Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Présage de Guerre :: Epithalamium

Part I : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall

.:.

1 October 2003 :: Just An Interlude

"Well, well.  What have we here?" Lucius drawled, looking at the plain cream stock envelope in his hands.  The quality undeniably superb, the seal on the back, while unfamiliar, was of the finest wax.  He broke it open and sipped his coffee while perusing the contents, a small smile growing on his face.  "Look, sweets, we have an invitation to a wedding reception."

Bethany Malfoy, looking up from her own mail, and out of necessary habit, gauged her husband's mood about the invitation before replying.  He seemed pleased and not in a good way.  There was something about the gleam in his eyes, the studied insouciance of his pose which reminded her of a snake about to go after prey just a bit too big for it, but it would be oh, so fine if it succeeded.  She decided to boldly test the waters.  "Only the reception, my dear?  Not the wedding as well?"

His low, throaty chuckle only confirmed his mood.  "No, my sweet; however, I am surprised we received even this.  Severus must be slipping."

"Severus Snape?" she asked, intrigued despite herself.  "Isn't he still living with Harry Potter at Hogwarts?"

"Very good, yes, he is."  He waved the card in her direction.  "This is an invitation to their wedding reception."

At twenty-one and enceinte with their second child, Bethany had little to do in her life but take care of Lucius and his house, raise his children, participate in the charities he deemed necessary, keep abreast of current events (so she could converse intelligently with his guests at the elegant dinners and soirées she organised), and gossip.  Bethany loved to gossip, and Lucius often amused himself, usually at dinner, with the juicy bits she gathered from the bored ladies she met with daily.  While to the casual observer it all seemed quite harmless, she'd quickly learned to discern his subtle cues and so paid particular attention to those subjects of which he wanted more information.  Severus Snape and Harry Potter were just two of her husband's more frequent...  requests.

"Really?  There hasn't been a breath of talk about it, although if the invitations are being Owled now, the Banns should have been published weeks ago.  I can't imagine they would send the invitations before the Banns."  Thinking he might be upset with her lack of knowledge, she added briskly, "Oh well, I'm certain it will be the talk of the town."

She breathed easier when he nodded and replied, "I think it may come as a bit of a shock to everyone, my dear.  It's not often men in their position make this type of statement in public."  He tapped the card against his lips.  "He must be up to something," he mused quietly.  "I cannot envision him going to this amount of trouble for himself and his intended without there being some kind of benefit."  He placed the card on the table and shook his head with a smirk.  "Not that he would tell me any of it; we did not part on the best of terms."  

His dark chuckle made her swallow hard.  She decided nonchalance was her best course.  "I see what you mean about the lack of wedding invitation, then.  We are going?" she asked, listening carefully what he didn't say.

"Of course we will attend.  Perhaps you would enjoy...  a new robe for the affair," he answered casually, looking over the table at her.  His eyes narrowed, never a good sign.  "In fact," his voice slowed, "I think I need to throw a...  bachelor party for our friends.  Get their marriage off to a good start."

She made no reply; none was necessary.  She had her instructions: buy a new robe and stay out of it.  Only too pleased to do so and, seeing his attention apparently returning to his mail, she went back to her own, but she never read it, her mind churning with the implications.

After three years of marriage to Lucius Malfoy, Bethany had few illusions about him.  Oh, she'd been well-trained from birth to accept her role as a loyal retainer, a tool to be thoroughly used by her husband for whatever purpose he desired in whatever manner he deemed fitting.  Yet, like any young girl, she'd foolishly dreamt of kindness and love, her romantic notions shattered when her father gleefully announced the successful negotiation of her marriage contract to a wealthy man well-known for his ruthless brutality.  There was no recourse for her, no plea she could possibly offer to refuse, so she'd agreed, accepting with quiet dignity that there would be no happiness in her future.

