Armilla

Chapter 40

We apparated in a deserted country lane. I didn't know how far we were from the Merrigan Estate, but evidently the Snape Estate was also located in the country. I hadn't seen the outside of the house before, so nothing around me was familiar. We were standing at the edge of a dirt road surrounded by trees.

After I steadied myself upon landing, I didn't let go of Snape's hands right away. Holding on just that little bit longer seemed to give me just a tiny bit more courage. He didn't let go straightaway either and I wondered if he was having a hard time himself contemplating the coming events of the next week. I realised that it would be hard for him too, considering that he would have to wait for me to contact him late at night to find out if I was alright. He wasn't an affectionate person, but he certainly was protective.

"Let's go then," said Snape quietly turning to walk along the road.

I walked along beside him, knowing not to discuss any important information now that we were in close proximity to the house. With every step, my heart pumped faster and felt like it was getting bigger and bigger. In an attempt to control it, I concentrated on occluding. I put the strongest defence up I had, so that my mind was completely free of emotion. My heart rate seemed to slow down a little and I felt a bit more encouraged that I would be able to handle things. It wasn't like it was definite that I would have a really bad time at all. Snape and I had been preparing for bad situations, but the next week could pass more smoothly than anticipated.

We rounded a corner and the road became straight, thought it was still lined with many trees. Looking up, the road finished up in the distance where it met huge iron gates. Beyond these gates, further along a long path, was the house itself. The house's exterior seemed to be my father personified. Its bricks were a very dark grey, and the many long narrow windows had curtains drawn behind the glass. The path itself was dark cobblestone and the numerous tall trees caused many shadows over the grounds and the house itself, even though they had lost their leaves. All in all, it seemed world would become a lot darker once I was beyond those gates.

The house was certainly very grand, but it looked more forbidding and imposing rather than elegant, like the Merrigan Estate. I wondered how my mother would have felt coming to live here upon her marriage all those years ago. I understood Snape a little bit more just in those last steps up to the main gates.

As if the gates had sensed our presence, they opened of their own accord when we reached them. Passing through, I felt a small sense of loss, but I quickly renewed my grasp on the steel barrier in my mind. No time for weakness now. I had to be emotionless for the next week to come. What a task. I wondered how Snape did it so well. I supposed he was used to it; he had probably occluded for years before leaving home.

We walked up the small flight of stone steps and approached the front door in silence. It creaked open and Jiffy came into view, the expression on his wrinkly face as horrid as ever.

"Jiffy wishes Miss Armilla a happy Christmas," he said, bowing slightly.

I didn't answer. It was such a change from Docky. Instead of dealing with an over-excited house elf for the coming week, I would be dealing with a bad tempered, ugly little wart.

Snape sneered down at Jiffy, his expression equally as ill natured.

"You wish her no such thing, elf," he said acidly. "Step aside so that we may pass through."

Jiffy straightened up, glaring at Snape with an expression of the utmost contempt.

"Miss Armilla may pass through, but her traitor brother has not been invited here," he said scornfully.

Snape's eyes flashed, and I knew he must be having a terrible time trying to refrain from cursing the foul creature.

"I was even admitted into the breakfast room the last time I had the pleasure of being here, elf," he spat, "so unless you want to be the victim of a lovely new range of hexes, I suggest you let us both pass."

Jiffy bowed again as he moved aside. "As you wish," he muttered. "Filthy traitor..."

Snape's lip curled as he led me into the entrance hall. Because the long windows were very narrow, only a small amount of light was cast over the hall. The black marble floor shone with cleanliness. At the other end of the hall was a grand staircase that split into two more staircases halfway up, so that each led to different sides of the house.

The walls had several portraits of snoozing figures leaning against their frames. I knew that they must be Snape's, no, our ancestors just by all the hooked noses, pale skin and dark hair that I could see.

"My master is in the drawing room," Jiffy announced, and he swept off down a hallway on the left side of the hall. Snape and I followed, and I concentrated harder than ever on the barrier in my mind. My mind was going to be so burnt out this time next week...

Our footsteps echoed on the marble floor as we passed a few closed doors. A couple of the people in the paintings in the hallway were awake, and they whispered as we passed. I caught a few of the muffled words, the most popular being "Oh, she's very like Mrs. Snape, isn't she?" and "No, she's darker like her father and Severus, how can you suggest such a thing!?"

