The Tempest

The Tempest


By: Max

[Disclaimer: see chapter 1]

Chapter 11: The way back - 2004


Letter from Draco Malfoy
To Severus Snape
Paris, June 26, 2004

Dear Severus,

I know you are all busy with the last days of term and probably with preparing for your wedding and so I wouldn’t disturb you if I didn’t need your help urgently. But for explaining why I must bother you with a rather long and complicated story, so please bear with me.

You certainly remember the night during the last Christmas break I broke into your store to get a sobering potion? You were rather lived when you noticed and you guessed I stole it for helping one of Ginny’s brothers out of trouble. I didn’t contradict you this time because you actually were quite happy and I didn’t want to give you new worries.

But the truth is: I needed the potion for Albus. It was the night Ginny and I had taken Raven with us to the Burrows, but we couldn’t get her to sleep there because she’d forgotten her teddy bear. You know how she is and so Ginny and I went back to Hogwarts to get her the thing. By doing so we found Albus in a bad state. He’d drunken half a bottle of fire whiskey and as you know, he never could hold the stuff well. He puked like a sailor and so, after Ginny got the teddy bear, I broke into your store and stole the potion. After feeding it to our dear headmaster I put him in bed.

He told me then that he was kind of “hunted” by a dream about my mother. He almost every night dreamed off her, riding a horse and wearing a tight, black uniform with a row of tiny, golden buttons. I don’t have to tell you how disturbing I found this story - even you on your cloud nine noticed how lousy he looked at this time. I was worrying a great deal about him and so I was very glad when he wrote me in January that the dream was gone and he’d feel better now. And with his next letter sounding much more cheerful I almost forgot all about his dreams.

Until last week. Then I visited a friend of mine at his house. Jerome is muggle born and he still lives with his parents in their home in Saint Germaine. He’s pretty good with computer and therefore I came to him and after a little chat with his parents we went upstairs where he and his sister live. Jerome’s sister - 13 year old - is entirely addicted to horses. She rarely talks about something else other than horses and she decorated of course her entire room and the door of it with pictures from horses and riders.

On her room’s door is a poster - and this was what got me. It shows a horse and a rider - wearing a tight black uniform with a row of tiny, golden buttons.

Albus probably would have fainted by seeing that. I didn’t but I asked Marie-Claire (Jerome’s sister) how she got this poster and who the rider is. After naming me an “ignoramus” she told me that this picture shows one of the riders from the famous Cadre Noir - or, in its entire form: “Ecole Nationale de Equitation - Le Cadre Noir Saumur”. That’s - if I got Marie-Claire’s explanation right - a group of approximately 50 riders who are paid by the French muggle ministry for horse breeding (or whatever - I couldn’t understand this right. You know I don’t have a clue about muggles organisations) for educating riders from all of France for becoming trainers and - what’s more interesting in our case - educating French horses in dressage. And with the educated horses this Cadre Noir - named so for the traditional black uniforms - travels around the world for doing shows and advertising the French horses.

I’m not sure you know, but my mother is an excellent rider. She loves horses very much and during the time she was with my father in France she became educated by a French dressage trainer who came later a few times to our mansion for giving her lessons. After what I’ve learned from Marie-Claire I wouldn’t wonder if this trainer would have a connection to the Cadre Noir too.

In my mind something clicked. I asked Jerome for help and we did a research on his computer where we learned: Between December 18 and 28 last year a part of the Cadre Noir was not at home in Saumur/France, but doing their show in Edinburgh - just 70 miles away from Hogwarts! And just at this time Albus dreamed about mother in a black uniform, riding a horse.

We both know: He isn’t a seer. But he’s a damn powerful wizard who wants nothing more than to see my mother again. And she’s not too bad a witch and in the contrast to Albus who doesn’t know her as well as I do, I don’t believe she stopped loving him. That makes for a connection - and I’d say it’s still a very strong bound between them. And with thinking abot I t I became pretty sure that she is a member of the Cadre Noir now and that she was in Edinburgh at this time he dreamed about her.

But knowing how vulnerableus ius is, I wouldn’t have dared to tell him about this before I was really sure. So I asked Jerome for a bit more of research and we found out that the Cadre Noir’s travelling part is now in Germany. And I got even more: In a German newspaper we found an article about the Cadre Noir having two female members.

The pictures we got in the news paper aren’t very good - you can’t see much of a person if the pic is only as big as your palm and shows a lady on a horse, but I think nevertheless that the Cadre Noir’s “Madame Nella Blanc, 39” is no other than Narcissa Black - with dark coloured hair (as Albus saw her!). And that “Nella Blanc” is younger than my mother doesn’t confuse me much - mother is a witch, so her lifespan is longer and her ageing progress slower than muggles.

And that’s why I need you now. I still don’t dare tell Albus. If I’m wrong and the woman isn’t my mother he’d suffer even more than he does now. So I want to make sure first. For this I’d like to see her tomorrow. The Cadre Noir is in Karlsruhe - a city in Germany. I want to go there for the show. I don’t know what I’ll do then - but I have to see if I’m right. Yet what82178217;m to do then I don’t know. For this I’d like to get your advice. Shall I tell Albus about it? Or shall I talk with mother first - if the lady is really mother?