However, from his first genteel greeting at their betrothal celebration, from their first waltz, from his first chaste kiss daringly pressed against her wrist, her fears never materialised, and her subsequent marriage wasn't something to dread.  In fact, it had its moments of pleasance and, for that alone, she gave him her unswerving regard and full attention.  Lucius wasn't cruel, did not beat or abuse her, but that did not mean he loved her, or held her in any real esteem, or was even particularly tender.  He just wasn't cruel.  To her, that is.  She'd soon discovered his reputation with others was well-earned, the house-elves being a prime example.  Shortly after their marriage, she'd assumed their oversight, if only to keep him away from the poor hapless creatures.  

On this recent matter, though, his voice and the way he said it made her shiver.  It did not bode well for Mssrs Snape and Potter.

.:.

3 October 2003

The pheasant was perfect, the potatoes a bit under-cooked, the snapped beans done to a barely acceptable standard; the rest was unmemorable if not unpalatable.  I really must speak to the new house-elves about the potatoes and beans, Bethany thought, sipping cool water from her goblet.  They are very lucky he is so sated this evening or there would be...  complaints.  She ate a bite of her beans and noted Lucius was particularly relaxed this evening; it seemed the new girl was pleasing him well enough.  The only indications she ever received to the contrary were his brusque orders to obtain him a new one.  His most recent dalliance, Nattie, had lasted quite a while, so far.

Odd thing that, a custom her mother explained to her the night before her wedding as a twisted sort of comfort for the supposed horrors of her marriage bed.  While she was expected to be faithful, she could not possibly expect to fulfil all of her husband's...  needs and, therefore, should he wish it, she was to arrange for him any number of partners (or 'toys' as she came to call them), and she was to keep quiet about it.

She smiled.  For something that was purported to be a 'blessing', his absence from her bed rankled as she discovered she enjoyed sex with him.  Given his consideration in bed and his amusement with her innocent enthusiasm, she since wondered if his infrequent requests had stemmed more from a test of her malleability and temperament than any real desire for more-skilled bed-mates.  Regardless, his requests for toys eventually lessened to almost nothing.  Really, he was quite considerate in that regard.  However, whenever she saw him falling into one of his moods, the ones she'd grown to fear, she'd gladly ordered him a toy from any number of services available for that sort of thing; evidently the practice was fairly well accepted.  He'd come home better for it and never seemed to mind her presumption in the matter as long as she didn't turn him down when he wanted her.

With her first pregnancy, he continued visiting her chamber, perhaps not as often, but still enough to satisfy.  Yet when she started showing, he refused any congress with her, resuming their relations only after their first child, a girl, was born and she'd regained her figure.  Well along in this pregnancy, she once again had to bear her frustrations in silence as she ordered him toys on regular basis; liked his sex every day, he did.

"New house-elves again, my dear?" he asked taking a bite of the potatoes.

She almost panicked and then realised of course he would ask that as he was the reason she had been down two.  She still didn't know how he did it; they were supposed to be indestructible.  "Yes, love.  Actually, I got three this time.  You know, to have a spare ready in case you break one again."

At first she thought she'd said the wrong thing with the piercing eye he turned on her, but his hearty laugh, his white teeth flashing, told her he was pleasantly amused.  "I promise, sweets, I'll try to only 'break' them one at a time."

"Thank you.  They are somewhat difficult to obtain."  She forked a piece of spiced potato in her mouth and winced at the slight crunch.

"Tell me, sweets, what have you heard about the up-coming nuptials of our...  friends?"  He took a sip of his wine, his eyes steady on her.

Although she knew what he wanted, she was surprised he would ask knowing full well she'd only had two days to gather information for him.  And why does he always ask me these things right after I take a bite to eat?  She swallowed before replying, "There is much speculation, but very little fact at this point."

"What are the facts, then?"  he asked, sitting forward.