I followed Snape's lead and pretended that I hadn't heard them as we passed. At the end of the hallway were a set of wide double doors, which Jiffy opened.

"Master Severus and Miss Armilla, Master," he said, bowing low.

Snape and I stepped into the room. It was very like the parlour I had been in on the last visit, except that this room was significantly larger, but certainly not lighter. The polished floor was largely covered by an ornate deep green and black rug. There were three large sofas arranged around a large and elaborate coffee table, upon which stood a number of magical ornaments I didn't recognise. In a corner was a small games table with four chairs. And at the other side of the room, sitting in a large black leather armchair by the huge fireplace, was my father. At Jiffy's announcement, he had looked up from his Daily Prophet. His cold black eyes scanned over Snape and I, taking in each of us at turn. He was wearing black and grey robes, and his long dark grey hair hung loosely down his back.

"Ah," he said softly, putting his newspaper aside. "Ah, and so you have come, my children." He sounded as if he had spotted his prey.

Snape walked further into the room and I followed close by.

Father got up and approached us. "Leave, Jiffy," he said, glancing down at the elf as he came to a halt right next to me.

Jiffy muttered a reply and swaggered from the room. He was the most arrogant house elf I had ever met.

Father leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. I did very well not to cringe, though on my left, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the fingers of Snape's right hand flexing like he was itching to grab something...or someone...

"Happy Christmas, my dear," said Father, straightening up again.

I wondered whether I was supposed to kiss him back, and decided against it.

"Happy Christmas," I replied quietly, meeting his gaze. I didn't mean it at all, but I was doing well to sound polite.

Father looked pointedly at Snape and gave a curt nod. "Well, I don't see any reason for you to stay any longer, Severus," he said coldly. "I believe my short time with my daughter has just begun."

Snape glared back at him and Father gave a hollow laugh as he turned back to me.

"I do hope Severus hasn't been filling your head with wild tales about me, Armilla," he said pompously. "After all, a good, well-behaved and polite child will have approving parents...well parent, in this case...may your good mother rest in peace..."

I wasn't sure how to answer that, so I said nothing.

"She is a quiet child, Severus," Father went on, as if I wasn't standing right next to him. "That is a good thing. I hope you encourage her to be a silent young lady who knows her place."

It was a good thing I was concentrating on my steel barrier, because that last comment could have really made my blood boil. Silent young lady? Chauvinistic pig.

Snape pursed his lips. He had never told me once to be quiet, though I wasn't much of a talker anyway. But I knew that he didn't like Father's comment. His black eyes were glittering in contempt and I believed he was only refraining from retorting for my sake.

Father raised his eyebrows. "Ah, both quiet today, I see. Good, good."

We stared back at him, each choosing to remain silent.

Father looked pointedly at Snape again. "I believe you were leaving, Severus?"

"I was," Snape replied curtly. He looked down at me, his black eyes unfathomable. I knew he was occluding himself. "I will see you on New Year's Day," he said softly.

I nodded. New Year's Day. I would see him again next year...six sleeps away. "Goodbye," I said quietly.

"Goodbye," he replied in a low voice. His black eyes finally broke away from mine and he nodded curtly at Father before sweeping out of the room, his black robes billowing out behind him. As he vanished through the doorway, something tugged on my heart and I felt something similar to what I had felt the day before, something I couldn't identify. I wanted to leave with him. I wanted to go home with him. The next time I would hear his voice was six sleeps away.

"Good riddance," my father muttered, taking out his wand and doing a complicated little wave in the air with it.

Jiffy appeared in the doorway within seconds, bowing deeply again.

"You called, Master?"

"I did," Father replied. "I want lunch served at midday. In the meantime, you are to take my daughter to her bedroom so she can unpack and prepare herself for lunch."

And with that, he strode from the room, leaving me with Jiffy. Before I could consider whose company I preferred, Jiffy was beckoning to me to follow him out of the room.

I followed him back down the hallway, through the entrance hall, up the short flight of stairs and onto the second flight on the right side. In the upstairs gallery, I heard the figures in the portraits whispering again. That was something I would have to get used to in the coming week.