Yours
Draco

Narcissa Black’s journal
Munich, Germany,
June 29, 2004

During the show I didn’t believe it. I thought my imagination had run mad. It wouldn’t have been the first time. I can’t count how often I saw a blond young man and my heart stopped for a second because I thought it is Draco. But it never was him and so I didn’t believe when I saw him in the crowd. Nevertheless I couldn’t stop looking at him and when I didn’t find him by coming back after the last lesson the familiar sadness came over me. I went back to the stable and once again Inschallah seemed to feel how I felt. He stood quiet and motionless as I pressed my face against his warm, silken neck, crying silently.

I didn’t hear Yvette approach. But Inschallah heard her and he doesn’t like being seen cuddled. He raised his head and made a little sound and then Yvette was already next to us, cheerful as always: “Nella, you’ve got visitors - there are two very attractive men at the gate asking for you. They say they were old friends of yours - the French one named Malfoy and the other seems to be British or something like that. His name is Snape or so. Pretty strange fellow - such a nose!” She made a gesture for showing a big nose. “But he’s got a voice to fall for and eyes - wow! You know, if you don’t need both of them I wouldn’t mind entertaining one. The blond is a bit young, but he looks like one of those renaissance angels or gods by Botticelli ...” She obviously noticed that I’d become very pale and kindly person she is, she laid her hand on my shoulder. “If you don’t want to see them, I send them away. Just say …”

“No, no …” I stammered. “I want to see them. Could you …?”

“Of course I look after Inschallah - if your proud one lets me. Don’t worry. Just go and see the boys.”

I staggered through the big tent we used as stable as if my knee were jelly. And I think I was never in my life more afraid than at this moment, not even when Lucius tried to kill me. Draco and Severus together - oh heavens! That could only mean Persy had told them where to find me - and Persy gave me her witch’s word of honour for only doing so when Raven is in danger. Or … I know, she would have done so too if it were about Albus. She was the one who always kept me informed and from her I knew Albus, Draco and Severus had survived the war against Voldemort and from her I knew too, that Albus was badly injured during the final battle. But she didn’t know much about my daughter - only that she lives with Albus in Hogwarts.

Raven - the thought of her being sick or even worse made me almost fall by stumbling to the gate and to think of Albus - no, I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. A world without Albus is still unthinkable for me.

“Draco …” I don’t know if I only thought or said his name as I saw him. My son. Dressed as a muggle, but nevertheless so handsome, so beautiful and so grown! He’s a man now, but for me he’ll always be my precious, beloved baby.

I must have said his name. Or what was it which made him turning around, looking at me? And then - he ran to me as he’d done as a small boy and I opened my arms and caught him and we almost fell because he’s so strong and he towers over me and his voice is a baritone, but as he whispered “Mummy!” he sounded as my baby boy had done and I couldn’t understand how I managed to live without him.

We hold each other for minutes, both crying and I stood on my tiptoes, stroking his cheeks and looking in his eyes and feeling for the first time since I left happy again. But then I remembered and asked with my heart beating like mad: “Draco - how’s Raven? And …” I couldn’t say the name.

“They’re in Hogwarts,” Draco said. “Don’t worry about them. Raven’s a great kid - beautiful and healthy and talented and spoiled like hell because everyone is always making such a fuss about her. And Albus …” he became serious and looked to Severus who hadn’t said a word until now.

Now he spoke with this silken voice I remember so well: “Albus is as well as it is to expect under given circumstances.”

I heard the accusation - as I should. And I didn’t feel insulted by it. Severus had always been fiercely loyal to Albus - and that is something I always adored about him. Nevertheless I felt a need to defend myself. “I don’t think he would feel better under the circumstances he was willing to get himself in a few years before, Severus,” I said rather sharply.

The answer was a raised eye brow and a: “That’s what we should talk about, Narcissa.”

“Only I think we should do so at a more comfortable location.” Draco’s arm was around my shoulder, giving me strength.

I had to change and so we went to the hotel my colleagues and I were staying at. It was a nice place a little outside the city with a beautiful garden where drinks and coffee was served.

In this garden, under a big old chestnut tree, I met Draco and Severus again after I had changed in a light muggle summer dress. For my colleagues - Jean-Claude and Armand sat in the garden too - it must have looked like an idyll: A dark haired woman talking familiar with two men, one of them sometimes touching her hand and smiling at her.

But it was far from being “idyllic”. Severus - despite the fact that he’s a Slytherin - never was one to talk around the subject. His approach to ours was simple and almost brutal open. “How long do you intend to sulk, Narcissa?”

“I don’t sulk!” I protested at once. “I had good reasons to leave.”

“You had?” His eyebrow almost was on his hairline. “Besides being a coward? Besides being silly?”

