The Serpent and the Eagle

Interlude - Tower and Key

London, March 1862

A dog barked nearby. Its hollow noises made her jumpy, as if she were awaiting some momentous event. Smog pressed at the windows like a gaseous peeping Tom, striving to push through the solid glass and fill this house too with its noxious fumes. The gas lamp men had already done their rounds, and the lanterns glowed dimly in the thick air, pools of light amidst different shades of mundane grey.

Night had fallen over London.

Not a single star was visible in the charcoal coloured sky. The night was completely devoid of any celestial light, much to her despair. The antique grandfather clock in the corner ticked her impatience. Four hours since he would normally have been home, and still no sign of Albus. He had warned her early this morning that there was an important meeting in Wales he absolutely must attend, but that he would Apparate back to her as soon as it ended.

Cassandra hated that. He was always late home from work these days. He and Nicolas Flamel, or whatever his name was, were working on some alchemy venture. Cassandra despised such a precise art, much preferring her fortune telling and charms, so she was fuzzy on details of his pet project.

She loathed that she hadn't seen him for more than five hours at a stretch. She abhorred that for the majority of time that they were together was when both were asleep. She detested those long hours that left him drained but dazedly happy. Despite all this, she tolerated it because she loved him.

Somehow, she felt that she would have preferred if he had been here. At least she could kiss him goodbye if he were. It would have felt sealed.

She sat, trembling. A phoenix feather quill, a favourite of Albus', rested snugly in her hand. Double betrayal, yes, penning this letter with his own quill. As she stooped low over the parchment she felt the fear engulf her again, cloaking her like the night about their home. She bit her lip and dabbed her eyes with a linen handkerchief.

How could she do this to the man she loved?

My dearest Albus,

It is exceedingly difficult to write you this letter. Not merely because I cannot express exactly how I feel, for I am a very poor writer, nothing of your intellect or calibre, but because of its content, and what it will do to you. However, it is my duty to tell you this as gently as I can. Every minute I spend with you, no matter how exquisite and beautiful, feels as though I am living a lie.

You are too good, too noble for me. I know you will be taken aback by my suddenness, but if I do not depart now I never shall, and I would not for all the riches and power in the world bring harm to you. I swear it now, if any harm befalls you as a result of my foolishness, I will gladly take my own life in payment for yours. Yes, I would commit myself to eternal hellfire for you. Such is the extent of my love, which you will surely doubt after this letter.

Here begins a new life for you. I want you to seize it, as you do all things in life, with the same passion and curious innocence that made me fall in love with you. I want you to have all that you desire - a glittering career, wisdom, beauty and above all things truth. You must continue your work with Nicolas. You will be a famous alchemist some day, and dare I say it, I foresee you passing on your knowledge to younger wizards and witches.

My shame forbids me to tell you my darkest truths, and so it is with a heavy heart that I must say farewell.

I shall never forget you. I swear to write to you as often as I can, and I want to hear all your news. Any new career developments, any family issues...and even if you find someone new...I wish to hear about it. Please do not try to find me. I do not want you to waste your life searching for a lost cause such as myself.

"O you who on the way of Love go by,

Listen and see

If there is any grief, as grave as mine:

And I beg you only to suffer me to be heard,

And then reflect

Whether I am not the tower and the key of every torment."

La Vita Nuova, Canto VII

I would be the tower and key of your torment if I were to stay. Forgive me, beloved. I beg of you, forgive me!

Your Cassandra.

Her tears fell on the still damp ink, blurring it with their hot tracks. Noticing their destruction, she angrily dried the parchment with some hot air that steamed from the tip of her wand, wiping away her tears as she waved the wand.

Closing her eyes as if in pain, she sealed the letter with red wax and a lock of her grey hair, and signed her initials beneath as she always did when writing to him.

'Too good for me,' she repeated dully. 'Always far too good to last.'

She felt pain twist her, and this time the demon took its form in her head, curling around her skull like some giant leech. She could not see him, but she could feel it grasping at every lock of her grey hair and pulling like a spiteful child. This was strange...he usually appeared to her like some human incarnation of a cockroach.

