The Iridescent Conclusion

“So,” Harry began as he carefully put down his knife and fork, “if this is Sev’s family home,”

‘Hmm.’ Draco responded.

“And he’s lived here all his life,”

‘Well, most of it. Really, though, he spends more time at Hogwarts,’

“How come he doesn’t have a Yorkshire accent?” Harry asked, finally getting to the point.

The pale grey eyes flashed with amusement over Draco’s glass of orange juice. ‘Can you imagine,’ he purred, ‘all those cutting, derogatory comments that we’ve grown to know and love in Potions, delivered in a broad Yorkshire accent?’ He sniggered and shook his head, gently chiding, ‘Harry.’

“What?” Harry looked at him with wide innocent eyes, “I was only wondering.”

They were sat in the warm and cheerful kitchen, finishing what felt like breakfast but, given time of day, was technically either late lunch or early tea. In the background, Keely was busily preparing a roast gammon and singing very quietly to herself.

‘If Sev had spent more time with the locals – ie. Muggles – around here,’ Draco continued, ‘he might have picked up the accent, I suppose. But he didn’t – as per the code of a pureblood family.’

“But Sev doesn’t set so much by that, though, does he?”

There was a long pause while Draco finished his juice, ate the last mouthful of toast and then leaned back in his chair to gaze thoughtfully at Harry.

‘His family probably cared more but while he isn’t as pathological about it as, say, my father,’ he said finally, ‘the pureblood pride is there, just the same.’

“But,” Harry shook his head, “he’s never shown any prejudice towards me and, technically, I’m not a pureblood…”

Draco gave him a tight lipped little smile, “No, but he’s a professor at Hogwarts – he can’t show prejudice. And, as for being in a relationship with you, it’s not as if you and he are going to marry and have kids, is it?”

“Well, no…” Harry shook his head and then frowned, “Hold on. Are you saying that if I was a woman, Severus wouldn’t have anything to do with me in case we produced half-blood children?”

Draco said nothing but his lack of response was all the answer Harry needed. For reasons that he couldn’t put his finger on, this bothered him quite a lot. And when Severus came looking for them a couple of minutes later, he accepted the kiss on top of his head and then left the kitchen.

‘Harry?’ Sev’s telepathic voice called after him.

He ignored it and kept walking, heading along the hallway and almost out the front door before the sound of Severus’ footsteps made him turn around.

“What’s wrong? Where are you going?” Sev demanded, his voice low and concerned.

“Just…out,” Harry shrugged and reached for the door handle again. “I just need some air.”

“Then I’ll come with you,” Severus asserted and reached for their cloaks.

As Harry pulled on his cloak, he realised that the smell of smoke had gone entirely – thanks, no doubt to Keely. He didn’t look at Sev – couldn’t meet his eyes – and so, having wrapped himself in his cloak, he stepped out into the last of the afternoon sunlight.

Before Sev’s house, a wide, gravel driveway led from the front gate, around past the front door and towards the back of the house. Not knowing quite where he was going, Harry followed the driveway and found that it led to an old coach house with empty stables alongside.

Beside him, Sev walked in silence except for the steady crunch, crunch of gravel under foot. Harry continued to ignore him and wandered over towards the stables to peer into the dark stalls that still smelled a little of horses, hay and leather.

“So,” Severus broke the silence, “are you going to tell me what I’ve done?”

Harry shrugged and said nothing.

Severus sighed, his paper-thin patience wearing out. “Would you like me to go? To leave you to your teenage angst?”

“No.” Harry replied finally in a very soft voice. He sighed too then and lifted his eyes to Sev’s as he recalled the conversation with Draco.

Sharing his thoughts and memories, Sev frowned in consternation and took half a step backwards. He saw and heard Draco’s words, ‘the pureblood pride is there, just the same’ “You think -?”

“I don’t know what I think,” Harry shook his head. “I don’t even know if I have a right to think about it. I mean, what am I to you? Am I just your catamite?”

“My what? No!” Severus denied emphatically, “Of course not! Harry, why would you think that -?” and then he stopped and looked again at Harry and Draco’s conversation. “My family’s prejudices aren’t my own – I dropped all that ‘pureblood’s are everything’ rubbish when I ceased to be a Death Eater. And you,” he stepped close to Harry again, “you are just the world to me. I meant what I said last night.”

Harry blinked and tilted his head, not sure what to believe. And then, as clear as if he was stood beside them, Draco’s voice filled his head.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you – I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I just thought…’

‘Draco,’ Severus responded, sounding weary, ‘what, on earth, were you thinking?’

