#folks have been surprised by my take on human Ibera

[ohnoitspheo]

[OC] Second round of the Prismatic HumanAU!

De-lizarding the lizbians and de-cherubing Ibera. I think he'd be a quirky young professor type. He's really an adult at heart.

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

libera nos a malo Chapter 4: The Victory of Pyrrhus

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 4/20

libera nos a malo masterpost+

unstoppable force/immovable object masterpost+

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chapter five+ >>

“You’ve done very well today, Miss Miranda,” pronounced Healer A’isha as she ran her wand over Miranda’s body and studied the translucent diagnostic image that superimposed itself on Miranda’s skin as she did. “I am very pleased with what I see here.”

“Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without Severus dogging me,” replied Miranda with a wry smile, trying not to look at the sickening sight of her color-coded internal organs on display for the room to see. The examination table she was lying on was making her shiver, even as the acrid smell of the hospital room made her stomach churn. Severus seemed to sense her discomfort, silently taking one of her trembling hands and lacing his fingers through hers while the Healer did her poking and prodding. Like many people, Miranda hated anything resembling a hospital, and it bothered her how quickly being in one reduced her to a mass of overwrought nerves.

“Yes, and a terrible patient you were too,” Severus observed. By the glint in his eye, she suspected he was baiting her on purpose—he knew her well enough to understand that an angry Miranda was more grounded than a frightened one.

“Hmm…” Healer A’isha hummed. Internal examination completed, she vanished the grotesque spell and lifted the hem of Miranda’s robe in order to examine the scars sprawling over the American’s abdomen. Although they were still an angry shade of red, the skin was tightly closed over the wounds. One more set of battle souvenirs for her to remember her adventures by.

“Well, what do you think?” Miranda asked, trying and failing to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

“I think that you may resume light duties tonight. But if you receive any further injuries, I expect you to come straight here. The wounds are closed, but still inflamed by the căpcăun venom.”

“If it would be more prudent for her to continue to avoid active duty, perhaps another fortnight of rest would be advisable,” Severus said.

Miranda shot him a glare, but he was looking over her head at the Healer and avoiding her eyes completely.

“No, I think we can let you try your wings, Miss Miranda.” She pulled a roll of parchment out of her lime green robes and waved her wand over it. A florid script enumerating a list of potions and balms appeared on it, and Miranda was pleased to see that this new regimen was significantly shorter than the one she was currently subject to. “Please take this down to the apothecary, and wait for him to fill the order. We’ll cut back your healing potion to twice daily, and I’ve ordered a different balm for your scars that will not require bandaging. You understand the magical and physical exercises you should perform, and also the limits you should respect?”

“I do,” Miranda said.

“Excellent. Please return in two weeks so that I may see how you do with the increased activity. If all goes well we can lengthen the time between appointments again.”

“Thank you Healer A’isha.”

“You are very welcome. Good day, Professor Severus.”

“Healer A’isha,” he returned.

The door closed softly behind the Healer, and Severus helped Miranda sit up on the edge of the narrow bed. She let her hand slide up his arm, weaving her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and he gave her half a smile before leaning down to kiss her. His thin lips were hungry on hers, coaxing sighs from her and swallowing them eagerly until she felt quite boneless in his embrace.

“So you did miss me,” she teased, surprised by the ardor of his welcome, especially since a nurse or a Healer might wander in at any moment and shame them like a pair of naughty teenagers.

“Surprising is it not?” he replied, peppering her face with feather-light kisses that made her lean towards him; aching for more satisfactory contact. “If you are not otherwise engaged, perhaps we might retire to you cabin.”

Oh, right. Her cabin. The heat that his touch had inspired in her body snuffed out and she pulled away from him, swinging over the opposite side of the table and beginning to dress with business-like efficiency.

“Well, about that,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but one of my brothers decided to come back with me.”

His shoulders tensed up a quarter-inch the way they always did when she said something that he didn’t care for.

“I see.”