Halfway along the gallery, Jiffy opened a door and led me into a large room. It wasn't what I had been expecting it to be. A big bed I expected - and there was one. An adjoining bathroom I expected - and there was one - I could see it through the open door on the left side of the room. But I was expecting it to be in Slytherin colours, or at least dark colours. The only Slytherin colour in the room was the carpet, which was very dark green. The furniture was dark; the large four-poster bed was made of dark wood, matching the dark bookshelves small table and chairs. There was also a large dark coloured dressing table between two windows. But everything else was stark white! The richly embroidered bedcovers were as white as the walls. The sofa and armchair in front of the fireplace were covered in a thick white material. The heavy white drapes on the windows were tied back with white satin ties. It was very much unexpected. I didn't dislike it...the white made the room look...clean...but I didn't like it either. I preferred my blue bedroom at the Merrigan Estate...as I knew I would.

"Jiffy will come back soon to show you to the dining room, Miss Armilla," Jiffy said, closing the door behind him.

I spotted my bag and Morag's cage on the floor near my bed. Snape must have left it before he returned home...or wherever he went.

I spent a few minutes walking around the room, taking in all the details. Even the bathroom was tiled in white and had white towels. Another small room off the bedroom led into what I supposed to be a dressing room. It was full of empty shelves and racks for hanging up robes, and a full-length mirror lined one wall, so I couldn't avoid catching a glimpse of myself as I turned to go out again. I was pale, though perhaps that was more due to my current situation rather than my Snape genes. But I didn't think I looked that daggy. I was wearing dressier robes than usual and my hair was certainly in place - having long straight hair was easy to take care of - it didn't do anything but just hang in place. I wondered then exactly what my father had meant by me 'preparing' myself for lunch. Maybe my version of suitably dressed didn't match his.

After going to the bathroom, I unpacked all my things in the dressing room, wondering if Jiffy had already searched through my things on Father's orders. Gosh, I was a cynic. Maybe Snape was rubbing off on me...

A brisk knock on the door told me that Jiffy was probably ready to show me to the dining room. I hastily picked up my wrapped Christmas gift for Father and answered the door.

"Lunch is served, Miss Armilla," said Jiffy, bowing again. For light entertainment, I would have to start a tally to keep record of the number of times he bowed per day. Docky often forgot to bow...but then, Docky often forgot to stop talking, let alone leave a room.

"Thankyou, Jiffy," I replied. As much as I loathed the foul creature, I thought politeness even to the elf would keep me in the good books. Who knew if Jiffy was going to watch me for the next week.

We went downstairs again and into the same hallway as before. About three quarters of the way along, Jiffy opened a door into another massive room, though this one was more long and narrow, like the table running most of its length. Like at the Merrigan Estate, this dining table could seat a large number of people. It did seem a bit ridiculous having lunch for two in this room. I understood why Snape preferred using the breakfast room at home instead.

"Ah, Armilla," said my father, politely standing up from his place at the head of the table. "Do come and sit down. Lunch has just been served."

I kept my face passive as I made my way through the room to sit on the left side of my father. I felt his black eyes gaze intently at my every move. I had never concentrated so hard on sitting down so gracefully before.

"And what do you have there, my dear?" asked Father, looking pointedly at the present in my hand.

"Your Christmas gift, Father," I replied, holding it out to him.

His eyes lit up with curiosity as he took it from me. "How very nice of you," he said. "I may as well open it before we begin eating. Would you mind?"

Without waiting for an answer (I didn't think he would give a damn anyway if I did mind), he began to unwrap the gift carefully.

"Ah, how extraordinary!" Father exclaimed a moment later, lifting the lid on the box and picking out one of the telescope lenses. "I have read about these; they're supposed to be just marvellous!"

Phew. Thank goodness for that. Excellent shopping on Snape's part.

Putting the lens back into the box, Father looked up at me. "And how did you know that I am interested in Astronomy?"

"I asked Severus what you were interested in, Father," I answered confidently, meeting his gaze.

"Oh you did?" said Father, looking down at the box again happily. "Well I am glad you did, Armilla, I am going to have a wonderful time trying these out."

"I'm glad you like them," I said, hoping to keep him in such a positive mood.

"Oh, I do, I do," he said, putting the box aside and picking up his knife and fork. I did the same and we began to eat. The food was actually very good.

"Now," said Father, after a few minutes. "I do hope you bought some new dress robes with your Christmas money."

