Saturday afternoon, 12 September 1942, at Malfoy Manor in Tintagel...

[dream_of_earth]

“I need to talk to you,” Valeria Benedetto said through her teeth.

Endymion Dashwood looked up at her from where he sat, comfortably nestled in the crook of Hadrian Kyteler’s arm on one of the old Roman couches the Malfoys had dug up from somewhere, and tried not to wince at the confusion of thoughts and images that had preceded her. “You look fantastic,” he said, because she did. The peach silk suited her golden complexion, dark green eyes and honey-coloured hair.

Valeria started to say something sarcastic about how she hadn’t sought him out in order to discuss her looks, then realised she’d been complimented and bit back her reply, which made her sputter a little before she finally said, “Thanks.”

Endymion found this almost amusing, except that she was sputtering inside his head, as well. Valeria was loud, the way Nicodemo Zabini was loud, only more so.

“You should take it seriously,” said Hadrian after watching them both for a moment. “He hardly notices women.”

Endymion patted the edge of the couch. “You can fit three on these things. Especially if one of them is you and one is me.” Fortunately they had relative privacy; they were in one of the halls between the conservatory and the great central hall where the ceremonies would take place, and most people who came through were either on their way from one to the other or desperately seeking the loo.

Valeria sat down gingerly. “I don’t want to recline, I’ll spoil my dress.”

“That’s fine,” said Endymion, and looked up at her sidewise. “What is it now? I thought we had got you calmed down. Did someone say something abominable while you were being dressed? Tell me who, and I’ll take care of her for you. Or give you the ammunition to do it yourself. Whatever you want.”

Valeria sighed. “It was your sister.”

“Well I wish I could say I was surprised,” said Endymion lightly, “but really, I’m not. I love Maria, and she’s been like a mother to Jonathan, but she can be horrid; after all, she’s related to me.” He considered what he knew about Maria, and also, what he knew about Maria. “I suppose it would make me a poor mathematician indeed to upset her further when she and Lady Malfoy and the Dux and the Ozzer are still hashing out all the issues surrounding my custody and Jonathan’s. But if you don’t tell her you heard it from me…” He sighed. “Pity. It’s beneath even her to pick on a jilted bride. Especially since she recently jilted her own intended, you know.”

“She’s possessed,” Valeria said through her teeth, marvelling in spite of herself at the way Endymion’s words flowed. “He’s better without her.”

“I wouldn’t be sure of that,” said Hadrian, still wondering what it was that kept drawing Valeria back to them in her current state of mind, and why Endymion was putting on such a show for her. “You don’t know Willy Walsingham.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Endymion muttered, “and better for her that she doesn’t.” He cocked his head to one side and studied Valeria. “Again, I wish I could say I was surprised. But I was told as much by Stepa Zitek, in an owl, and he would know. Do you think we ought to tell Lady Malfoy?”

“I do,” said Hadrian firmly, even though he hadn’t been asked.

Valeria boggled at them. “Don’t you think she has a right to know?’

Endymion nodded noncommittally. “You know. I’m only a little better with ‘rights’ than I am with ‘ethics’. They both involve the concept of right-as in right and wrong-and I’m so bad at that that it’s a wonder I ever mastered right and left.”

Hadrian snorted. “You’re not half so mad, bad, or dangerous to know as you like to let on that you are. Stop scaring the poor girl.” He smiled at Valeria. “She’s had enough shocks for the day.”

“It’s all right,” Valeria said after a moment, though her tone was more doubtful than not. “I…I like him that way. He’s like Mercutio, but smarter, and he’s actually funny when he thinks he is.” She leaned over and gingerly patted the top of Endymion’s head; if he bit off her hand, after all, she could grow back another. “And he’s very decorative. Even with spectacles.”

“Without them,” Endymion said blithely, “I’m as blind as a bat. Which ruins the whole ‘decorative’ aspect of things. It’s not very graceful to wander into the walls, and I don’t own any clothing so regrettable that hollandaise sauce would improve it.”

“Except for those flannel shirts,” Hadrian teased him, relaxing a little. Whatever Endymion was doing, it was putting the girl at ease somehow. Hadrian just hoped it wasn’t going to wear him out-even he could read Valeria, and he didn’t want to think about what it had to be like to be a telepath in her presence. “The ones you’re always in at school, except when you’re in uniform.”

“Those are just for the laboratory,” said Endymion in a long-suffering voice. “It gets cold when I’ve got all the hoods open.” After a moment, he glanced up at Valeria, still rolling the issue of his sister’s condition around in his mind. “Do you think whatever’s possessing Maria is here to make trouble for Lady Malfoy? Or is it here to make trouble for me? Because if it isn’t here to make trouble for Lady Malfoy, it might be best, all things considered, for us not to upset her more than she already is.”

Valeria’s breath caught in her throat. Endymion raised an eyebrow, interested that the answer seemed to be neither of those things. “I think…she said she was here for me,” Valeria finally managed. “She said Maria wouldn’t even have come on her own. That she made Maria come here so she could talk to me.”

