FIC: Twelve Nights, or You Will What? (ACT II of V)
Title: Twelve Nights, or You Will What?
Act: II
Author: Cedar
Summary: Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night", set in slashy post-war Potter AU.
Quote: Remus had hoped to be friendly and charming with Harry, but it seemed he might have been a bit too successful.
Characters/Pairings: Snape/Lupin, amongst others. Dramatis Personae is at the end of the post. Um, this is very slashy.
Challenge: written for the shakes_that_fic fest
Rated: R for the finished fic, PG for this Act
Warnings: AU, but canon-compliant to HBP (in other words, lots of people dead in DH are alive here, and vice versa), discussion of off-screen character deaths, slash, lots of booze (it's Shakespeare, people)
Word count: 4,200 in this Act, approx. 20,000 in completed fic
A/N: Thank you to the fabulous dizilla for being a wonderful, thoughtful beta and to the magnificence that is blpaintchart for the brit-pick and beta and general encouragement, and for noticing that I had accidentally tortured Remus by jabbing him with silver, poor wolf.
Here is a link to Act I
“You do not need to follow me any farther. The stars are aligned against me, mate. Give yourself a chance,” Bill Weasley said to his companion.
“I vould not leave now,” replied Viktor Krum in a dismissive tone, stubbing out his cigarette. Bill frowned.
Two years of captivity in France had changed Bill. His hair had dulled, the bones of his skull were visible through his pale, almost blue skin, his lanky frame was gaunt and fragile. He felt like a shadow of himself.
Bill was still not sure he understood exactly why Krum had rescued him, or why he was proving to be such a loyal companion on his journey home. Whatever the reason, a week ago the warded door to his cell opened, and Krum, his Seeker’s body swathed in black, hustled him out into the blinding sun. Krum walked him out of the house in which he had been held in dark terror for two years, flashing some sort of distraction spell at any of the Death Eaters who approached them, led him away and quickly disapparated with him to a safe house in Paris.
Krum had been rescuing the Death Eater’s captives for some time, it appeared, as his contacts were extensive. Every darkened alley in France seemed to hold one of his comrades, eager to clap Viktor on the shoulders, kiss his cheeks, and hide them for the night.
Bill came to understand that his rescue, in particular, meant something to Krum. It had to do with Krum’s guilt over taking the Dark Mark late in the war, feeling responsible for the cock-up with Remus at the Ministry when Bill had been captured, and a dramatic last-minute change of heart. It was hard to understand the details with the language barrier between them, but Bill sensed that rescuing him had been one of Krum’s motivations for rescuing prisoners at all.
A week of secret way-stations, hushed conferences, and long nights after his rescue, the two men had made their way to the French coast where Bill was preparing to apparate home. To England.
“You are a bloody hero for what you have done, Viktor” Bill said. “I cannot ever repay you. I don’t know what sort of chaos to expect when I return to the Order, but I know it’s not the sort of place a former Death Eater wants to find himself. I’m afraid that means we part ways here.” Bill clapped Viktor on the shoulder. “Goodbye.”
He pulled himself up straight and looked away from Viktor even as Krum said, “Bill, vait…” and turned abruptly to disapparate.
Landing on a patch of empty shoreline, Bill filled his lungs with the clean air of his home. Moments later, there was a loud crack, and Viktor appeared at his side.
“I know I vill be amongst enemies as a Death Eater, but I vill stay with you and see you safely home,” he said, in a tone that would not allow for argument.
Bill smiled. He was surprised, but relieved to have a companion for this most difficult part of his journey. They turned together towards London.
* * *
“Weasley!”
It took Remus a moment to remember that he was the Weasley in question, and that the pinched voice was calling to him. He stopped and turned around.
“Yes? Oh, hello Draco,” he said to the approaching figure.
“You left this with Harry,” Draco said without ceremony, thrusting something gold towards Remus.
“I don’t believe I left anything with him,” replied Remus.
“Don’t be difficult. It’s Professor Snape’s ring. Harry says he doesn’t want it.” Draco grabbed Remus’s hand and shoved the simple gold band into his hand. “Take it back to him. Harry says you should come up tomorrow and he will tell you why he is returning it.” Draco’s thin face pursed in annoyance as he passed on this odd information.
“You really are quite a watchdog for him, Draco,” said Remus, still holding the ring.
“When a bloke saves your life and continues to save you from Azkaban, you tend to treat his wishes as commands,” snapped Draco. “Will you come tomorrow?”
“I didn’t bring this ring to him, but I will come up to find out why Harry thinks I did,” he replied, curious.
“Well, whatever” Draco said, turning away and brushing off his velvet robes as if to remove the taint of Weasley, “I truly don’t care.”
As the thin blonde figure stomped back up the staircase, Remus pondered the gold circle in his hand. Harry wanted to see Bill again, and had invented some sort of charade with Draco to do it. Severus hadn’t sent any ring, and Harry knew it. He wanted Bill back, and wanted him to know it was a personal invitation.
Remus had hoped to be friendly and charming with Harry, but it seemed he might have been a bit too successful.
* * *
“No progress with Harry today, I take it?” asked Ginny.
“Nah, Malfoy guards him like he’s a diamond squeezed straight out of his own arse,” said Fred, patting his long-suffering sister on the back.
Fred and George had stopped into headquarters to find Ginny and Hermione well into their second gin sling of the evening. They had hurried to catch up, sucking down lagers with vacuum-cleaner efficiency. Hours later, the four friends were not ready to call it a night.
“I hoped that with Bill home, Harry might start to feel a bit better. You know, one less person to mope about,” said Ginny.