He had me immediately on my boiling point - and probably this was what he had wanted. “I am not a coward, Severus. Do you really think it was easy to go? Do you really believe it was easy to give up my children? It was not! But I didn’t see another way.”

“Why, mother?” Draco looked at me. “I tried all this years to understand you, but I couldn’t. So please explain to me.”

I tried - for almost one hour I tried to explain and to justify what I’ve done. I told my son and Severus that the trial had showed me how I was seen in the wizard’s world - an adulteress and a whore and the wife of a death eater - and that people would never forget that I was married to a murderer and that I was the sister of a killer. I tried to explain that I was all my life involved with dark magic too and that I’m therefore became the last person Albus should be with. “Your world was in the middle of a war and Albus was the leader against the evil. Albus was the man people had to trust in, he was the very symbol of the light. What would have happened if he really would have married me? The wife and sister of murderers? It was bad enough he’d slept with me and it became public. Besides: Albus never wanted to marry. He’d only have married me because he is a gentleman and wouldn’t let down a woman who’s pregnant by him. But it was my fault that I was pregnant. I had seduced and overran him and …”

“He could have cast a contraceptus!” Severus interrupted me. It wIt was as much his fault as it was yours.”

“Perhaps. But people would have said that I’d have tricked him in this marriage and perhaps he’d have felt this way too. How long would his love have survived that? How long would we have been married before he’d have started to wish he’d never meet me? And what would have become of our child then? Draco knows how it feels to come at Hogwarts as a death eater’s child and I know how much he suffered and how hard it was. I didn’t want this to happen to Raven too. I wanted here to have a happy childhood and school time without my dark shadow.”

Severus interrupted again. Coldly he said: “Only I doubt that Raven’s childhood is a happy one. She’s in kindergarten now - and that means she sees every day her mates with their mothers. She sees how they bring them to kindergarten in the morning, how they pick them up in the evening. She sees the hugs and the kisses and she starts to ask for her mother and why she isn’t there …”

I hurt to hear that. I only could answer: “She’s got a father and I’m sure he loves her …”

Draco took my hand. Stroking it tenderly, he said: “Yes, Mother. Albus loves Raven very much and he’s a wonderful father. Only …” he looked for Severus as if he’d need his help.

“Only Albus isn’t the man you knew anymore,” Severus said and his voice became aggressive again. “You wronged him, Narcissa. And you broke him.”

“I never wanted …” I felt tears in my eyes.

“But you did!” Severus’ cold voice cut through me like a knife. “And you still do! You talk about what people would have thought and you talk about him becoming influenced by their talking. For heaven’s sake, Narcissa: Did you forget about whom we’re talking? Or are you really so stupid to believe that Albus would have cared? He loved you! And you ran away because you couldn’t stand people’s talking!”

“What do you think I should have done?” I asked quietly. “Marrying him? Although he was so livid with me he’d have probably rather hexed then married me? You were not at the trial, Severus! You didn’t see how he looked at me!” I started to cry again. The memory of Albus’ eyes in the court - even today I shudder by thinking about it.

Draco gave me a handkerchief and laid his arm around my shoulder again. “Mummy - I understand how you felt. But now it’s time to come back to us. Raven needs you and I want you back too and Ginny - yes, we’re still an item and we will marry soon - wants to meet you.”

“And Albus?” I asked quietly, wondering about my own courage.

Draco looked again at Severus. Severus sighed and his voice became softer: “He very rarely talks about you.” Now it was him who looked at Draco.

“I actually think he still loves you,” Draco said. “But …”

Severus took over again. “Frankly said, Narcissa: Albus is an old man now. Losing you broke him. And the war - he was heavily injured by the final battle. We thought for days we’d lose him. He only made it through because he knows that Raven needs him, but he never really recovered. He’s still as brilliant a wizard as he ever was and in Hogwarts still no sparrow dares to fall from the roof without his permission and our new minister wouldn’t do anything serious without talking to Albus first. Your dear son still depends on Albus when he has to do a paper for the university and everyone is still crying on his shoulder when in trouble. But I haven’t had a row with him since the day you left because I would feel as if I’d kick a man who’s already beaten. And even my bride who always found his cheerfulness pretty tiresome says now, she’d eat ten pounds of lemon drops if only it would make Albus twinkle once. If it were not for Raven I don’t think we’d ever hear him laugh anymore.”

“And he looks …” Draco started quietly and I saw that his eyes were wet, “… terrible. In the final battle a curse hit him and he bumped with his head against a rock. And then a death eater kicked him and broke his jaw to pieces. The healers in St. Mungo’s had to shave him completely - hair and beard. The hair is back now, but he keeps it short. And the beard is gone - the healers couldn’t do anything against the scar on his jaw. And without the beard one sees how gaunt and pale he is.”

“He’s too thin,” added Severus. “He doesn’t eat enough, he’s often in trouble with his stomach - since you’re gone he got an ulcer. And it won’t become better because he doesn’t sleep enough. In former times it was me suffered from insomnia and marched through the castle all night. Now it’s Albus.”

