FIC: Aftermaths, Part 57

[geri_chan]

Title: Aftermaths, Part 57
Rating: NC-17 overall, but most chapters are closer to PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin, Theodore/Blaise, and a few other minor pairings
Word count: ~9,960
Warning: AU; written pre-HBP
Author's notes: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts
Disclaimer: No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising
Summary: Lupin and Snape get into a fight, which traumatizes Theodore; Lukas Bleddri's trial begins, and he runs into Narcissa afterwards, which results in a steamy encounter.

Part 56 (Previous chapters can be found under the aftermaths tag.)

***

The second troublesome thing that happened that week was much more serious. It started out innocently enough, with Lady Selima sending a letter inviting Snape, Lupin, and the boys to tea on Saturday afternoon. To Lupin, the invitation was nothing out of the ordinary, and indeed, he had been expecting one. Snape, on the other hand, wondered uneasily if it was an ordinary invitation and Selima was simply pretending that their argument had never happened, or if it might be a peace offering of sorts. He was not in a hurry to return to Snape Manor and find out, but he couldn't think of a way to refuse without making Lupin suspicious.

So Lupin asked the boys to drop by his and Snape's quarters before dinner, and cheerfully informed them that they would be going to Snape Manor that weekend. Theodore's reaction surprised him.

"Do we have to go?" Theodore protested in a voice that was just short of being sullen, almost whiny.

"Is there some reason you don't want to go?" Lupin asked carefully, giving his foster son a puzzled look. He seemed to have momentarily regressed into the old Theo, who had always skulked around Hogwarts looking sullen and frightened.

"Well, it's just that I'm really busy right now," Theodore said, somewhat evasively. "I have my N.E.W.T.s to study for, and a test coming up in Ancient Runes, and our Quidditch match is next week. Can't we do it some other time?"

"I know you're busy, Theo," Lupin said pleasantly, but his eyes were firmly fixed on Theodore's face, while the boy kept trying to avoid his gaze. "But surely you can pull yourself away from your studies for just an hour or two. And I'm sure that Lady Selima misses you and would like to see you."

"I don't want to go!" Theodore shouted, then flushed as everyone stared at him in shock. "I mean, um, now is just not a good time," he added lamely in a much quieter voice.

"What's wrong, Theo?" Lupin asked gently. "Why don't you want to go to Snape Manor?"

"Nothing's wrong," Theodore insisted in a defensive voice. "I'm just busy, that's all." But his eyes flickered towards Snape for just a second.

Lupin noticed. "All right," he said. "Why don't the two of you head back to the dorm, then?" Lupin smiled at Theo wryly. "Since you have so much studying to do."

Theodore hastily left the room, and Dylan followed, looking confused and worried. Unbeknownst to Lupin and Snape, Theodore lingered behind, hovering nervously outside the Potions Master's door.

"Theo?" Dylan asked. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Theodore replied. "Go on, I'll catch up with you in a minute."

But Dylan remained where he was, crossing his arms over his chest. "All right, Theo, what's going on? Why don't you want to go to Snape Manor, and why did Lupin just kick us out?"

"Shh!" Theodore hissed. "They'll hear us!"

"I'm not leaving until you do," Dylan whispered, stubbornly refusing to move. Theodore couldn't argue with him without raising his voice and attracting their guardians' attention, so the two boys remained outside the door together, trying to hear Lupin's and Snape's conversation.

Meanwhile, Lupin was saying to Snape, "What's going on, Severus? Theodore had a wonderful time at Snape Manor during the holidays, so why he is suddenly so reluctant to go back?"

"I have no idea, Lupin," Snape replied coolly, shifting his gaze to a point on the wall behind Lupin, so that he wouldn't have to look the werewolf in the eye. "Maybe it's the stress of the N.E.W.T.s. Students frequently become short-tempered or agitated during their seventh year."

"That's the first rule of Legilimency, isn't it, Severus?" Lupin asked softly. "Eye contact is usually necessary to read a person's thoughts. I'm not a Legilimens, but I think you have something to hide, Severus. Something to do with your fight with Selima the night before we left, perhaps?" His pale blue eyes bored into Snape's black ones, with a gaze that was nearly as intense, keen, and merciless as the Dark Lord's, and Snape flinched in spite of himself. "Was Theodore involved in this quarrel of yours?"

"No!" Snape protested, but a look of guilt filled his eyes. "He wasn't even in the room at the time," Snape continued, but suddenly sounded uncertain of that.

"Well, something happened to upset him," Lupin pointed out. "Maybe he wasn't in the room, but could he have overheard your argument?"

"I don't know," Snape mumbled. "I didn't think so."

"What was the argument about, Severus?" Lupin persisted.

"It's none of your business, Lupin!" Snape snapped.

"It was none of my business when it only affected you and your mother," Lupin said in a level voice. "But when it affects Theodore, it IS my business. Now what happened?"

"Nothing," Snape insisted, looking guiltier by the minute. "Just a stupid fight with my mother over nothing."

"Then why is Theo so upset?" Lupin asked suspiciously. "The fight wasn't about Theo, was it?" The look on Snape's face told him that was exactly what it had been about. "Severus!" Lupin cried. "What happened? Why were you arguing with Selima? She hasn't changed her mind about Theo and Blaise, has she?"

Snape shook his head curtly. "I said it was nothing!"

"Theodore doesn't think it's 'nothing'!" Lupin said angrily.

"I'll straighten it out, Lupin," Snape said. "I didn't realize that Theodore might have been listening to us."

"He loves both of you, Severus," Lupin said. "It's got to upset him to see the two of you at odds with each other. I know I can't force you to forgive your mother, but you have to at least--"

"You're right!" Snape interrupted. "You can't force me to forgive my mother, and don't tell me that I 'have to' do anything! This is between Lady Selima and me, so stay out of it, Lupin!"

"No, I will not stay out of it, because it's not just between you and Selima anymore!" Lupin retorted. "How long are you going to carry that hatred around inside you? You don't have to like your mother, but when you decided to go back to the Snape family and adopt Theodore, you knew that you would have to make peace with her!"