“Finn wouldn’t take no for an answer. I think he wants to vet you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s the funniest thing. Even though I’m a grown woman, he still sees me as his baby sister and gets inconveniently protective at the most inopportune times.” She sat down on the edge of the bed to lace up her boots, turning her back on Severus’s pointed gaze. “Anyway, he’s back at the ranch sleeping, and I’m honestly exhausted myself. My body has no idea what time it is anymore. I was thinking I’d go back and catch some sleep before my shift with Aaron, and maybe you could mosey over to the cabin later tonight, say 10ish, and get the worst over with.”

“I see.”

The enigmatic answer snapped what was left of Miranda’s paltry patience. Between the the portkey lag and the guilt that was weighing on her over not extending a proper Christmas invitation to Severus in the first place, she was rather done-in.

“Look, you don’t have to meet him if you don’t want to,” she said angrily. “He’s not all bad. I mean, he’s an ass, but so are you. You might get along.”

Her cheeks were flaming when she stood up to face him—just in time to see a flash of pain twist his expression before he could banish it behind an impassive mask.

“As you like, Miranda,” he shrugged, feigning indifference. “I am willing to meet your brother if you wish for me to do so.”

The victory gave her no pleasure—maybe she should start kicking puppies for fun in her spare time too.

“Great. I’ll see you after work then.”

“Yes. You will.”

His response was half promise and half challenge; and she was within a hair’s breadth of allowing a casual I love you to escape her lips. But she bit her tongue to trap the impish spark from escaping.

She’d learned the hard way what came of lighting a campfire with kerosene.

*****

It should have been a pleasant night. The mercury was well above freezing, and Shoreditch was still sporting her Christmas finery; with twinkling lights and holly wrapped around every lamppost and store window. But the mist that might have made the neighborhood blur into a sugarplum fantasy sat thick and muddy like cold pea soup—unyielding, unappetizing, cloying in the lungs until one wanted to gasp for air.

“Maggie was cute as a bug at Mass yesterday,” Aaron said as he and Miranda patrolled through the abandoned streets. “Good as gold too. Didn’t make a peep until the end when she started trying to sing with the choir.”

His cheerful voice grated on Miranda’s fraying nerves. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Naw, you were right to go home. The folks must’ve been glad to see you.”

“They were. Finn even insisted on coming back for a spell.”

“That’s great! Why don’t y’all come to Mass with us on Sunday?”

Aaron’s relentless good mood was beginning to warm her. “That could work. Finn was talking about wanting to go down to Landanwg in Wales that day. Seamus is sending him on a wild goose chase after some album.”

“Landanwg? I’ve been meaning to get back down there. Best cawl on the island in my opinion, and the church is something to see.”

“Sounds like it’s settled then.”

The wind picked up and Miranda wrapped her cloak more tightly around her. She could feel her left shoulder riding high, and even the basic Hominum Revelio she’d used earlier in the shift had been fuzzy at best. If Aaron was aware of her struggles—and she’d be surprised if he weren’t—he was polite enough not to draw attention to them.

“I couldn’t believe the number of dresses Rachel’s mother sent for Maggie. I doubt that baby’ll wear above half of them before she grows out of the duds.”

“You made a good baby, Aaron.”

“I think so, if I do say so my…”

His voice trailed off and Miranda shivered, the hair on her arms standing on end as though some electric shock at touched her skin. Aaron’s shift from doting father to deadly Auror was instantaneous, and both of them had their wands in hand as they searched the mist for whatever foul stench had disturbed them.

“Did you hear something?” Miranda asked in a low voice.

Aaron put a finger on her arm and tapped,

NOT DO YOU HEAR SOMETHING DO YOU SMELL SOMETHING

Her fingers tensed around her alder wand, and she fancied it clung to the palm of her hand, ready to defend her to the last. Beside her, Aaron’s body was going through a set of inhuman contortions, until he dropped down on all fours and sprang into the midst, his dapper suit exchanged for the form of a massive bloodhound. He restrained himself to a sedate pace that his partner, hampered by her merely human legs might have a prayer of following, and she ran lightly after him, flicking her wand at her feet to muffle the crunch of the snow beneath her boots.