“He needs some one who looks after him,” Draco said. “If you still care for him, Mummy, then you must come back.”

I couldn’t answer. I cried in Draco’s handkerchief and felt as if I’d destroyed the most precious thing I ever know.

Then I heard Severus’ grave voice again: “Draco, I don’t think we should give Narcissa a wrong idea. If you come back, you can’t expect Albus taking you up with open arms. He would take you up - for this I’m sure. But he wouldn’t do it for himself but only for Draco and Raven. For himself - I don’t know if you’d get a second chance. Albus may still love you, but his trust in you is gone and with it all hope for a life with you. So he’d probably be very distant with you and I wouldn’t bet you could change that.” His voice became sharp again. “I have to warn you, Narcissa: If you come back and you hurt him once again, I’ll forget any affection I ever felt for you. And even Draco couldn’t stop me then - I’ake ake you suffer as you made Albus suffer.”

Letter from Narcissa Black
To Albus Dumbledore
Saumur/France
August 10, 2004

Dear Albus,

You told me once, the difference between a great and a small man is not the number of mistakes they make, but the number of mistakes notrectrected. I think I’m never to become a greaman,man, but I write you today because I want to correct a mistake I’ve made. I know now that it was wrong to leave you, my children and our world. Therefore I want to come back.

Yet I don’t want to cause our daughter and you more distress than I’ve already done. So I’d be grateful if you’d give me chance to talk with you first.

You can contact me with muggle post. A letter will reach me when addressed to Nella Blanc, c/o Cadre Noir, Saumur, France.

Yours sincerely
Narcissa

Letter from Albus Dumbledore
To Narcissa Black
Dumbledore Hall, Yorkshire, England
August 14, 2004

Narcissa,

I’ll be at the”Le Robissard” in Saumur at August 18, 2004, p.m p.m.

A.

Journal of Narcissa Black,
Saumur, France
August 18, 2004

Did I say a few days before I was never so afraid in my life as in Karlsruhe by meeting Draco and Severus? I was wrong. The last days after getting Albus’ note I was even more afraid and so nervous I made my horses crazy too. This morning it became so bad, even Inschallah couldn’t stand it any longer. He buckled and made me fall, just as the Colonel approached. First he didn’t say something to it, but later in the stable he came to Inschallah’s box where I was just cleaning up and said: “You know, Nethatthat I’m there for you whenever you need one to talk to?”

I know he is. He understands not only horses, but humans too and therefore he’s the only person here who I told at least a little about my life before I came to the cadre. He knows that I left two children and he didn’t judge me about it, he only said once: “I’m sure you had good reason.”

Looking now in his warm, brown eyes I wished I could tell him the entire truth. I know he would understand, but nevertheless: its better he doesn’t know about me being a witch. So I only said: “I’m to meet the man I left this evening.”

“Oh.” The Colonel came in the box. Stroking Inschallah’s neck, he said slowly: “Your past has reached you, Nella? Will you go back?”

I owned him honesty. So I looked at him and answered: “I don’t know, Colonel.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes, Colonel.” For this I was sure. “But it’s not my decision to make. If he wants me to come back, I will go- though I love it here and though I’d miss you and Inschallah and Reina.”

“We’d miss you too, Nella. But l’amour …” He smiled. “I don’t doubt: The man you chose is special. So I hope he knows you’re special and precious too.”

“I hurt him badly,” I said quietly.

“But you regret it, do you not?” The Colonel played with a strand of the stallion’s mane. “Tell him, Nella. Don’t let your pride stand in your way.”

There it was again. Albus had once advised me not to let my pride rule my life. And now my superior said so too. Probably I should learn the lesson at last. My pride, my damn, bloody pride was probably what made me lost Albus.

I was over punctual. It was just 10 after 8 as I came to the restaurant. I’ve been there not often before because “Le Robissard” is a very elegant place - nothing one could march in wearing breeches and boots, smelling like a groom. Tonight I was glad about it because I was sure I wouldn’t meet one of my colleagues there.

The maitre approached me as I came through the door and for a moment I felt as if I would still smell of horses although I’d spent almost an entire hour in the bath tube and washed my hair twice. And I wore of course a dress - sentimental as I am it was a lilac one, very plain, but the most expansive piece I possess today because it’s silken. And I wore high heels - very strange now because the last years I mostly march around in boots and trousers. I’ve come to like it - it’s much more comfortable than robes. And not needing make-up and much hair styling - when in uniform I always war a bun - is another advantage of my job.

But I’m babbling. Back to the subject.

Single woman are unusual in places like “Le Robissard”, so I was asked politely if I’d like help to find my party.
“I’m afraid I’m a bit too early,” I said. “My party - a Monsieur Dumbledore - probably isn’t here already.” It was the first time in years I’d said the name and I blushed by it. Although I’m now pretty much use to living as a muggle - to meet you in a muggle restaurant felt entirely odd. And to use your name in front of a muggle felt even odder.

