The Moon Has Spoken

The following months passed quickly considering the circumstances, and Fiddler counted herself fortunate to have the kids fussing around her like manic puppies. And they were not to be blamed, really, because apparently news flew around there, and by then pretty much everybody knew about the so called row between Fiddler and Severus.

“You actually told him to shut up, did you?”, Ron had asked, amazed, and when she said she had, she had become a total idol for the kids. And not just for them, either. Pretty much everyone at Hogwarts seemed to believe Fiddler should be granted an Order of Merlin for her bravery.

She didn’t quite know if she should find it flattering or appalling.

Ever since the Episode in Albus’ office, she had avoided any contact at all with the morose Potions Master, mainly because she didn’t trust herself near him. She didn’t know whether she wanted to beat him to a pulp of hold him close, and she suspected that a good measure of both things what was he deserved.
When he had nearly crushed her wrist to pieces, she had seen an image from his mind, disturbing enough to shake her to the core; an old cemetery, covered in dried leaves, withered roses, statues of black-winged cherubs, holding bows with poisoned arrows, howling winds, snow flying to the moon, blood dripping from the celtic crosses…
A graveyard of dreams.

And that was where he’d end up if no one did something.

Drop your heroin dellusions, Fiddler, he neither wants nor needs your help.

She looked down to her right hand, where she bore the mark of his fingers. It had been almost four months since the Episode, and she still had faint traces of the bruise he’d produced. She suspected there had been a connection between them and the damned ecchymosis was a magical prove of it.

“Fiddler? You’re daydreaming again”, Ron informed her.

“Uh? Oh… Yeah. So I was. Sorry. Were… were you saying something?”

“Yes, Mum wrote. Says they’ve finished with the house. Dumbledore went over last weekend to Unplot it and they performed the Fidelius charm, so officially, your house has became the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix”.

“Well, finally some good news”, said Harry moodily, and they knew he was still mad at Snape for his last failure in Potions.

“You know, Harry, you should be used by now”, Ron said matter-of-factly. “After all, it’s been seven years now!”

“Even if it’s twenty”, growled Harry. “I don’t have to put up with it”.

“Yes you do if you want to be an Auror”, Hermione reminded him, because that was the only reason the three of them were still taking Potions.

“He’ll do everything in his power to fail us, mark my words”.

“Dumbledore won’t let him”, Ginny said.

“Dumbledore shouldn’t let him sabotage my work!”, exclaimed Harry.

“We know, Harry”, said Hermione. “But there’s nothing we can do about it so what’s the point of harping?”

“Sometimes I need to harp”.

Fiddler knew the feeling quite well.

“Is Snape going to your house, Fiddler?”, Ginny asked.

“Well, I don’t know. Considering it’s my house… Who knows? He might just decide he wants to be a Death Eater after all”, she said, half joking, and was relieved when the kids laughed. She felt gloomy, and he was the only one to blame for.

“Fiddler, I am sorry, but I am afraid we’re going to have to leave you here for a bit”, Hermione said. “We have class in ten minutes”.

“Yes, go right ahead”, Fiddler said and waved them goodbye as they walked back into the castle, leaving he sitting in her usual spot on the grass.
She really was loath to move, so she settled herself comfortably to enjoy the sun and the soft breeze.

~*~*~

Severus was finding hard to concentrate in his marking. It was a warm day even in the dungeons, and his professorial black attire only but improved the unaccostumed coziness he was feeling. He shook his head angrily and fought the laziness that had crept over him. He stood up abruptly and grabbed a small bag made of some slippery black cloth. The temperature, he told himself, was perfect to gather some Allspice and Coriander herbs for a Soothing Draught.
Severus walked to his door, and at the last minute he decided to drop his flying cloak, so he reached the lawn near the lake without his trademark billowing. He peered around for the desired herbs… And stopped dead when he saw Fiddler leaning on a tree nearby, apparently fast asleep. He had to fight the very teenage urge to hide.
She’s asleep, Severus, he told himself angrily. Besides, I assure you she cannot see you from there.