The chase led them to a residential street, lined with townhouses and matched hazelnut hedgerows. Aaron made short work digging a path through one of the bushes, and Miranda was able to push through after him without any trouble. She stopped short on the other side, where she found her friend nosing the body of a young woman, lying close on the ground with a dark haired man. The blood on the twisted corpses had barely congealed, and a juvenile thestral was boldly snaking around the bodies, eager to feast on the scent of death. Miranda stared down the sulfurous creature, and it recoiled, distrustful of a witch that was willing to meet its burning eyes.  

Aaron barked once in question, and the old rhythm of hunt and search imposed itself on Miranda’s bones. She quickly searched the bodies, discovering an unused wand, a Magical ID, and a handbag full of No-Maj paraphernalia, and shoving them into her pockets for later perusal. The wounds on their bodies were sickeningly familiar, and she wondered if this were Severus’s handiwork; or if he’d taught his signature curse to that many of his Death Eater comrades.

“He was a wizard. It looks like she was No-Maj,” Miranda murmured, digging four coins out of a pocket and placing them, one by one, over the eyes that would see no more. “Eternal rest grand unto them…”

She hit the dirt as Aaron, still in his animagus form, landed hard on her back, sheltering her from the vile green light that snaked overhead and splintered the hedge behind them. Before the bark could settle, Aaron had launched himself at their assailants, bounding towards the pair of black-clad wizards that appeared from shadows between the houses. Miranda covered the bloodhound’s charge, firing blasts of white that sizzled and sparked as they collided with the red bolts exploding from the wands of the Death Eaters. Within seconds, Aaron had brought down the taller of the two, snapping and snarling while the wizard yelped and struggled under the hound’s weight. The remaining Death Eater redoubled his attack, leaving his companion to fend for himself as he advanced on Miranda, red curses flying.

It was a duel that would have bored her to tears six months earlier, but tonight Miranda was hard pressed to keep up with the frenzy of deadly spells, and soon she was muttering her incantations through gritted teeth. Sweat poured from her brow as she forced hex after hex, humiliated by her puny efforts. At least Severus wasn’t here to witness them.

“Fuck!” she swore, crumpling to the ground as a nasty curse caught her square in the stomach. One arm went protectively around the wound as she rolled through her fall, and she could feel the skin crackling beneath her tunic as she gasped with pain.

By the time she managed to hobble to her feet, it was over. Aaron abandoned his barely moving prize to attack Miranda’s foe, and stumbled when the Death Eater disappeared with a violent crack; reappearing an instant later at his fallen comrade’s side. Another crack and the two wizards were gone; out of range and untraceable. Aaron sniffed his way over the ground for several moments while Miranda sat back on her heels, panting and holding her injured stomach. When the southerner was satisfied with his search, he snapped up the fallen wand of the taller Death Eater and trotted to Miranda’s side. A long, low whine emanated from his throat, and he shifted back to his human form, frowning down at his friend.

“Are you alright?” he demanded, stooping next to her. “Don’t answer that, I know you’ll lie. Just let me see where he got you.”

“Fine, I’m fine,” she protested through her panting; but she didn’t struggle when he gently pushed her back so that he could roll up the hem of her tunic and prod the blackened skin beneath.

“I’m calling Fisher and Hart, and then I’m taking you to St Mungo’s.”

She pushed him away and yanked down her tunic. “No! I’ve been there once already today. If I go back this soon, Healer A’isha will put me back on disabled and I’m not going to sit on the bench anymore!”

“Listen, you bull-headed woman, you’re barely off the disabled list because you nearly died. You’re going.”

It was time to switch tactics. “What if I go home right now?” she cajoled. “Severus is going to be there, and he can clean up this mess as well as any Healer.”

She could almost see Aaron’s internal debate raging. “And you have to take the rest of the week off.”

“But…”

“No buts! I don’t need you putting my ass in danger because you’re trying to run before you can crawl.”