"I will carry it around as long as I damn well please, Lupin!" Snape shouted. "And it was you who pushed me to go back to my family, it was you and your Gryffindor idealism that wanted a fairy tale happy ending! Well, this isn't a fairy tale, Lupin! You have no idea what I went through as a child, not really! You had a nice cozy little family, with parents who loved you even though you were a werewolf. Your father never cast a Cruciatus Curse on you, and your mother never stood by and watched while he did it! Your parents never abandoned you when they thought you were about to be convicted and sent to Azkaban! So you have no right to tell me that I have to make peace with my mother!"

The door suddenly swung open, and Theodore suddenly burst into the room, screaming, "Stop it! Stop it!" Lupin and Snape turned, startled, to see Theo standing in front of them, looking wild-eyed and close to tears. Dylan followed behind him, looking pale and worried.

"I don't want to be the Snape heir anymore!" Theodore shouted, and Snape went white, feeling as if his heart had stopped. "I told you before that I didn't care about the inheritance, that all I wanted was to be your son!" Theodore continued. "So please, let's just forget about the Snape estate--let Lady Selima run it and worry about who the heir will be. Can't we just go back to the way things were before, when it was just the four of us? I don't want to go back to Snape Manor, I don't want the Snape inheritance, so please, please stop fighting with Remus, Father!"

Snape let out a shaky sigh of relief and his heart started beating again; he had thought for a minute that Theodore no longer wanted to be his son. Then he sobered as he realized that he had really made a mess of things this time. Lupin put up with all of Snape's fits of temper, petty insults, and bitterness--which wasn't really fair to Lupin, Snape had to admit, but at least Lupin understood that Snape's anger wasn't really directed at him--most of the time, anyway, and that Snape still loved him even when it was. But Theodore was an emotionally fragile child, who had grown up in a family where he and his mother had lived in fear of Thaddeus Nott's rages. He wasn't used to friendly arguments, or not-so-friendly ones that eventually blew over. Snape thought of all the times that he had scornfully accused Black of being immature and told him to grow up; he should have taken his own advice. He was suddenly painfully aware that he had been behaving more like someone Theodore's age than like a grown man with two sons to look after.

"Theo, oh Theo, shh, it's all right," Lupin said gently, looking very guilty as he wrapped his arms around the near-hysterical boy. "I'm so sorry, Theo; we didn't mean to upset you. We didn't know you were listening."

"You also overheard me fighting with my mother the night before we came back to Hogwarts, didn't you?" Snape asked quietly.

"I'm sorry for eavesdropping," Theodore said, still looking distraught as Lupin tried to calm him. "But you were angry and I didn't know why. I'm sorry, Father, if I've done something wrong. I didn't mean to, I swear! I won't spend any more time with Lady Selima if you don't want me to, I won't go back to Snape Manor at all if that's what you want. Just please don't fight with Remus because of me. I don't want to lose either of you, please..."

Lupin held the boy as he began to weep. He and Snape stared at each other over Theodore's shoulder, both looking equally guilty and concerned. "I think we need to talk," Snape finally said.

"Come," Lupin said gently, "why don't we sit on the couch, have some tea, and talk things over?"

A few minutes later, they were all seated on the couch, sipping cups of hot tea. Theodore's eyes were dry now, but still a little red, and he still looked anxious and unhappy. Snape didn't seem to know where to start, so Lupin went first. "I'm sorry that you overheard us fighting, Theo," he said. "We both lost our tempers and things got a little out of hand."

"You weren't just fighting," Theodore said miserably. "You were fighting over me! I can't stand the thought of being the cause of you two..." His voice trailed off.

"Breaking up?" Lupin finished. "Oh Theo, I promise you that will never happen!" He smiled tenderly at Theodore and brushed a lock of hair back from his face. "I let Severus leave me once, when I was too young to know better, and I promised him that I would never let that happen again! If I had to, I would follow him around, send him Howlers, and camp outside his door until he took me back!"

"Werewolves are very persistent," Snape said with a wry smile.

But Theodore did not look reassured, and Lupin said in a gentle voice, "Theo, even two people who love each other very much will fight from time to time; it's only human nature. Don't you ever quarrel with your friends sometimes?"

"I guess," Theodore said uncertainly, then remembered how he and Blaise had argued during the Yule Ball, and before last year's Ball as well. He also remembered how he and Draco had fought during Draco's first visit to the cottage during the summer.

"But you forgave them, and they forgave you," Lupin said. Theodore nodded, but still didn't look quite convinced. Trying a different approach, Lupin asked, "Didn't you and your mother fight sometimes, Dylan?"

"Not really," Dylan replied, and Lupin heaved a sigh. Well, perhaps that was a bad example, he told himself. Ariane and Dylan had been unnaturally close, perhaps to a slightly unhealthy degree. Ariane, having lost her lover, had lavished all her affection on her son, doting on him and spoiling him a little, while Dylan had worshipped his beautiful young mother. He had grown up in exile for thirteen years, having little contact with anyone but the Donners, and completely trusting no one but his mother. They had been co-conspirators, secretly plotting to take revenge for Evan's death, and it was not surprising that all Dylan's anger had been reserved for the people he had considered responsible for his father's death and his mother's exile.

Suddenly realizing that he was not being very helpful, Dylan hastily added, "But my mother said that she fought with my father a lot when she was younger." He grinned rakishly. "She said that sometimes a good argument was fuel for passion." Lupin gave Snape a knowing grin; the Potions Master flushed, and Theodore relaxed just a little. "And Hermione and I fight sometimes," Dylan continued. "Well, not so much now, but we used to when I still had to pretend that I wanted to be a Death Eater."

"Secrets aren't very good for a relationship," Lupin said softly, and Snape flushed again, with guilt this time, and Theodore ducked his head, letting his dark hair fall across his face. Lupin smiled at them both, then placed his hand beneath Theodore's chin and tipped his face up until their eyes met. "Severus and I have very different personalities, and we're bound to clash sometimes," Lupin told him. "But just because we get angry at each other, it doesn't mean that we don't love each other, and it certainly doesn't mean that we'll break up. I will never leave Severus, and I will never leave you or Dylan. The three of you are my family, and I love you more than anything else in the world."