"Yes, I did," I said. "Thankyou for the gift."

"Not at all, not at all," Father muttered. "I daresay your affable brother took you shopping?"

"Yes, sir," I answered.

"And where did you shop for them?"

"At Alethia Courtney Boutique in Preston Parade."

"Ah, yes, a fine place for witches that is! No muggle-borns and half-breeds are permitted to shop there," said Father pompously, his expression becoming quite nasty at the very thought of it.

"No," I said absently, wanting to change the subject. "It is nice of you to hold a party for me."

"Well, I have to officially welcome you into the family," said Father, after taking a sip of his wine. "And of course, welcome you into the close-knit wizarding circle to which I belong."

"Are there many families I would know of already?" I asked, doing my best to sound more interested than wary.

"Oh, I suppose there would," Father replied, his brow furrowed. "Let me see...the Malfoys of course...excellent family...very noble and moralistic...the Flints, the Bulstrodes...just to name a few, of course."

I nodded, turning back to my lunch. Yuck...a whole evening with some of the very worst sort of people.

"Now," said Father. "Tell me about your marks at school. Are they still as high as I would expect?"

"Yes, Father," I replied truthfully. "I study all the time."

"Excellent. Rest assured I will not permit your marks falling for any reason," he said, cutting his turkey. "I expect you to be well educated. At least that is a matter Severus and I see eye to eye on."

We ate the rest of our meal in silence, except for the occasional questions testing my Astronomy knowledge, which seemed acceptable to him.

When the meal ended, Father stood up and beckoned me to follow him.

"I have already planned your afternoon, my dear," he said. "It should be of great interest to you, as it is a fascinating topic."

Intrigued, and a little apprehensive, I followed him out of the room through to the other side of the house. We entered an exceptionally large library and Father led me over to a small table and chair in a corner, away from any windows or distractions.

"I have a number of books you are to read during your visit here, Armilla," said Father, indicating a pile of books sitting on a shelf near the table. "Though I expect you to receive outstanding marks at school, there is other knowledge I wish you to possess as well."

Other knowledge? Oh, how wonderful...here we go...

"These excellent books contain information needed by a wealthy pureblood witch to move appropriately in wizarding circles," said Father, looking at the books fondly. "Of course, there are many books of their kind available, but I hand-picked these from the library myself as I think they will be of the most use to you."

Oh, what a dear...he had hand-picked them for me himself. Now I felt even more secure...

"Your task this afternoon," Father went on, picking up the book on top of the pile, "is to read the first half of this book." He held the book out to me.

Taking it, I looked down at the cover. The Role of a Pureblood Witch by Henrik Raphael Shaw. Oh, what a delightful afternoon this was going to be...

"I daresay you will find its contents fascinating, Armilla," said Father, smiling down at the book in my hands. "Read very carefully, my dear, and memorise as many points as you can. I will be testing you on the first ten chapters at dinnertime. Dinner is at six o'clock sharp. I will see you then." And with that, he swept from the room, closing the door behind him.

I had five hours to read ten chapters and memorise as much as I could. I occluded hard in an attempt to keep the panic out of my mind. I was sure Snape had put up with much worse before. Reading and memorising important points from a book wasn't that bad after all.

Sighing, I opened the book, wondering what Snape was doing at that moment. I scanned my eyes over the publication details. The book was a first edition, published in 1899! What a ridiculous way to spend an afternoon! I was going to have to memorise a bunch of facts written by a wizard with chauvinistic principles as strong as my father's. I knew already that there was no equality to be found within these pages.

I turned to the foreword, written by the owner of the publishing house.

This delightful piece of work is a must-have for all elite wizarding households with female family members.

It appears that a number of female movements have been created in an attempt to strive for equality among witches and wizards. The aim of this book is to quash these outlandish attitudes among witches and restore the noble role of the pureblood witch.

Throughout this book, the reader will gain an understanding in the importance of marrying into another family of wealth and good breeding, as well as the importance of a well-informed mind.

Ultimately, the reader will delight in learning about the required noble role of a pureblood witch. No preposterous career-minded witches indeed! Leave that to the wizards!

Shaw has once again created a masterpiece, a must-read for all pureblood families, especially for those witches curious about their place, or those unfortunate husbands whose wives need to be put in their place!