“You’re right, Madame. Monsieur didn’t arrive yet. But he called for a reservation. May I lead you to your table?” On the way through the restaurant the maitre told me Albus had asked for a table in the garden and I wondered - not about his choice, but about Albus calling. Using a muggle telephone - it must have felt odd to him.

All over the last days I had feared that I perhaps wouldn’t recognize him. I’d never seen him in a muggle suit and I really couldn’t imagine him without his beard and the long hair. But I recognized him in an instant. Five minutes before our appointment the maitre led him into the garden - and although I first saw only the silhouette of a broad shouldered man in a dark blue suit, I knew at once it was Albus. Even with short hair and in a muggle suit - Albus Dumbledore is an imposing figure.

After Severus naming Albus “an old man” I had expected the worse. But the man walking through the garden didn’t look an old man. His posture was a proud and confident as on the day in the court - back erect, shoulders straight, chin up - and his steps showed energy and grace. And I wasn’t the only woman watching him. Two ladies on a table next to the door looked at him as if they’d found him much more appetizing than what was on their dishes. I couldn’t blame them. I became in this moment aware that I don’t desire him less than in former times. And even more: My body remembered how it felt in his arms and I was overrun with a longing for him so strong it hurt.

Then he was at the table and I looked up at his face - and now, I still didn’t see an old man, but Albus, my beloved Albus. I registered with an almost academically interest that he really is gaunter than four years before and that the wrinkles on his forehead had become deeper. I studied the scar on the left side of his jaw - a long, deep cut. And I saw the sharp, deep line on his cheeks - it wasn’t there when I last looked at him and his mouth hadn’t been so pale and his lips not so raw.

A slight bow of his was how he greeted me. No smile, no twinkle in the blue eyes behind round spectacles. He even didn’t reach for my hand. He only said: “Narcissa - or shall I rather address you as Nella?” His voice betrayed him - it was hoarser than ever before and slightly trembling.

I don’t think mine was firmer as I answered: “I’m still Narcissa.”

He nodded and sat down, looking at the glasses and the fine china laid in front of us. And I looked at him and knew suddenly that one can feel happy and miserable at the same time. That he was there, alive, healthy and still so entirely Albus - just that, just seeing him again meant sheer bliss. But not being able to touch him, to hold him, to tell him that I still love him - that was misery and pain.

I don’t know how but I finally managed to speak. “Thank you for coming,” I said.

He looked up and I got another slight bow of his head, but not an answer - the maitre had just approached with the menu. Albus wasn’t much interested in it - he asked what the maitre would recommend and ordered then soup, fish and lamb chops.

“Madame?” The man looked at me.

I couldn’t imagine eating. My stomach seemed cramped into a tiny, tight knot. But I had to order and so I said: “I take the same as Monsieur …”

Albus ordered the wine - a rather lengthy affair because the maitre and he were going through a long list. Finally it was done and we were alone again.

Albus raised an eyebrow then. “I thoughu wou wouldn’t like lamb.”

I wasn’t sure what to make out of that. I liked that he remembered, but - did he really want to talk about my preferences in food? A little chat until the entrees would come? I breathed deeply and tried a small smile: “One comes in use with lamb when living here …”

“I thought one would come in use with horses then …” He smiled back, but his eyes were grave.

“In Saumur no one would ever eat a horse,” I tried a little joke and then, before I thought about, I heard myself ask: “How is …” I said almost “our daughter”, but then I didn’t dare. “Our” would sound as if I’d claim her.

“Raven?” He still seems to know what I thought. “I suppose she’s terrorizing Draco and Ginny at the moment. They are with her at home - and it’s her bedtime now which means she isn’t in the best of moods.”

“She doesn’t like going to bed?” I was greedy for every tiny bit about our child.

“She’s a very vivid girl with a lot of temper,” Albus said and smiled for a moment. “And she’s curious. She believes the adults are doing something rather exciting as soon as she is in bed, therefore she doesn’t want to go there.”

“Oh.” I swallowed. “I hope she doesn’t make it too difficult for you.”

“I don’t have a problem with it. If she’s too persistent with me, I always make a deal with her: I tell her she’s allowed to stay with me as long as she’s quiet and doesn’t disturb me. She promises and I start to do something boring - like writing letters or rng mng ministry papers.”

“Does she keep her promise then?” I saw the scene in front of my inner eye. My little girl …

“She always does.” He was all the proud father - and Gods, how I love him for that! “But being quiet is hard for her. Therefore she mostly asks me after only 10 minutes if I could bring her in bed. Or she simply falls asleep on the sofa.”

The maitre came with wine and bread - much to my dismay. I would have loved to hear more about Raven. So I almost couldn’t wait until the man was gone again. “How does she look?” I asked.

Albus was for a moment silent. Then he said: “Most people say she looks like you - only that she’s real dark haired.”

“You don’t think she looks like me?”

“No.” He opened his jacket and pulled a picture out of the inner pocket. “I thought you’d like to get that.”