‘Well, I used to listen to you and my father talking,’ Draco replied, sounding defensive. ‘He used to go on about you settling down with a pureblood wife…’

‘Those were your father’s ideals, Draco; not mine.’ Severus replied. As he sent out the thought, he drew Harry in close against him. Then, looking down into his lover’s eyes, he spoke softly, “It doesn’t matter to me whether your ancestors were wizards, Muggles or poodles. I love you.”

“Poodles?” Harry chuckled and then accepted a kiss.

“So this is your home,” he said a few minutes later as he turned to look around.

The house was built from ancient light brown stone and sprawled impressively across most of the land. There was a garden, though – although it was in need of some serious attention.

“There are old, anti-weed charms over most of it,” Sev commented, following his gaze over the patchy grass and neglected flowerbeds, “but they’re wearing off. Really, it needs someone to spend time sorting out the plants and getting it all in order.” He sighed then and rested his head against Harry’s.

“You don’t like gardening?” Harry asked lightly.

“I don’t like this house,” Sev replied. “There are too many memories – old ghosts and spectres.”

The bright green eyes were sad and compassionate as Harry looked at him.

“No,” Severus shook his head, answering his unvoiced question, “not a happy childhood. And not very many happy years after that.”

Turning, he then led the way further down towards the long wooden fence that ran along the back of the garden.

“I…remember…” Harry said hesitantly, recalling the image he’d witnessed during the Occlumancy sessions he’d had with Sev: of a man shouting and a boy – Severus – cowering on the floor. He slipped his hand into Severus’ and felt the long fingers slide along briefly to caress his wrist.

“Hm…” The sound was little more than breath but came with a sense of sorrow that Harry didn’t need the Nameless spell to detect it. “My father…was not a happy man.”

Harry pulled him to a halt then before wrapping his arms around the older man’s torso, “Your memory – of him shouting…” He paused, not really knowing how to continue.

But Severus returned the hug and drew a deep breath, his exhalation warm against Harry’s ear. It always surprised him how tall Harry was now; that he should be only a few inches shorter seemed extraordinary.

“That time,” he said slowly, “he was shouting at my mother for something I’d done. It was just something stupid…” he shook his head.

It was cold out here with a north wind blowing through the dales and Harry shivered, despite the warmth of Severus’ arms around him.

“Come on,” Sev said then, deliberately attempting to add a brisk, brighter note to his voice, “it’s Christmas Eve, we have a house to decorate and if we leave Draco alone too long, he could get into all sorts of mischief.”

‘Hey,’ Draco responded, ‘I’m not five you know! I’m quite capable of amusing myself and not getting into trouble.’

‘Really?’ Severus smirked, leading Harry back to the house, ‘What are you doing, exactly?’

The question was answered, though, when they stepped through the front door and found that Draco and Keely had dug out the Snape family Christmas decorations.

These, thought Harry, were more like priceless antiques: no plastic baubles, tinsel or even singing fairies here!

“They were my grandmother’s,” Severus supplied with a far-away smile, “she was probably the last person to decorate this house.”

Keely then sniffled, drawing their attention. Looking at her in concern, Harry saw two large teardrops rolling down the house-elf’s face and it occurred to him that a house-elf all alone here, with no family to care for, must be terribly lonely.

‘I offered to set her free and, when she didn’t like that idea, to let her go to Hogwarts,’ Severus explained silently, ‘but she likes this house – even when there’s only herself living here.’

Draco then pulled a long case of bright red candles from a box and showed them to Keely.

“Master Draco! You found them!” she squeaked and then muttered a charm to send all the candles towards the stairs, where they came to rest in between each of the banisters. With a second muttered charm, each candle flared into life.

“Won’t they burn the rail?” Harry asked, earning an affectionate smile and shake of the head from both Draco and Severus.

‘You’re thinking like a Muggle again,’ Draco told him and then smiled to take the edge off his words.

“Beg pardon, m’lord,” Harry joked, speaking in a rough, west-country accent and tugging his forelock whilst ducking his head, “’Twas forgettin’ I was talkin’ to a pureblood wizard!” The gleam in his green eyes when he looked back at Draco was wickedly teasing.

‘Just shut up, Harry,’ Draco retorted fondly, flushing as Sev started laughing. He sniggered then before getting up to hug the other boy.

*~*~*

Just at the doorbell rang for a second time Alison opened the front door to find two Muggle police officers on her doorstep.