Theodore turned hesitantly towards Snape, and Lupin gave him an expectant look. Snape cleared his throat and said gruffly, "I won't leave the werewolf. Where else would I find someone willing to put up with me?" Lupin chuckled, Dylan laughed, more from release of tension than anything else, and Theodore smiled tentatively. "Lupin does lose his temper from time to time, Theodore," Snape said in a slightly more serious voice, and when he does, it's usually justified." Snape sighed. "And I must admit, it's usually my fault."

"Then you're not mad at Remus or me?" Theodore asked hesitantly.

"No, Theodore," Snape replied, looking very weary.

"But you told Lady Selima..."

Snape sighed again. "I wasn't angry with you, Theodore."

"But you were angry at Lady Selima because of me," Theodore persisted.

"I was estranged from my family for years," Snape said. "The argument that night...that was more about me and my mother than you. Things are...complicated...between us." He could see that wasn't going to be enough to reassure Theodore, but he didn't think that saying he was jealous of his own son was going to make things better. Lupin gave him a loving, encouraging smile, and Snape took a deep breath, then spoke. "I resented my mother for not protecting me from my father, much as you did Marta," Snape explained, choosing his words with care. "I was glad that Lady Selima seemed to be treating you well, but..." Snape hesitated, then continued, "But it made me wonder why she couldn't have treated me that way when I was a child." Snape hastened to assure his son, "But I was angry with my mother, not with you." Saying the word "love" still made him a little uncomfortable, but he knew that Theodore needed to hear it, so he said, "I love you, Theodore. Adopting you as my son was one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life, and I will never regret it." Theodore's face filled with love and relief, and Snape managed a real smile. "It was well worth returning home for," he said, and meant it.

"But you don't have to!" Theodore said earnestly. "I meant what I said; I don't care about the inheritance as long as I'm your son! If...if you don't want to be part of the Snape family anymore, then neither do I!"

Theodore had just chosen Snape over Selima, and it hadn't escaped Snape's notice that he had gone back to calling her "Lady Selima" instead of "Grandmother." He wondered why that didn't make him happier. He glanced over at Lupin, waiting to see what his lover would say.

Lupin stared at him thoughtfully for a very long time, then finally reached out and laid his hand over Snape's. "I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin said, very gently. "You're right, I grew up in a loving family, and I can't really know what your childhood was like. Up here, perhaps, but not here." He tapped his head and then his heart with his free hand. "And you're right that I'm an idealist and that I want a happy ending. But it wasn't just for the sake of a fairy tale ending. Your family hurt you when you were a child, and I thought returning home would help you to heal. But maybe I was wrong." Lupin hesitated, then continued in a quiet voice, "I believe that Selima regrets what she did in the past, even if she hasn't actually said so. And I believe that she's trying to change. But some wounds run too deep to be healed, and some things cannot be forgiven. I was wrong to push you, Severus. I remember when you still could not forgive Sirius, that I told you that you must take things at your own pace, that no one could force you to change the way you feel. But I wanted so badly for us all to be a family that I rushed things, and I'm sorry. Only you can decide what is right for you, Severus. When--or if--we return to Snape Manor is up to you, and I will abide by whatever you decide."

Snape was touched by Lupin's apology, ashamed of starting the fight that had provoked it, and a little irked that Lupin was throwing the whole mess back in his lap. He was used to the werewolf badgering him into doing what was right even when he didn't want to. And he knew that cutting ties to his mother at this point would be wrong, although the childish, cowardly part of him would like nothing better. He knew that, despite his words, Theodore still cared about Selima, and even more importantly, he would have forced his son to choose between two people that he cared about--much as he had tried to do to Lupin. But Lupin was stronger than Theodore, and Snape knew that if he did this, Theodore would never really believe that his father's love was unconditional, and it would poison their relationship. Even if things went back to normal on the surface, Theodore would never really feel secure or happy again. He didn't want his son to grow up the way he had: needy and bitter, never really believing that anyone loved him. And maybe somewhere deep inside, a small part of Snape was reluctant to irrevocably estrange himself from his mother, even if he didn't really want to forgive her. But that thought made him uneasy, and he quickly shunted it aside, telling himself that he was doing this for Theodore's sake.

"No," Snape said, "I overreacted. Lady Selima and I declared a truce, but we are both of us stubborn, and tempers flare from time to time. This was a brief skirmish, if you will, but not enough to break the truce and start a war." Theodore looked cautiously relieved, but still a little uncertain. "I can't promise that I won't fight with my mother again," Snape said. "Most likely I will. But it will be about us, not you. I promise that no argument with my mother will ever make me disown you. Whatever happens between Lady Selima and myself, you will always be my son, Theodore." Suddenly mindful of the possibility of sibling rivalry, Snape added, "You and Dylan will always be my sons." Dylan smiled at him warmly, not looking the least bit jealous, but then, Dylan was used to being loved.

"Then should we go over for tea this weekend?" Lupin asked, much more diffidently than he usually did. Snape sighed; he didn't really want to go. This whole long discussion had drained him, and besides, he was a little embarrassed about facing his mother again after what had happened. On the other hand, if he didn't go, Theodore might take it the wrong way.

Seeing his hesitation, Lupin suggested a compromise. "Well, we are quite busy this week," he said casually. "Why don't we invite Lady Selima to the match next week? Perhaps we could have some tea or lunch together after the game, and then we could go to Snape Manor some time when we're less busy, perhaps in the following week or two?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Snape said, although he felt a bit cowardly about postponing the visit. The boys nodded in agreement.

All the arguing and explaining had taken a great deal of time, and it was now past dinnertime. Rather than go to dinner late, Lupin had some food sent up from the kitchen, and they spent the evening together, playing chess and talking quietly of trivial things until it was time for bed. Theodore seemed much calmer, though he was still looking a little fragile, and Snape suspected it would take some time for him to completely heal. The Potions Master silently cursed himself, and resolved never to be so careless and selfish again.