And why are you so eager to know so soon? she thought before answering, "Well, the only thing anyone knows is that the Banns were published somewhere outside of wizarding Britain.  Where, exactly, no one can find out.  The Department of International Magical Cooperation is run by one of Weasley's lackeys; they say security is quite tight.  However, as speculation goes, it has to be somewhere they are well-known or else the Banns could not be valid."  She sipped her water.

"Is that all?" he asked, relaxing back into his chair.

"Well, it is said the marriage received official sanction only two days after the first Banns were published sometime back in August.  With Weasley in charge, who knows what concessions were made."

"Sanction?  What kind of sanction?" he asked, interested again.

She shrugged eloquently.  "I'm sorry.  I've not had time to find out anything more than wild speculation, but I will try.  There was a whisper that they may procreate if they wish, but since that type of sanction hasn't been handed down in over a century, I assumed it to be only rumour."

"Maybe, maybe not.  I can see the Ministry offering it if only because Potter is the last of his father's line and Snape isn't too far behind.  Both bloodlines stand to die out with each of them."  His brow furrowed.  "I wonder, could this be a marriage of convenience?"

"With a Closed Form?  I think not," she replied with conviction.

"Closed Form?  They're using a Closed Form?"  He sat forward again, his brows raised almost to his hairline.

"Yes, did I forget to mention that?  A copy of the application is the only official document anyone could obtain.  That's how they knew about the Banns.  It doesn't disclose the country, though, only that the International idiots were involved."

He resumed his brooding, so she turned back to her dinner, now quite cold.  She cast a warming spell and ate as quickly as she dared.  She knew he would want to talk more, but she and baby were hungry.

A house-elf approached the table with trepidation.  Lucius barely noticed her, but waved his hand indicating she could take his plate.  He eyed her as she left the room noting her tea towel was cleaner than most.  He put it out of his mind.  "August, you say?"

"Hmmmm?" she dared, chewing on a bit of pheasant.

His mouth twisted with wry humour as he chuckled.  "Keeping you and number two away from your meal am I, my sweet?"

She swallowed and said, "No, not really.  We'll manage to eat all we require at some time.  The evening is long and there are always warming spells."

"Such a trouper," he murmured, his attention sharply focussing on her again.  "Are you certain the Banns were published in August?"

"Everyone assumes so; according to the notice, that's when they were handfasted."  She thought about it a moment.  "Oh!" she exclaimed, finally seeing his intent.  "That's awfully soon, isn't it?"

"Yes.  Yes, it is, my sweet.  It barely makes the sixty day requirement."  His eyes narrowed in speculation.

"One wonders, why are they rushing so?" she mused aloud.

"Hmmm.  Good question."  He pushed away from the table.  "Good question, indeed."  He gave her a peck on the cheek in passing, well-pleased with her information.  "I'll just let you both finish your meal in peace."

Relieved, she did just that.

.:.

4 October 2003

Waiting on his company in his private study, a snifter of warmed brandy in hand, Lucius reflected that Avery's daughter had proven a pleasant surprise.  While his young wife was not as exquisite as Narcissa, dark where his former wife had been pale, Bethany had a graceful daintiness about her that more than made up for it.  Well-educated, well-read, very French, and smart enough to know when to flash her sharp wit and when prudence demanded silence.  And quite passionate to boot.  She was a pleasure to bed, her pouting when she obtained his 'toys' (as he'd heard her say once) quite appealing.  It was almost enough to forswear his mistresses.  Well, all but Bellatrix, who still continued to warm his bed whenever she was in the mood to do so.  He made certain that was as often as he liked.

No, she was nothing like he'd expected, especially considering Avery's predilections for weak, compliant women.  While not as ambitious or manipulative as Narcissa, being the less strident and more cautious of the two, Bethany still got what she wanted.  And she gauged his moods better.  Her well-aimed comment last night about the house-elves still brought chuckles.  However, he had not 'broken' the two elves as she thought; his personal house-elf since childhood, Maldy, had disposed of them for him soon after they'd discovered their allegiance to Dumbledore.  Impressive that the old man managed to get someone in so close for so long.  When will that wretched man die?