He tried to ignore her close presence as he collected his plants, and he succeeded until he heard a familiar drawling voice addressing Fiddler, and he tensed inwardly. He tossed the Allspice and Coriander into the bag, and walked stealthily towards them, feeling perplexedly outraged when he saw Draco Malfoy looking down on her with unmistakable scorn.

“Who are you?”, Severus heard Draco ask Fiddler as if she was invading private property. He watched her sit up and hold his gaze, unfaltering.

“Fiddler Greene, Draco. Nice meeting you too”.

Draco seemed surprised that she knew his name, but he concealed it quickly.

“So you’re the bievereveryone’s been talking about”.

“I guess”, she conceded, as if she was supremely unconcerned, and Severus, from his own spot, felt the sudden need to bow at her machiavelic answer. Qui nescit dissimulare, nescit regnare. She was good at diplomace indeed.

“Yes…”, Draco seemed nonplussed when he didn’t get the answer he was expecting. “My— Father told me about you as well”.

“I wager he didn’t make it a nice bedtime story”.

“Shut your mouth!”, exclaimed Draco, distressed now. “Shut it, or I will make you”.

“What do you want, Draco?”, she asked with a tired voice. “Because I somehow doubt that you came here to discuss my so called fame”.

“My father mentioned you would be helpful to our cause. But I see that old bat has managed to snatch you first… Or are you just undercover? Yes… I thought that would be it”, he continued without waiting for an answer, “after all, the words in the castle are that you seem to have stunned my Head of House. That you actually get along with him”, Draco bent closer to Fiddler and whispered: “Nice move. Learn from him. He’s our best agent”.

Severus went taut. The boy was even more stupid than he’d thought. He was giving everything away and all for the sake of the lusty intentions Severus could smell even from where he was. No wonder why Delilah agents were always so successful in missions involving betrayal.
He waited for Fiddler’s answer, but again, she surprised him by only bowing mockingly at Draco, without saying a word.

“They never mentioned you were so attractive…”, Draco drawled, leaning even closer, almost at a kiss-distance. “No wonder why Snape won’t share”.

Snape was rigid at the point of breaking by then, and scrutinized with narrowed eyes Fiddler’s face as she watched the younger man’s lust-filled eyes and laughed in his face.

“Oh, please! If you think I am going to fall for that, think twice”.

Something deep in Severus’ heart reacted at the thinly veiled bitterness in her voice.

Draco wasn’t used to being rejected, and his face twisted with rage. Severus watched Fiddler get to her feet, fully intenting to leave Draco standing there, but he pushed her back against the tree to stop her.

“Where are you going, bitch?”, he growled.

“Back into the castle, if you’ll excuse me”, she said, and tried to walk away, but Draco was faster than her and pinned her to the tree. He grabbed both her hands and crusheem tem together, holding them between their bodies.

“Don’t you fight me, Fiddler”, he adviced, gasping. “When you… join our ranks… You’ll go through each and everyone of us. Haven’t Snape told you?”

“Let go of me”, Fiddler said curtly, ignoring his question, her fierce gaze fixed on him.

“Oh, I see where this is heading… That selfish bastard wants to keep you for himself, doesn’t he? Well, I’ll make sure he finds out he can’t do that…”

He let go of her hands to grab her face rudely, and Fiddler seized her chance. As he pulled her head closer to his, biting her lips savagely, her left hand shot forward between his legs. She squeezed tightly and Draco screamed in agony.

“Do that again and you’ll need major surgery to water the garden, kid. I assure you I don’t need magic to rip it off”. Her tone was low, steady, icy, and so very dangerous that Severus himself stepped back.

Draco glared at Fiddler, but released her all the same.

“Good boy”, she said, sarcastically, loosening her white-knuckled grip on him. “Now hit the road, you’re meddling with my sun”.

“I’ll show you”, Draco spoke tremolously stepping backwards. “You— You can’t talk to me like that”.

“Oh, I believe I just did”, she said lightly. “Now go, or you’ll find out if I live up to my fame or not”.

Draco resumed his very undignified retreat, muttering curses unders his breath. Severus watched him disappear through an archway and then focused his attention on Fiddler, who was leaning against the tree, eyes closed and shaking slightly. She brought a hand to her lips and wiped the blood Draco’s teeth had drawn.