“Doesn’t seem like it, Ginny, not so far. I’m so sorry,” said Hermione, refilling Ginny’s glass. “But you have Bill back, and that’s something, isn’t it?”
“Some thing, yes, but not The thing,” said Ginny with a sigh. “You still miss Ron don’t you?”
Hermione swallowed hard. “Every day,” she said.
“Well, that’s how I feel about Harry, only he’s just upstairs, refusing to see me,” Ginny said. “How do you cope, Hermione? You never seem too sad.”
“Oh, I cope,” Hermione said, and she held up her drink in a mock toast, and then took a long swig. Ginny let out a bitter laugh and did the same.
Fred frowned. “See this, right here, George? This is why we are needed. To keep the ladies from these ridiculous dramatics.” He shook Ginny by the shoulders. “Step back from the ledge!”
Ginny laughed and nodded. “Fine. How was your shopping expedition?” she asked the twins, leaning back from her drink.
“Shopping? Oh, it was a riot, actually,” replied Fred, glancing at George with raised brows.
“You tell it,” said George, reclining with his pint.
They all settled back for the story.
“It started normal enough, found George some new togs, and bought myself a few pair of socks. The Muggles were in good form, so we sat on a bench to watch for a bit, see if any product ideas came our way. We noticed all of these Muggles tottering around in shoes that looked like absolute torture chambers, called ‘podiums’ or something of the sort,” said Fred.
“Platforms?” asked Hermione.
“Right, that’s it, platforms,” Fred continued. “So, once you start to notice, these shoes are everywhere, right? So our George becomes obsessed.”
“I’m short,” George explained. “I had to have a pair.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oh no,” she said. “Those are…”
“Women’s shoes, yeah, we got that eventually. First, though, Georgina here selected his favorite pair…”
“Red, with a nice strap,” added George.
“…and a pink-faced, stuttering Muggle found him his size…”
“14 wide, apparently.”
“…and he stumbled around the shoe department in these things, howling in pain.”
“They pinched like a Skrewt, Fred…”
“We had an audience of Muggle shoppers, everyone was staring. This is when I started to think we were a bit off on our idea…”
“We were thinking of a line of heightening shoes at the Wheezes, you know, for Flitwick and the like…”
“Or you,” Ginny pointed out.
Fred grinned. “Nice one, Ginny.”
“Yes, I’m short, I’ve already admitted to it,” muttered George.
“So what did you do?” asked Hermione.
“What do you think?” replied Fred. “George pranced around a bit for the crowd, bought the shoes, and wore them home.”
“Cast a bit of a protective spell on my ankles as we left the place though,” said George, as he lifted his long robes to reveal red vinyl platforms, open at the end to show off his hairy toes, straps circling his brawny ankles. “What do you think?” He winked at Hermione then, who broke down in hysterical laughter. Encouraged by her response, George stood and began a teetering tour of the kitchen, delicately holding his robes above his knees. Ginny and Fred joined in the raucous laughter.
“Who’s your tall lady friend, Hermione?” called Fred, leering at George as he strutted past the sideboard.
“That’s Georgina, she’s quite a catch,” laughed Hermione, and Ginny whistled.
George teetered up onto the bench and then stepped up onto the long table, strutting back and forth striking poses as his admirers clapped and hooted and cheered for more.
“Take it off!” yelled Fred.
“NO!” screamed Hermione and Ginny at the same moment, and all four dissolved into drunken laughter, George plopping down on the table and the others collapsing onto the benches, holding their sides.
The loud bang of the door slamming against the wall announced the arrival of a fifth person in the kitchen. All heads turned to see who had interrupted them.
Draco stood in the doorway. He wore monogrammed green satin pajamas with a matching sleep mask that had been pushed back onto his head. His hair was disheveled and his eyes blazed with fury. He gripped the doorframe so hard his knuckles were white.
Most noticeably, though, his face was covered in some sort of blue cream night masque.
“What in Merlin’s name is going on down here? Are you mad?!” Draco screamed.
“Malfoy, what is that on your face?” asked Fred through his laughter.
“I am trying to get some rest!” Draco continued, ignoring the question.
“Did we interrupt your beauty sleep?” asked Ginny.
Draco glared.
“I believe it is Sondra Svenson’s Smooth Skin Solution!” exclaimed George. “As advertised on the wireless.”
“You will wake Harry, you will wake Professor Snape, you will wake the bloody neighborhood!” Draco yelled, but he self-consciously touched the hardened blue masque with his fingertips.
“How does that tune go, George?” asked Fred, stroking his chin.
George began to sing, kicking up his red heels to the tune.
“Sun and age wear down a Mage,
You’re marred by air pollution…”
“Shut it, Weasley,” said Draco.
Fred, Ginny, and Hermione joined in then, swaying to the familiar jingle.
“Don’t fret those lines, fight against time,
With Sven’s Smooth Skin Solution!”
The revelers grabbed their drinks and raised a cheer, clinking glasses all around.
Draco’s chest was rising and falling in angry huffs. “You lot of ungrateful rubbish, you will be sorry for this. I will tell Harry how rudely you treated me. You idiot twins don’t even live here. Go home and sing to your stupid party tricks, why don’t you. Oi, Weaselette, can’t you see Harry doesn’t give a troll’s left nut if you are here or not? You’re a pathetic little girl. On the other hand, here’s my lovely sidekick Granger, playing the modest housekeeper by day, and then getting roaring drunk and waking all the household at night. Aren’t you the image of perfection. I see why Weasel, the fantastic git, fell for you. Only a bloody idiot could stand you. I’ve put up with you all long enough. Harry doesn’t need any of you here. Expect to be kicked out tomorrow. I hope you all rot!” He slammed the door and they could hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs.