"What will we tell everyone, when they ask why we didn't come to dinner tonight?" Dylan asked, thinking like a practical Slytherin.

Snape thought for a moment, then said, "Just tell them that we had some Snape family business to discuss. That's true enough, and anything else is none of their business."

The boys smiled and said goodnight, and Lupin hugged them before they left. Still feeling like he needed to make things up to Theodore, Snape gave both of the boys a quick, awkward hug as well, and they looked very surprised but pleased. Then they went back to the dorm, and Snape felt oddly disappointed. He had an irrational urge to check up on them during the night to make sure they were sleeping well and tuck them into bed, as he had done sometimes at Grimmauld Place and Snape Manor. Lupin smiled at him, as if he could guess what Snape was thinking, and kissed him tenderly. They went to bed, and despite his worries and guilt, Snape slept soundly, wrapped in his lover's comforting embrace.

***

The next day, Selima received a letter which read:

***

Dear Lady Selima,

I regret that we will be unable to come to tea this Saturday. The boys are very busy with tests and extra Quidditch practice, as Slytherin has a match against Ravenclaw coming up next weekend. Severus and I also have a full schedule. We do hope that you will be able to attend the match; I am sure that Theodore would like to have you cheering him on.

Perhaps we can pay you a visit in a couple of weeks when things are less hectic, if that is convenient for you, of course.

Sincerely,
Remus J. Lupin

***

Selima folded it up and sighed. The letter was very politely yet evasively worded--the werewolf was almost starting to sound like a Slytherin. Reading between the lines, she interpreted it to mean that Severus was still angry at her, but that Lupin was attempting to smooth things over. Well, at least Severus wasn't angry enough to prevent her from coming to the Quidditch match--or the werewolf was simply more stubborn than Severus. Which was saying a great deal, actually, but she didn't doubt that he was more than a match for her son. It was a little disturbing, and yet almost comforting at the same time.

Severus had been angry enough that it wasn't worth insisting on the visit. Selima sensed that it hadn't been one of Severus's normal outbursts, that he really had been on the verge of leaving the family once again--perhaps for good this time. She knew by now that money and power gave her no leverage over him; the only things that kept him from leaving were his lover's Gryffindor sentimentality and the need to give his son an inheritance. Selima felt a sudden surge of fear--the Snape family was on the verge of falling apart, and she stood to lose not just the Lord and heir, but her son and grandson. Finally--and ironically, since it might be too late--she had come to value them for themselves and not just as a means to continue the Snape line and uphold the family honor. Perhaps this was some sort of divine retribution for the way she had treated her son as a child. Her husband had inflicted a Cruciatus Curse on their son, not just once, but intermittently over the years, and she had failed to protect him. She wondered now why it had come as such a surprise to them that Severus had felt no loyalty to his family.

She took a deep breath and told herself not to panic. Severus, as angry as he was, had agreed to abide by the truce, and the letter seemed to indicate that Lupin was prepared to enforce it. But she decided to be careful from now on, to avoid driving Severus even further away. Perhaps it would be prudent to distance herself a little from Theodore. But might that not hurt Theodore? There was a certain vulnerability, an eagerness to please, beneath his outward Slytherin mask of composure. But it might be better for him to resent her a little than to lose him entirely.

Selima sighed again. No sense borrowing trouble and possibly fretting over nothing. She would wait till the Quidditch match, and reassess the situation; perhaps Severus would have calmed down by then. She rang for Vorcher and told him to prepare some tea for her, hoping that would calm her nerves.

***

Lukas Bleddri was also having a bad week. The trial had originally been scheduled for the previous week, but Morrigan had asked the Ministry to postpone it. A continuance had been granted, but they were both sure that it had not been an accident that the opening date of the trial had been slated for the exact day of the full moon. Lukas knew that he had enemies at the Ministry--some of them probably just hated werewolves in general, and others might be personal friends of Amos. On one hand, asking that the opening date be moved was probably giving his opponent ammunition to use against him by drawing attention to the fact that he was incapacitated once every month. But Lukas had decided that it would be even worse to go to court feeling tired, sore, and short-tempered. The Wolfsbane Potion mitigated the first two somewhat, but did nothing for the last; the emotions of a werewolf always ran high near the full moon. Amos and his lawyer were bound to say something stupid and inflammatory, and it probably wouldn't help Lukas's case any if he bit one of them--or even just snarled at them a little.

So Lukas showed up at court the week after the full moon, still feeling grumpy but much more in control of his emotions. He wore, as Selima had suggested, the green and gold robes she had given him, along with his father's torc. The courtroom did nothing to inspire confidence in him; it reminded him of the dungeon at Hogwarts, rough stone walls lit by torches--only even more gloomy and less welcoming. There were no windows in the room, and the wolf inside him didn't like being enclosed underground in a place that seemed more like a prison than a courtroom.

"They're just trying to intimidate you," Morrigan whispered. "Don't let it bother it you--or at least, don't let them see that it does."

Lukas nodded curtly. It would take more than a dark room to intimidate the pack leader of the werewolves; he had faced down the Death Eaters, after all, while most of these pampered pureblood wizards had cowered in fear in the safety of their homes. He held his head up high, and strode into the courtroom as if he owned it; Morrigan smiled in approval. He heard startled gasps and whispers as he entered the room and moved into the light.

"Good Lord!"

"It's like seeing a ghost!"

"He looks just like Cynric!"

A witch with short gray hair and a monocle pounded a gavel on the desk in front of her. "Order in the court!" she shouted in a crisp, stern voice. She sat in the center of the first row of benches in the balcony at the front of the room, next to the Minister of the Magic. All of the court members wore plum-colored robes with an elaborate silver "W" embroidered across the left side of the chest. There seemed to be about fifty of them, so Morrigan must have been right about the full Wizengamot being called to oversee the case.

"That's Amelia Bones," Morrigan whispered to Lukas.

