Hexing the Tide

Chapter Four

"Deliver me, O Lord, from the evil man: preserve me from the violent man;

Which imagine mischiefs in their heart; continually are they gathered together for war.

They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent;

Adders' poison is under their lips."

Psalm 140

The week passed in agonizing slowness as I waited for signs of Potter's birthday and the chance to act. I could get no information out of the Order as to their plans, but I was determined to be involved in the rescue of my son. How could I not? It irked me that they seemed to have no use even for any information I could provide. But I was intimately familiar with the area. My ancestral home was not far from the Salisbury plain, and if necessary, I could find my own way there on Lammas. So I waited.

But there was no birthday.

A few evenings later I suddenly felt warmth under my sleeve. I was at the time ensconced with the children and truth be told, a bit fearful that Ms. Granger might realize what was happening if I reacted, so I was careful to make no overt response. It was not as if I had any need to see the flesh bruising black to know what was happening. I was about to slip from the room and prepare myself when Narcissa's relative clomped in. Other footsteps passed in the hall as she fell into the chair opposite mine.

"Wotcher, kids, um-" She started to address me, but stopped short.

"Good evening, Ms. Tonks."

"Evening, er, Unke." She eyed me rather impishly from under a mop of impossibly green hair.

It took only an instant for her statement to penetrate. She was daring to claim relation. I composed myself to answer forthwith. But I had no answer to give. She was blood to my wife and I was, as yet, still married. In these odd times, I was more inclined to dismiss her based on the Black blood than the Tonks. So I did neither; merely nodding as if I hadn't noticed while lost in my reading. She watched for a moment more before shuffling toward Potter.

"Harry..." She put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry about your birthday, love. But we'll make it up to you when we can."

He looked up, but not at her. His green eyes met mine. "It's Ok, Tonks. I'm used to sacrifices."

My heart stopped. I'm sure of it. If I wasn't a renegade, I should have been rushed to St. Mungo's immediately. The sacrifice wasn't his. It was my son's. All pretenses were lost. I threw the book to the floor and dove for Nymphadora's wand. But she was an Auror, and suddenly moving with the speed of one caught me with an Impedimenta. "It's too late. They'll have cast a Domocilius ward." She sighed. "We're all trapped here until someone returns. I'm really sorry. They've gone."

"Without me." I staggered to my feet.

"Without me, too. They don't want either of us there. Blood's a dangerous thing on Lughnasadh."

My blood was already there.

She said more, however I broke my attention from her and began to pace, trying to consider a way out before someone would return to relieve us. I believe there might have been quite a conversation, but so intent was I in my internal fervor that I did not take any account of it. At some point, I found myself sitting again in the chair. I was exhausted. My niece leant over me.

"I think..." she trailed off. I stared into the livid green of her hair. "Sir? Uh, Lucius? I could give you a sleep spell if you'd rather?"

"Absolutely not!" I started to rise again, indignant. But I was gently pushed back to the cushion. "If I can do nothing else, at least I might stand vigil. I ... It can't..." In their furious racing, my thoughts seemed to have left me behind. I peered at her. "Nymphadora, what do you even look like, under there?"

She stood back, aghast. There was a discreet choking from one of the children. She glowered at them, daring. Then she shrugged, making a face as if she were attempting her first Apparition. Instantly, she stood before me almost as my wife, but with raven hair.

"I'm more of a Black than I'd like, really. Fortunately, it's not something I have to live with." She started to concentrate again, but opened her eyes again and sighed. "Is this better? I can stay like this for a while if it'll make you happier."

"No. By all means, find something else. You must understand I'm not terribly fond of the Black family right now."

At this I again attempted to stand, but she again once again directed me back into the chair. She nodded toward the boys and Ron came over. Instead of taking her station though, he pulled a small hassock over and sat upon it. This put us almost at eye level and I noticed his eyes were not those of his sister. They were Prewett hazel. He smiled ruefully at me, sitting there with his father's infuriating patience. I felt myself again before the court

"You are more like my son than you might expect, Mr. Weasley."

At this he flinched visibly.

"Please do not judge Draco too harshly. Despite your rocky relations, none of this is his doing or his fault. He doesn't deserve what has been dealt him."

He lowered his gaze, but still followed me through russet lashes. "I don't know what he deserves. And I don't know what's going on. So I can't really judge, can I?"

His sister crept up to his side, also watching me intently. I understood. They wished answers from me. Their parents had evidently deemed them too young to know such things in detail. It was reassuring to know I wasn't the only one guilty of overprotecting my child. But still, I would have to make this as delicate as I could.

