Rating:
PG-13
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Severus Snape
Genres:
Drama Romance
Era:
Multiple Eras
Stats:
Published: 09/08/2003
Updated: 02/17/2004
Words: 13,076
Chapters: 4
Hits: 2,539

Wait for Me

Pianolion

Story Summary:
What if Bill wasn't the first-born Weasley? Somewhere in Muggle America, the waiting is almost over - a love will be discovered, and a prophecy fulfilled. She was born to fight the Dark Side, but what attracts her to it as well?

Chapter 03

Chapter Summary:
In which Voldemort has plans for a certain double-crosser, poor Ron can't do anything right, and Bill gets a clue or three.
Posted:
02/17/2004
Hits:
514


The last, faint echoes of her dying scream hung in the hair, and he exhaled in satisfaction.

Delicious.

"Take it away," he ordered lazily, caressing his wand with a light touch. "Make it look good for the family."

His attendant leapt to obey, swathed in black except for wrists and ankles. He did not see him depart with the body, already lost in thought.

A pity she hadn't lasted a bit longer. The Department of Mysteries employee had denied any knowledge of more prophecies relating to himself; perhaps she was right, but time and a little patience usually yielded up more fruitful results. And after the incident at the Department last year he was taking no chances at all.

Hardbottle had sounded such a fool all those years ago, raving about Trelawney's speech at a Hogwarts faculty meeting, babbling about music, of all things! How he was expected to believe anything that old biddy might have to say was beyond him.

It was enough for him, now, to faintly regret doing away with such an excellent spy because of sheer annoyance. But such was life.

Then not two months gone, it reached his ears again...the faint rumor of such a prophecy's existence, another one that seemed aimed squarely at him, and he was more than irritated at the lack of answers thus far.

For where there was prophecy, that blasted Dumbledore was sure to be hovering nearby, meddling in affairs no concern of his. And there was the little matter of Snape.

He has almost outlived his usefulness to me...all his information has led absolutely nowhere!

He ground his sharp teeth, bit into the flesh, tasted the metallic fluid flowing down his throat. Licking his lips almost lovingly, he considered for a moment the possibility of treachery. He was ever slippery and watchful, even when just a tadpole of a Slytherin...never weighing in or choosing sides until victory was all but assured - but ah, does he enjoy our little get-togethers. I shall have a surprise for him when next we meet...just to be certain...

Voldemort leaned back in his high-backed chair with a long sigh.

Soon. Quite soon.

He crooked a long finger at the shadowy figures waiting by the hall entrance. He heard the broken weeping and allowed himself a small, eager smile.

"Next."

"Hermione! Hey, Harry!" Ron dropped his bags to hug his friends. "When'd you get here?"

"Just a few minutes ago," Hermione said breathlessly through the three-way hug. "I was running a little late but Harry was all ready to go when I got there..."

"She means I was already kicked out," Harry interpreted with a grin. "The Dursleys went to the coast today, left nice and early."

"Those gits," Ron said with feeling but no real surprise.

"Don't worry, Ron - didn't bother me at all, with it being so sunny and all. I had your Quidditch World to read anyway..."

"Yeah, I got an extra copy by mistake and thought you'd like it..."

The trio's voices faded as they made their way up to Ron' room with his packages from Diagon Alley, and Mrs. Weasley watched them go.

"Look at them - they're inseparable," she said fondly.

"Now don't get all weepy on us, Mum," George said from a table in the living room where he and his twin were hunched over secretly.

"Or if you are, just let us know in advance," added Fred in the same breath, eyes fixed on the table.

Mrs. Weasley looked over at the twins with eyebrows raised, and they looked at her with innocent expressions. She opened her mouth but apparently thought better of it and simply rolled her eyes to the heavens.

"Merlin help me..." she muttered and took over the knitting needles from their own work in midair, apparently deciding to ignore the mysterious activities. She settled into the chair with a sigh, then glanced up at a silent Bill, still standing in the foyer.

"Need something, dear?"