My fingers trembled as I took the photograph and looked at my child. The picture was obviously new. It showed a rather tall, black haired girl in blue shirt and shorts, tanned and smiling out of the most beautiful blue eyes. She sat on the stone stairs which led from the terrace of Albus’ house to the garden, a tabby kitten in her lap, looking absolutely happy. I fought against tears. “She is …” I started, but couldn’t find words.

“One wouldn’t think that we produced something as lovely and perfect as her …” Albus said quietly. And then, after a long time he had been silent and I had been looking at our child, he sat with a hard “clunk” his glass down on the table. “She is a happy child, Narcissa - and I want her to stay happy.”

I swallowed. Looking still at the picture I felt as if someone would just throttle me. I wanted so much to take my girl in my arms again. I longed to feel her warmth, I longed to smell her, to hear her, to feel myself that she’s alive and solid and real. And for a few seconds I wanted to fight Albus, wanted to scream at him, to tell him that it was me who gave birth to this child that she drank on my breasts that I loved her first. But I was the one who had decided to give Raven to him and looking at the girl with the kitten I knew now that she is happy with him. So I sunk my head and said quietly: “I hoped for a second chance. But if you think Raven’s life is better without knowing me, I accept of course.”

Silence. He played with his glass, not looking at me.

And once again a waiter - the people in restaurant really have the worse timing I ever saw - came, serving the soup.

None of us touched it. Albus made his glass ring with tipping his finger against it and I prepared myself to leave. I thought of Inschallah and how it would feel to lay my cold forehead against his warm neck.

Finally Albus looked at me again, his eyes almost hostile. “I think she would be better with you. She starts to ask after you. She knows we aren’t a complete family and she wants to have a mother as the other children around her. That means: I want you to come back.”

I almost fainted. “Thank you …” I only could whisper.

He raised a hand. “Just a moment, Narcissa. I’m not ready yet. I had two days to think about this and in that time I decided that I won’t settle for lame compromises. That means: You will choice between everything and nothing. Raven grows up in a rather old-fashioned community and I don’t want her to become a target for even more rumours about her family. And I won’t risk you disappearing again. So you either come back as Madame Dumbledore - after a complete binding to me - or you stay away.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I had expected anything but that. And so I stammered: “You still want to marry me?”

The answer came prompt and hit me like a slap in the face. “No, Narcissa. I don’t want to marry you. But for Raven I will do it. I even promise that I’ll try to make it as easy as possible for you. I demand a full binding - but I don’t demand you to fulfil ‘marital duties’ and I don’t demand you to swear faithfulness. I’ll only ask for your discretion in this department. You can do whatever you want to do as long as our child doesn’t learn about it and as long as you stay. These are my conditions. Now it’s your decision.”

Full binding - that means my witch’s word of honour and connecting my magic to his. If I would leave him after a full binding I’d lose my magic. But this wasn’t what concerned me. I couldn’t look at him. And for a few seconds I fought against the temptation to run away again, to go back to the life I’ve lived the last years. It hadn’t been too bad. I certainly wasn’t as unhappy in it as I would be in living with you with knowing you you don’t want me anymore. But then my gaze fell once again on Raven’s picture and I thought of Draco and his Ginny and that they would have children together - my grandchildren! I want to know them and I want to love them. And I want Albus. I still want him and I want him so mus I s I want Raven. And even if I can’t get him back as my lover - perhaps we can become friends again. So I breathed deeply, looked at last at him again and said as firm as I could: “I want to come back.”

“Well …” He rose his glass. “Congratulations to our engagement.” He sounded so bitter I had once again to fight against tears.

I remembered suddenly what the Colonel had said. “Albus …” I hvoidvoided to say his name. It hurt too much because it reminded me of the nights in which I’d screamed this name in bliss. It reminded me how he’d said once that I’d make his name sound like a tender touch. I didn’t want to think of that. But I knew I must become use to saying his name again. “I’m deeply sorry. I regret what I’one.one.”

Again he raised his hand. “Please, Narcissa! What’s done is done. We can’t change our history. I don’t think we’d feel better in talking about it. We both made mistakes, we both learned our lesson - I hope at least we did. So let’s try not to mess up our future too.”

Our future - shouldn’t it be enough for me that something like “our” future will come up? I asked for a second chance. I got it. Now it’s up to me what I’ll make from it.

Tomorrow “our” future will start. I’ll go to see the Colonel. I’ll ask him to release me from my duties as soon as possible. Then I’ll go to Paris. Albus gave me my wand back - the other is long burned because it was too much of a temptation. I will then take a quarter in the wizard’s district and send a post owl to Albus. He in the meantime will look for a muggle registrary where we can marry. The “full binding” we’ll do afterwards - it doesn’t needs more than casting a charm together.

I can’t pretend I’d like this idea very much. But a wizard’s wedding would mean we had to swear faithfulness and this Albus wants to avoid. Thinking about that I almost wish I could see him as “an old man” too. But I don’t and that means that I hope very much that his “discretion” in this department will include not only our daughter, but me. I really don’t want to know about the women who can get what I can’t.

