held up a hand, interrupting him. “Yes, things have been lovely. But we still haven’t addressed the issue of why we split up.”
Snape’s facial expression grew stony, and for a few moments, he simply glowered. Finally he spoke. “Reopening those old wounds will not make them heal any better.”
“Neither will ignoring them,” she argued. “Severus, if we’re going to have any kind of future together again, we need to address this.”
He was about to respond when a water balloon suddenly fell from the ceiling and burst in his face, instantly soaking him.
Mackenzie’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth as a peal of laughter could be heard from overhead.
“Wot’s the matter, Snape?” Peeves said, cackling madly. “All washed up?”
Snape was seething. Water dripped from the tip of his hooked nose, his hair was drenched and the front of his robes were soaked. “PEEVES!” he bellowed, his face red.
“Aww, did I embarrass Snapypoo in front of his ickle girlfriend?” Peeves laughed. “Poor, poor Snapypoo. Always the butt of somebody’s joke.” With another loud cackle, he disappeared through the nearest wall before Snape could retaliate.
Snape stood, fuming, as water dripped from his hair and the end of his nose onto the floor. It didn’t help matters that Mackenzie appeared to be struggling to contain her laughter and students had paused in the corridors. He could hear whispers and giggle and shook with rage and humiliation.
“Move along,” he told the students in a peculiarly calm voice. “Go to your classrooms now. The show is over.”
The students were quick to get moving, despite his lack of yelling. Snape was just intimidating enough to scare them with only a calm voice.
Mackenzie let a small giggle escape as Snape turned on his heel and stalked into his office. The door slammed behind him, and she smiled, following after him.
As she opened the door and slipped inside, she saw that Snape had already stripped off his wet robes and was rummaging through his wardrobe.
“Severus, you shouldn’t let Peeves get to you,” she said.
She heard him snort, though his head was hidden in the wardrobe. “I’ve been after Dumbledore for years to get rid of him,” he grumbled, withdrawing from the wardrobe and slamming the door. He held a robe in his hand and shrugged into it as he walked over to his desk.
Mackenzie raised her eyebrow, smiling as she took note of that fact that his robe still hung open. “It’ll never happen,” she said, walking behind his desk and sinking down into his chair. He watched with an upraised eyebrow as she propped her feet up on the surface of the desk. “Dumbledore is amused by his antics.”
“Only because he has the Bloody Baron to control him,” Snape grumbled. “I swear, if it weren’t for the Baron, I don’t think any of us would be safe from Peeves.”
“Severus,” Mackenzie said, watching him fasten his robe closed. “None of us are safe from Peeves.”
He almost had the robe entirely closed when she removed her feet from the desk, set them on the ground and stood up. Sauntering over to him, she placed her hand over his, stilling his actions.
“Mackenzie,” he said softly, staring down into her eyes as she gazed up at him.
“Shh,” she said, placing a finger on his lips as the other hand set about undoing his robe. “Now’s not the time for talking.”
He raised an eyebrow, letting her pull his robe open. “But what about addressing the issue?”
She placed a gentle kiss on the outline of his jaw. “Sex first,” she breathed against his neck. “Addressing later.”
He chuckled, pulling her close to him and angling his face downward to kiss her passionately. “Gladly,” he mumbled against her lips.
She raised her hands, pushing his robe off his shoulders. A moment later, he was lifting her up into his arms and setting her on top of his deck.
“Your meeting with Dumbledore will have to wait,” she gasped as he began removing her clothes.
“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Snape responded, trailing kisses down her neck.
“Oh, I’m sure,” she said. “Now, shh. No more talking.” Cupping his face in her hands, she captured his lips, preventing him from saying anymore.