“Miss Litworth?” enquired the middle-aged woman in uniform, “Miss Alison Litworth?”

“Yes,” Alison replied, aware of Jenna listening from the kitchen. She managed not to sigh, although she was really tired of talking to the Muggle police about matters that they’d never comprehend, if they were to be told the truth.

“My name is Detective Inspector Nelligan, this is PC Brooke. May we come in for a moment, please?”

“I…” Alison floundered and then nodded vaguely, “Is this about my brother, Thomas? Because I already told the policemen that came before: I don’t know where he is or anything about what may or may not have happe-”

“Actually,” the Detective Inspector interrupted, looking uncomfortable, “we have news of your brother, Miss Litworth.”

“Call me Alison, please.” Alison responded automatically as she closed the front door and led the police officers into the lounge. Jenna, she noticed, carefully slid her wand into her sleeve and followed them in.

“You said you know where Thomas is?” Alison prompted when they were sitting down.

“I’m afraid a man’s body has been retrieved,” Detective Inspector Nelligan said quietly. Her blue eyes flickered once to the accompanying police officer before she continued, “it matches your brother’s description. It was found outside a cottage in Cumbria.”

“Dead?” Alison stared at them both and then glanced over at her sister-in-law. “It can’t be Thomas. Thomas isn’t dead.” She shook her head, “I’d know if he was – I’m sure I’d feel it.”

She placed one hand over her heart and blinked, staring around the room as if nothing appeared familiar.

“Alison?” Detective Inspector Nelligan said, her tone calm and caring, “I’m sorry to ask this, but we need someone to identify the body. We tried contacting your elder brother, Daniel Litworth, but there was no one at his address.”

“He wouldn’t have gone far, though.” Jenna interjected, looking almost as white as Alison. She shook her head, “Can’t I see the body? Or is there some strange Muggle law that says only distressed relatives can do that?”

The police officers blinked at her in unison, unsure that they’d heard the word ‘Muggle’ correctly.

“Er…you are…?”

“My name is Dr Jenna Litworth. I was married to Thomas’ brother, Daniel.” She explained.

“Well, Dr Litworth, if Alison,” the Detective Inspector nodded at Alison, “is agreeable, then yes, you can come with us.”

“Ali?” Jenna said then, “Do you want me to go and look? Alison?”

“It won’t be him.” Alison shook her head defiantly. And then she suddenly seemed to grasp at something. “Was there anyone else with him?” she demanded. “A child? A little boy?”

“No -” Detective Inspector Nelligan started to shake her head. But then she paused and frowned. “Do you mean your nephew? Thomas’ son? I was given to understand that he was staying here with you?”

“When officers Davies and Rodwell visited you before,” interjected PC Brooke, “they reported that you had your nephew staying with you.”

“I…” Alison floundered and looked desperately at Jenna for back up.

“Have you seen your brother since we last spoke to you, Alison?” Detective Inspector Nelligan asked, looking intently at her.

Alison shook her head, her eyes a little wild.

“Oblivate chronos uno!” Jenna cast, drawing her wand and flicking it at the two police officers. There was then a moment when they sat, staring blankly into space and then, with a couple of blinks, Detective Inspector Nelligan looked at Alison.

“I’m sorry to ask this, but we need someone to identify the body. We tried contacting your elder brother, Daniel Litworth, but there was no one at his address.”

It was precisely the same question that she’d asked a minute ago. With barely a flicker of an eyelid, Jenna said, “He wouldn’t have gone far, though.”

And then as if none of the earlier points concerning Oscar had been raised, she asked, “Can’t I see the body? Or is it only relatives that can do that?”

Detective Inspector Nelligan seemed to be vaguely distracted by something; almost as if she’d forgotten to ask or do something. With a minute shake of her head, she responded with, “Er…you are…?”

“My name is Dr Jenna Litworth. I was married to Thomas’ brother, Daniel.” She explained.

“Well, Dr Litworth, if Alison,” the Detective Inspector nodded at Alison, “is agreeable, then yes, you can come with us.”

“Ali?” Jenna said then, “Do you want me to go and look? Alison?”

The two women looked at each other then and with a little nod, Alison agreed that that would be best.

“I’ll go along now then,” Jenna replied and stroked her sister-in-law’s hair. “Don’t worry – I’m sure it won’t be him.”

*~*~*

After putting up the rest of the decorations and creating an impressive garland to suspend over the large, ornate mantelpiece, the three men sat down for dinner in the dining room.

“Let’s not make a habit of this,” Severus remarked as he poured some wine for all of them.

