Life in an Alien Land 2: The Werewolf Chronicles

Thanks for all the kind words.

Jilliane red-moused this chapter. Any remaining mistakes are my own.




Chapter 19:

Lucius Malfoy's Mad Son

I know it sounds odd, me a modern witch and all, saying that I felt good about Severus going out to kill the big, bad wolf and leaving me behind, but the feeling of relief was there. I had been through so much in the last year, too much to want to see more fighting. I was tired of the endless struggle just to be. Of course, when the time came, I would be there. I wanted a piece of Greyback for all of us, Severus, Bill, Mum, Fred, Tonks and Remus, Harry and Hermione, even Ron, and nothing would keep me away. I had a fortnight to find a way to get out of this newest prison. It might have been posher than what I had become accustomed to, hell, Mum's chicken coop was posher than what I was used to in the last year and a half or so, but it was still prison. I needed to be there when Greyback died. I needed to get my licks in. He was a king monster among monsters.

I turned from where Severus had stood only seconds before, feeling the ache of his loss after such a brief reunion. I heard Mum talking to Ron as if there were reasoning to be done with him. Ron was never the most logical of us. He was too much like Mum, with his flights of temper and convoluted jealousy. I did feel for him. It couldn't be easy being the last of the boys, the baby, but still having to compete with a younger sister. It also couldn't have been easy, finally making a name for himself as the third leg of the Golden Trio, only to have the most evil wizard of our time smash the victory from beneath him, as if it were a stool, suddenly kicked away. I didn't believe his story about Hermione. She, of all of the trio, was steadfast in her support of Harry and the Weasleys. Ron knew something, but was unwilling to tell what it was. Hermione never would have abandoned us to our fate. I would stake my life on that.

"Leave off, Mum!" Ron's angry shout sounded down the hall. Severus had taken the time to deal with most of my brother's damaged face, but Mum was still obviously fussing over him. I squared my shoulders and moved to the next room. Family time had arrived.

When I went to the kitchenette, Ron clutched a flask of cheap firewhisky to his chest and Mum was glaring at him like she used to when he would pull one of his stunts back home. The scene was almost surreal to me in its normality. I giggled, drawing both of their heated gazes to me before Ron lifted the bottle to his lips and Mum Accioed it before he could get more than a swig. Both of us children gasped. "Mum," I asked, "he let you have your wand?"

I could feel the familiar ache of my magic as she turned to me. She pulled two thin boxes from her pocket. "Mr. Malfoy said to give these to you after he left."

Ron grabbed a white cardboard box and opened it. My wand lay in it, cushioned against some plastic Muggle material. I lifted the hazelnut wood, my magic melding with the sing of the dragon heartstring*, creating a sympathetic thrumming up my arm and to my heart. It had been a year and some months since I had held it. I turned away, tears pricking my eyes. I could hear Ron's groaning gasp as he picked up his wand. Mum was sniffling quietly behind her hand, the noise of it muffled, but present.

Ron cast a mumbled spell and then I heard another groan as his magic responded. I joined him, Accioing a glass from the sink and supplying myself with water. I burst into peals of laughter as Ron and Mum both cast more spells. We wizarding folk were never meant to be without magic, and we could all feel the relief and power of it as we cast needless spells, charms, and hexes, simply for the joy of doing it.

&*&*&

Mum, Ron, and I settled into a routine that first week. We spent much of our time keeping busy, so we wouldn't have to think about Fred and Severus at the Colony. I learned to knit lace while Ron read back issues of Quidditch Illustrated. Not that there had been any recent matches. Voldemort had effectively gutted the wizarding world, doing away with much of the entertainment we had all held dear. Mum listened to the Wizarding World Wireless, which had been turned into a propaganda machine for Voldemort well before the war ended. She was shocked to hear of Celestina Warbeck's trial and subsequent kissing at Azkaban, all for the treasonous singing of "Gods Save England", an insipid ditty which produced more than a little bit of nausea in younger audiences. It had apparently been taken up as a resistance battle cry. God Save England indeed, if that was our war cry. For one brief moment, I thought Mum would cry. Celestina Warbeck had been a particular favorite of hers since she attended school with her in the old days. Of course, Mum had been much younger than the celebrity, but she had always liked to claim a brief acquaintanceship with the star. I followed her out of the room when she heard the news, and listened to her sing the crooner's hits sadly. Mum had a voice like mine, nice enough when she could hit the correct pitch, but unremarkable otherwise.

Ron stayed away from her that afternoon. When I implored him to watch Mum while I showered, he grunted something about needing to nap, and that was the last I saw of him until he appeared for dinner, smelling of alcohol and weaving. I hated him at that moment. He had never been weak before. He had always been the first one to stand up for our family. I wondered what had changed since we had seen him in London.