Hadrian frowned. “What would a demon want you for?”

“Well, somebody has to,” Valeria said in a bitter tone, then shrugged. “She said she knew my mother. My real mother. Who died in a fire when I was a baby, or that’s what they think back home. Except that the demon says she’s not actually dead.”

Endymion raised the other eyebrow and looked her straight in the eyes, sitting up to do it. “So tell me what you do.” He knew she would think about it as soon as she realised what he meant, and of course, she did. Usually he found it more difficult to read others of his own kind than normal people, but Valeria was absolutely transparent to him.

“Ah,” said Valeria. “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine? This isn’t the place.”

“I should say not!” Hadrian retorted, and wondered why in the world Endymion was suddenly willing to discuss this sensitive issue so freely with someone who was even more of an open book than Hadrian was himself.

Endymion was too busy being impressed with Valeria’s gifts to answer him. “Well, that’s a new one. I bruise altogether too easily, frankly.”

Valeria glared at him. “You should really ask permission before you do that!”

“If I wanted people to know I could do it,” Endymion muttered. “But most people wouldn’t believe it anyway. Anyhow, ethics, rights, morals? Not in my purview. You won’t tell, will you? Obliviate is such a nasty spell, I’d hate to have to get good at it…”

“It is,” Valeria hissed through her teeth; Endymion drew back as though he’d been slapped. Hadrian watched them, wondering what had brought that on.

“I didn’t know,” Endymion said archly, glancing down at his hands. “I read your uppermost thoughts, I didn’t try to learn your life story. I don’t want to know most people’s life stories. Actively don’t want to know. I get more than enough dirt for my purposes just being around them hearing the roof-brain stuff.” He glanced back up at her, sidewise. “Anyhow I doubt it could be done to you. You can’t be injured like your mother was. I was thinking of what I would have to do to whoever you told.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” said Valeria, and then growled softly in frustration, hoping he wouldn’t respond with another of his quips about how morality wasn’t his thing.

Endymion shrugged. “Well, it isn’t,” he said.

Hadrian frowned at them. “So do we tell Lady Malfoy about the demon or not? She has the right to know who’s on her land, and really we don’t have the right to keep that from her, Endymion.”

“I don’t see how she can possibly not know there’s a demon on her land, if all the stories you all tell are true. Maybe that’s why she’s been so touchy all day. But I’m not sure that knowing who’s got it will help her.” Endymion scowled. “Thinking. I’m thinking. And it’s difficult, when you two are thinking so hard and so loudly yourselves. After Portia showed up, and the swan dive Yvon took? Really, do you want to know what happens if a sacred queen explodes?”

“No,” said Hadrian, scowling. “No, not really. Do you think we should tell my father?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” said Endymion, sucking on his lower lip. He was getting a terrible headache and he had half a mind to send it right back to Valeria, except that that would be mean, which oughtn’t, he thought, to have stopped him, so maybe he had changed. And that was unsettling.

“Yvon went diving?” Valeria’s brow furrowed. “I thought he and Alessio just went back to bed to spend the rest of the day doing the same thing they did all night last night.” She made a face.

Endymion shook his head. “We’re not supposed to know about it, Valeria, but Yvon took a curse off Mrs Zabini, and something went wrong, and he nearly died.”

Valeria gave him a dark look. “Only nearly?”

“Yes,” Endymion said firmly. “Yes, it would be wrong for you to wish that, and you know it, and you don’t wish it anyway, so stop that. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Why should I be the only one here with this headache? Too bad I can’t give it back to Alessio! Anyhow, I thought you didn’t do right and wrong,” Valeria sniffed.

“He neglected to tell you he’s also a liar and a hypocrite,” Hadrian said cheerfully. “Alessio probably has enough headaches, if Yvon’s as ill as Endymion says they all think he is.”

“Darling,” Endymion said, “don’t flatter me so where people can hear, or I might have to molest you in front of them.” He sighed, his thoughts still rolling around in jagged circles. “I wish the Ziteks were here; they’d know what to do about this.” He tossed his long hair back over his shoulder.

Valeria resisted the temptation to pet it, even though it was shiny and smooth and looked like it would feel good in her hands. Hadrian, however, did not. “We should tell her, Endymion. She deserves to know.”

“I don’t know,” said Valeria, hesitantly. “The demon said a lot of things about me. Ordinarily I’d laugh them off, because, demon. But this time I think it was true. All of it.” She frowned. “She said she knew my mother-my real mother-and that Nicodemo Zabini is really my father.”

Endymion heard it before she spoke the words and still didn’t quite manage not to choke on his punch. He very nearly spilled it, too, and Valeria jumped up in a hurry to avoid getting punch on her skirts.

“He really gets around,” said Hadrian mildly, after he’d finished getting Endymion to breathe again.

Endymion glared at him. “Do not make me laugh until my chest stops hurting; Jesus God, is this what it’s like to be Mulciber?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Valeria, scowling at both of them. “Anyhow, I don’t see what’s funny about it at all!”