"Lammas is the Sabbat of harvest; which means death and rebirth. They will sacrifice Draco in order to transfer his magic to the Dark Lord-"

"Voldemort!" Potter spat, pacing toward us. "They're going to try to sacrifice him for Voldemort. Quit assuming they'll win and quit using that title for him, because you're still giving him respect and he doesn't deserve it!"

He stormed across the room with an oddly familiar carriage and it seemed he might strike at me. But it was Ginny who dealt the blow.

"How could his mum let that happen?"

I sank back into the chair and stared at the ceiling so I wouldn't have to meet her eyes. How indeed could she? I had no heart to explain such things to children.

"Tell them. They're old enough to know." This from my niece, now sporting a tangle of indigo hair.

I sighed.

"Because there is more than one path to immortality, and - Voldemort," I fixed my gaze pointedly at Potter, "will take every path available to power. As yet, he has no heir. Bellatrix, despite her desire to be his most ardent follower, is in no position to give him one, having been ruined by her years in Azkaban. Therefore a replacement became necessary. Since Bellatrix could not carry on his line herself, Narcissa must have deemed herself the best alternate. I was supposed to conveniently remain incarcerated, until my own heir was slaughtered. Then, she would have rights to all my family holdings upon my demise."

"But Bellatrix is married." Little Ginny had started the discussion, but seemed to have missed many of the salient points.

"Yes. And so is Narcissa," I spat. "The difference between the two marriages is that Rodolphus would have celebrated such a violation, whereas I would never stand for it. And that is precisely why Draco is in such danger. For the house of Malfoy must be swept clean before the house of Voldemort can replace it."

Ginny had been gaping at this but shut her mouth with the last. It clamped into a thin line as she stood. I had expected another naïve questioning of my claims, but she had none. Instead, she turned toward Granger who had been standing quietly near the fire. In a voice colder than I could have expected of her she intoned, "Hermione?"

Who simply nodded, "He's alive, Ginny."

"Ginny? 'Mione?" Ron was standing now. "What did you do?"

Ginny ignored him. "Mr. Malfoy, sir. We'd think we'd know if your son wasn't still alive."

"What have you two done?"

"We practiced, Ron. All right?" Hermione puffed like an angry Kneazle. "We had to know if it would work, and I thought perhaps we could do two things at once. So we went where no one would notice. Ginny and I- And Luna, because we needed three. But I didn't know-" She held out her arms helplessly. "Honestly, how could any of us know!"

"We snuck into Hogwarts during Litha and performed a binding rite," Ginny cut in simply.

"A Binding rite! Are you mad!"

Hermione placed his hand on Ron's forearm. "It was only supposed to give him a bit of strength. Help support him a little. No love, so no bond. What could be simpler?"

The Weasley boy's face was almost white, "But something went wrong, didn't it?"

She shrunk away from him. "I didn't know. I just didn't know..."

His voice was oddly calm. "What went wrong, Hermione?"

"He accepted it, Ron."

"HE WHAT?" He and Potter were both yelling, but the redheaded boy had my attention. If I wasn't so fantastically stunned by the turn of events I would certainly have retreated from wand range.

"Merlin's Beard!" Nymphadora sparked her wand to stop the confusion. "Everybody calm down this instant!"

"Who, 'Mione! Who bonded?" He seemed agitated, but no longer dangerous. "Just tell me it was Luna..."

I certainly hoped that was not the case. But I didn't need an answer. I knew who it was, even before I observed Hermione's defiant stance.

"Me, Ron! I did it! I would do it again, too, if that's what has kept him alive." She crossed her arms against her chest. "I needed to make sure I could do it before we needed to- I needed to know, all right? We'd just received that missive and I thought, well, what can it hurt-?" She began to chew on her bottom lip in contrition.

Potter gently took her by the shoulders. She gazed at him a moment before dropping her eyes. "It does hurt, though. You can't imagine..." She began to curl into herself, folding her arms tightly against her chest.

So, she could sense my son through the bond she forged. In her arrogance, the girl never even considered that Draco might have welcomed her attention. For all her brilliance, she was a fool. But she was also his best hope. This shock, following too quickly on the heels of the first, left me feeling less stable than even the events of the previous week.

I stood, garnering no resistance from the others. After one warning glance, Potter moved off slightly allowing me to place my hands on her shoulders as I looked into her eyes. In that unguarded moment, I found so much emotion I lost my way, falling into them. Only by stepping backward could I regain my own composure. I brushed her cheek.

"You did this on Litha?"

She nodded.

"Were you aware he was a Midsummer's child?"

She shook her weakly, but gave me no verbal answer. I should have castigated her for binding herself into a pure bloodline. But I could not. I tried to find the words to thank her, to offer her a wizard's debt, but I had none. No one had ever given him such a precious birthday present.