Our days went on like that, with me becoming more proficient in lace-making, Mum becoming more strident in her support of the resistance, and Ron ignoring us both for Quidditch and liquor. We might have continued indefinitely in that vein if Lucius Malfoy had not taken a curse meant for Cheri.

It was a Saturday, according to the calendar that Malfoy had graciously provided for us. We had all retired for the evening, after Mum and Ron had yet another row about his alcohol consumption. I had slunk off, not willing to listen to another shouted word. I was dreaming a disjointed story about Severus, Hermione and Neville. They were all somehow on Gryffindor's Quidditch team and the Snitch had to be caught by casting Bat Bogey hexes at it. I had just been slimed by an impressive bit of hex, when I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me. I reacted with a wand to the shaker's throat before I could open my eyes or even grasp that I was in no immediate danger.

"Weasley." A voice from the past, Draco Malfoy's to be exact, cut through the fog of slumber, and I rolled over onto my side. "Weaslette, wake up. I need your help."

"Can't it wait, Malfoy?" I heard the whinging tone of my own voice and it made me angry. What right did this git have to wake me? I had been the one to suffer while he arsed about the Manor, warm, cozy, and well-fed by the looks of him. I hit at his hand as he shook me again.

"Now, Weaslette. Your mother," he sneered at this, "is in the kitchen with Father. She sent me to fetch you."

I snuffled into my hand and stretched. Malfoy's gaze moved over my body impatiently. He scowled as I swung my legs over the bed. I had worn nothing but a vest left by Severus and my knickers when I went to bed. I had no other clothes but the Colony's and the russet robes. When the ferret didn't leave, I taunted, "Like what you see?"

Malfoy's face contorted and then smoothed out, as if he had some internal struggle, one that he lost. When he turned his eyes to me, I could see the madness lurking behind the cool, patrician facade he constructed. He barked, "I hardly think an unripe Weasley stick could capture my attention... I need..." He bit off the words, and turned his back to me. "Transfigure some trousers or something. And shoes. There is a good deal of blood."

That sped me as nothing else had. As I quickly whipped my wand over my body, transfiguring clothing as I did, I then secured my hair with an elastic band and snipped, "Why didn't you say something sooner, you git?"

I strode past him down the hall, careful to slip quietly past Ron's room. He had been rather drunk that evening, and I doubted the situation would get better if he woke to find two Malfoys in our quarters, no matter that they were the owners of said dwelling. Draco went to the parlour and I saw him disappear through a door that hadn't been there seconds before. I paused, wanting to keep an eye on him. He returned leading the doppelgangers of Ron, Mum, and I. A fourth one shuffled in after him, a facsimile of Cheri, even though the face had been eaten by something and a bloodlike substance oozed from the arm bud. Malfoy directed the three Weasley golems to a side room that was used for storage. He stopped the fourth, Cheri's golem, from entering, flicking his wand at it, lazily incanting something that discharged what looked like a Cruciatus curse. It squealed, the noise like a pig led to slaughter, and I shivered. Draco's eyes were dead and cold as he cast again. I scurried away, not wanting to see the frigid madness in Draco's eyes any more than I wanted him to see my damage. Weakness in the post-Voldemort world was dangerous.

I came to the kitchen and saw Lucius Malfoy laid out on the table, Mum leaning over him, stitching his chest with a needle and white silk thread. Cheri held his hand, her cheeks stained with both blood and tears. Malfoy's eyelids fluttered, but it was quite apparent he was out cold.

"What happened?" I gasped as I scurried to Mum's side. "What do you need?"

Mum said tersely, "I need dittany and essence of Murtlap. Please, dear, see if you can find any in the cabinets, else you'll have to ask Mr. Malfoy's son for them."

I hunted, praying assiduously that I might find them, even as I worried about Severus and Fred. Malfoy moaned as Mum continued stitching. I wondered at that. Why would she use the same methods of healing that had caused Dad so much grief when he was bitten by that foul snake? I found the dittany behind a box of soda. As I brought it to her, I asked, "Why are you stitching him?"

Mum frowned. "I'm just doing as he told me. He said the curse is one that Severus invented and doesn't respond to regular healing spells. He doesn't know the counter curse."

"I do." Draco entered and cast a scathing glare in my direction. "Precious Potty hit me with that spell when we were in sixth year. Father should have said something to me."

Mum's brows rose but she said nothing as Draco pushed past her. He unravelled the stitches with a flick of his wand and the wound began weeping blood again. His eyes lost their mad cast and he began singing. It was an atonal chant, but his voice was nice enough. As he ran his wandtip over the cut, it began sealing slowly. He had to repeat the process several times, but once he was done he slumped to the floor, his breath coming in chuffs of exhaustion. He barked, "Wash the wound with dittany so he won't scar. Father is rather particular about his looks. You can find some Murtlap in the water closet. Fetch it, Weaslette."