The proceedings were open to the public, and besides the benches for the Wizengamot in the balcony, there were also benches along the sides of the room that were filled with curiosity seekers and reporters. Lukas recognized Rita Skeeter with her jeweled spectacles, furiously scribbling notes with an acid-green quill. He didn't really like the woman, but her articles had been responsible for the public's sudden change of attitude towards the werewolves, so he supposed he should be grateful to her. He just hoped that she didn't suddenly decide to switch sides.

Two sets of tables and chairs had been set out in the middle of the room for himself and Morrigan, and for Amos and his lawyer, Lamont Whitby. Whitby was a Hufflepuff alumni and the uncle of the current Hufflepuff Chaser, Kevin Whitby--which created a certain degree of tension in Lukas's classes at times. His students mostly liked him, but they also felt the need to be loyal to their House and to their families. And if Kevin looked a little uncomfortable at times, Tristan was downright miserable.

In front of the tables was a chair whose arms were covered with chains. Lukas raised his eyebrows slightly and Morrigan quietly explained, "In a criminal case, the defendant is bound to the chair. But this is a civil case, so the chains won't be used."

"How reassuring," Lukas said sarcastically.

Morrigan was about to say something else, but the crowd subsided, and Madam Bones called court into session. She was presiding over the case, as Morrigan had predicted. Percy Weasley was serving as court scribe, looking very earnest and determined. A number of Ministry officials and wizards from old and powerful families (and a few who had power in their own right) made up the rest of the Wizengamot. Dumbledore was not among them, but in one of the upper rows, Lukas spotted a wizard with a long gray beard. Mathias Donner smiled and inclined his head slightly, and Lukas felt a little better, knowing that he had at least one supporter--along with Arthur Weasley--in the group.

Reading from a sheet of parchment in front of her, Madam Bones said, "Plaintiff Cyril Diggory challenges Amos Diggory for ownership and control of the Diggory estate--"

"Objection!" Whitby cried. "We have not yet established that the plaintiff is indeed Cyril Diggory. That is what he claims, but he has been going by the name Lukas Bleddri, and that is the name under which he was hired to teach at Hogwarts."

"Then the first order of business should be to establish Master Bleddri's identity," Bones said calmly. "Or Master Diggory, as the case might be."

"If it please the court, I have a number of witnesses who are prepared to identify the plaintiff as Cyril Diggory," Morrigan said.

"Then call them forth," Bones ordered.

The first witness was Gwendolyn Ames-Diggory, who took a seat in the chain-covered chair. She gave the chains a nervous look, but spoke in a clear and steady voice when Morrigan questioned her, firmly declaring that Lukas was her nephew.

"But you haven't seen your nephew for twenty-five years," Whitby said skeptically. "How can you be sure this is really him?"

"I would know my own flesh and blood anywhere!" Gwendolyn insisted. "He is my nephew Cyril. And besides, he knew details about our lives that a stranger would not--that my childhood nickname was Gwennie, and that I used to make him call me 'aunt' even though he was a year older than me."

"But those are hardly state secrets," Whitby said. "Surely a few other people were aware of those details."

"Just my family," Gwendolyn said.

"And perhaps a few friends?" Whitby suggested. "Are you sure that you never discussed such things with some of your playmates?"

"Well...just a few," Gwendolyn admitted.

"Who might in turn have spoken of it to a few friends of their own--in which case, it would hardly be a secret," Whitby said. Gwendolyn glared at him, and Madam Bones dismissed her. She passed by her brother, neither of them looking at each other, and took a seat in the audience.

The second witness was Selima Snape. "Lady Snape," Morrigan said, "did you immediately recognize the plaintiff as Cyril Diggory when you first saw him in person?"

"I did," Selima replied firmly. "He is the spitting image of his father, who was a good friend of mine."

Morrigan stepped back and let Lamont Whitby cross-examine Selima. "Lady Snape," he said in a condescending tone, "when was the last time you saw Cyril Diggory? Prior to his miraculous resurrection, I mean."

Without batting an eye, Selima replied, "The last time I saw him was when he was ten years old, when I went to visit his parents at their residence."

"And yet you can recognize him, more than a quarter of a century later?" Whitby asked sarcastically.

"Indeed I can," Selima replied coldly. "You see, Cyril resembles his father very strongly, except for his eyes. Cynric's were brown, while Cyril's were an odd shade of yellowish-green--the exact same shade as Master Bleddri's eyes. Quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

"I will ask the questions, Lady Snape!" Whitby snapped. "It could indeed be a coincidence, or Master Bleddri could have altered his appearance with magic."

"He could have," Selima replied calmly, "but there is the matter of the torc."

"The torc?" Whitby asked, startled.

"If I might see it?" Selima asked.

"I don't see the point of this," Whitby complained.

"The torc was a gift from Anya Diggory to her husband," Selima said.

"Let her examine the torc," Bones declared.

Lukas reluctantly slipped the torc off his neck and handed it to Whitby, who gave it to Selima. "Yes, I recognize this," she said. "Anya designed it herself and had it commissioned as a wedding gift for her new husband. The double-headed snake design is quite distinctive; it was meant to symbolize a union between two Slytherins."

"You saw and handled the torc personally, Lady Snape?" Bones asked.

"Yes," Selima replied. "Anya showed it to me when it was done, before she gave it to Cynric. I also saw Cynric wear it on numerous occasions."

"And you are certain that this is the same torc?" Bones asked.

"Absolutely certain," Selima said.

Bones nodded, looking satisfied. "Have you any further questions for Lady Snape, Mr. Whitby?" she asked.

"Just one," he said, giving Selima a spiteful look. "Master Bleddri is a friend of your son's werewolf lover." The audience gasped. Everyone knew it was true, of course, but such things were rarely discussed openly in public. "Perhaps you are supporting Master Bleddri's claim as a favor to your son."

Selima gave him a look that could have frozen water, if any had been present in the room. "I am well aware that my son's personal life has become a scandal in the wizarding world, and it would hardly be in my family's best interest to draw more attention to it. I am supporting Master DIGGORY'S claim because he is the rightful Lord of the Diggory family--nothing more, nothing less."

Looking very annoyed, Whitby dismissed Selima, who returned the torc to Lukas on her way out. Morrigan smiled, looking very pleased. "I knew I wouldn't have to question her too closely, that Whitby would do my work for me," she whispered to Lukas.