“You don’t know Nicodemo very well,” Endymion choked out.

“I’ve lived with him for nearly a week, which is certainly more than you can say!” Valeria shot back.

Endymion bit his tongue. On purpose. He’d promised Nico he wouldn’t tell anyone, and on the list of people who comprised ‘anyone’, Nicodemo’s daughter and Alessio’s jilted bride was probably somewhere quite near the top.

Hadrian sighed heavily. “Endymion has known Nicodemo rather longer than that,” he said quietly. “At any rate, it is funny that he doesn’t have more children, honestly, given the fact that he does get around and that having his child would put a witch in a good position for lots of things. I realise it can’t possibly be very funny for you, but it’s still…humorous. Sorry.”

“I think it’s true,” said Valeria. “And it’s so annoying. Because he’s a sourpuss who thinks the whole world should do whatever he says. And it means I was-” Her face went bright red at the very thought of fucking my uncle.

“Ugh,” said Hadrian, with great sympathy; he wasn’t a telepath, but the logic chain wasn’t long or particularly elaborate. “Yes.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

“I don’t know,” said Endymion thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t with Uncle Jimmy, but then I’ve known him since I was a child. And I wouldn’t with Maria, but she’s a girl, and I wouldn’t with Jonathan, but he’s a child and I’ve looked after him. Vilém and Stepa get on all right though. It could be a lot worse. Alessio could have been your father.”

“Ugh!” said Valeria. “That is disgusting! Don’t you have any proper moral feelings at all?”

“Of course not,” said Endymion, and rolled his eyes at her. “I’ve slept with two brothers at once; it was nice, and I don’t see the harm in it, either to me or to them. Anyhow, you seem to have taken precisely my point.”

Hadrian sighed, and noted that he had been doing a lot of that lately, and resolved to stop. “We still haven’t decided what to do about Maria.” To Valeria he added: “And I’d be horrified at the thought of sleeping with any of my sisters. Or uncles and aunts. Or even first cousins. I did snog Doria Nutter, but she’s not a first cousin.”

Valeria’s cheeks flared red. “The truth is…all the Zabinis are kind of…” Gorgeous, she couldn’t help thinking. Even Mercutio, although it was hard to see when he was being so incredibly annoying all the time. She wondered, now, if their unreasoning and unreasonable hate-at-first-sight was anything like the equally immediate and unreasoning attraction she’d felt for Alessio. Or the way that when old Don Ercole had said those dirty things that made her cringe, a part of her had liked it a little, enough to wonder if maybe she wasn’t somehow inviting it.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me,” said Endymion blithely. Despite the emotional pain Nicodemo had been in on the night they’d spent together, he still had fond memories. Nico’s grief had been a painfully delicious base note to the relentless pleasure, in much the same way that a scent which was foul or raw on its own could lend a terrible, animal beauty to a perfume that was otherwise light, pleasant, and commonplace.

Valeria groaned. “How many people here have slept with Alessio, anyway?”

Endymion shrugged. “I could check, but really, you don’t want to know.” He hadn’t, but after meeting Alessio he would have had to admit that it probably was just because he hadn’t met Alessio before he and Hadrian had promised themselves to each other.

“Cheer up,” said Hadrian, who had found himself uncomfortably tempted to tell Valeria that Endymion had not been talking about Alessio. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised given that Endymion had already told her a lot more than he ought to have done, but even so, it was disconcerting. “If you’re a Zabini too, then you must have that quality yourself. I wouldn’t know; it doesn’t work on me-but you will get attention tonight, and not just from Pritchard, unless you attach yourself to him so firmly that nobody dares to step into the breach.”

“The ceremony’s about to start,” said Valeria. “People are heading this way. If we’re going to tell her, it won’t be till after the ceremony…”

Hadrian frowned. “I suppose it would be bad to tell her during…”

“You suppose?” Endymion kissed his cheek to take the sting out of his tone. “We should go in and take our seats. Perhaps we can contrive to speak to your father while your stepmother’s doing the ceremony.”

“That sounds good,” said Hadrian, who got up and held out his arm to Endymion. Endymion took it and stood. He offered his other arm to Valeria, who took it a little gingerly.

“I don’t want to tell Nicodemo that a demon says he’s my father! He’ll probably laugh at me!” Valeria hissed.

“He won’t,” said Hadrian. “He cares for you. I can tell.”

Endymion considered telling her that really, she was just afraid she’d be rejected, and that it was ridiculous, because of course Nicodemo wouldn’t reject his own child. But what if she wasn’t? It was a bit alarming, really, that she wanted a father so badly she was willing to believe what a demon told her. And no matter how much it explained, he thought, really, it was still suspect. Demons were expert liars, and the best lies always had just enough truth in them to cut deep.

“He won’t laugh,” Endymion finally said. “But he will take it very hard, so I hope for both of your sakes that it’s actually true.”

ministry_brat, puella_virtutis and dream_of_earth