I made a rude gesture, but rushed off to get it. The smell of blood and the feeling of magic in the room was oppressive. Cheri followed me. "Gin, Snape told me to tell you that things were going as planned and that he and your brother are well."

I nodded, a sharp gesture to cover the fluttering of my heart and the heat in my face. Severus was always on my mind, no matter how much I tried to put his presence aside. He seeped into every aspsect of my day, he lived in my dreams at night, not sex dreams, just regular ones. He was there, supporting me, giving me himself. It was a gift I don't think he gave to just anyone and I felt honoured.

I found the Murtlap essence and turned to hand it to Cheri. She was smiling at me. "I never would have thought that dark bastard would have found a mate, especially in you. I knew Charlie, you know."

"No, I didn't know," I answered her smile, a faint heat creeping up my neck. "How well?"

Cheri laughed and gave me a wink. "Snape also wanted me to tell you that, let's see, he knows you won't stay away. You're too much your mother's daughter to ever do that, but please try to keep your Gryffindor bravado in check." She ended the sentence with air quotes before taking the bottle from my limp fingers. "I'd say he knows you pretty well. I wish I could be there too, but the baby won't let me participate. I'd love to see Greyback go down. He's a filthy pig."

"Yeah." I stepped into the hallway ahead of her. Ron's door was still firmly shut. It was just as well. "I'll put in a few licks for you. Witch Guide's honour."

We re-entered the kitchen laughing softly. I stopped as I saw Mum trapped in a corner by Draco. He had his head on her exposed breasts and he seemed to be rooting about like an infant would, his open mouth leaving trails across her flesh. I froze as Mum, whose eyes were red and her mouth set in a straight line, shook her head and motioned for us to leave, nodding in Lucius Malfoy's direction. Cheri pulled me out by my arm, silencing me with her hand across my mouth. Once she had drawn me into the parlour, she cast a Muffliato about us.

"What the fuck was that?" I screeched, trying to tear out of her grasp. "Hasn't my Mum suffered enough without having to put up with that little perv? I'll fucking kill him!"

"No, you won't," Cheri said, her tone implacable. "You should pity him."

I swung around to face her, nearly hitting her in the process. "Why? Because he's mad? So are You Know Who and Greyback, and I'll bet you don't think I should pity them!"

Cheri sighed, her face settling into a mask of exhaustion. "Sit down, Gin, please, and think this through. We're here and safe because of Lucius' good will. What do you think will happen to all of us if you curse his son?"

I sat beside Cheri on the settee. "I suppose it wouldn't be good. So, why should I pity him?"

"I don't know the details, but I saw him after he went mad." Cheri looked away as she placed her hand over her belly. "I was working in a mental health clinic in the Muggle section of Manchester just after the takeover. Malfoy came running in, carrying his son. The boy was... it was just awful. He was covered in blood and he was raving about things that were just too terrible to be true. Things about his aunt and his mother. Disgusting things. He said... he said that the disgusting creature they served made him kill his mother while his aunt... molested him. He was out of his mind with grief and was having what the Muggle counselors called a psychotic break. Even so... there was a ring of truth to what he said." Cheri rose, her hand still on her belly. She turned her back to me, as if attempting to gather her frayed composure. "After I stabilised him, I asked Mr. Malfoy if what he said was true. He wouldn't answer, but the look on his face... it was frightening and bleak. That is how I came to be under his protection."

"Some protection," I scoffed, my eyes on my rough, scarred hands. "You were turned the first cycle we were at the Colony, and you know what happened to me."

Cheri returned to me, her warm brown eyes filled tears. "There are worse things than being a werewolf, or even being raped, Gin, believe me. That boy in there with your mother, he's had it worse than any of us. I don't think he'll ever be whole again. At least we still have who we are. He's lost that."

I looked up from my hands, only to be skewered by the thunderous visage of Lucius Malfoy. "If you two are finished maligning my family, I believe we need to discuss this evening's work."

He strode from the doorway, his cane thumping heavily on the stone floor. Cheri and I followed after him in dread.

&*&*&


*There is no mention made of what Ginny's wand is made of in the books or on the Harry Potter Lexicon. I took information from this site http:// healing. about. com/ library/ blbdaytrees. htm to get a wood that I thought suited Ginny. Her birthdate's wood was poplar, but I didn't like the oracular meaning of it, and have found that poplar is an inferior, faulty wood for creating lathed objects. It is used for making boxes for shipping, but is soft. It wouldn't stand up well to a wizard's hard use. Dragon heartstring was used as the core because I thought unicorn was not fiery enough for Ginny's temperament, and also because I like the idea of dragons. Honestly.

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