Not too much later, Avery and Peter arrived at the manor.  He sent Maldy to fetch Draco as well.  Avery gave him a quick report on their movements in Europe while they waited for his son.

Soon all were present, Maldy inconspicuous at the back of the room, ignored as Lucius had planned.  "I'm sure you have all heard by now that our dearest friends and colleagues, Severus Snape and Harry Potter are to be wed in three weeks."  He paused at Avery's snort.  "I have been thinking that we should, at the very least, give them a present.  Something they will always remember."

Avery chuckled, and Lucius knew he was thinking of all the 'gifts' he would love to bestow on the Potter brat and the messy retributions he could mete on his old nemesis, the blood-traitor Snape.  Yes, he's a good choice to carry out the second part of my plan, Lucius thought as he watched the obvious thoughts going through their heads.  

"I've learned a few things about this wedding."  He proceeded to tell them the information given to him by Bethany last night.  "It's also been confirmed that this is a love-match,"  he sneered, "and it appears Dumbledore has rushed the standard waiting period due to something significant about the date, something that will strengthen them."  He paused gauging their cautious reactions before adding, "I'm assuming you find that as unacceptable as I do."

Pettigrew, who to this point had been a blank, asked, "How do we know this information is accurate?  It seems a bit far-fetched.  I mean, maybe it has to do with something else entirely."

Lucius wanted to hex him.  How like the rat to question me.  Too bad I really need him.  However, he stayed his hand, having learned his lessons well from his former master; cursing the help bought little loyalty and usually hastened one's demise.

Avery interrupted his thoughts.   "Actually, it sounds like something Dumbledore would do.  He's always been one for his fortune-telling.  I'm not saying he's right, mind you, but it's consistent with his reputation."

"True, Avery, only too true, and at this point I am not certain I want to chance the accuracy of such potentially damaging information," Lucius answered him.

Keeping silent so far, Draco knew well where the information originated.  Mindful of the truth his father had told him last year at his own betrothal, "There is an untapped network in our homes that ferrets secrets faster than any spy.  Merlin help us if the ladies ever discover just how powerful they really are,"  he was not inclined to question the source.  Instead he asked, "What is it you want us to do?"

Lucius smiled in blatant approval.  "Ah, finally!  A practical question.  It's very simple.  Peter, I want you to be seen.  Perhaps at Diagon Alley, near one of Dumbledore's spies.  I want you to leave a trail, not so easy they'll be suspicious, but sufficient to make them think you've been sloppy.  Avery can assist you and will supply the Portkey to transport them."

Peter knew better than to question it.

"Avery, you and Draco will wait near the ambush point.  I leave it to your capable hands to determine the exact location.  Once Dumbledore sends Snape, you're to incapacitate him and any others accompanying him, and then bring them to the hidden chambers here."

"How can we be certain Dumbledore will send Snape?"  Avery asked reasonably.

"I suspect he'll send both Snape and Lupin.  Who else is qualified?  They're only two of a handful remaining who would recognize Peter on sight, and Dumbledore wouldn't dare risk the Potter brat.  Everyone else only knows him from pictures.   Dumbledore will not risk losing him."

Avery nodded.  "When do you want this done?"

Lucius smiled evilly as if the answer was obvious.  "The day before the wedding.  I want the three of you to hold Snape until after this auspicious wedding date.  I'm thinking some discomfort for our guests is expected as we need to show a reason why they're here, but under no circumstances are you to kill them.  We're not ready for an all-out attack from Dumbledore yet, and that is precisely what we would get if his precious Severus was gone."

They discussed some of the details and after another hour, Draco and Peter left while Avery remained, supposedly to review the European campaign.  A long-standing guest at the manor, Avery made himself comfortable.

"Maldy, bring us both a brandy and then remain," Lucius ordered.  