“What an arrogant prick,” Fred said, as a loud slam announced Draco’s return to his own room.
It was Hermione though, to the twin’s surprise, who snapped. “I cannot take him anymore,” she said with a frightening intensity, pounding her glass on the table. “Day and night, primping and sulking and insulting all of us. I try to understand why Harry keeps him here, but honestly, I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of his superior attitude. He needs a reminder of where he stands in this house. I’ve had an idea, and I am ready to set it in motion. Can I count on all of you to help me put that little ferret in his place?” Hermione's eyes blazed fury.
“Whoa, Hermione!” said Fred, eyes wide. “I don’t know what has happened to you, but I like it!”
George lay across the table and planted a kiss on Hermione’s lips. “Whatever your plan, I’m with you, you fireball.”
Hermione grimaced, shoved George over, and stood up. “Ginny, we need parchment and a quill. Start thinking about the most humiliating things you would like to see Draco do. He acts high and mighty, as if he doesn’t care for anything, but I happen to know his weakness, the one thing he does care for, and now it is time to exploit it.”
“What is his weakness?” asked Ginny.
“Simple. It’s Harry,” said Hermione
The twins’ eyes met. This was going to be good.
* * *
Severus tried to focus on the intelligence report from Kingsley, but found he was reading the same paragraph over and over again. Bill’s appointment with Harry had come and gone the day before, but the damn accountant had not appeared in the study yet this morning. Where was that idiot? The gnawing longing he had been feeling would soon be at an end. He gave up looking at the report and stood, pacing from window to door, and back again.
When the door eased open and Bill entered the room, Severus stopped and sat at his desk, heart racing pleasantly.
“Good morning, Weasley,” said Severus. He groaned inwardly at the eager tone in his voice, but Bill did not appear to notice.
Bill walked to his desk without pause, saying, “Good news or bad news?”
“Sorry?” asked Severus.
“Which would you like first, the good news or the bad news? I didn’t think you would be interested in small talk before I told you about Harry,” said Bill, still not meeting Severus’s eyes, settling in at his work area.
Severus took a moment to admire Bill’s insight. “Bad,” he said, leaning back in his chair, holding his breath.
Bill sat up straight and looked at the wall in front of him. “He doesn’t love you. He does not want to see you.”
“Ah.” Severus ignored the flash of light-headedness that swept over him at this stark announcement. “And the good?”
“He has invited me back today, so I will try again,” said Bill.
“Oh.” Severus felt his eyes flutter slightly and his body sway. How had he failed to anticipate this? Potter had seemed so lonely. He had actually convinced himself that all the fool needed was an offer and he would be his. Humiliation washed over him, flooding his brain.
“Are you all right, Snape?” asked Bill, his voice far away.
Severus inhaled deeply, willing himself to focus and not get carried away by this ridiculous reaction. Under his desk, he pinched the fleshy skin between his thumb and forefinger, hard. He turned to Bill, who was looking at him with concern.
“Yes. Fine. That’s it then.” Severus sat up and pulled out a quill. “Let’s get to work.”
* * *
Remus could see, hell, he could feel, the disappointment radiating off of Severus in waves. He had decided short and brutal would be better than leaving him with any hope, but he hated to make anyone, much less Severus, feel so miserable.
They worked in a strained silence for several minutes.
Remus glanced over to see that Severus had stopped writing and was staring blankly into space just moments before he spoke in his silky voice.
“You have been in love.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” Remus replied.
“The French woman,” said Severus.
“Um, yes,” said Remus, but he hadn’t really known Fleur, and wanted to avoid talking about her, as he was fairly certain he would not be able to fake it convincingly. “And others. Well, another.” Severus’s dark eyes flashed over to him.
“Oh?”
“No one you know,” said Remus, nervous about where he had turned the conversation.
“What was this paragon like?” asked Severus.
“Why do you want to know?”
“I just do.”
“Well,” Remus wracked his brain, but he had only ever loved one person, and his brain was not allowing him to think of anyone else, “a bit like you, actually.”
The deep frown-line between Severus’s brows became pronounced.
Remus smiled. “Dark hair, about your height, loved to read, had a very dry, biting sense of humor, and a strong dislike of idiocy,” Remus said. Severus sneered at this description of himself, and Remus was hit by the now familiar urge to give up his charade and tell Severus the truth. “It was love.”
“Yet I notice that you are now alone,” Severus said.
Remus had forgotten how cruel Severus could be when he felt vulnerable. He pulled himself back into character.
“Thank you for polite reminder. Many things have happened since then, Snape: the war, my wife’s death, two years of amnesia. You never know what might happen to derail love. Life is complicated.” Remus turned back to his desk.
Severus was still and quiet for a very long time.
Remus had started working again when Severus said, “That is true.”
“I will try again today with Harry, Snape. I promised you I would,” said Remus. “But if he does not love you, you should give it up.”
“I cannot. I cannot accept no as an answer.”
“You have to, Snape. Sometimes you just have to. Let’s say there is someone else out there in the world who feels the same way about you that you feel about Harry. You would have to turn them down, correct? They would have to accept no as an answer. Your heart is already given,” Remus said.
“There is no such person, Weasley, so your example is pointless,” Snape said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“But if there were such a person, who loved you, loved you more than their own life,” Remus’s voice caught in his throat, and he stopped for a moment to calm himself, “then you would have to admit my logic is sound.”