Letter from Narcissa Black
To Albus Dumbledore
Paris, August 21, 2004

Dear Albus,

I’m released from my duties at Saumur and now staying at the ‘Hotel Magique’ in Paris.

Yours - N.

Letter from Albus Dumbledore
To Narcissa Black
Dumbledore Hall, Yorkshire, England
August 22, 2004

Dear Narcissa,

I’ve made arrangements for our marriage in Edinburgh at the registrary office at King’s Street tomorrow 4:15 p.m. I think its best we’ll meet there at 4:10 p.m.
A.

Journal of Narcissa Dumbledore
Dumbledore Hall, August 24, 2004

The “happiest day in a woman’s life” - that is how kitschy novels name a woman’s wedding day. Only I must have done something wrong. Even with two attempts at the subject I can hardly think of something more depressing than my wedding days.

I thought once my first one would be hardly to surpass. I was wrong. Becoming Mrs Malfoy was - at least on the wedding day - not as bad as marrying Albus.

Marrying Lucius meant: I didn’t get a chance to think about or to become afraid before. I was so busy with the dress and the guest list and the menu and the flowers and the parties I didn’t get one single moment to myself.

Marrying Albus meant: One hour for buying a robe - the first one I bought in years, but I really wasn’t in the mood for making a big fuss about it. And then it meant a visit by a hair dresser for getting my original colour back. Afterwards I apparated to Edinburgh where I had to spend 22 hours with waiting for the “great moment”. It wasn’t easy. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t concentrate on a book, so I thought it would perhaps help to stroll a bit through the park. It was a nice, sunny day - and obviously I hadn’t been the only one who wanted fresh air. Half of Edinburgh seemed to be in the park too and where ever I looked, I saw lovers, holding hands, kissing, smiling at each other, enjoying each others company. I couldn’t bear it and so I went back to my hotel. It wasn’t a good idea because in the room next to mine a newly wed couple celebrated rather noisy a prolonged wedding night.

After one hour, spent with the pillow over my ears, I found myself thinking if it’s possible to cast an effortful contraceptus charm through a wall. I wasn’t sure but I should have tried - for Severus because he will become entirely mad if he gets in 11 years the product of this wedding night to teach. With a mother who’s vocabulary is limited to “Yeaaah - you’re so great” and a father who names himself his wife’s “strong stallion” the child might become one of the dunderheads Severus detests so much.

Besides: What intelligent woman would want for a stallion as her partner? I’m sure even mares wouldn’t if they only had an alternative to “seven strokes and its done” - and that is what stallions do! If I had known sooner, I’d have named Lucius “my stallion”.

I’m bitter and cynic. It doesn’t suit me. But it’s probably better than crying. And for tears I actually felt when I think how I waited in f of of the registrary office, watching happy couples going in and out. I once had thought I’d be the happiest woman alive if Albus and I were to marry. Yesterday I was - no probably not the unhappiest because I knew I’d see my children soon, but a pretty miserable feeling one.

Albus was very punctual and very elegant in a black muggle suit with a pristine white shirt and a silver tie. And he’s got style enough to give me flowers - a white orchid. And he’d of course thought of the rings - plain gold, but beautiful.

The ceremony - I felt reminded to the day last year as the Colonel took me with him to buy a horse for the cadre. Only this “ceremony” was a bit more like a celebration. Our muggle marriage was two questions - first to me if I would want to marry Mister Albus Dumbledore, then to Albus if he would want to marry Narcissa Black. Both of us answered with “yes”, the registrar mumbled a bored “Then I declare you man and wife”, wrote his signature down on a piece of paper, turned it and said: “Sign here!” We did - with me feeling very odd by signing as “Narcissa Dumbledore”.

Then the registrar said: “You may kiss …” and he sounded as if he’s swallow a “if you must to”. I feared for a moment Albus would refuse, but he bent down and his dry lips touched mine for a second. He still smells like set let lemons and lavender - and I needed all my will power not to reach for him.

Leaving the office only one minute later, he led me to a small alley behind. Casting a “do not notice” charm he looked at me. “Ready for the binding?” he only asked. I took my wand out and laying its tip to his, we spoke together the binding charm. Our magic connected in a blue and green orb, hovering for a moment over the tips of our wands - and I only wondered how br our our orb shined. I actually expected it to be as gloomy as I felt.

Afterwards Albus surprised me. He asked what I’d think about a coffee in one of the street cafes. Yet he didn’t want to go there with me because he wanted my charming company. He only did it because he’d to explain to me what we were to do now. So I learned that he had already spoken with Draco - who’d told him then about his and Severus’ visit in Karlsruhe, a story Albus obviously didn’t like too much - and with Raven too. She would like to meet her mother and would wait with Draco and his fiancé in the hall.

Besides I learned that I couldn’t get my “old” room at the hall - the one next to the master bedroom - because that’s now Raven’s room. For the two weeks until term starts, I’ll stay in a guest room, then we’ll move to Hogwarts where I’ll live in the rooms he made once for me in the main tower.