"You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely."

She bit her lip again then burst suddenly into tears. The two boys ran to her immediately, pressing me aside in the process. I watched them fawn over her, trying to understand the dynamic between them.

"You needn't worry, you know. She couldn't care for him."

I turned to Ginny, surprised just how much of Riddle was in her now cold demeanor. Behind her, Nymphadora shook her head desperately at me. The Order had underestimated the children and she knew it. Her fears were my aspirations however, for there might also be a contingency for escaping this house.

"Perhaps that's exactly why I should worry."

"Draco has never been anything but rude and cruel. After sneaking your letter we even discussed whether he deserved our help at all." She made a face, and I was all too aware which side of the discussion had been hers. "Hermione only bonded with him to save his life."

"But she did it all the same."

"Yes, she did. I really hope it wasn't a mistake."

I tried to keep my voice level. "That is my son you regret aiding."

"It's just that we had no idea he would need quite so much of it." The darkness left her as she turned fawn eyes upon me then toward the three of them. "What if there's not enough left when others need her more?"

"You would even talk of trivial affairs when Draco's life is in such jeopardy?"

"I am talking about the survival of the entire wizarding race, Mr. Malfoy. Next to that, how can any one of us matter?"

"Ginny! We ALL matter!" Nymphadora's voice was almost as shrill as my wife's.

"No, Tonks. We don't. We're all parts of the whole. That's what matters," Ginny laughed, scaring both of us. "That's why we'll win. Because we know this and HE doesn't. HE can only think in terms of one, of taking not giving. I know this firsthand. "

"I see," my niece managed to stammer. I must admit that, in the moment, she was more eloquent than me.

"Mr. Malfoy? I'm afraid we need your room tonight. But you probably already figured that out." She dismissed me as if she was the Minister, then transformed once again to a child. "Harry?"

He nodded, touching Hermione gently on the chin. She straightened her shoulders and ran from the room. He came over to us, glancing quickly from Ginny to me and nodding.

"Tonks, you have to trust us. We have some things we need to prepare and I think it might be best if we get it done now. It looks like it's going to be tonight."

"Hell of a birthday, Harry." Ron patted his shoulder as they disappeared down the hall.

"Yeah. Let's hope I have a better one next year."

He, Ron and Ginny were already retreating toward the ground floor. Nymphadora and I traded one final confused glance before following our Stephen of Cloyes down the stairs.

The chair in my room had already been cast aside, and the Verulam carpet beneath it had been carelessly tossed across its seat. Hermione sat in the middle of the revealed floorboards. A pentagram had been carved into the wood. I chided myself for missing the obvious, but watched anxiously as she continued the rite. Slowly, the floor began to awaken and glow.

"It's ready, Harry. We just need a way out of the house."

"Tonks!" Moody's voice bellowed from the kitchen, interrupting the interlude.

"Moody! In here."

He rushed into the room, wand out beneath a bundle of black cloaking. Starting a bit at the pentagram, he grunted and placed his load on the bed. "Like clockwork, Malfoy. You described them exactly. Every step..."

I threw myself toward the bed, and slid back the layers to face my son. Draco was alive but his eyes were vacant. Blood seeped from the cloth that surrounded him.

"Draco!" I cried even as I cradled his head. Then I began to repeat his name in low tones as I rocked him. Finally, there was a slight flicker from his face. For an instant, he was aware, but then it was gone. I don't know how long I held him, brushing my hand through his hair and murmuring platitudes to calm him as if he were still with me. An argument seemed to be raging around me, and finally I looked up.

Moody and Potter were standing nose to nose, with the other children behind Potter, except Hermione still carefully tending her fire. Tonks had been joined by Emmeline Vance and they were carefully off to the side, horror written across their faces. I noted with satisfaction that Vance was dripping blood from the bottom of her impeccable robes. She had not been high on my social list the past few months.

"I can and I will! The time has come and we both know it!"

Potter was in full fury now, his carefully checked emotion broken open. He spun from Moody to stalk across the tiny room. Still shielding my son, I shrank back.

Potter moved like Voldemort.

I could not take my eyes from him. He was no longer a sixteen-year-old boy to me.

"Harry, please, lad..."

"NO. We've planned for this. I'm going back there with you! Hermione!"

We all watched, mesmerized, as she returned to the rite and the glow erupted into a white flame through which glittered various flashes of color. She stepped into it, reaching out her hand.

"Harry?" her voice faltered, either from the magic or from fear.

"NO!" Vance staggered forward, but Ron caught her.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. It's really for the best."