“I refuse to participate in conjecture about a person that does not exist,” Severus replied, rising from his seat and approaching Remus. “When you return to Potter, offer him this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small green stone, smooth and glassy. Remus recognized it immediately, hoped that his face was not reflecting the horror he felt. “Tell him I will not be denied.”
Remus lived the next few seconds in slow-motion, accepting the stone from Severus. It was the same stone he had been given as a token of commitment so many years ago, the stone that had been his, that had rested on his bedside table, when it wasn’t in his hand or his pocket, for years. As Severus passed the stone to him, his cool fingers touched Remus’s skin, and the shock of this touch made Remus dizzy.
Remus wrapped his fingers around the stone, exploring the familiar curve of it in his hand.
“Will you do it?” Severus snapped.
Remus pocketed the stone.
“I will,” he said.
* * *
Hermione burst into the kitchen, where Fred, George, and Ginny were busily cooking up a blackberry pie to share with the household.
“He’s found it!” she whispered. “Follow me! Quietly!” She dashed back out the door.
The three pie chefs exchanged glances and then sprinted out after her.
“The letter has already made a contemplative idiot of him,” Hermione said, intensity in her eyes, as they stacked up behind her on the stairs, peering down into the back hallway.
Draco was alone in the hallway below. His face was flushed, and in his hand he was clutching a parchment that by its crinkled appearance appeared to have already been read many times. He was pacing the hall, speaking to himself in an excited whisper.
“Be very quiet,” Hermione said, motioning them forward.
“Of course,” Draco murmured from below. “How could he not, after all.” He adjusted his elaborate, embroidered robe on his thin frame.
“This is rich,” whispered Fred, smirking.
“Shhh, listen,” said Ginny, craning her neck and nudging Fred.
Draco puffed out his chest as he spoke to himself. “When we are together, they will all have to listen to me. Me! No more pandering to the mudbloods and tainted plebians. I will be the master of this house, as I should be.”
George almost gave them away with a snort, but Draco was too occupied with his own thoughts to notice.
“Then I can put those damned Weasleys in their place,” Draco continued.
“Hey!” said Ginny, but Hermione quieted her with a touch to the arm.
“I’ll have them curtsying to me and wiping my shoes. There will be no more drinking at all hours, and no more open door to any riff-raff that would like to stop in,” Draco continued.
“Oh, let me knock this idiot in the head, please,” muttered Fred.
“We have to let him go on or the joke is ruined,” said Hermione, her finger to her lips.
“I won’t shake their hands, won’t fetch their tea.” Draco had moved in front of the hallway mirror, fluffing his hair and smoothing his robes, offering himself little smirks and winks. “They’ll all have to do what I say.”
“This is bollocks,” said George, but Ginny clamped a hand over his mouth.
Speaking to himself in the mirror, Draco exclaimed, “Ah, hello handsome, what’s this? A letter?” He held out the crumpled parchment. “For me? Why what could it say?”
“Here we go,” said Hermione, easing forward, eyes alight.
Draco unrolled the parchment and proceeded to read it aloud, in a lilting tone, while pacing the hallway.
Dearest Draco,
I have held this inside for so long, but at last I must be heard.
Your presence in my life has been one of great comfort. Knowing a handsome, intelligent, powerful, and pure-blooded…
Here Draco let out a small sigh.
… wizard was here for me in my time of grief has been a great boon to my spirit. Draco, you are the reason I have been able to hold on. It is time you knew.
You are my soul-mate, my one true love, my hero.
I cannot face speaking with you about this in person, but I must know if you feel the same way. If you do, please show me. Here is how.
“Tell me what to do,” said Draco, and the watchers on the stairs exchanged wide-eyed glances.
I cannot stand to have any more sadness around me, so I ask you to please, please smile, no matter how glum I appear, no matter how often I ask you to stop. It will cheer me. In addition, the more cheerful the people around me, the more I feel myself healing. I ask you to happily comply with any requests you receive from Hermione. It will truly please me to see the two of your working together as a team. On that same note, the house elves could do with some new knitwear. Please knit them a little something.
However, with anyone besides Hermione, I expect you to be harsh and cruel. Keep everyone else away from me at all costs, so that we have more time alone together.
Your yellow hair haunts my dreams, and if you would start wearing nothing but yellow, it would be as if your hair had multiplied and covered your entire body.
George’s snort here was loud enough that Draco paused briefly and looked behind him before going on.
Wear nothing but yellow, Draco, for me.
As a great Muggle writer once noted: Some are born great,
“True,” said Draco in a loud voice.
Some achieve greatness,
“Hmm.”
And some have greatness thrust upon ‘em.
“What?” he muttered. “Well, I liked the first bit.”
Hermione was holding a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. The wicked grins on the twins’ faces were not helping.
You are truly one of the greats and together, great things will happen for us. Love, Harry
“Some are born great, Harry,” Draco said, looking at himself in the glass and smoothing his hair. “We will be together, as we are meant to be.” Gripping the parchment, and with a last glance in the mirror to smooth his eyebrows, Draco strutted down the hall and out of sight.
The group on the staircase dissolved into laughter.
“I could marry you for this, Hermione,” said George, adoration in his eyes. “Your letter is brilliant.”
Hermione gave him a shifty look as she led them back down the hallway to the kitchen.
“Don’t make any declarations until you see what happens when he tries to impress Harry,” she said.
Link to Act III
Dramatis Personae
Orsino- Severus Snape
Viola- Remus Lupin
Olivia- Harry Potter
Sebastian- Bill Weasley
Sea Captain- Charlie Weasley
Antonio- Viktor Krum
Maria- Hermione Granger
Sir Toby Belch/Feste- Fred and George Weasley
Sir Andrew Aguecheek- Ginny Weasley
Malvolio- Draco Malfoy
Act: II
Author: Cedar
Summary: Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night", set in slashy post-war Potter AU.