The house-elf complied and with brandies in hand, Lucius chuckled.  "Of course, you know that's not all I want, don't you, Avery?"

"Well, I admit, I thought the whole plan a bit soft coming from you, but I figured you knew what you were doing," he temporised, knowing he was treading dangerous ground.  It was mostly fatal to fuck with Lucius.

"Always know the right thing to say, don't you, Avery?"  He took a sip of his brandy.  "However, this time, you are quite correct.  I do know what I'm doing and have some other things in mind."  Avery wisely said nothing.  "I have something slightly different in mind for Professor Snape.  You may play with anyone he brings with him, play not kill, mind you, but Snape?  I want him broken."

"Ah, a trip down memory lane with my 'Lady', sir?"  Avery positively glowed with anticipation.

"Excellent idea!"  He turned to the house-elf.  "And in the meantime, Maldy, you will sneak into Hogwarts and kill Mr Potter."

The elf nodded his head repeatedly, saying, "Maldy will do what the Master wants.  Maldy can get into Hogwarts for master."  He tilted his head, his ears quivering.  "How is Maldy to kill Harry Potter?"

"With Esmerelda, of course."  He smiled secretly.  A most insidious weapon, his Esmerelda.

Avery chuckled, wheezing.  "Do we get to tell Snape that his precious boy is gone?"

"Oh, I certainly hope so.  Just make certain he's well...  softened when the news comes.  I want him to feel his loss, before we break the handfasting.  Add a touch of despair and maybe, just maybe, if we're very lucky, he might even lose his mind."

Or at the very least, his spirit.

.:.

22 October 2003 :: Words For a Heart

Sitting at an old wooden desk in a deserted classroom at Hogwarts, Harry was desperately trying to follow the advice given to him by the only two people in his life (other than Severus) he trusted with his real thoughts and dreams.  Here it was, two days before the wedding and he was still stuck on two of the verses of his Epithalamium, his past and his present, over which he'd been agonizing for over a month.  "Damn thing is just not cooperating," he growled.

Cerise looked up from the book hovering in front of her painting, the pages spelled to turn when she told them to.  "Pardon?  Did you say something?  I'm sorry, I was reading this book of erotica Hermione left you.  It's supremely amusing."

Not turning, he replied, "No, Cerise.  I was merely talking to myself."

She eyed all the balls of paper on the floor, some exploded into fine confetti from his bursts of frustration.  "Are you certain?  It looks to me like you're trying to re-carpet the floor."

He turned in his chair to look at her full on.  "Cerise, do you know the finer points of the Desinum spell?"  At the shake of her head, he smiled evilly.  "I can acquaint you with them, if you'd like."

She laughed, low and throaty.  "Oh, that.  Phineas told me about Severus' and Albus' threats.  They actually frightened him.  Well, at least until I convinced him they would never really do it."

His eyes narrowing, he asked, "What makes you so certain?"

"What, and miss one moment of his delightful repartee?  Fie, you all enjoy him and his off-colour humour too much."

"Off-colour?  Well, maybe to you, it's 'off'."  He shook his head at the fatuous look on her face.  "What do you see in him?"

She shrugged.  "What do you see in Severus?  They're both cut from the same cloth."

"Not even close, Cerise.  For one, Severus is much more handsome; for another, Severus is certainly funnier than Phineas."

"Funnier?  Now, that's an odd choice of words to use for Severus.  While he does have his moments, his 'commentary' on the unfairness of life in general can be a bit tedious at times."  She snorted.  "Phineas takes a longer view of things.  He is much older by far, and just because he's a painting doesn't mean he doesn't see the irony in life."

"Perhaps, but that doesn't mean they're both 'cut from the same cloth', as you say.  They are definitely very different.  Severus' humour is more subtle, and he's not particularly concerned if others catch it.  Phineas, on the other hand, tries too hard to be the comic relief of the portrait gallery."