I realized as they touched, that she was transferring her power to him. Ron patted Vance lightly on the shoulder, smiled sadly, and then stepped into the light next to Hermione.

"Well, mate, You better get him this time or we'll never make house cup again."

He gave Potter his hand.

Moody was breathing heavily, his eyes so wide I wondered which might fall out first. Potter turned to him.

"You see now? We've planned for this." His voice resonated through the enclosed space as if it were too large for the room.

I tried to recoil from the blasphemy. But instead my gaze fell again upon my son's face. Who would have been dead had it not been for the three girls... Three. They needed three.

I kissed Draco gently upon the forehead.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was inside the marking on the floor. Wind roared past my ears as if I was flying a broom. I clenched my jaw and flung forward my arm.

"Take mine as well!"

I could see his green eyes through a haze of blue. Stunned, then accepting. He gripped my hand and I could feel my life drain from me. My body tried to fight for survival, but instead I forced every bit of strength into Potter. He staggered backward. Then Hermione's hands were upon me and I realized I had fallen.

The aura had dissipated and the fire was gone. So were Moody and Potter.

"Gone."

A cup was placed to my lips and I drank. I looked up to find not Hermione but Vance supporting me. I forced myself away from her hold.

"Just ginger tea." She smiled. "I'm a bit afraid to give you anything stronger in your state."

In my state, indeed. I pulled myself into a sitting position and from there to the chair, which I admit was much more difficult without magic supporting my right knee. Everything seemed more difficult. But the tea cleared my head enough for me to survey the situation.

"I must have blacked out from the exchange."

"Yeah. You gave Harry everything, didn't you?" Ginny's face was peaked and she looked near tears. I realized perhaps she was supposed to be the third benefactor.

"Of course. What advantage could there be to retaining any?" My attention was on Draco again. They must have given him something for he was resting easily now in Hermione's arms. This gave me hope that his mind was intact. But there was blood across his cheek, making me reluctant to consider the physical damage. I was too terrified of what I might find.

"But what if-?" She couldn't finish the sentence. I kept my eyes carefully on my son.

"If your Mr. Potter doesn't win, then I will die anyway. I might as well die without my magic as with it. And perchance, if I am captured they will overestimate my tolerances if they are unaware I have no defense."

Ms. Vance gasped, and following the sound I truly saw her. There was an elegance about her that even the bandages now crisscrossing her wand arm couldn't diminish. In my distraction, I noted she was actually a rather attractive witch. However, those bandages enclosed an iron fist and I railed at her with what energy I had left.

"Why does that alarm you, Ms. Vance? Your own Wizengamot condemned me only a few months ago. Surely I haven't changed the sentence, only the duration. Do you really think it's kinder to keep one locked in such a deplorable state indefinitely?"

I arched a brow at her and she shook her head ever so slightly. I yearned to ruin her faultless demeanor, but Ginny began to cry, turning all of our thoughts to her champion.

At that moment my left arm caught fire. I slipped to my knees even as I tore at my robe sleeve. The Mark had never burned so. It was as if He were trying to rip away my very life source.

"He's drawing power! Taking it from his followers... Potter must be on him!" I panted, trying to get enough air into my lungs to say more. It was as if a fever had come upon me suddenly and I began to claw at my forearm in my desperation.

There was clamoring around me, and suddenly Ron was wrenching my right hand from my arm. But my blood slickened things, making it easy for me to slide from his grip. But before I could resume slashing, Hermione appeared and stabbed me straight in the middle of the Morsmordre.

It was as if she had locked me away inside my own body.

I could feel myself scream as I slid the rest of the way to the floor. The rending and burning became distant as I felt the support of the wood against my back and skull. A sudden calmness slid over me, and I merely watched in horrified fascination as the others came in and out of my field of vision, appearing and disappearing around some shining Muggle contraption sticking from my arm like a Quiddich pennant.

That was when the adder erupted from it, toppling the strange silver device in the process. I would have certainly screamed again at that, but I could no longer act at all.

Hermione however, vaulted backward, shrieking. The room erupted in a chaos that ended with Ron holding aloft a gory poker from the fireplace.

"Ron!" she was sobbing. I could hear her sniffling even if I could no longer see her.

'It's spiders I'm scared of, 'Mione. Snakes don't bother me a bit." He slammed the poker down once more for effect.

Then her face was above me once more, blocking the rest of the scene. There was gravity in her honey brown eyes.

"Venom! We need an anti-serum!"

In the back of my mind, I felt an echo of what was happening in Salisbury. My son was safe. That was enough. I relaxed against the boards and slipped from consciousness.

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"You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely."

"A Winter's Tale" (Act 1, Scene 1) Shakespeare.