“Will you come by and tell me what you and the others find here tonight?”

“I will.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

“Deal.”

They spat on their palms and shook to seal the bargain, a remnant of their schoolyard days. She leaned a little harder on him than she liked as he helped her to her feet, and he did her the honor of pretending not to notice.

“Don’t worry, Mira,” he said when she was steady. “You’ll be up to speed faster than green grass through a goose. You’ve just gotta have a little patience.”

“You think?” she replied testily, giving the besmirched lawn a final look. If one more person told her to be patient, she was either going to scream, or hex the fool into next Sunday. Aaron wisely held his tongue, and she limped into the shadows to Apparate home before she could give in to the impulse.

*****

A quarter past the appointed hour was as late as Severus could force himself to arrive anywhere without breaking out in hives. He made his way up the footpath to Miranda’s cabin (he did not mosey—he never moseyed), well aware that it would likely be an hour or more before she would deign to appear. He’d spent the last half hour debating over whether or not he should knock rather than simply enter, as was his habit, and had at last settled on knocking—if only because it seemed imprudent to startle a man raised in a family of bounty hunters.

Three short raps brought his host to the door. Miranda’s brother was clad in ripped blue jeans (did the man not own proper clothing?) and a black t-shirt. His dark hair was sculpted into a somewhat taller version of the pompadour that Aaron favored, his sharp blue eyes reminded Severus uncomfortably of Conor Rose’s, and a cigarette dangled negligently from his lips. All this, of course, was overshadowed by the fact that the man seemed to have mislaid his right arm somewhere. Fortunately, Severus had plenty of practice maintaining an impassive expression while being subjected to unpleasant circumstances, and was able to keep his startled reaction to himself.

“Severus Snape, I presume,” the man said around his cigarette.

“Correct, Mr Rose,” Severus replied, shaking Finn’s left hand somewhat awkwardly with his right.

“That’s me. Guess you’d better come in.”

The window was thrown open to the winter night, and the fire was burning high in the fireplace to compensate. A supper of cold meat, cheese, and clementines was haphazardly set on the table, along with a tin of fanciful Christmas biscuits. There was a half-drunk Muggle beer on the counter next to a bucket holding a dozen more on ice. Several Muggle magazines littered the coffee table, and a racket the likes of which Severus had never endured shrieked from the turntable.

Charming.

“Mira ain’t back yet. You wanna beer?” Finn asked, pulling a bottle out of the bucket and passing it to Severus before he could reply.

Severus did not want a beer, but he suspected the alcohol might be a necessary social lubricant in the current situation. “Thank you.”

Finn sauntered over to the table, and sprawled out on one of the chairs like an ungainly cat. Severus sat down like a proper human being, and summoned a glass from the cupboard with a silent accio, pouring the dark brew into it while Finn drank directly from the bottle like his Barbarian sister. Severus took a bracing sip, and the smokey flavor pleased him more than he’d thought it would. Now if only he could drown out the caterwauling from the turntable, they might manage to feign some semblance of civilization.

“So,” Finn said, “how’d you meet my sister?”

It begins. “She, shall we say, conscripted my aid in subduing one of her marks last summer,” Severus replied with a touch of irony.

“Obliging of you. You must’ve done a decent job if she kept you around. How long’ve you been a teacher?”

“Fifteen years.”

“That sounds God-awful. Do you like it?”

“No.” He did not like this one-way interrogation either. “I take it you are part of the Rose family business?”

Finn was not going down quietly. “Yep. You’ve done a good job, by the way.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Not asking about my arm. I saw you gape at it, but most people would’ve missed that, you covered it so quick. You’ve got a decent poker face.”

“So I’m told.”

“Go ahead and ask.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.” This was worse than sparring with Miranda—all of the irritation and none of the pleasure.

“I mean, go ahead and ask about my arm. Most people are bustin’ at the seams to know.”

Severus was in no mood to give the man what he so clearly wanted. “I don’t see why I should care about any of the limbs you have managed to lose.”