A bit annoyed, Cerise said with a touch of wounded pride, "I said 'the same cloth', Harry, not the same bloody bolt.  And they are very much alike; Severus is just younger.  You wait, once he gets the same number of years behind him, he won't be able to stop; humour is the only thing really left to old people."

Harry stared at her open-mouthed.  "Wait a minute.  Are you saying that Severus is going to be like Phineas someday?"

"Oh, absolutely."  She giggled.  "Once Severus gains the same perspective on life Phineas does, you'll hardly notice the difference."

Harry swallowed, hard.  "That's frightening."

"If you say so.  Personally I find him delightful, and he's a brilliant kisser."  Harry made a moue of distaste, which earned him a chuckle from the sultry beauty.  "Speaking of brilliant, what is that book you have?"

Harry picked up the thin volume he'd had opened in front of him, studiously ignoring the untidy piles of abandoned verse keeping company with the wads of abandoned parchment littering the floor.  "This?" he asked, holding it out.  She nodded.  "Hermione left it," he said, his hand sweeping across the room, "and these others as examples I could use."

Cerise chuckled.  "Love poems and," she tapped the book in her hand, "more erotica, I assume?"

Harry grimaced.  "Yeah.  She said I couldn't very well write a love poem if I hadn't read any."

Cerise pulled her head back questioningly.  "Love poem?  Is that what she thinks an Epithalamium is?"

Harry grinned.  "Well, she was a Muggle, you know.  She researched it, of course."  He pulled over a single sheet of foolscap and read, "From the Webster's Unabridged Muggle Dictionary...  here, I'll skip the first part: Epithalamium: a nuptial song or poem in honour or praise of a bride and bridegroom."

Cerise started laughing.  "That deserves a toast."  Suiting actions to words, she poured a neat finger of Firewhiskey in her glass, saying, "To the Bride and Bridegroom," and downed it.  Her brow raised, she asked, "You and Severus?"  She sat in her chair while Harry laughed with her.

"Well, you remember how they wanted to do this whole thing."

"Oh yes, and white really is your colour, Harry.  So virginal.  All hail the virgin Harry."  She sat back, helpless, while Harry tried not to laugh too much; he'd narrowly escaped The Girls white wedding.  After a few moments and another libation, she asked, "And you told her what it means to a wizard?"

Harry smiled.  "Nope, didn't need to, she is self-actualising, you know.  Likes her research.  The next time she visited, when she brought the rest of the books, she informed me of my error, that an Epithalamium really is a," he pulled over another piece of parchment and recited, "from the Webster's Unabridged Wizarding Dictionary.  'Epithalamium: a poem or song used at the five points of the nuptial journey as binding vows in the older marriage Rites...' or something to that effect."

"Can I assume from the debris that you found her help less than helpful?"

"Somewhat.  I certainly learned what I didn't want."

"But you kept that one?" she asked, pointing at the book in his hand.

He looked at the open page wistfully.  "Yeah, there was something about this one I really liked.  Not that I can use any of it.  The Epithalamium is supposed to be an original I write."

"Read it to me.  I'm interested in what appeals to you."

Somewhat embarrassed, Harry cleared his throat and began to recite:

"To the question: And what of marriage?
by Kahlil Gibran

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together,
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."

He blushed.  "Silly, I know, since we're about to be bound as one, but the words--"

"--Are beautiful and very true, Harry.  Despite what you young people think, you can't occupy the same skin.  If the two of you don't have things outside of each other to fulfil you, your marriage is doomed from the beginning.  And given the type of vows you have chosen to exchange, the resultant unhappiness would be devastating."

Harry was thoughtful a moment, a frown marring his forehead.  "Tell me, Cerise.  Why is everyone so surprised when they hear we are exchanging Closed Form vows?  I don't get it, I guess."

Given that she'd come at his request to help, she thought about it a moment before asking, "Why did you choose to do it this way?"