"Give him enough rope to hang himself with?" Lukas asked with an amused smile.

The next witness was Albus Dumbledore. "You met the plaintiff when he was calling himself Lukas Bleddri, is that correct?" Morrigan asked.

"That is the name he was calling himself by, yes," Dumbledore agreed pleasantly.

"But you did not think that was his real name?"

"No, I did not," Dumbledore replied. "Lukas--or Cyril, if you prefer--bears a most uncanny resemblance to his father."

"And you knew Cynric Diggory well?"

"I taught him Transfiguration at Hogwarts for seven years."

"But you did not tell the plaintiff that you recognized him--at least, not right away."

"He clearly did not want to be known as a Diggory," Dumbledore explained. "And as I did not know him very well at the time, I did not think that he would care to discuss his personal life with a stranger. But I knew that a Diggory would be attending Hogwarts this school year, and I knew that if Lukas taught there, he would eventually come into contact with his family again. I hoped that he might make peace with them, or at least come to some sort of resolution about whatever had caused him to become estranged from them."

"So you hired the plaintiff precisely because he was Cynric Diggory's son!" Morrigan said triumphantly.

"Well that, and the fact that I believed he would make a good teacher," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile.

"You assumed Master Bleddri was Cynric Diggory's son simply because he looks like him," Whitby said, when it was his turn to question the witness, immediately going on the offensive. "But he could have disguised himself with a spell or a Polyjuice Potion! After all--you've been fooled before, haven't you, Professor Dumbledore? You thought for nearly a year that Barty Crouch, Junior was Alastor Moody!"

"That is correct," Dumbledore said, not looking perturbed in the slightest. "But there is an easy way of finding out whether or not Master Bleddri is disguising himself with magic. This chair detects any sort of magic or enchantment on anyone who sits in it."

Lukas gave Morrigan a startled look. "Sorry," she apologized. "I tried to tell you, but I didn't get a chance."

"Then let the plaintiff come forth and be questioned," Bones said. "Please remove any wands or other magical devices from your person beforehand."

Lukas gave Morrigan his wand and started forward, then suddenly remembered that he had another magical item on him, and paused to remove one of his earrings. "We haven't got all day!" Whitby said impatiently. Lukas repressed the urge to growl at him, and settled for giving him an icy look, trying to imitate Lady Selima's cold stare. It must have worked, because the lawyer fell silent and nervously backed off a few paces. Lukas gingerly took a seat in the chair, and the chains rustled slightly, making a soft clinking noise, but did not reach up to bind him.

Madam Bones uttered a curt command word, but nothing happened. Even the chains lay quiescent. "It seems that the plaintiff is not using any sort of magic to disguise himself," she said. "Master Bleddri, are you indeed Cyril Diggory, son of Cynric Diggory?"

"I am," he replied.

"May I ask why you chose to call yourself by a different name for so many years?" Bones asked.

"I believed that my life was in danger," Lukas replied.

Whitby started to object, but Bones motioned for him to be silent. "You will have an opportunity to question the plaintiff on that point later, Mr. Whitby. For now, all I am interested in is hearing his explanation for his alias."

"I believed that my life was in danger," Lukas repeated, "so I changed my name, to make it harder for my relatives to find me. 'Lukas' is my middle name--I wanted to keep part of the name that my parents gave me. And I chose 'Bleddri' for my surname because it means 'leader of outlaws' or 'king of wolves' in Welsh." He smiled bitterly. "Just a touch of private humor. I didn't think that most people would know what it meant."

"Anya Diggory was Welsh," Bones said in a musing tone.

"Yes, she was," Lukas quickly agreed. "I don't speak it fluently, but she taught me some of the language. I had little to do but study, since I was confined to the house as a child. And I did live in Wales for three years--after my alleged death."

"I think we have enough evidence to decide on the plaintiff's identity," Bones said. "All those in favor of acknowledging Lukas Bleddri as Cyril Diggory?" Arthur Weasley immediately raised his hand, as did Mathias Donner and Madam Bones herself. Others began raising their hands, a little more slowly and hesitantly, but eventually a little more than half of the Wizengamot members raised their hands. "All those against?" Bones asked, but it was a mere formality. "Very well," Bones said. "The plaintiff shall henceforth be known as Cyril Lukas Gravenor Diggory, son of Cynric and Anya Diggory."

Lukas felt a sudden sense of joy and satisfaction. The trial was far from over, but if nothing else, he had the name his father and mother had given him back. He was Cynric Diggory's son, and the wizarding world had just acknowledged it.

"Then court shall adjourn, and we shall reconvene...when, Mr. Weasley?" Bones turned and looked expectantly at Percy Weasley.

Percy shuffled through some papers and announced, "Next Wednesday at 10 am."

"Next Wednesday at 10 am," Bones repeated and rapped her gavel on the desk again. The Wizengamot and audience members began filing out of the courtroom.

Lukas rose from his seat and walked over to join Morrigan. "That's it?" he asked. "All that happened today was that they agreed I was who I say I am. If we only meet once a week, it could take months to resolve this!"

"I'm afraid that's the general idea," Morrigan told him dryly.

Lamont Whitby overheard them and sneered at Lukas. "Clearly you have no idea how things work in the wizarding world," he said scornfully. "The court has other cases to tend to besides yours, Bleddri."

"That's 'Master Diggory' to you, Lamont," Morrigan retorted. She gave Lukas his wand and earring back, and whispered, "Come, I'll explain it to you on the way out."

"Do you have a statement, Master Diggory?" Rita Skeeter asked as they passed by her.

Lukas opened his mouth to say "no," but Morrigan said smoothly, "Of course we are very pleased that the Wizengamot has acknowledged my client's true identity as the son of Cynric Diggory, the late Diggory heir. We are confident that the court will eventually restore his rightful inheritance to him."

"Very confident," Lukas said, following her lead. Then he blinked as a flashbulb went off in his face, as a photographer from the Daily Prophet took his picture. Morrigan took him by the arm and quickly steered him out of the courtroom.