“Bastard”, he heard her curse.

He felt the unfathomable need to reach out for her, to see if she was all right, but he quickly smothered it and walked away, leaving her standing there, finally giving into fear when no one was there to see it.

But his mind kept wandering back to her.
Fiddler Greene, Banshee and Witch, so strong and yet so vulnerable…

Dumbledore was wrong.

She did have some Gryffindor qualities.

Only she kept them hidden.

~*~*~*~

Graduation was a very imposing ceremony indeed. Dumbledore congratulated the graduate wizards, bid them good luck and welcomed them into the real world. He also encouraged them to pursue their chosen careers to a successful end and finally, he asked them to remain united in the fight against Voldemort. Everyone saw Cornelius Fudge wince at that, but he remained pompously stiff as he awarded Ministry Certificates of Achievement to the Head Girl and Boy, and to the students who had attained most NEWTs. Harry wasn’t among the awarded students, and they all knew Snape had had something to do with it, but they were too thrilled to actually care. Hermione, of course, broke every record in the school by achieving N in in all of her subjects, and incredibly, or maybe not so much, Draco got a suspiciously high amount of NEWTs himself, much to Ron’s chagrin.

Fiddler enjoyed her friends’ graduation Ball enormously. She even agreed to dance with Harry and Ron, despite she was a lousy dancer; she congratulated Hermione for her achievements, complimented Ginny on her wonderful hairdo and tried not to hurt Ron’s feelings when he, after quite a few pints of butterbeer, confessed his feelings for her.
He seemed to take her rejection quite all right, and soon enough Ginny caught him snogging a Hufuff uff sixth year girl on a dark corner.

Fiddler left the party early, because she had a plane to catch the next day. Dumbledore had asked her to go back home so she could get used to the wards and the house’s new dispositions and to wait for the arrival of the others, so she got to her room undisturbed (she had feared Draco would follow her, but thankfully, Pansy Parkinson was keeping him busy), and checked her luggage for the last time.
She petted Triskelion and got to bed, her mind reliving the most interesting things that had happened during the day. She had expected to see Severus in the Great Hall, but he had been nowhere to be found.
He m hav have been on an errand for Dumbledore, she mused, or maybe he’s too much of a hermit to actually attend to the ball.

Why do you care?, she asked herself.

You know why.

You’re despicable. Now get some sleep.

She obeyed herself and closed her eyes.


Shs abs abruptly waken by a squeaking elf after what it only seemed like minutes and sighing, she got out of bed and dressed hastily. She picked up her small case, where Hermione had charmed in all of her things, and carrying Triskelion to her chest, headed for the door, to find Minerva McGonagall standing there.

“I thought you might like some company”, she said.

It was dawning when they boardhe Hhe Hogwarts Express and, much to Fiddler’s embarrassement, she and Triskelion slept most of the trip to King’s Cross. Minerva gave her an unexpected hug as Fiddler was getting ready to past the platform nine-and-three-quarters, and told her her father would have been proud of her.
Oddly enough, that thought brightened Fiddler’s flight back home.

~*~*~

The trip to the airport had been a nightmare. Albus had suggested they should all get there together, and Severus had been thus stranded with four of the Weasleys’ offspring, Granger… and Potter. His very own idea of Hell.
And they seemed determined to annoy him by acting like complete brats all the way to King’s Cross. Fred and George had scared the wits out of a Muggle woman by Apparating right in front of her, much to Severus’ displeasure, and the taxi ride had been beyond what he thought he could bear.
He remained stiff and forbidding, cursing his faith and Albus’ magic restriction that prevented him from hexing them into drooling dunces, and urged himself to remain focused and alive long enough to catch their flight.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the first call to Aer Lingus flight number 113 from London to Kerry. First class passengers, kindly form a line to the right of the counter. Thank you”.

“That’s us, Sev!”, Fred exclaimed, patting his shoulder mischeviously. Severus’ hand shot quick as lightning to grab the readhead’s wrist.

“You will not do that again”, he hissed dangerously. “Neither will you address me as anything else but ‘sir’, do I make myself clear?”