“I hope you agree to announce our marriage in the ‘Daily Prophet’ the next days - I’d rather like to have that done before terms start,” Albus said then.

I did agree - what could I have done otherwise? I understand he rather likes staying at the Hall where he mustn’t meet some one as long as everybody talks about it. Until we come back to Hogwarts the news about our wedding won’t be much of a sensation anymore.

Next thing was that I got a key to “our” vault at Gringott’s. Albus is - how he said - “of course aware” of his “obligations” as my husband. And by telling me so he obviously wasn’t aware of the irony of that. His “obligations” as my husband - I would never have thought that this wouldn’t mean more to him than sharing his money with me. His money is the last thing I want - I want him and I would starve and go barefooted if I could get him.

Yet I shouldn’t complain too much. I didn’t get Albus, but I got my children - and this would even be worth a 100 years of marriage with Lucius.

Raven is - oh, I don’t know how to describe her! Words aren’t enough for her beauty and her brightness and for one thing I’m sure: It was wrong to give her up, but it surely wasn’t wrong to give her to Albus. He is a wonderful father and one sees on the first sight how she adores him and how much he loves her.

As we apparated in front of the gates, we heard her already. She was in the garden, riding on Draco’s shoulders, making him run around like a horse, screaming in joy when he buckled. It was her who saw us first. “Daddy, Daddy!” she cried in delight. “Look, Draco, there’s Daddy!”

Draco galloped down the way, Raven laughed loud and then he buckled in front of Albus, making the little one fall in her father’s arms - and I could see that they have done this before and that she knows probably no safer and better place in the world than in his arms - and right she is. I never found a place like this either. Clinging to Albus like a little monkey, her dark head on his chest, she finally looked at me, for the first moment a bit shy.

Draco helped us to overcome our awkwardness. He opened his arms for me and said beaming: “Welcome back, Mother.”

As I hugged him Raven chirped to Albus: “She looks like Draco!”

“I told you so,” he gave back. “It’s only that your mother doesn’t have to shave.”

“Women never shave!” Raven said.

“Really?” Albus grinned. “I always thought your aunts - at least Minerva and Hermione - have hair on their teeth.”

Our daughter wasn’t much interested in that. She looked at me.

I cleared my throat. “Hallo, Raven. It’s wonderful to see you …” I swallowed the “again”. She certainly doesn’t remember the time we were together and I don’t know if Albus had told her.

Her azure blue eyes - they really are like Albus’ - looked at me seriously. Then she asked very polite: “Would you like to hug me?”

Draco grinned. “Huh - what an offer! Mummy can feel honoured!”

“Hugging is what the mummies in kindergarten do!” Raven defended herself.

“I’d like very much to hug you,” I said and opened my arms.

Albus gave Raven to me - and it felt wonderful. She’s heavy now - a really big girl. I don’t think I could carry a long way with her clinging to me. But just to feel her solid weight and the warmth and the smell of her - honey and vanilla and sherbet lemon too - she seems to share Albus’ fondness of sweets and I hope she’s got his good teeth too.

Albus became a bit impatient. Pulling at the knot of his tie he said: “I’d like to change - muggle suits aren’t very comfortable. Besides I’d like tea …”

In the house I met Draco’s Ginny - and it was a delight. She is a nice and bright girl and I find her very pretty with her red hair and the beaming blue eyes and the cute freckles. I felt that she was sceptical against me - and who could blame her? She obviously is not only close to Draco, but to Raven and Albus too. And I left and hurt them - at least Albus I hurt very deeply. Ginny obviously blames me for it. I understand - I blame myself even more.

Meeting her and looking in her eyes was the first taste of something I have to become use to. None of Albus’ friends will take me up with open arms. Severus fiancé - a petite brunette with a lot of bushy hair and beautiful brown eyes - who came with him in the evening was very distant. Her eyes told me that I only got her politeness because of her respect for Albus.

Probably Miss Granger - Severus’ soon to be wife - wouldn’t believe me, but I like her just for her respect and loyalty to Albus. She obviously is a typical Gryffindor in the better sense: Fiercely loyal and always ready to protect and to defend the people she likes. She will make a good wife to Severus. He needs some one who is totally on his side - and especially this girl will suit him because she obviously is not critic less so. Severus would never feel comfortable with some one who is all adoration. He wouldn’t believe in that. He needs some one who is able to see his short comings and shows him that he’s nevertheless beloved.

Actually - I think that was the way Albus loved me once. He never was so besotted to think of me as an angel without any faults. He knew that I am able to lie and to scheme and to be reckless. But he love nee nevertheless - this was what made me feel so secure with him. And this is what hurts now so much. I have lost his love - and what’s probably the worse thing about losing it: Whenever I look in his eyes, I mean to see the grave of his love. And I know that he mourns for it as I do. But it doesn’t connect us. It only separates us more. My love for him lives. The fire of it is as bright and hot as it always was; I even think it’s grown now. I burn in it. Yet he freezes because he’s got only cold ashes.


To be continued