Quote: Remus had hoped to be friendly and charming with Harry, but it seemed he might have been a bit too successful.
Characters/Pairings: Snape/Lupin, amongst others. Dramatis Personae is at the end of the post. Um, this is very slashy.
Challenge: written for the shakes_that_fic fest
Rated: R for the finished fic, PG for this Act
Warnings: AU, but canon-compliant to HBP (in other words, lots of people dead in DH are alive here, and vice versa), discussion of off-screen character deaths, slash, lots of booze (it's Shakespeare, people)
Word count: 4,200 in this Act, approx. 20,000 in completed fic
A/N: Thank you to the fabulous dizilla for being a wonderful, thoughtful beta and to the magnificence that is blpaintchart for the brit-pick and beta and general encouragement, and for noticing that I had accidentally tortured Remus by jabbing him with silver, poor wolf.
Here is a link to Act I
“You do not need to follow me any farther. The stars are aligned against me, mate. Give yourself a chance,” Bill Weasley said to his companion.
“I vould not leave now,” replied Viktor Krum in a dismissive tone, stubbing out his cigarette. Bill frowned.
Two years of captivity in France had changed Bill. His hair had dulled, the bones of his skull were visible through his pale, almost blue skin, his lanky frame was gaunt and fragile. He felt like a shadow of himself.
Bill was still not sure he understood exactly why Krum had rescued him, or why he was proving to be such a loyal companion on his journey home. Whatever the reason, a week ago the warded door to his cell opened, and Krum, his Seeker’s body swathed in black, hustled him out into the blinding sun. Krum walked him out of the house in which he had been held in dark terror for two years, flashing some sort of distraction spell at any of the Death Eaters who approached them, led him away and quickly disapparated with him to a safe house in Paris.
Krum had been rescuing the Death Eater’s captives for some time, it appeared, as his contacts were extensive. Every darkened alley in France seemed to hold one of his comrades, eager to clap Viktor on the shoulders, kiss his cheeks, and hide them for the night.
Bill came to understand that his rescue, in particular, meant something to Krum. It had to do with Krum’s guilt over taking the Dark Mark late in the war, feeling responsible for the cock-up with Remus at the Ministry when Bill had been captured, and a dramatic last-minute change of heart. It was hard to understand the details with the language barrier between them, but Bill sensed that rescuing him had been one of Krum’s motivations for rescuing prisoners at all.
A week of secret way-stations, hushed conferences, and long nights after his rescue, the two men had made their way to the French coast where Bill was preparing to apparate home. To England.
“You are a bloody hero for what you have done, Viktor” Bill said. “I cannot ever repay you. I don’t know what sort of chaos to expect when I return to the Order, but I know it’s not the sort of place a former Death Eater wants to find himself. I’m afraid that means we part ways here.” Bill clapped Viktor on the shoulder. “Goodbye.”
He pulled himself up straight and looked away from Viktor even as Krum said, “Bill, vait…” and turned abruptly to disapparate.
Landing on a patch of empty shoreline, Bill filled his lungs with the clean air of his home. Moments later, there was a loud crack, and Viktor appeared at his side.
“I know I vill be amongst enemies as a Death Eater, but I vill stay with you and see you safely home,” he said, in a tone that would not allow for argument.
Bill smiled. He was surprised, but relieved to have a companion for this most difficult part of his journey. They turned together towards London.
* * *
“Weasley!”
It took Remus a moment to remember that he was the Weasley in question, and that the pinched voice was calling to him. He stopped and turned around.
“Yes? Oh, hello Draco,” he said to the approaching figure.
“You left this with Harry,” Draco said without ceremony, thrusting something gold towards Remus.
“I don’t believe I left anything with him,” replied Remus.
“Don’t be difficult. It’s Professor Snape’s ring. Harry says he doesn’t want it.” Draco grabbed Remus’s hand and shoved the simple gold band into his hand. “Take it back to him. Harry says you should come up tomorrow and he will tell you why he is returning it.” Draco’s thin face pursed in annoyance as he passed on this odd information.
“You really are quite a watchdog for him, Draco,” said Remus, still holding the ring.
“When a bloke saves your life and continues to save you from Azkaban, you tend to treat his wishes as commands,” snapped Draco. “Will you come tomorrow?”
“I didn’t bring this ring to him, but I will come up to find out why Harry thinks I did,” he replied, curious.
“Well, whatever” Draco said, turning away and brushing off his velvet robes as if to remove the taint of Weasley, “I truly don’t care.”
As the thin blonde figure stomped back up the staircase, Remus pondered the gold circle in his hand. Harry wanted to see Bill again, and had invented some sort of charade with Draco to do it. Severus hadn’t sent any ring, and Harry knew it. He wanted Bill back, and wanted him to know it was a personal invitation.
Remus had hoped to be friendly and charming with Harry, but it seemed he might have been a bit too successful.
* * *
“No progress with Harry today, I take it?” asked Ginny.
“Nah, Malfoy guards him like he’s a diamond squeezed straight out of his own arse,” said Fred, patting his long-suffering sister on the back.
Fred and George had stopped into headquarters to find Ginny and Hermione well into their second gin sling of the evening. They had hurried to catch up, sucking down lagers with vacuum-cleaner efficiency. Hours later, the four friends were not ready to call it a night.
“I hoped that with Bill home, Harry might start to feel a bit better. You know, one less person to mope about,” said Ginny.