Finn laughed and dropped the end of his cigarette into an empty beer bottle, while Severus took a long drink from his glass to steady his temper. Before either man could regroup for another tilt, the door banged open and Miranda limped through it, face pale, one arm wrapped around her stomach and the other moving from the wall to the sofa for balance. Both men were on their feet in an instant.

“What the hell happened to you?” Finn demanded.

“Nothing. A couple of Death Eaters,” Miranda replied, sinking down on the sofa.

Severus flexed his left arm involuntarily, and quickly closed the door as though he were concerned his fellows had followed Miranda home.

“Death Eaters?” Finn asked. “You mean those punks you were telling me about?”

“Yes. They got away, but one of them left his wand behind. Aaron and a couple of the other Aurors are going over the crime scene. We’ll catch them. It’s only a matter of time.”

“That still does not explain why you are limping,” Severus observed pointedly.

“I was getting to it.” She winced, pulling up her tunic to expose the blackened skin beneath. “I got hit in the fray. It feels like an adusto, and a clumsy one at that.”

Severus thrust Finn out of the way and dropped to one knee beside her to examine the wound. Fury coursed through him, causing his fingers to tremble as he ran them over the injured skin.

“What are you doing here?” he said angrily. “You should have gone to St Mungo’s. What was Aaron thinking, letting you come home in this condition?”

She flinched under his examination. “I’m not going back; I was just there. I thought you could take care of it.”

“It’s not an option. You’re going.”

“Come on, please? It’s only a little curse; no big deal.”

Her cajoling snapped the remaining thread of his patience. “Apparently nothing short of dying is a big deal to you, you daft woman! Perhaps you were not paying attention to Healer A’isha this morning, but I was. You were to return to the hospital immediately if you suffered any further injuries. Perhaps I do not wish to be a party to any more of your reckless, juvenile behavior!”

She blinked at him, obviously surprised by his unusual outburst, and he cursed himself for losing control in front of his infuriating lover and her wretched brother. A tense silence fell over the room while Severus caught his breath. Finn, seemingly unconcerned by his sister’s condition, produced a cigarette for her and a fresh one for himself, which he lit deliberately before voicing his opinion.

“Seems to me you don’t need to go pickin’ at my sister,” the American said. “Either fix her up or don’t; but there ain’t no call to be fussin’ her like a flustered ol’ school marm.”

Severus glared at the siblings and bit back the growl that was threatening to escape his throat. How it was that Miranda managed to reduce him to this level was beyond him; and he knew that the only way he would get her to St Mungo’s now was by throwing her over her his shoulder and dragging her by force, probably after stunning her fool of a brother first. He was too angry to enjoy either fantasy, especially when he found himself storming into his lover’s potions closet to gather the supplies to tend her wounds. No wonder she treated him like her faithful cur—he was so quick to play the part it made him sick.

“Thank you, Severus, I knew I could count on you,” she said.

“I don’t want your thanks,” he bit back. She ran her fingers through his hair while he worked, and he shook off her touch like it burned him.

Finn brought over a plate of food and a fresh beer for the patient; joining her on the sofa to enjoy the evening’s entertainment of Severus the Nursemaid. Soon they were talking over his head while he applied counter-curses, balms, and dittany, coaxing the skin back to a healthy shade of pink; a servant forgotten.

“What were the punks doing when you broke up their tea party?” Finn asked.

Miranda frowned at the piece of salami she was rolling around a mozzarella slice. “They offed a couple of people up in Shoreditch; a wizard and a No-maj woman.”

“That’s a cryin’ shame. Remind me what those shits are up to?”

“They’re stooges for some dark wizard who wants to take over the world.”

Finn snorted. “Is that all dark wizards ever want to do?”

“They are pretty unoriginal that way, aren’t they?”

“If I were a dark wizard, I’d just want my pantry full of fixin’s, my fridge full of beer, an endless supply of cigarettes, and eternal youth.”

“And all the women of the world to fawn on you?”