Keely, meanwhile, was serving thick slices of honey-roasted gammon, slices of pineapple and slow baked potatoes with a selection of vegetables on the side. A Brussels sprout escaped off Severus’ plate and she giggled when Draco rescued it and popped it into her mouth.

‘House elves,’ he smiled at Harry, ‘adore vegetables!’

Knowing of Draco’s reported cruelty to Dobby, Harry was at first a little startled at the blond youth’s attitude towards Keely. But then, as he shared Severus’ memory of a very much younger Draco, he started to understand.

As for vegetables, Harry was fairly ambivalent about them in general but, faced with Keely’s cooking: hot, shiny sprouts, glazed carrots and pureed parsnip – he found himself sharing her taste for them.

“A toast,” Severus proposed, taking his seat and lifting his own glass of wine. Waiting for his ward and his lover to follow suit, he then paused to compose his thoughts.

“To my rescuers,” he said slowly, inclining his head to each of them, “to the end of what I thought would be lifelong solitude; to what promises to be a truly unique Christmas and finally,”

‘To the Nameless spell,’ Draco intercepted with a knowing smile.

Harry nodded, his eyes bright in the candlelight, “It brought us all together,” he said quietly to Sev and then turned his head to look straight into Draco’s eyes. “I was stupid to hurt you. I’d almost say I was stupid to let you go but…then,” he glanced down at the table and then blinked, looking back at Severus, “well...”

In that moment, in that very second, Draco very nearly lost control and gave in to the tears that were prickling the backs of his eyes. But he held it together and only Severus had an inkling of the young man’s pain. He gave Draco a tense, concerned little frown and then, realising that his ward wanted to bury and hide his feelings, covered the moment by announcing that their dinner was going to get cold if they didn’t eat soon.

*~*~*

“That’s your house?” Daniel asked incredulously, staring up the very long driveway to the great gothic monstrosity with its front wall almost entirely lost beneath climbing ivy.

Lucius flashed him an amused glance before altering the wards to accept his lover and then leading the way through the gate.

“Its not much,” he shrugged, fighting a smirk, “but its home.”

“Yeah, right.” Daniel shook his head. “Will the shopping really be here before us?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Of course,” Lucius shook his head. “Don’t tell me you carry your own bags?”

“Hm.” Daniel shrugged, unembarrassed, “Not all the pureblood families are wealthy, you know.” He gave the other man a slightly mischievous, sideways look, “Of course, the poorer pureblood families are naturally healthier; we have far stronger constitutions than our wealthy cousins. All that lugging your own baggage around builds strong muscles and healthy lungs, you know.”

“Indeed.” Lucius’ eyes flashed with playful annoyance, “Perhaps we should put this healthy constitution to some sort of test. How do you fair in stamina?” His grin was distinctly wolfish.

Daniel sniggered, “My stamina is unbeatable,” he boasted. “I’ve simply given you an easy time of it, owing to the difference in our years.”

“What?” came Lucius outraged exclamation, “You insolent pup -!”

“Lucius, wait,” Daniel turned, alarmed that he’d gone too far and then he saw the humour in his lover’s eyes and laughed ruefully. “Oh, very funny.”

“I had you there,” the blond man chuckled.

“You did not. I knew you weren’t really angry.”

“Really? I rather think I saw a distinct glimmer of panic in your eyes, just then.”

“Panic?” Daniel raised an eyebrow, “No. Passion…maybe…or lust…”

“Lust?” the cultured drawl enquired, “My anger is arousing?”

They’d reached the house already and Daniel paused on the front doorstep to turn and look Lucius up and down with obvious desire. “Lucius,” he growled, “you have got to be the sexiest man on this earth. Everything about you is arousing.”

A true smile curved the older man’s lips and he stepped in close to curl his fingers around the side of Daniel’s face. “Is that so?” he purred seductively, “And what would you do with your arousal, baby boy?”

His answer came in the form of a kiss. It scorched his lips and seared his tongue, even as surprisingly gentle hands came up to tease his long hair free of its ribbon.

“That give you an idea?” the younger man breathed, pressing close enough for Lucius to feel his erection against his own.

“Inside,” Lucius growled, low in his throat, “I have a burning urge to show you the bedroom, the bathroom, my bed, my bath and…”

Whatever else he intended to show Daniel was lost in another furiously passionate kiss, however.