“Doesn’t seem like it, Ginny, not so far. I’m so sorry,” said Hermione, refilling Ginny’s glass. “But you have Bill back, and that’s something, isn’t it?”
“Some thing, yes, but not The thing,” said Ginny with a sigh. “You still miss Ron don’t you?”
Hermione swallowed hard. “Every day,” she said.
“Well, that’s how I feel about Harry, only he’s just upstairs, refusing to see me,” Ginny said. “How do you cope, Hermione? You never seem too sad.”
“Oh, I cope,” Hermione said, and she held up her drink in a mock toast, and then took a long swig. Ginny let out a bitter laugh and did the same.
Fred frowned. “See this, right here, George? This is why we are needed. To keep the ladies from these ridiculous dramatics.” He shook Ginny by the shoulders. “Step back from the ledge!”
Ginny laughed and nodded. “Fine. How was your shopping expedition?” she asked the twins, leaning back from her drink.
“Shopping? Oh, it was a riot, actually,” replied Fred, glancing at George with raised brows.
“You tell it,” said George, reclining with his pint.
They all settled back for the story.
“It started normal enough, found George some new togs, and bought myself a few pair of socks. The Muggles were in good form, so we sat on a bench to watch for a bit, see if any product ideas came our way. We noticed all of these Muggles tottering around in shoes that looked like absolute torture chambers, called ‘podiums’ or something of the sort,” said Fred.
“Platforms?” asked Hermione.
“Right, that’s it, platforms,” Fred continued. “So, once you start to notice, these shoes are everywhere, right? So our George becomes obsessed.”
“I’m short,” George explained. “I had to have a pair.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oh no,” she said. “Those are…”
“Women’s shoes, yeah, we got that eventually. First, though, Georgina here selected his favorite pair…”
“Red, with a nice strap,” added George.
“…and a pink-faced, stuttering Muggle found him his size…”
“14 wide, apparently.”
“…and he stumbled around the shoe department in these things, howling in pain.”
“They pinched like a Skrewt, Fred…”
“We had an audience of Muggle shoppers, everyone was staring. This is when I started to think we were a bit off on our idea…”
“We were thinking of a line of heightening shoes at the Wheezes, you know, for Flitwick and the like…”
“Or you,” Ginny pointed out.
Fred grinned. “Nice one, Ginny.”
“Yes, I’m short, I’ve already admitted to it,” muttered George.
“So what did you do?” asked Hermione.
“What do you think?” replied Fred. “George pranced around a bit for the crowd, bought the shoes, and wore them home.”
“Cast a bit of a protective spell on my ankles as we left the place though,” said George, as he lifted his long robes to reveal red vinyl platforms, open at the end to show off his hairy toes, straps circling his brawny ankles. “What do you think?” He winked at Hermione then, who broke down in hysterical laughter. Encouraged by her response, George stood and began a teetering tour of the kitchen, delicately holding his robes above his knees. Ginny and Fred joined in the raucous laughter.
“Who’s your tall lady friend, Hermione?” called Fred, leering at George as he strutted past the sideboard.
“That’s Georgina, she’s quite a catch,” laughed Hermione, and Ginny whistled.
George teetered up onto the bench and then stepped up onto the long table, strutting back and forth striking poses as his admirers clapped and hooted and cheered for more.
“Take it off!” yelled Fred.
“NO!” screamed Hermione and Ginny at the same moment, and all four dissolved into drunken laughter, George plopping down on the table and the others collapsing onto the benches, holding their sides.
The loud bang of the door slamming against the wall announced the arrival of a fifth person in the kitchen. All heads turned to see who had interrupted them.
Draco stood in the doorway. He wore monogrammed green satin pajamas with a matching sleep mask that had been pushed back onto his head. His hair was disheveled and his eyes blazed with fury. He gripped the doorframe so hard his knuckles were white.
Most noticeably, though, his face was covered in some sort of blue cream night masque.
“What in Merlin’s name is going on down here? Are you mad?!” Draco screamed.
“Malfoy, what is that on your face?” asked Fred through his laughter.
“I am trying to get some rest!” Draco continued, ignoring the question.
“Did we interrupt your beauty sleep?” asked Ginny.
Draco glared.
“I believe it is Sondra Svenson’s Smooth Skin Solution!” exclaimed George. “As advertised on the wireless.”
“You will wake Harry, you will wake Professor Snape, you will wake the bloody neighborhood!” Draco yelled, but he self-consciously touched the hardened blue masque with his fingertips.
“How does that tune go, George?” asked Fred, stroking his chin.
George began to sing, kicking up his red heels to the tune.
“Sun and age wear down a Mage,
You’re marred by air pollution…”
“Shut it, Weasley,” said Draco.
Fred, Ginny, and Hermione joined in then, swaying to the familiar jingle.
“Don’t fret those lines, fight against time,
With Sven’s Smooth Skin Solution!”
The revelers grabbed their drinks and raised a cheer, clinking glasses all around.
Draco’s chest was rising and falling in angry huffs. “You lot of ungrateful rubbish, you will be sorry for this. I will tell Harry how rudely you treated me. You idiot twins don’t even live here. Go home and sing to your stupid party tricks, why don’t you. Oi, Weaselette, can’t you see Harry doesn’t give a troll’s left nut if you are here or not? You’re a pathetic little girl. On the other hand, here’s my lovely sidekick Granger, playing the modest housekeeper by day, and then getting roaring drunk and waking all the household at night. Aren’t you the image of perfection. I see why Weasel, the fantastic git, fell for you. Only a bloody idiot could stand you. I’ve put up with you all long enough. Harry doesn’t need any of you here. Expect to be kicked out tomorrow. I hope you all rot!” He slammed the door and they could hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs.