"Ah, no Mum..." He tugged on his ponytail unconsciously. "I'm fine." For lack of anything better to do, he sat in the plaid easy-chair across the room and picked up an old Daily Prophet from atop the stack on the floor.

He couldn't read the words however; he couldn't focus for the life of him. He could still hear the music, so sad, so familiar to...his ears?

Ridiculous, he snorted inwardly. Nobody else heard what I heard, if it was even there to begin with. Ron probably thinks I've gone mad...or desperately in love...

But it wasn't that either. Merlin knew he had had his share of affairs, clever and pretty witches all, but he had never had the desire to settle down like so many of his old classmates were doing. There had never been a spark, a fire, someone Bill could connect with without words or petty gestures, something he could barely admit he wanted, even to himself. Yet, when he had looked at that Muggle girl, there was a connection, oh yes, but something he could barely describe in words, and nothing to do with attraction. It was recognition, it was amazement, it was finding what had been lost, it was...home. That was it. And the damn feeling wasn't fading; oh no. In fact, it was getting stronger by the damn minute.

I don't bloody know any bloody Muggles! Bill snarled to himself. It's got to be some weird kind of magic...should have paid more attention in Charms, that's what it's got to be...

Bill's eyes squeezed shut, the paper forgotten in his lap. Fred looked over briefly, grinned, and whispered, "Looks like Ronnie wore the old man out," to his twin. Identical smirks were cast in his direction before they settled back down to business.

He took several deep breaths, trying to still his whirling thoughts...and out of the chaos one casually surfaced that made Bill's eyes pop back open.

Magic...from a Muggle? Maybe she's like Hermione, a Muggle who can learn. No...yes...who the hell knows, anyway?

He saw her identification card in his mind again, her face unnaturally still for the Muggle photo. There had been something stranger than her birthdate on that card, something bugging the hell out of him...

The twins and Mrs. Weasley looked up, startled, as Bill sprang out of his chair with an unintelligible mutter and grabbed his cloak.

"Bill? What?" his mother said, half-rising from her own seat.

"Nothing, Mum, got to go, won't be long, later!" came the rush of words.

"But you're still in your -"... pop...

"Muggle clothes," his mother finished in resignation.

The twins looked at each other, at Mrs. Weasley's worried face, and shrugged. Bending back to the ingredient list for the latest batch of Weasley Worms, George remarked, "What did he say, anyway? I mean, at the beginning?"

"Don't know..." Fred's face was screwed up in concentration as he added "beetle wings" to his own list. Clattering noises came from the stairs and Ron and his friends appeared, on their way to the kitchen to fix a snack. A few seconds later Fred said absently, "Sounded something like...Aberforth."

"Yeah." Ron leaned against a cabinet with a grin. "That's the Muggle girl Bill was bewitched by this morning!"

"Oh REALLY?" George said, straightening up with interest.

"True love, I tell you," his brother continued, warming to the tale. Harry and Hermione continued into the kitchen, obviously already in the know. "He's been spaced out ever since...on a redhead, of all things. They literally ran into each other by the Underground, but she was on the train and the doors were closing by the time they saw each other. We found her money-holder on the ground with her name in it."

"How romantic!" sighed Ginny from the kitchen and poked her head around the corner, dishrag in hand. Harry reached over to pop a soap bubble caught on her fuzzy shirt, and she swiped his arm with the rag, giggling. "So where'd Bill go?"

"No clue," George put in, "but I'll bet you a Galleon he went back to the scene of the crime."

"Yeah, sure..."

"I'm serious, a Galleon..."

"Well I wouldn't be surprised if he did, he's completely taken in my opinion," Ron concluded, unfolding his arms and starting toward the kitchen. With a twin-like smirk, he added over his shoulder, "Miriam Weasley has such a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"RON!"

The Weasleys, Harry and Hermione turned in shock at Mrs. Weasley's tone and saw her ashen face.

"What did you say?" she whispered, rising and fixing her son with a frightened gaze.

"What, Mum?" he asked nervously.