“Only the pretty ones.”

Miranda slapped her brother’s arm lightly. “You are such an ass.”

He winked back. “But I’m an ass with wholesome tastes. What about you Severus Snape? What would you do if you were a dark wizard?”

Miranda choked and sputtered on the beer she was trying to drink, and came up laughing so hard her face turned red. Severus tied the last bandage into place and rolled down her tunic with measured care before bothering to reply.

“I would never answer another foolish question for the rest of my life,” he said—and meant it.

“That’s pretty good!” Finn laughed. “Mira, your boyfriend’s got a sense of humor after all.”

“It’s one of the things I like about him,” Miranda agreed.

Severus left the Americans to their jocularity; first returning the supplies to the potions closet, and then stalking to the loo to scrub the mess from his hands. He stood there for some time, glaring at his sallow reflection and wondering what in Merlin’s name he was doing here in the first place. He’d rendered service to his lover, and she had her brother now to entertain her. He’d no intention of staying over with said brother sleeping on the sofa. He was painfully aware that Miranda had no desire to retain him in a role that would require certain sacrifices of him; such as enduring the company of her family members. Why put himself out? It wasn’t that he disliked her parents or her brother per se—indeed he barely knew them—but the entire comedy offended his sense of justice. If Miranda wanted him to dance the part of the dutiful boyfriend (what a moronic term that was too!) she could bloody well act as though she wanted him around.

Mind made up, he returned to the main room and announced, “I shall take my leave of you. Miranda, if you have any further troubles you will have to avail yourself of a Healer’s care. Good night.”

“Don’t go yet,” she coaxed. “We haven’t even had a chance to get the card table out.”

“I suspect you can play well enough without me.”

“Come on, professor,” Finn put in. “Isn’t it Christmas break or something?”

“Unfortunately, holidays for the students are not necessarily holidays for the teachers.”

“Finn, go in the bedroom for a minute, would you?” Miranda ordered.

“Why? Can’t you smooch lover-boy with me here?” he retorted, but he was already on his way out of the room.

“Did he call you?” she asked quietly, struggling to pull herself up from the sofa until Severus relented and came to sit beside her, if only to save the strain on her wounded core.

“No. Do not trouble yourself about that,” he replied.

“Did Finn say something stupid before I got here?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Are you angry with me?”

He was. “No.”

“I think you’re lying.”

He traced a long finger over her cheek, wondering darkly when her face had supplanted Lily’s in his mind as the measure of female beauty. “Leave it.”

She closed her piercing eyes and gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine. I should know by now that if you don’t want to talk about something, you’re not going to talk about it.”

“I am pleased to hear you’ve come to such a sensible realization. It should save us many tedious hours of argument.”

She caught hold of his hand and kissed his palm, her lips surprisingly fierce. “The Lees want Finn and me to join them on Sunday for a little excursion to Wales. Will you come?”

Her eyes were bright and hopeful now, and Merlin help him, he did want to come. He wanted to hold her hand like a bloody idiot, and spend time with her friends and family, and pretend that he was liked and respected by descent people. But he knew it was a lie; and he was too tired to tell it to himself tonight.

“I doubt I will have time.”

He went to the door to gather his cloak, and she asked without rising from the sofa, “Are you going to avoid me the whole time Finn is here?”

He couldn’t answer that question, and he didn’t bother to try. “Good night, Miranda.”

“Good night, Severus.”

The temperature had dropped significantly, and the frigid air stung his nose as he went out into the night. He had succeeded in wrenching the tatters of his dignity from Miranda’s capricious hands, and he wrapped them around his heart the best he could.

They were a feeble shield against the cold.

*****

Borgin and Burkes was quiet at five minutes to close on Saturday evening, but that didn’t bother the girl inside. Cassie was used to the singular merchandise, and dusting cobwebs off the cursed hands and shrunken skulls was as normal to her as scattering fairy clocks in the summertime. Indeed, she felt rather proud that her Uncle Orestes trusted her enough to leave her in charge of the business while he nipped down into the brighter arms of Diagon Alley for a last minute errand. The shop itself was well pleased to sit undisturbed this evening. Better to wait for the rightsort of customer than sully one’s skirts with dust from the wrong one.