Bereft of a clear answer, Harry replied, "I don't know.  It just...  felt right."

"Hmmmm.  There are those who would disagree, those who cannot fathom loving someone forever because they can't see that forever is not."

"Huh?" Harry noised, puzzled,

Moving her open hand down the length of her form, she said, "Look at me, Harry.  Am I alive?"

"Of course you are."  He liked it when she asked easy questions.

"Am I really?  Can you touch me?"  When Harry made to reply, she said, "Oh, I know Severus holds the secret of touching a painting, a gift I once received with pleasure, but even he cannot hold it for long.  And I can touch other portraits, even intimately, and interact with others such as yourself, but the truth is I am dead.  My body and soul have passed on into the Hinterlands.  I'm not really here, Harry.  I am a representation of my former self, accurate only in the memory of the man who made me, Severus.  Oh, I have most of my memories; Severus is an exceptionally skilled Legilimens, but there are pieces of me I know are missing, much of which I asked him to exclude.  There are times I'm mystified by my actions because I don't have all of me to make the choices I do now.  In fact, I'm little better than a memoried revenant.  I'm here because there were those who claimed I had value and wanted a part of me to remain.  I was flattered; it was not something I had thought of for myself."

"Do you regret it?" Harry asked, appalled at her words.

"I admit, at first, I resented it more than I ought.  I felt trapped, unlike myself.  And I didn't know then what I know now: forever is just a concept.  It's not real.  Our lives are finite as are any other forms we become, whether it be on earth, in the Hinterlands, or even as a painting.  I may not be alive in the human sense, but I am here, now.  Phineas'...  attention, even yours and Severus' friendship gives me value, even as I am, and even if it didn't, it won't be forever."  Her voice grew very soft.  "You all give my current existence meaning.  I now know my place in your lives and...  I like it."  She shook her head.  "It's odd being the one with all the answers when I was always the one with all the questions."  Her voice brisker, she added, "Which reminds me, your question.  I haven't really answered it, have I?"

At the stricken look on his face, she said gently, "Harry, Severus could not have placed me in this painting had I not wanted it.  I just wasn't prepared for the implications.  No one really can be, you know, but later, after all this is over, I will tell you both as much as I can so you can...  see.  If your futures go the way I think they will, Severus, at least, may not have a choice in the matter and you may want to follow."

Her words filled Harry with hundreds of questions, but before he could ask them, she said, "Now as to the Form, I am assuming you are familiar with all of them?"

Deciding now was probably not the time to pursue it, Harry answered her.  "Yes, I think so.  Voluntary and Involuntary, that's fairly self-explanatory.  We have a Voluntary Form, right?"

"Right, although arranged marriages are more common, especially among the Slytherin."

"What house were you in, Cerise, if I might ask?"

"I was in none.  I attended Beauxbatons; we did not have houses.  I was trained by the Veela, but that is a story for another time."  She tilted her head.  "I am curious, though.  Why did you not choose the Standard Form?  It is, after all, the most common of the Voluntary Forms."

"I suppose it's because the Open Form and the Standard Form are more about procreation and continuance of bloodlines than they are about affection and commitment, even though Ron and Hermione might disagree.  Since Severus and I do not want children, nor given our...  preferences," she nodded her head, understanding what he meant by it, "would we be able to conceive them."  He hesitated.  "It's...  I don't know.  When Severus and I discussed it, the Closed Form just seemed like the best choice for us.  See, we already have other things connecting us--our pasts, our fears, our dreams--and those are just the surface.  There's a bond between us because of the Sanos magic and we're warded, together by..."  His voice trailed off, a light of understanding filling his face.

With an inarticulate cry of triumph, he turned back to the parchment on the table, his quill flying over the surface frantically as he rushed to capture the words flowing freely, rightly, out of his heart.

Cerise just took another sip of the Firewhiskey and went back to the truly ridiculous book in front of her, a satisfied smile on her lips.

.:.

TBC