"The name, Ron!" she said desperately, advancing upon the boy, who was cautiously backing into a corner, once again very confused.

"Er...Miriam Weasley?"

Thump.

"Mum!!"

"Mrs. Weasley!"

"Molly!"

And Mr. Weasley ran to his wife - none of them had heard him Apparating into the house.

"She just passed out, Dad," Ron said worriedly, chafing her wrists. "I didn't know Mum was the type."

"She isn't, normally." Mr. Weasley frowned. "Get me a bit of Ogden's, Fred - Ginny, grab that pillow for her head, dear. Now give her some room, kids, she'll be up and around in just a minute - thanks, Fred. Molly, take a whiff of this..." he held the jelly glass up to her nose, then took his finger and put a bit to her lips. Her eyelids fluttered and she gave a little cough.

"There you go, love."

"Mum, are you okay?"

"She's fine, Ron, don't be upset..."

"Oh, she's sitting up!" Hermione clutched Harry's arm in relief.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes focused on her husband.

"Arthur," she said quietly, "help me up, please." He did so, and she settled back in her chair. She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, everyone," she said apologetically to the anxious group, "don't worry, I feel just fine. I...don't know what came over me," she said, cheeks flushing, "I..." And she looked at Ron suddenly, who grimaced in shame.

"Mum, I didn't mean to upset you; I was just teasing Bill..."

"It's all right, dear. You couldn't have known... now, does anyone know where Bill went?"

"No, Mum, he just said he'd be back soon..." She nodded and gave Ron a reassuring smile.

"Well, I'm sorry for scaring everyone, but I'm perfectly well. Actually, I just need a little nap is all, I haven't gotten much sleep of late..."

Mrs. Weasley rose from her chair, wobbling, and the twins grabbed her by either arm.

"Come on Mum, let's tuck you in..."

"I'll get you some tea, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione dashed into the kitchen with Ginny on her heels.

That left Ron, Harry and Mr. Weasley in the living room, staring at each other quizzically.

"So what, exactly, did you say to your mother?" Mr. Weasley finally said in a mild tone of voice.

"All I was doing was making fun of Bill, Dad...he ran into this girl this morning and they couldn't keep their eyes off each other. It was by the Underground, and a Muggle girl dropped her money-holder, but the train took off with her on it before we could do anything."

"And?"

Ron shrugged. "The only other thing I said was her name, how funny it would be if they got married and there was a Miriam Weasley..."

His father stood there for a long moment; he opened his mouth but nothing came out and he rubbed his nose as if he had an itch. Finally he said in a tight voice,

"Of course, Ron, I understand now. Don't worry about a thing. Just go and...do whatever you were doing..." With a vague wave of his hand, Mr. Weasley turned and strode into the hall and out of sight toward his bedroom.

Harry shook his head as Ron collapsed onto his mother's chair with a loud groan of despair.

"What did I bloody do? Mum AND Dad are upset now..."

"I don't know, Ron," Harry said slowly, "but...do you know what she meant by 'you couldn't have known'?"

"Not a clue," came the puzzled answer.

The Great Hall seemed emptier than ever, two days before the students were to arrive for another school year. Without them, he reflected with a touch of amusement, even Peeves seems hard pressed these days to find something to do.

"Have some potatoes, Minerva."

"Why thank you, Albus." The Transfiguration professor seemed lost in her own thoughts as she spooned out a helping.

They were the only ones in the dining room; most faculty members preferred eating lunch privately in their quarters, or on the run while preparing for classes - in fact, many of the staff were quite frantically preparing their classrooms for the start of term at that very moment, which more accurately explained the staff's lunch absence.

Dumbledore nodded to Sir Nicholas as he swept by importantly, and the ghost saluted in return by tipping his head slightly. It was unusually bright in the Hall that afternoon; sunny days were few and far between this time of year and the enchanted ceiling gave forth thick sunbeams that lazily shined on the house seals and suits of armor decorating the room. One of the suits broke into a sudden sneezing fit as an errant beam passed across its helm.