The bell above the door clanged a mournful groan, and Cassie looked up from her sweeping to see Draco Malfoy swaggering inside. A blast of cold wind whipped through the front of the shop, ruffling the pages of the massive tome of inventory sitting open on the counter. He gave the door a swift kick, slamming it shut, and she scurried behind the counter to deal with the book. Her uncle would have her hide if he thought she’d left it out for other customers to browse. Borgin and Burkes prided itself on discretion, and she wasn’t about to be the weak link that tarnished that reputation.

“Hello, Draco. Are you having a nice Holiday?” she asked, tapping one of the floorboards with the toe of a polished Mary Jane. It opened with a creak, and she scooped up the book to replace it to its home beneath the floor.

Draco was in no mood for pleasantries. “Where’s that uncle of yours, Cassandra?”

“He stepped out to Mr Ollivander’s. He’ll be back any minute, though. We’re about to close and he’ll want to count down the till.”

“Business is booming I take it?” he sneered.

It wasn’t, not since the Ministry started leaning on all their regular customers. “It’s been fine, thank you for asking.”

She finally wrestled the book into place and pushed the board down tight over it. Wiping her grimy hands on her shop apron, she gave her classmate a friendly smile. No sense in riling tempers that were already short-fused.

“Is there anything I can get for you while you wait? Tea? Cocoa?”

“What? No,” he said distractedly. He was pacing near the front windows, peering out into the street that had been full dark for hours thanks to long winter nights. Suddenly he drew away from the windows and added with great agitation, “Actually, yes. You can go to the back of the shop and stay there.”

She felt her brow furrow and her hands turn cold. “I don’t think Uncle Orestes would like it if I left a customer unattended.”

“I’m not going to steal from your bloody uncle,” he snapped. “Bring me out that box of poison rings from the Carolingian era. Father needs a Christmas present.”

“Christmas was three days ago.”

“Yes, and we don’t celebrate it. Just do as I say!”

She almost obeyed him, he looked so desperate. Her hands gripped the counter as some inexplicable instinct told her to run. Before she could take action, the door opened again, this time admitting a raw-faced man with unkempt gray whiskers, rough clothing, and eerily sharp teeth. Draco’s face went a few shades paler than normal, and Cassie’s heart started beating as fast as a startled robin’s.

“Where’s Borgin?” the man growled.

Draco shrank and she caught the fear in his eyes before he puffed himself back up and faced the newcomer with a decent approximation of careless courage.

“Out,” Draco said, sounding bored as ever. “Maybe we don’t need to waste our time here.”

The rough-looking man swatted Draco to the side like he were swatting a fly, and Cassie resisted the urge to shrink against the wall as she slid her wand into her hand and hid it in the folds of her robes. As Draco recovered his balance, the older man scented her, and a nasty smile stretched across his mottled features. It did nothing to improve them.

“What have we here?” he said, ambling towards Cassie, who did her best to keep the counter between them.

“She’s nobody,” Draco muttered.

Nobody did her best to keep her voice respectful and even. Show no fear, show now challenge. “I’m Cassandra Borgin, sir, Mr Borgin’s niece. He just popped over to Mr Ollivander’s, and he’ll be back very soon, I’m sure.”

“Cassandra Borgin,” the man leered. “What a pretty little name for a pretty little girl. Friend of yours, Draco?”

“We’re here for her uncle, Grayback,” Draco said, his hands fisted at his sides.

“We’re here for what I say we’re here for.”

“I’m in the same year as Draco,” Cassie offered. Keep him talking. If he was talking, he wasn’t biting. “In Slytherin of course. What house were you in, Mr Grayback?” The man let out a snarl of laughter, and when he didn’t answer, she continued to babble. “Draco’s the Head Slytherin in our year too. It’s a privilege to learn with him. He’s so advanced.”