“SIR, YES, SIR!”, Fred saluted him mockingly, much to the amusement of the others. “But sir, we must line up there, sir, for customs, sir!

Severus sighed and rose regally to approach the forming line, ignoring the howls of laughter behind him.

“How did we get first class tickets, anyway?”, he heard Potter ask.

“Oh, Dumbledore’s treat”-

“You know, Harry”, Hermione intervened, voice low, glancing at her former teacheo wao was glancing everywhere as if expecting an army to stride in and start killing people. “I think we should help Snape out. He seems rather lost”.

“Are you kidding me?”, Harry snorted. “I would love to see him get his from a Muggle!”

They chuckled at that, but they were miffed when he went through customs with nothing more than his usual scowl and the officer’s raised brow at his dark bags and the even darker garments packed iem. em.
George was next, and nearly gave the officer heart failure when he opened his bag and four warty toads jumped to his face. He eyed suspiciously at all of Hermione’s books, choked on a chortle when he saw Ginny’s idea of Muggle clothing, and decided not to comment when he was confronted with the sight of Harry’s Firebolt. Fred was last on tow, but the customs officer looked at him and decided to let him through unchecked.

They then went pass the mlic lic hallway into the aircraft and a grinning stewardess led them to their seats.

“Together”, groaned Severus and Harry in unison, and it was almost comic.

Almost.

Severus took for himself the very last seat on the first class compartment and sat there, fully intending to ignore the blasted twits for the rest of the journey, but he didn’t count on the californian old bags that swarmed tourist class, all of whom, led by Fred and George, sang folk songs and polkas at the to the their lungs, all flight long.

The stewardess brought him a glass of cheap champaigne and sipping at it disgustedly, he leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep despite the raging noise. But he still caught fragments of his travelmates’ conversation, and he was very angry with himself when his whole body tensed at the sound of the words Fiddler Greene.
He hadn’t seen much of her since that day at Dumbledore’s office, if he didn’t count the scene under the tree, and he wasn’t all too ecstatic with the emotions the sight of her bruised wrist had waken. It had been a while since he’d lost control this badly, but it was also true that no one had ever had the insolence of addressing to him like she’d done. Not even amongst the Death Eaters. Over and over Fiddler had challenged him both with words and eyes, as if she was determined to tear down his self-impossed wards.
And that was, to say the least, unsettling.

Thand tnd those comments he’d heard from Potter and his jolly band of slackers.
Taunting Fiddler.
About him.

He shook his head and shifted uncomfortably on his seat to find his posture. He didn’t realise when he finally fell asleep, but he was waken soon enough by the sound of the landing plane thundering in his aching head.

“Do you think we should wake him?”, he heard one of the Weasleys, probably Ronald, ask.

“Nah, let’s just leave him there”, one of his twin sigs ags answered.

“It’s funny how he looks menacing even in his sleep”, Hermione added.

“Oh, I am sFiddFiddler would have something to say about that”, Ron said, and Severus’ eyes opened of their own volition, startling the Hell out of them.

“Are you quite finished with your insightful comments?”, he sneered as he got to his feet. He marched through the plane’s hallway without waiting for an answer, and he utterly ignored Fred or George when either one said:

“Somehow it’s not the same without the flying robes”.

They left the airplane first of all, and followed the walking crowd to the running band to collect their luggage. Fred and George, of course, couldn’t help themselves and, inwardly horrified, Severus watched the Muggle crowd cheering at the identical nitwits as they rode, jumped, danced and ran along the spinning bags. They rescued their own, throwing them above their heads, and causing sweets, various papers and underwear to spread all over the airport’s lounge. Severus caught his bag in mid air out of pure impulse, before they could embarrass him further, and peered around looking… for Fiddler.

He saw her right away, dressed in a bright blue blouse and khakhi pants and trainers, with sunglasses shielding her eyes and her hair pulled up with a hairclip.

“Hey! Midgets!”, she yelled. “Over here!”

Fred and George stepped out of the running band and led the way towards her, carrying bags and suitcases, Severus in the rear, scowling. He watched as each of them hugged her in greeting, and part of his mind wondered if the world would fall if he hugged her as well.
I do not ‘hug’ people, he reminded himself, so he stopped in front of her and bowed his head silently.