She's packing right now, I would imagine...It shouldn't take her too long to do it, either.

He smiled to himself, remembering time after time when he would show up in New Orleans or Charleston or the East Tennessee mountains or wherever she happened to live at the moment, ready to take her to yet another protected location in America. The country was the perfect hiding place - free enough to go where you wanted, varied enough to spend a lifetime exploring, big enough to swallow you whole if that was what you needed (a little gold spent here and there didn't hurt either). Sometimes Jan would follow them immediately, and sometimes she'd stay behind awhile to settle old accounts, to reassure old friends that yes, of course they'd see them soon, very soon, before once again dropping off the face of the earth.

And each time, Miriam would simply look up at him from the floor where she was sprawled with a book, or from the piano she would practice for hours on end, give a little sigh, and say, "Where to, Albus?"

What a life for a child.

But she never really seemed to mind all the moves, even before he explained why they had to be done - and if Miriam actually did care, she kept her thoughts well hidden. Scene after scene of them stepping out the door, off on another adventure, rolled through Dumbledore's mind. When she was little she had always wanted to hold his hand, everywhere they went, as if to keep him by her side by force...then she informed him solemnly at the age of twelve that she was "too old for that". But every time, even as she grew into a woman, he felt a small hand slip into his as they walked away from another house. And she never did look back.

"Out with it."

"Hmmmm?"

"You could never hide things from me, you know." Professor McGonagall gently poked him in the ribs to punctuate her point. "Something is bothering you."

"No, I'm not bothered, just...preoccupied," Dumbledore sighed. Thank Merlin it's almost over -

Crash.

"What in blazes?" Minerva said, rising from her chair. The sound of footsteps grew louder and the massive hall doors swung open with a sonorous boom, drowning out the witch's gasp.

Dumbledore closed his eyes at the look on the man's face.

So he knows. But how?

"Bill Weasley!" McGonagall thundered. "Were you raised in a barn?"

"Sorry, Professor," he replied absently, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore, "but I need to speak to the Headmaster about something very important."

McGonagall made as if to rise but Dumbledore covered her hand with his own.

"Please stay, Minerva," he said quietly. "You'll know soon enough at any rate."

She looked at him for a long moment; then her eyes shifted to Bill and her eyes widened in sudden understanding. Her hand trembled under his briefly, then she drew it away and folded both in her lap.

"What do you need to know, Bill?" the old wizard finally asked.

The red-haired man took a deep breath.

"Who is Miriam Aberforth?"

Dumbledore waited for the space of a heartbeat, what seemed an eternity.

It has begun, now.

"She is your twin sister," he said simply.

Bill's breath let out in an ungraceful whoosh, and he groped behind him for a chair, collapsing into it just in time and bowing his head. The hall seemed quieter than ever at that moment, waiting, listening.

After a few seconds Bill looked up.

"I know," he whispered. "Somehow I've always known...there was always a space within me..."

At that Minerva reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes but he continued on, words almost spilling from his lips,

"But Mum and Dad? Do they know? Why couldn't they have told us? Why did she have to leave?"

"I will tell you what I can, Bill," Dumbledore said gently and rose. He reached for the boy and drew him up with him. Minerva rose as well, watching her former pupil carefully.

"Very soon all will be in the open, but you know as well as I what risks there are these days, who might be listening, even unintentionally. All that has been done has been for a purpose, I swear to you."

"I understand," Bill said distantly. They started toward the doors. Halfway there he stopped and faced Dumbledore. His eyes held something new, a sad comprehension, realization of something lost.

I didn't know they looked so alike, the old wizard thought numbly. I never let myself see the pain in her eyes...

"I do understand," came his wondering voice, a stronger voice. "It's Order business, isn't it?"

"Yes, my boy...she is at the heart of it all. And for twenty-five years her existence has been unknown...for twenty-five years, your family has been safe."

Only another heartbeat, a moment lasting forever, then -

"Tell me everything. Tell me what I have to do."