“Shut up, girl, you talk too much.”

“So sorry, sir.”

The bell rang a third time, and Cassie’s spindly uncle entered, stamping snow from his boots.

“Mr Grayback! Good evening,” he said, flipping the sign from open to closed and lowering the curtains with several quick wand flicks. “Cassie, I think some tea wouldn’t go amiss just now. Be a good girl and go and get the tray.”

“Yes, Uncle Orestes. I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she said, edging towards the door to the back of the shop and safety.

“Cassie is going to stay right where she is,” Grayback countered, “or she’ll be short one uncle.”

She froze on the threshold, and in a blur of movement, Grayback was beside her, wrapping her braids around his thick hand and pulling them until she was looking up at the ceiling. His breath was hot on her face and it stank of putrid meat.

“Such a pretty little girl. Older than I like, but still young enough,” Grayback cooed. “Don’t mind us, Draco, tell the man why we’re here.”

There was a hairline crack running the length of the moulded ceiling, and a pair of spiders were darting in and out of the rupture. Cassie watched them, and counted her breaths, doing her best not to make matters worse by falling apart. She was glad she’d had all those hours of detention, learning not to show her fear to Professor Snape to prepare her for this moment. Although, if she survived this moment, she doubted she would ever be afraid of her Head of House again.

“I take it you have encountered some difficulty in repairing the Vanishing Cabinet, Mr Malfoy?” Borgin asked calmly when the boy did not speak.

“Yes,” Draco replied harshly. “I’ve done everything you told me to do, and it still doesn’t work.”

“I am terrible sorry to hear that. I’m afraid that, as I cannot see the object, it makes it very difficult for me to advise you. However, I have been frantically researching the matter, and I expect to have further recommendations for you to try when term commences.”

“Perfect. Then I won’t be able to consult you when your new recommendations don’t work either.”

“Borgin, why do I get the feeling that you don’t want Draco to succeed?” Grayback put in.

“Of course I want Mr Malfoy to succeed,” Borgin protested. “In fact, I was just about to suggest that Cassandra here would be the perfect addition to the operation. She already has years of experience handling dark artifacts. I will instruct her here, and she will help you at school.”

“Or maybe I’ll take a little bite out of her and teach you a lesson about keeping your word,” Grayback offered.

Cassie was amazed at how steady her uncle was under fire.

“If you leave her in one piece, Mr Malfoy will have the further advantage of my on-going help. Cassandra and I can code messages back and forth in our usual correspondence.”

“That might work,” Draco agreed.

Grayback grazed Cassie’s neck with a pointed incisor, and though it did not break the skin, she could not keep from shuddering.

“We’ll let you try,” Grayback said at last. “But if you fail, the girl is mine.”

“I understand,” Borgin replied.

Grayback gave her neck a final squeeze and let go so suddenly that she fell to her knees. She kept her eyes on the floor and did not bother to get up. Her legs were shaking too badly now, and she could no longer check her frightened tears.

“Come on, Draco,” Grayback barked.

Draco wavered for an instant before following the werewolf out into the night. As soon as the door was shut after their unwanted guests, Borgin threw the lock and brought down the night wards. The relative safety caused Cassie to cry harder, and her uncle got down on the floor beside her to gather her into his arms.

“Well done, my girl,” he said, rocking her like she were a little child rather than a nearly-grown woman.

“Thank you,” she hiccuped. “I’m s..s..sorry. I can’t seem to stop crying.”

“You don’t have to stop just yet. In a minute well go in the back and get a cup of cocoa and some of Aunt Electra’s tea cakes. No need to frighten your Mum with all this.”

“Uncle Orestes, do you think we’ll be able to fix it?”

He gave her a sad smile. “Given enough time, we can fix anything, don’t worry about that.”

The next logical question was: would Fenrir Grayback give them the time they needed?

Cassie was not brave enough to ask that question tonight.

*****

libera nos a malo masterpost+

unstoppable force/immovable object masterpost+

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