*~*~*

By the time Jenna arrived back at Alison’s house, she was really starting to shake hard. Although she hadn’t ever got on with Thomas, she didn’t think she’d forget the sight of his cold, still form lying on the metal trolley. It had clearly been a killing curse – although, of course, the police wouldn’t recognise such a thing and were at something of a loss as to the cause of death. Jenna didn’t think the coroner would be able to determine much either.

In a daze, she’d signed form after form, answered a handful of questions and then accepted the lift back to Alison’s. This, she thought, getting out of the police car, wasn’t going to be easy.

Upon entering the house, however, she recognised the feel of a familiar magical signature and, sure enough, Albus Dumbledore was sitting in the lounge with a sobbing Alison.

“Hey,” Jenna murmured, immediately kneeling by her sister-in-law. There was nothing she could say however – nothing to take the pain away. It was quite obvious that Alison knew as she did: Thomas was dead, killed by Death Eaters, just as Liselle had been.

“What about Oscar?” Alison asked, her voice squeaky as she fought to catch her breath.

“He’s safe,” Dumbledore replied, looking terribly sad. “Some close friends of mine are looking after him at the moment. You can have Oscar back here with you tomorrow or, if you prefer, I’m sure they’ll be happy to mind him for a few more days.”

Looking into the reddened eyes of the crying woman beside her, Jenna made a decision. “Would you ask them to keep Oscar for another couple of days. It’s Christmas day tomorrow and as there isn’t going to be any celebration in this house, it would be better, I think, if Oscar had a happy day with friends. Don’t you?” she asked Alison.

She nodded and sniffed. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

“No,” Dumbledore shook his head, “the child is too young – he wouldn’t understand. I’ll ask my friends to care for him until you’re ready.”

*~*~*

“Angel,” Oscar pointed seriously, repeating the new words that Remus was teaching him.

“She goes on top of the tree,” Sirius supplied.

“Tree.” Repeated the child with a nod and then pointed again, “Bubbles?”

“Baubles.” Remus corrected.

“Bubbles.” Oscar nodded with a little frown, perhaps thinking he’d got it right in the first place.

“Hm…” Remus smiled and then looked to where his lover was now tapping a mass of wire and plastic with his wand. “Er…Siri?”

“Don’t ask.” Came the short reply.

“No. Siri…those are Muggle fairy lights…Arthur included them but he must have forgotten that this house doesn’t have electricity.”

“Fairy lights?” the dark haired man raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “What happened to the fairies?”

“Fairies gone.” Oscar announced firmly.

“Um…” Remus wondered quite where to begin while, just behind him, Oscar began rummaging about in the box of other Christmas decorations. “Siri, there aren’t any real fairies – they’re not like our sort of fairy lights.”

From the box, amidst furious rustling and industrious searching, came garlands, tinsel, more baubles and some rather crushed paper chains.

“So Muggles plug these in and they just light up?” Sirius curled his lip, looking unimpressed. He looked behind Remus then to where Oscar was industriously emptying the box. “What are you looking for, Oscar?”

“Fairies gone.” Came the muffled response, drawing a quiet chuckle from the two men.

“Uh huh.” Sirius nodded with a wry smile and stood up to pick up the little boy. “Let’s not worry about them. Shall we put some tinsel on the tree instead?”

Oscar wriggled though and, half accidentally; Sirius turned him upside down and held him by his ankles.

“Oscar?” he demanded in mock alarm, “Oh no! What’s happened to Oscar!”

Remus shook his head, fighting a grin as the two year old erupted into peals of giggles.

They finally got the tree decorated and a stocking hung up from the fireplace. “Poor little bugger’s only going to get chocolate and fruit, though,” Sirius mourned sadly.

And then, finally, it was time for Oscar to have a bath and go to bed. This involved far less tears and trouble than the first time but, as Sirius was fastening Oscar’s nappy and pulling his pyjama trousers over the top, the little boy pointed at the rows of books on a nearby shelf.

“You want a bedtime story?” Sirius asked, “Hm…not much there that’d interest you, though.”

When Remus came in a little later, he found his lover lying on the side of Oscar’s bed, reading in a soft, and soothing voice:

“’Once the potion reaches a gentle simmer, it will turn a lustrous red. Simmer for fifteen minutes before adding the powdered deer antler, then stir six times clockwise and seven times anti-clockwise…’”

“Er…Siri? What are you reading?”

“Moste Potente Potions,” Sirius replied, speaking in the same soft tones. “It doesn’t matter what I read to him – he just likes to lie close and listen.”

Remus smiled and looked to where Oscar was lying, flat on his back with his eyes closed and his little chest rising and falling with steady rhythmic breaths.