'That is right, sweet one,' the demon crooned. 'Everyone shall always be too good for you. You are doing the right thing in running away, believe me.'

'I shall never give you this child, Beelzebub,' Cassandra said calmly, forcing herself to remain composed.

'What is to stop me from taking it?' it laughed. 'How will you stop me? Every time I return to your body I suckle away more of your power. Every time I leave it I weaken you more and more. How on earth do you plan on stopping me from achieving my aims?'

'I would sooner die than let you have my innocent child. Make no mistake of that,' she added.

'Why so calm, my beautiful?' it hissed. 'You should be more emotional than this. Perhaps you truly do not care for this auburn haired prodigy.'

'Aye, he is a prodigy,' Cassandra agreed.

'Answer me properly, wench!' screamed Beelzebub.

'I have a prediction to make to you,' she admitted.

'What might that be? I do not recall you having a vision.'

'That is because I have been charting the paths of the stars,' she explained.

'And what is it?' it asked eagerly.

'It tells of victory and the defeat of a long-known and abhorred foe.'

'I cannot see the stars spell out such things; tell me how you know this!'

'I am afraid I cannot hear you,' she replied. 'I seem to have gone deaf...'

The demon retreated angrily within her again, leaving her free to walk away.

Even without his jibes and taunts it was no easy task. Her feet dragged as if yearning to remain. Her heart palpitated madly within her breast, increasing her light-headedness. Finally, she reached the door.

Her already noticeable belly had grown since the last time Beelzebub had goaded her a month ago, and she was almost certain she could feel some feeble stirrings in her womb.

She felt a surge of strength and strode purposefully forward. She would go to Russia, the one country Albus was not overly fond of. Also, he did not know the language, which was particularly useful. Cassandra's mother, however, had been a Russian native named Katerina and had taught her to speak it from a young age.

Cassandra mounted her broom. Her enchanted bags clung to the brush end as she pushed open the window. The smog billowed in triumphantly as she kicked off, soaring above the malodorous cloud generated by London's coal fires and industries to find pure, blessedly dark night above. The stars blazed around her, and a perfect crescent moon arced its path across the starlit dome.

'Here begins a new life!' she gasped and sped away to the East.

She was beginning to enjoy the feeling of the air swirling around her, making her robes billow, until she heard a strange sound, like another broomstick following her.

Turning, she saw Albus.

'Cassandra - wait!'

Chapter Ten - Come Back To Me

[Today]

[The Smashing Pumpkins]

Today is the greatest
Day I've ever known
Can't live for tomorrow,
Tomorrow's much too long
I'll burn my eyes out

Before I get out
I wanted more
Than life could ever grant me
Bored by the chore
Of saving face

Today is the greatest
Day I've ever known
Can't wait for tomorrow
I might not have that long
I'll tear my heart out
Before I get out

Pink ribbon scars
That never forget
I tried so hard
To cleanse these regrets
My angel wings
Were bruised and restrained
My belly stings

Today is
Today is
Today is
The greatest day

I want to turn you on
I want to turn you on
I want to turn you on
I want to turn you

Today is the greatest
Today is the greatest day
Today is the greatest day
That I have ever really known

Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts, October 1996

'Welcome back, Hermione!'

The Common Room rang with cheers and greetings as Hermione Granger rejoined her schoolmates after an entire night and day recuperating in the hospital wing. She blushed deeply as showers of magical confetti rained down upon her, fixing in her bushy hair and making it look like a tree in full spring bloom. Ginny ran to her and kissed her on both cheeks.

'Oh, Hermione, are you all right?' she enquired.

'Perfectly fine, Ginny,' she responded. 'What's all this?'

'Just a little celebration that you're back and healthy again,' said Ginny with a wink.

Hermione blushed deeply.

'Oh, you really shouldn't have,' she protested.

'We should,' said Ron warmly. 'I was going to go get you.'

Hermione's face flushed even darker, much to Ginny's amusement, who had to excuse herself while she choked on a chocolate frog.

'I missed you,' he whispered, pulling her into a hug.

'I missed you, too,' she agreed, returning the embrace.

Ron leaned in to kiss her, and Hermione felt her stomach flutter with butterflies.