"I hate reporters," Lukas growled softly.

"Yes, but it doesn't do any good to antagonize the media," Morrigan said practically. "Besides, Skeeter wrote favorable articles about you and the other werewolves. How did you manage to get her to do that?"

"I had nothing to do with it," Lukas replied. "Harry Potter and his friends seem to have some influence over her."

"How intriguing," Morrigan laughed.

"About the case..."

"Oh yes," Morrigan said. "If this were a more urgent case, for example, the trial of an alleged Death Eater, court would convene every day until a verdict was reached. But this is merely a civil case, a contested inheritance, so they don't feel the urge to move as quickly. Amos Diggory's allies are deliberately dragging things out, I think. I did tell the powers that be that we would like to resolve this as soon as possible, but Lamont was spouting some sort of rubbish about how it would adversely affect Amos's duties at the Ministry, not to mention disrupt your classes if you both had to miss work every day for what could be weeks."

Lukas snorted. "Amos and his lawyer don't give a damn about whether I'm inconvenienced or not."

"That's why I said it's rubbish," Morrigan said. "But I think it's a good sign; it means that they're scared of us, and that means we have a good chance of winning. So cheer up, Lukas--or should I say Cyril? It really was a major victory for us today, you know. By acknowledging that you are Cyril Diggory, they are also acknowledging that you are Cynric Diggory's son and heir. The oldest son has legal precedence as heir, so technically, the law is on our side, and Lamont and Amos will have to prove that you are unfit to take the title."

"It might not be that difficult," Lukas said, "considering that I am a werewolf."

"I am up for the challenge if you are," Morrigan said with a confident smile.

"Well, you've already proven that you can outsmart my uncle's lawyer," Lukas laughed, "so I will put my trust in you."

"Well, I'm heading back to the office," Morrigan said. "Are you going back to the school?"

"Dumbledore gave me the day off," Lukas said. "I think I'll take a walk and collect my thoughts before I go back."

"Good day, then, Master Diggory."

"Good day, Ms. De Lacy."

***

Narcissa Malfoy had gone shopping in Diagon Alley. She didn't like the way people stared at her and whispered behind her back when she went out in public, but she was tired of sitting around the house all day. She could have gone to visit Aileen Pierce, but it wasn't fair to impose on her friend every day. Besides, she told herself, she wanted to buy a new dress to wear to Draco's Quidditch match next week. It was pure coincidence that she happened to stroll near Ministry Headquarters after she was done shopping on the day of Lukas Bleddri's trial. At least, that was what she told herself.

She lingered near the Ministry, wearing a black cloak with the hood pulled over her head to disguise herself, because she didn't want people staring and pointing at the woman who had killed her Death Eater husband. And also because she didn't want Lukas Bleddri to think that she had come to see him--because she hadn't. In fact, she was just about to move on when people started trickling out of the Ministry building in twos and threes--court must have just let out. So she lingered a little longer, and saw Bleddri come out and walk down the street, talking and laughing with a very pretty, elegant woman with reddish-blonde hair. She felt a sudden, sharp stab of jealousy, then saw the woman's face and realized that she was Bleddri's lawyer, Morrigan De Lacy. Then Narcissa got quite angry with herself; what did it matter to her if the werewolf had a girlfriend or not? She quickly turned and walked away, her face turning red beneath the hood of her cloak.

She was not paying attention to where she was going, and accidentally bumped into a man who snapped, "Watch where you're going!" Keeping her head down, Narcissa muttered an apology and hurried away. She paused in front of a bakery about a block later, pretending to peruse the pastries in the window while she tried to regain her composure.

"Narcissa?" a startled voice said, and Lukas Bleddri's reflection suddenly appeared in the shop window. She turned around to find the werewolf standing behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping," Narcissa said coolly, holding up a bag from Madam Malkin's, as if offering proof that her words were true. "And you?"

"I just came from court," Bleddri said with a wry smile, as if he knew that she knew perfectly well what he was doing here.

"Ah yes," Narcissa said. "And how is the trial going?"

Bleddri shrugged. "Well enough."

And with that, they ran out of polite things to say to each other, and stood there in awkward silence. It was early afternoon, when many people had just finished lunch and were hurrying back to work, and one pedestrian who seemed to be in an especial hurry jostled Bleddri. He automatically moved forward, which brought him closer to Narcissa, mere inches away from her. Even though he wasn't touching her, she could feel his presence, an almost tangible aura that made her breath quicken and her face flush--actually, her entire body felt warm. She seemed to be having the same effect on Bleddri, judging by his ragged breathing and the feral, hungry look in his yellow-green eyes. It made him look more like a wolf than ever, which was frightening, and yet strangely exciting at the same time.

Conflicting emotions flickered across his face, as he seemed to be going through some sort of internal struggle, then abruptly, he seemed to reach a decision and leaned even closer to Narcissa. She shrank back a little as he whispered in her ear, "Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron in fifteen minutes."

A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine, but Narcissa hissed, "We can't be seen in public together!" She hastily pulled her hood down over her face a little more securely. "And certainly not going into a room at an inn together!"

"We won't go in together," Bleddri growled. "I'll go first, and rent a room upstairs; you follow a little later. Even if someone sees us, no one needs to know that it's you." He tugged gently on the hood of her cloak. "Keep your face covered, or use a glamor to disguise yourself--you are a witch, after all."

"This is insane!" Narcissa protested.

"Of course it is," Bleddri said calmly. "Meet me there, or not--it's your decision." Then he turned and walked down the street without another word.

{What an arrogant, insufferable man!} Narcissa fumed to herself. Of course she wouldn't go; it would be madness to indulge in a fling with a werewolf!

Yet, somehow she found herself entering the Leaky Cauldron fifteen minutes later, quietly slipping through the dining room and up the stairs, her face covered with the hood and a small glamor cast to disguise her features for good measure. Just as she was wondering how she was supposed to know which room he was in, one of the doors opened and Bleddri leaned out and beckoned to her.

As the door closed behind her, Narcissa dispelled the glamor and asked, "How could you be sure it was me?"