“What an arrogant prick,” Fred said, as a loud slam announced Draco’s return to his own room.
It was Hermione though, to the twin’s surprise, who snapped. “I cannot take him anymore,” she said with a frightening intensity, pounding her glass on the table. “Day and night, primping and sulking and insulting all of us. I try to understand why Harry keeps him here, but honestly, I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of his superior attitude. He needs a reminder of where he stands in this house. I’ve had an idea, and I am ready to set it in motion. Can I count on all of you to help me put that little ferret in his place?” Hermione's eyes blazed fury.
“Whoa, Hermione!” said Fred, eyes wide. “I don’t know what has happened to you, but I like it!”
George lay across the table and planted a kiss on Hermione’s lips. “Whatever your plan, I’m with you, you fireball.”
Hermione grimaced, shoved George over, and stood up. “Ginny, we need parchment and a quill. Start thinking about the most humiliating things you would like to see Draco do. He acts high and mighty, as if he doesn’t care for anything, but I happen to know his weakness, the one thing he does care for, and now it is time to exploit it.”
“What is his weakness?” asked Ginny.
“Simple. It’s Harry,” said Hermione
The twins’ eyes met. This was going to be good.
* * *
Severus tried to focus on the intelligence report from Kingsley, but found he was reading the same paragraph over and over again. Bill’s appointment with Harry had come and gone the day before, but the damn accountant had not appeared in the study yet this morning. Where was that idiot? The gnawing longing he had been feeling would soon be at an end. He gave up looking at the report and stood, pacing from window to door, and back again.
When the door eased open and Bill entered the room, Severus stopped and sat at his desk, heart racing pleasantly.
“Good morning, Weasley,” said Severus. He groaned inwardly at the eager tone in his voice, but Bill did not appear to notice.
Bill walked to his desk without pause, saying, “Good news or bad news?”
“Sorry?” asked Severus.
“Which would you like first, the good news or the bad news? I didn’t think you would be interested in small talk before I told you about Harry,” said Bill, still not meeting Severus’s eyes, settling in at his work area.
Severus took a moment to admire Bill’s insight. “Bad,” he said, leaning back in his chair, holding his breath.
Bill sat up straight and looked at the wall in front of him. “He doesn’t love you. He does not want to see you.”
“Ah.” Severus ignored the flash of light-headedness that swept over him at this stark announcement. “And the good?”
“He has invited me back today, so I will try again,” said Bill.
“Oh.” Severus felt his eyes flutter slightly and his body sway. How had he failed to anticipate this? Potter had seemed so lonely. He had actually convinced himself that all the fool needed was an offer and he would be his. Humiliation washed over him, flooding his brain.
“Are you all right, Snape?” asked Bill, his voice far away.
Severus inhaled deeply, willing himself to focus and not get carried away by this ridiculous reaction. Under his desk, he pinched the fleshy skin between his thumb and forefinger, hard. He turned to Bill, who was looking at him with concern.
“Yes. Fine. That’s it then.” Severus sat up and pulled out a quill. “Let’s get to work.”
* * *
Remus could see, hell, he could feel, the disappointment radiating off of Severus in waves. He had decided short and brutal would be better than leaving him with any hope, but he hated to make anyone, much less Severus, feel so miserable.
They worked in a strained silence for several minutes.
Remus glanced over to see that Severus had stopped writing and was staring blankly into space just moments before he spoke in his silky voice.
“You have been in love.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” Remus replied.
“The French woman,” said Severus.
“Um, yes,” said Remus, but he hadn’t really known Fleur, and wanted to avoid talking about her, as he was fairly certain he would not be able to fake it convincingly. “And others. Well, another.” Severus’s dark eyes flashed over to him.
“Oh?”
“No one you know,” said Remus, nervous about where he had turned the conversation.
“What was this paragon like?” asked Severus.
“Why do you want to know?”
“I just do.”
“Well,” Remus wracked his brain, but he had only ever loved one person, and his brain was not allowing him to think of anyone else, “a bit like you, actually.”
The deep frown-line between Severus’s brows became pronounced.
Remus smiled. “Dark hair, about your height, loved to read, had a very dry, biting sense of humor, and a strong dislike of idiocy,” Remus said. Severus sneered at this description of himself, and Remus was hit by the now familiar urge to give up his charade and tell Severus the truth. “It was love.”
“Yet I notice that you are now alone,” Severus said.
Remus had forgotten how cruel Severus could be when he felt vulnerable. He pulled himself back into character.
“Thank you for polite reminder. Many things have happened since then, Snape: the war, my wife’s death, two years of amnesia. You never know what might happen to derail love. Life is complicated.” Remus turned back to his desk.
Severus was still and quiet for a very long time.
Remus had started working again when Severus said, “That is true.”
“I will try again today with Harry, Snape. I promised you I would,” said Remus. “But if he does not love you, you should give it up.”
“I cannot. I cannot accept no as an answer.”
“You have to, Snape. Sometimes you just have to. Let’s say there is someone else out there in the world who feels the same way about you that you feel about Harry. You would have to turn them down, correct? They would have to accept no as an answer. Your heart is already given,” Remus said.
“There is no such person, Weasley, so your example is pointless,” Snape said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“But if there were such a person, who loved you, loved you more than their own life,” Remus’s voice caught in his throat, and he stopped for a moment to calm himself, “then you would have to admit my logic is sound.”
“I refuse to participate in conjecture about a person that does not exist,” Severus replied, rising from his seat and approaching Remus. “When you return to Potter, offer him this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small green stone, smooth and glassy. Remus recognized it immediately, hoped that his face was not reflecting the horror he felt. “Tell him I will not be denied.”