Derrick G. Wintermeyer

If I hadn't been in my father's house, holding a book that seemed to be treasured by him, I would have thrown the book into the fire. I was going to have a great time trying to stop my blood boil as I read through this piece of rubbish.

And I did.

It had to be one of the most ridiculous pieces of work that I had ever read. The first ten chapters basically told me that though I was of noble blood, my place was of lesser status to wizards and I should remind myself of that fact everyday. I also had to have an educated mind so I wouldn't embarrass my husband at dinner parties and my primary place was in the home, looking after the children.

As mentally painful as it was, I memorised as much as I could, and by the time it was five to six, my brain was on overload with sexist facts.

Leaving the book on the table, my head throbbing from excessive reading, I made my way back to the dining room for dinner.

Father had just entered the room himself, and he smiled down at me when he heard me enter the room just behind him.

"Well, good evening!" he said. "And have you had yourself a pleasant afternoon?"

I forced a smile. "I have, Father," I answered. No, I haven't, you bigoted donkey.

"More importantly, have you sustained a great deal of knowledge from your reading?" Father asked, as he sat down at the table.

"Yes, sir," I answered, sitting down as well.

"Well, we shall see," said Father, beginning to eat.

My stomach churned at his words, but I followed suit and began to eat also.

We ate the whole meal in silence, for which I was glad because I kept going over all the facts from the book in my mind. I had to get everything right.

"Now," said Father, when we had finished. "Why did Shaw feel a need to write the book in the first place?"

"Witches were starting feminist movements and were ignoring their proper places in wizarding society."

Father nodded, looking at me keenly. "Very good."

Phew.

"And does a witch need to have a well-informed mind for her career?"

"No, sir. A witch needs to have a well-informed mind so that she can hold an intelligent conversation at a dinner party and not embarrass her husband."

"Correct. And what is the correct way for a husband and wife to walk into a room when announced in another person's house?"

"The witch walks one step behind her husband."

"Why?"

"Out of respect for his higher status, sir."

"Of course. Why does a pureblood witch need to marry a pureblood wizard of great wealth?"

"To produce pureblood children to carry on the name, and to keep money in the pureblood wizarding circles."

"Correct again."

And so the questions went on and on and I was amazed how Father didn't seem to run out of them. Thankfully, he seemed satisfied with my answers. He failed to ask if I agreed with anything I had learned. It was taken for granted that the book would be my Bible.

"And finally," Father said. "Why is it important for a witch to let her husband handle performing magic in a dangerous situation?"

"Because it is the husband's right and so he is not upstaged by his wife's magic."

Father raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you were paying proper attention to that passage," he said frostily. "Care to have another go?"

Oh no...I was sure that had been the right answer...think...think...

"...because it is the husband's role to protect the wife."

Father's face became rigid. "That is incorrect."

I kept the horror from my expression through occluding harder than ever.

"Let me inform you, my dear," said Father, in a cold voice. "The husband performs the magic because his magic is superior to that of his wife's. That is a known fact. Perhaps you need to go back at reread that chapter?"

I nodded. "I will, Father. I'm sorry," I said. I had gotten all the other questions right hadn't I?

Father gave a curt nod. "I do not accept errors. If you are going to read something, you will read it properly so that you are perfect."

"Yes, Father."

Father raised his wand and performed some kind of non-verbal magic. I felt something sting on the back of my right hand. I didn't dare look down to see what kind of hex the mad man had thrown at me.

"I suggest you go and reread that chapter right now. In fact, spend the rest of the evening reading the next three chapters. You will go to bed when you have answered every question correctly."

"Yes, Father."

"Very well, off you go then."

And I left the room as quickly as walking pace could carry me. I went back to the library and sank down into my chair, occluding fiercely. I looked down at the back of my right hand, on which I could still feel a stinging pain. There was nothing there. The pain was certainly there, but my hand was completely unmarked. Ah, clever, hiding the marks under the skin.

I wasn't going to get emotional. It could have been a lot worse. And I had too many days with the man in front of me to fret right now. I was just going to have to reread that particular passage and memorise the next three chapters. No big deal. I could do that.

It was a lot harder to memorise facts with a throbbing head, a stinging hand and general tiredness from the day. But I had to do it or there would be consequences. I didn't want to tell Snape that night that I had already failed miserably.