The werewolf rolled his eyes in a most annoying fashion. "I didn't think there would be that many women in black cloaks roaming the hall at our appointed meeting time. Besides, the perfume you wear is very distinctive."

Of course; a werewolf would have a keen nose. Narcissa pushed her hood back and looked around. In one corner of the room there was a bed; she quickly blushed and looked away, spotting a table laid out with food and wine.

Bleddri followed her gaze and shrugged. "I didn't want to say I was meeting a woman, so I told them I wanted to have a meal in a private room." He smiled sardonically. "A Lord shouldn't eat with the riffraff in the common room, right? Besides, I figured that if you stood me up, I could at least have lunch." He moved closer to Narcissa, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. "Are you hungry?"

"Not for food," she heard herself say, and the werewolf pulled her into his arms and sealed his mouth over hers, and neither of them said anything--at least, not anything coherent--for quite some time.

It was the best sex she had ever had in her life, and her late husband had been no slouch in that department, either. Lucius was arrogant and self-centered, like most pureblood Lords, but he was a proud man, and he prided himself on having a reputation as a good lover, so he had always made sure to give her pleasure in bed. She had certainly never had any reason to complain about his performance, but the difference between the two men was like night and day. Bleddri might have lacked some of Lucius's finesse, but there was a raw passion, an urgency to his lovemaking that was unlike Lucius's more polished but methodical and almost calculated technique.

"Lovemaking" was probably the wrong term for what they were doing; it was simply sex, the two of them driven by some primal need, coupling like two animals in heat. Bleddri's hands weren't smooth and soft like Lucius's, but rough and slightly calloused (from physical labor, presumably), like the pads of a dog's--or wolf's--paws. It should have disgusted her, but it excited her instead. Her skin suddenly felt incredibly sensitive, and the sensation of his roughened hands running along it evoked an exquisite sensation that was like pleasure bordering on pain.

She locked her legs around his waist as he thrust into her, hard and fast, with no gentleness, but she didn't want any. He growled softly into her ear--like a wolf, like an animal. She raked her nails down his back, and he thrust into her even harder as she frantically raised her hips to meet each thrust, and then she screamed his name out loud as waves of pleasure washed over her body. He threw back his head and howled--dear God, like a wolf!--as he came, and a small part of her was horrified, but the rest of her was too caught up in her own pleasure to care.

The rolled apart and lay next to each other, panting and gasping for breath. Bleddri flung one arm out carelessly across her body, as if by accident. After a few minutes, Narcissa caught her breath and returned to her senses, and pushed Bleddri's arm away.

"This is insane!" she said.

"Yes," Bleddri agreed, but he didn't sound very upset about it; he looked lazy and sated, like an animal that had just devoured a large meal.

That mental analogy made Narcissa blush, and his reaction irritated her. "Why aren't you more upset about it, then?" she demanded. "You hate me and I hate you, so what in Merlin's name are we doing?"

"I have no idea," Bleddri said, stretching languidly and unselfconsciously, looking more like a cat at the moment than a wolf, the image enhanced by his golden mane of hair, which was falling loose across his face and shoulders. Narcissa could not help but notice that his body was lean but strong, the muscles rippling beneath the skin as he moved, and that there were no scars on his skin, just the scratches she had made on his back. She had clawed him hard enough to draw blood, but the weals were already fading to thin, pink lines--the werewolf's healing powers in action. Bleddri caught her watching him and smiled, looking amused and just a little smug. Narcissa flushed angrily, then climbed out of bed and began to get dressed.

Bleddri remained stretched out on the bed, watching her. She turned her back to him to avoid that amused gaze. "I am used to following my instincts, even when they don't make sense at the time," Bleddri said, and it took Narcissa a moment to realize that he was answering the question she had just asked.

"Like a beast," Narcissa said curtly.

"Like a wolf," Bleddri agreed. "But you are not a beast, so what is your excuse, Narcissa?"

Narcissa's face turned red again. "I plead temporary insanity," she snapped. "You can be sure that it won't happen again!"

"Of course not," Bleddri agreed pleasantly. Narcissa finished dressing, grabbed her shopping bag, and threw on her cloak, pulling the hood down over her face. As she turned to leave, the werewolf called out, "I'll be in court again next Wednesday. I'll reserve this same room."

Narcissa turned back to glare at him. "I hope you're capable of entertaining yourself, werewolf, because I won't be here."

"Well, just in case you happen to be in the neighborhood," Lukas said casually.

Narcissa stalked out of the room, and as she slammed the door behind her, she thought she heard the werewolf laughing.

***

"This really is insane," Lukas told himself, but his inner wolf didn't seem to care. It was the wolf who had wanted Narcissa, who had insisted that it must have her NOW, overriding the man's common sense. It was the wolf who had been certain that Narcissa would come to meet him, despite her protestations. And now that the wolf had gotten what it wanted, it was feeling very sated and happy.

Lukas had to admit that the sex had been better than any he'd had since...well, a long time. The scratches on his back still stung a little, and he grinned; who would've expected a cold, proper pureblood lady like Narcissa Malfoy to be such a little spitfire in bed? He wondered if she'd ever clawed Lucius Malfoy's back, but rather doubted it; people like Malfoy were usually better at giving pain than receiving it. Maybe the thrill of the forbidden, of bedding a werewolf, had brought out the beast in Narcissa.

"She's just slumming," he told himself scornfully. He wondered what was wrong with himself, that he would want to bed a jaded pureblood woman who despised him. Maybe the forbidden appealed to him, too. "It's just sex," he tried to reassure himself. "A purely physical attraction." No doubt the thrill would eventually wear off, along with the novelty. In the meantime, he supposed he might as well enjoy it. And he did enjoy annoying Narcissa, almost as much as he did the sex; she was so easy to bait.

Still, it was a complication that he didn't really need right now. The wolf had become an intrinsic part of him, and he had grown accustomed to following its instincts without question. There were times, though, when the wolf's instincts were inconvenient, to say the least. "I hope you're happy," Lukas muttered sourly, but the wolf just growled contentedly in response.

Part 58