Remus lived the next few seconds in slow-motion, accepting the stone from Severus. It was the same stone he had been given as a token of commitment so many years ago, the stone that had been his, that had rested on his bedside table, when it wasn’t in his hand or his pocket, for years. As Severus passed the stone to him, his cool fingers touched Remus’s skin, and the shock of this touch made Remus dizzy.
Remus wrapped his fingers around the stone, exploring the familiar curve of it in his hand.
“Will you do it?” Severus snapped.
Remus pocketed the stone.
“I will,” he said.
* * *
Hermione burst into the kitchen, where Fred, George, and Ginny were busily cooking up a blackberry pie to share with the household.
“He’s found it!” she whispered. “Follow me! Quietly!” She dashed back out the door.
The three pie chefs exchanged glances and then sprinted out after her.
“The letter has already made a contemplative idiot of him,” Hermione said, intensity in her eyes, as they stacked up behind her on the stairs, peering down into the back hallway.
Draco was alone in the hallway below. His face was flushed, and in his hand he was clutching a parchment that by its crinkled appearance appeared to have already been read many times. He was pacing the hall, speaking to himself in an excited whisper.
“Be very quiet,” Hermione said, motioning them forward.
“Of course,” Draco murmured from below. “How could he not, after all.” He adjusted his elaborate, embroidered robe on his thin frame.
“This is rich,” whispered Fred, smirking.
“Shhh, listen,” said Ginny, craning her neck and nudging Fred.
Draco puffed out his chest as he spoke to himself. “When we are together, they will all have to listen to me. Me! No more pandering to the mudbloods and tainted plebians. I will be the master of this house, as I should be.”
George almost gave them away with a snort, but Draco was too occupied with his own thoughts to notice.
“Then I can put those damned Weasleys in their place,” Draco continued.
“Hey!” said Ginny, but Hermione quieted her with a touch to the arm.
“I’ll have them curtsying to me and wiping my shoes. There will be no more drinking at all hours, and no more open door to any riff-raff that would like to stop in,” Draco continued.
“Oh, let me knock this idiot in the head, please,” muttered Fred.
“We have to let him go on or the joke is ruined,” said Hermione, her finger to her lips.
“I won’t shake their hands, won’t fetch their tea.” Draco had moved in front of the hallway mirror, fluffing his hair and smoothing his robes, offering himself little smirks and winks. “They’ll all have to do what I say.”
“This is bollocks,” said George, but Ginny clamped a hand over his mouth.
Speaking to himself in the mirror, Draco exclaimed, “Ah, hello handsome, what’s this? A letter?” He held out the crumpled parchment. “For me? Why what could it say?”
“Here we go,” said Hermione, easing forward, eyes alight.
Draco unrolled the parchment and proceeded to read it aloud, in a lilting tone, while pacing the hallway.
Dearest Draco,
I have held this inside for so long, but at last I must be heard.
Your presence in my life has been one of great comfort. Knowing a handsome, intelligent, powerful, and pure-blooded…
Here Draco let out a small sigh.
… wizard was here for me in my time of grief has been a great boon to my spirit. Draco, you are the reason I have been able to hold on. It is time you knew.
You are my soul-mate, my one true love, my hero.
I cannot face speaking with you about this in person, but I must know if you feel the same way. If you do, please show me. Here is how.
“Tell me what to do,” said Draco, and the watchers on the stairs exchanged wide-eyed glances.
I cannot stand to have any more sadness around me, so I ask you to please, please smile, no matter how glum I appear, no matter how often I ask you to stop. It will cheer me. In addition, the more cheerful the people around me, the more I feel myself healing. I ask you to happily comply with any requests you receive from Hermione. It will truly please me to see the two of your working together as a team. On that same note, the house elves could do with some new knitwear. Please knit them a little something.
However, with anyone besides Hermione, I expect you to be harsh and cruel. Keep everyone else away from me at all costs, so that we have more time alone together.
Your yellow hair haunts my dreams, and if you would start wearing nothing but yellow, it would be as if your hair had multiplied and covered your entire body.
George’s snort here was loud enough that Draco paused briefly and looked behind him before going on.
Wear nothing but yellow, Draco, for me.
As a great Muggle writer once noted: Some are born great,
“True,” said Draco in a loud voice.
Some achieve greatness,
“Hmm.”
And some have greatness thrust upon ‘em.
“What?” he muttered. “Well, I liked the first bit.”
Hermione was holding a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. The wicked grins on the twins’ faces were not helping.
You are truly one of the greats and together, great things will happen for us. Love, Harry
“Some are born great, Harry,” Draco said, looking at himself in the glass and smoothing his hair. “We will be together, as we are meant to be.” Gripping the parchment, and with a last glance in the mirror to smooth his eyebrows, Draco strutted down the hall and out of sight.
The group on the staircase dissolved into laughter.
“I could marry you for this, Hermione,” said George, adoration in his eyes. “Your letter is brilliant.”
Hermione gave him a shifty look as she led them back down the hallway to the kitchen.
“Don’t make any declarations until you see what happens when he tries to impress Harry,” she said.
Link to Act III
Dramatis Personae
Orsino- Severus Snape
Viola- Remus Lupin
Olivia- Harry Potter
Sebastian- Bill Weasley
Sea Captain- Charlie Weasley
Antonio- Viktor Krum
Maria- Hermione Granger
Sir Toby Belch/Feste- Fred and George Weasley
Sir Andrew Aguecheek- Ginny Weasley
Malvolio- Draco Malfoy