Father didn't come in until after ten-thirty. By that stage, my head felt like it was going to explode.

"I hope you will perform better this time around," he said acidly, picking up the book.

And so we went through the whole questioning process again. At one point, I thought I was going to get a question wrong again because there was a long pause after I answered. Honestly, I thought it likely that Father had forgotten the answer himself, but a moment later, he said "correct."

I didn't know how I got through it so well, trying to occlude, ignore my headache and stinging hand and answer questions all at once. But I did it. Finally, Father seemed satisfied enough to send me to bed.

"I hope we won't have to do this again, Armilla," he said, as I made my way to the door. "I generally like to go to bed early, but I had to stay up later so you could learn your lesson. I didn't get a word of thanks for that."

I turned on the spot, hating the man.

"Thankyou, Father," I said clearly.

"Very well, very well, off to bed with you."

"Goodnight," I said, closing the door behind me.

I made my way up to my bedroom, wanting nothing more but sleep so I wouldn't have to think about that wretched man. But I had to stay awake long enough to be sure that Father had gone to bed and Jiffy...was wherever he slept in the house. Snape had mentioned once that Jiffy slept in an old disused pantry. I supposed that was somewhere at the bottom of the house.

My spirits were raised a little when I spotted Morag sitting on top of her cage, hooting softly. It was like seeing a little bit of home...

Hoping my healing skills would help my hand, I waved my wand over it and began muttering an incantation Snape had taught me for injuries from unidentifiable hexes. The pain went away and I felt a sense of triumph over my father.

I got changed and got into bed. I held the chocolate frog card in my hand under the covers. I stared up at the canopy above me, willing the time to go faster. I heard eleven o'clock chime from the great clock out in the gallery. Eleven-thirty...

Everything was quiet. I hoped Father had gone to bed. I lit my wand and moved my covers slightly so that I could view the card from under the covers.

The wizard wasn't waving. Snape evidently meant for me to make the first contact. Thinking the message in my head, it appeared on the card.

Are you there?

The reply came very quickly.

Of course I am. I've been waiting for you.

I think Father only went to bed in the last half hour. I couldn't contact you any earlier.

That's fine. Why did he go to bed so late? He generally goes to bed before ten o'clock.

He had to stay up so he could question me on a book he made me read.

Ah, he hasn't wasted any time then. Might I ask which book?

'The Role of a Pureblood Witch'. It's the first of many that I have to read and practically memorise.

I see. And what is your expert opinion on the book?

It's a load of...you mightn't like the word I'm thinking...

Perhaps not, I'll just use my own imagination then. Did you answer all his questions correctly?

All except one...which is why he had to stay up late. He wasn't happy when I got one wrong, so I had to read and memorise three more chapters before I went to bed.

I'm assuming you answered correctly the second time around then?

Yes.

Nothing physical too?

How did you know?

He's my father too, Armilla.

He did something to the back of my right hand, but my hand was still unmarked, though I could feel something there.

Of course. He doesn't know that you can heal them yourself. He wants you to suffer, but be unmarked for the party. Did you heal it?

Yes

Do not let on to Father that you healed yourself. It is an advantage that he's decided to use these sorts of hexes - you can heal them without his knowing and pretend you still have them.

If I hadn't healed it, when would the pain have gone away?

It depends on the intensity of the hex when it was cast, but I would estimate nine or ten hours. Most importantly, are you alright?

I'm okay. The day could have been worse...it wasn't that bad...

Stop being so diplomatic. Perhaps I should make myself clearer. Tell me honestly how you feel.

I'm tired.

Is that all?

I hate the man and I want to come home.

That's better. Now at least I know you're being honest.

I feel awful giving an answer like that. I've only suffered one day and you...

Had a whole childhood with him?

Yeah...

There's nothing wrong with hating it so much that you want to come home.

But I feel stupid complaining to you about it after one day

I haven't told you to stop. Who else are you going to complain to?

...No one...

Indeed. Don't feel guilty about not liking it there. I don't have to suffer him for the next week and you do - so don't worry about being honest with me. There will be trouble if you're not.

Okay.

You should have been asleep hours ago.

I know.

I'll be expecting to hear from you tomorrow night.

You'll hear from me.

Goodnight then.

Goodnight.

Armilla?

Yes?

Six sleeps to go...