“Hello, Severus”, she said. “Long time, no see. How’s that head of yours?”

“Quite all right, thank you”, he said, curtly.

“That’s good to hear. All right, kids, let’s go. The vanot not far away, so follow me…”

They stopped in midway to get themselves some trolleys and then followed Fiddler to a somewhat battered GM Denali, obviously manufactured in America, for it had the wheel at the left side of the car. It was painted in deep green andwas was big enough to fit them all in, as they noted whilst putting the luggage in the trunk.

“Get up”, Fiddler said, unlocking the doors. Ginny went first, followed by Harry, Hermione, Fred, George and Ron, thus taking all of the back seats. Fiddler eyed Severus somewhat scornfully and told him:

“Well, tleavleaves you and me in the front… Unless, of course, you’d rather sit on someone’s lap…”, she chuckled at the mental picture, quickly chorused by the blasted ‘Kids’, and not waiting for an answer, she unlocked the passenger’s door and then circled the van to get in.

He didn’t have a choice.

They drove for a long time through streets and fields, until they reached the coast, and then Fiddler followed a dusty path that led to a gate, made of cast iron that opened as Fiddler pushed the button on the remote control, and guided the Denali forward through a cobblestoned road. She turned brusquely, taking a detour, and quite suddenly they were in the middle of a thick forest of prolific York and Lancaster rose bushes, that grew to each side of the road in a delicious mess.

“It’s beautiful!”, exclaimed Ginny and Hermione in unison, much to the males’ dismay.

“Thanks”, said Fiddler, ignoring them. “In fact, this road gave the house it’s name”.

“Is it? How come?”

“Well, I was once walking around at night and the athmosphere made me think of a song, so…”

“Why am I not surprised?”, she heard Severus mumble.

“What song?”

“You know, in fact I think I might have the CD around here somewhere…” Fiddler stopped the van and reached for the glovebox in front of Severus, causing him to jerk away awkwardly.

“Loosen up, I won’t bite you”, she mocked, grabbing her CD case and rummaging through it.

“Yeah, here it is”. She plucked the thin disc out and shoved it inside the CD player. And Severus heard for the second time that strangely metallic music, played with instruments he couldn’t identify and following a rather frantic rhythm whilst the female voice sung. From his point of view, her high-pitched soprano voice was the only thing worth to hear.

Hearing music from the deepest forest
Songs as a seduction of sirens
The elf-folk is calling me

Tapio, Bearking, Ruler of the forest
Mielikki, Bluecloak, Healer of the ill and sad
Open the gate and let me follow the uncarven path

The way to the lands
Where as a hero I stand
The path where Beauty met the Beast
Elvenpath

It\'s the honesty of these worlds
Ruled by magic and mighty swords
That makes my soul long for the past
Elvenpath

The moonwitch took me to a ride on a broomstick
Introduced me to her old friend Home Gnome
Told me to keep the sauna warm for him

At the grove I met rest-the folk of my fantasies
Bilbo, Sparhawk, goblins and pixies,
Snowman, Willow, trolls and the seven dwarfs
The path goes forever on

As I return to my room
And as sleep takes me by my hand
Madrigals from the woods
Carry me to neverland
In this spellbound night
The world\'s an elvish sight

The song had ended. Severus looked out the window, feeling rather unnerved, and half expecting to see the Witches of Eastwick at the end of the road, stirring their cauldron and announcing the arrival of the Wicked. He tensed inwardly when he hear Fiddler say:

“Well, who ever said subconscious wasn’t powerful”, but she didn’t seem to be expecting an answer, and she sped up like only she knew, to reach an ample garden soon enough.
She drove through old splashing fountains and white archways, and finally, the imposing house surged before their eyes, adorned with climbing plants and rising with a rather solemn and stronghold air that didn’t go unnoticed to Severus. The building had respectable dimensions, and it was made of solid reddish stone, which made him think that the original building had been brought down.
Fiddler parked the battered Denali in the garage and led them to the front door.

“Well”, she said, unable to hide her smile. “Welcome to Elvenpath”.





A/N.

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!


Disclaimer: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don’t recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is being made!!!!