'Eh, and you gave me and pet a hard time!' Harry shouted from across the common room.

'Shut up, Harry,' Ron suggested.

Hermione burst out laughing. 'Since when did Ginny become "pet"?' she asked.

Ron made a face. 'Since the day Harry had his name changed to "Bubs", apparently,' he said tightly.

Hermione laughed again. 'It could be worse,' she admitted. 'She could be "Snuggle Bum" and he could be "Schnuckums".'

Ron turned purple with apoplexy. 'If he ever calls her - snug - snuggle - I mean, that...I will personally kill him.'

Hermione shook her head.

'What if I call you: "snuggle bum"?' she asked.

Ron's ears went purple. 'I don't think I'd mind,' he mumbled.

Hermione laughed. 'I think I'll find something more...appropriate to call you. Like your name.'

Ron's colour faded back to its normal hue and he laughed, visibly relaxing.

'Blimey, Hermione, don't do that to me!' he said, chuckling. 'Can you imagine what Fred and George would say if they heard I went by the name "Snuggle Bum"?'

The pair fell about laughing. Once they had recovered, Ron smiled and slipped Hermione's hand into his own, leading her over to the sofa, which was free for once.

She rested her weary head on his shoulder, sighing a little.

'Do you think,' Ron asked, more sober now, 'that I might get a kiss to say hello?'

'You never know,' Hermione teased, moving in for the kill.

Harry watched them from the other side of the room.

'You know, I'm so glad those two finally got together,' he said.

'Me, too,' said Ginny. 'I was getting just a little bit sick of all the friction. And arguments. And times she'd moan to me about how thick he is, and the times he'd moan to me about how much of a know-all she is.'

Harry smiled. 'They seem to be getting on very well now, don't you think?'

'They do,' she agreed. 'Now, how about we remind Ron that it's rude to play tonsil tennis with Hermione when there's a party on for her?'

Ginny and Harry looked at each other and chortled madly. They then looked back at Ron and Hermione and went pale.

'Jeez, Ron, get a room,' Harry muttered, looking away.

'Merlin's beard, Hermione!' Ginny gasped.

The entire rest of the common room had turned their backs on the sofa where Ron and Hermione were having a party all of their own. Dean foolishly glanced and yelled, 'My eyes!' This always served him well on such occasions.

'Do you want to go over there?' Harry said to Ginny, his face ashen.

'Yes,' Ginny agreed, wisely averting her eyes. 'Over there has...qualities...that over here can't compete with.'

A prefect was advising the first years to go to their dormitories and wash their eyes, whereas some seventh years were running a betting pool on how long before the two would resurface for air. There were favourable odds on one hour, with four to one on them being there until daybreak.

Harry and Ginny plugged their ears and tried very hard not to think of their best mate/brother making out with their best female friend.

'Ginny...' Harry ventured.

'Yeah?' Ginny replied.

'Does it feel like your eyes are burning?' he asked.

'Yep.'

'D'you think this might be how Ron felt when he saw us?' he continued.

'Yep. Now let's agree never to talk about or even think about this ever again.'

'Agreed.'

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning at breakfast, Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall holding hands with looks of exhaustion on their faces, not to mention idiotic grins.

The Gryffindor table cheered, and more than a few blushed.

It seemed like Ron and Hermione were Hogwarts' hottest couple, because even Hagrid was muttering something to a tight-lipped McGonagall at the top table.

The Slytherin table gawped at the couple in amazement until Pansy Parkinson recovered herself enough to shout, 'Looks like the Weasel got himself a girlfriend! Where did you find her, Weasley, under a pile of books?'

Ron blithely raised his middle finger to the Slytherin table when Hermione wasn't looking, raising a torrent of abuse and threats of Avada Kedavra.

Oddly, to Harry's mind, Draco Malfoy was silent. Completely so. He didn't seem to comprehend what was happening about him. He was letting a prime opportunity to spread misery slip through his fingers! And speaking of fingers...Harry screwed up his eyes, focusing on Malfoy's hand. It was bandaged tightly, with more than a little blood seeping through. Gabrielle Delacour stooped to speak to him, and his eyes were unfocused as he listened and nodded. Gabrielle straightened, smirking, and swanked off to her own table.

Harry's eyes widened. Malfoy was genuinely hurt, but he had no idea how.

Suddenly, Ginny sat next to him, disturbing his reverie.

'Morning, bubs,' she chirruped.

'Good morning, pet,' he said, smiling like the sun had just come out.

They kissed briefly, not wishing to re-enact Ron and Hermione's performance from the previous night.

'Have a good night's sleep?' Harry asked lightly.

'I suppose so,' Ginny said. 'I heard Hermione come upstairs about three or so.' There was a definite note of amusement in her voice as she said this.

Harry laughed. 'Yeah, Ron arrived up at the same time. He was trying to be quiet coming in, but he tripped over Crookshanks. Woke the entire dormitory up.'

Ginny burst out laughing. 'Oh, that's our Ron! Did he swear?'

'No,' Harry admitted. 'But he did say some well-chosen things that I'm sure break all animal protection laws. I never knew that Ron knew that much about a cat's anatomy...'

Ron flopped onto the seat next to Harry and said, 'She's the one, mate. She is the one!'

'Well, I'd hope so after last night's little fiasco on the sofa!' Ginny teased.

Hermione was being interrogated by Parvati and Lavender for not telling them sooner that she and Ron were in love, all the while not giving Hermione enough time to answer properly.

Ginny looked at her friend with deepest concern. 'I think I'd better go rescue her,' she said.

'D'you fancy going to see Hagrid later and telling him your "good news"?' Harry asked, watching Ginny tell Lavender she was a gossip and nothing more.

Ron enjoyed the shocked look on Lavender's face immensely, and replied, 'Yeah, why not? Hermione will have to come along, too.'

They watched as Lavender and Parvati pursued Hermione and Ginny the length of the table and out into the Great Hall. The boys shook their heads tolerantly.

'Poor Parvati,' Harry said.

'Poor Lavender,' Ron agreed.

Harry used the opportunity to seize some bacon and sausages from the nearby dishes, and proceeded to add a liberal helping of toast and baked beans to his plate.

Ron looked at him in amazement.

'You're worse than me, mate,' Ron gasped.

Harry nodded, his mouth full of sausage. 'I'm a growing boy,' he apologised. 'Now, what's all this about our sweet little Hermione becoming the love of your life all of a sudden?'

Ron scowled. 'It's not "all of a sudden", Harry,' he protested. 'You've known for years that I fancy Hermione. Bloody hell, you knew it before we did. That's why we've always argued.'

Harry raised a sceptical eyebrow.

'That's what Hermione says, and I'm sticking by it!' said Ron.

Harry broke into a smile. 'Whatever you say. I'm really happy for both of you, Ron, really I am. Could you just promise me something, though?'

Ron was beaming. His entire face was one big ray of sunshine, and he looked as though he would willingly give Harry the world if he asked it of him. Yes, love truly suited Ronald Bilius Weasley.

'All right, what is it?'

'Never, and I mean never snog Hermione like that in public again. There are laws about public decency, even the wizarding world.'

Ron's ears went pink. 'Well, I'll do that if you promise never to grope my sister's bum in public again,' he rejoined.

It was Harry's turn to redden. 'I never did that!' he yelped.

'Right,' Ron continued, 'at least promise that any groping will be done without my knowledge. As a matter of fact, let's just stay away from that whole area, ok? Stand at least one foot away from Ginny while snogging or holding hands, and I'll be a happy camper.'

Before Harry could reply with something about camping in Azkaban, Hermione had reappeared and started hugging Ron from behind, wrapping her arms about his neck and kissing his cheek. She was rewarded with a fresh round of snogging. The other Gryffindors suddenly realised that they were no longer hungry, and quickly left the table. Harry risked a glance at the teacher's table, and saw Hagrid turning pink and grinning. Professor McGonagall looked as though she had swallowed her lips, and Professor Dumbledore was twiddling his thumbs, looking intently at the ceiling. Professor Snape's upper lip was curling in unmitigated disgust.

Harry looked at his breakfast and realised that eating lumps of dead pig was quite disgusting. Almost as disgusting, in fact, as watching his best friends snog on top of his bacon.