The Lion and the Serpent

January, 1997

Words tumbled out of the prophetess' mouth, fueled by the sweet liquid she held to her mouth.

"A long time ago, after the Romans had glimpsed the shores of Britain but before William conquered all - a school was founded in a quiet corner on an unquiet country. Founded by four friends, loyal and intelligent, brave and ambitious. At first there was peace, but in all things - conflict arose between Godric, lord of courage and Salazar, lord of cunning. Harsh blows and harsher words sealed a feud of hate. A feud only true love could halt. Birthing red, black and blond haired children - from the first glimpse true passion, from the first words true fate. A marriage. A few - five?" a giggle fell from red stained lips.

Green eyes blinked confusedly as a black haired head turned toward her.

"You say something, Lav?" Pavrati asked, leafing through Witch Weekly as she swirled the red wine in her glass.

Lavender crinkled her nose and took a long drink of her own wine. "I dunno - I don't remember actually." She shrugged. "Well, must not've been that important."

September 1981

Charlie (or as he preferred to think of himself, CHARLES, as it sounded much more grown up) was pouting. He hadn't got to ride in the boat. His older brother Bill, lording over him all summer just because he was 13 and Charlie was only 11, had told him about a magical boat ride all the first years took across the lake when they first arrived at Hogwarts. Charlie hadn't got to ride on a boat, they had been shepherded quickly into carriages when the Hogwarts Express had pulled into Hogsmeade.

If Charlie had thought about it, he perhaps may have been perturbed by the dozen or so Aurors hovering around the crowd of children unloading off the train. If Charlie had managed to stay awake past 9:30, he might've heard his father floo home at quarter to 12 the night before and might've heard his father's urgent whispers to his mother. Of a Dark Lord very much still at large, and the family of wizards who had been his victims that evening, and the small toddler left all alone. Charlie might've remembered the Longbottoms, the smiling couple who always greeted him gaily when they saw he and his family in Diagon Alley and remembered the now orphaned Neville whom he had glimpsed sleeping in the pram.

But Charlie was 11. And very angry he had not gotten to go on a boat. By the time he and his companions in the carriage, seeming to be drawn by nothing, he had decided quite firmly that Bill had lied to him and would be sending a letter home tattling on his older brother.

It was only when he came to this decision that he turned to the girl sitting next to him on the bench.

She was staring out the window and gave a quiet, "Oh!" when the carriage turned and Hogwarts was suddenly there, rising above the mists of the lake.

She turned to him and her long black braid swung around, tied with a silver ribbon that shone in the moonlight. "Isn't it lovely?"

"It's certainly big," Charlie agreed gravely.

"My brother, well half-brother, told me all about it. He says it'll be the best years of my life." Her black eyes were wide.

"My older brother told me about it too. Though he said there'd be boats."

She looked faintly puzzled. "So did mine actually. Well, Randolph hasn't been at Hogwarts for ages so maybe there aren't any anymore."

Charlie considered that. "You may be right."

She cocked her head towards him. "What's your name?"

"Charles Weasley," he replied promptly.

Her brow crinkled. "Weasleys. I don't think I've heard of the Weasleys. Are you ..." her voice dropped, "Muggleborn?"

Charlie gave her an odd look. "No. We've been around for a long time. I'm the seventh generation to attend Hogwarts, and we've all been in Gryffindor."

She gave a little sniff. "We've been attending for 9 generations - and Zabinis are ALWAYS in Slythern - at least, that's what Randolph says. I'm Helen Zabini by the way." She held out her hand primly and Charlie took it gingerly.

"It's nice to meet you," he said seriously.

He was later informed, after the Welcoming Feast where he had been predictably sorted into Gryffindor, that he wasn't to see the girl with the pretty black braid again. Bill had told him with all the authority of a third year, that Slytherins were the very worst sort - especially ones like the Zabinis. Though he still doubted the boats, Bill's words had held such weight all of Charlie's life that he had quietly accepted them. He tried not to think about the glow of the ribbon or the look in her eyes. Or how as the years passed and they both grew, how nicely Helen Zabini - a popular and powerful Slytherin by her 6^th year - filled out her uniform, her long smooth legs exposed by the short skirts she preferred. She was a Slytherin, and Gryffindors barely had civil words for Slytherins, much less dated them - so Charlie never spoke to her again at Hogwarts, a feeling of faint regret falling over him on the last train ride home after he had graduated and he caught a glimpse of sharp black eyes framed by long dark lashes watching him.

August 2002

The sunshine was like honey draped over the stone terrace, filled with tables holding laughing people in the late afternoon light. Many women held lace parasols, but more as a statement rather than protection, dyed to match their colourful summer dresses. It was everything a wedding should be, reflected the groom as he sat back in his seat, one arm draped along the shoulders of his new bride.

Harry laughed at a joke Ron was telling across the table, but more at when Hermione smacked their friend on the arm for the rather lewd ending. "Ron! Not around my unborn child if you please!" she ran a languid hand over her curved middle, turning the parasol her husband insisted she carry at all times today above her head. Harry shared a sardonic glance with her said husband, dark green eyes meeting black.

"Good call on buying those baby books from that muggle store, old man."

The 'old man' as Harry called him rolled his eyes. "Yes well, I'll extend them along should Pansy somehow find herself expecting again after the honeymoon." Severus replied, twisting one of his wife's chestnut curls around a strong finger.

Harry shook his head. "I think not - we're going to try to keep it to every two years. I can't imagine more than ONE baby right now."

Severus shook his head. "You may not, but when it happens - it always feels right, no matter the timing."

Speaking of timing, the tower that Severus' eldest had been building with blocks on the warmed stone next to the table chose that moment to topple and Sebastian cried in startlement. Hermione turned from her continuing lecture to Ron and Blaise to open her arms for her son to run to. When Sebastian was settled she extended a hand to caress the hair of the child sleeping in Ron's partners' arms, the small girl thoroughly exhausted by the day while her twin continued to run and play. Eleanor Zabini was a thorough mix of Zabini and Weasley with her dark hair and freckles scattered across her nose, and very much the girl of both her Papas, as she lay from Ron's lap into Blaise's strong embrace.

Harry turned his gaze out to the crowd of about 100, he didn't know real numbers - he had left that to his wife, to search for his own daughter. Last he had seen, Ginny Malfoy had been showing her off to some old House mates, her newly announced pregnancy not quite apparent. Harry followed Draco's, seated across the table, possessive gaze to spot her a few tables away, indeed still carrying Harry's own little April, content in her god-mother's arms.

The Malfoy's son was playing with his Zabini counterpart under a shady tree not too far away but they were only two of many children present that day.

Harry felt a deep sense of happiness and fulfilment this day, a great deal because the woman next to him. His lopsided grin caught Pansy's attention and she turned her head to grace him with a soft kiss on his cheek.

"It's perfect, isn't it?" she murmured. "All our family, friends..." Well, mostly and her words evoked images of the two who should have been at their time - their sacrifice paid to bring peace and this afternoon.

Harry caught her hand in his and raised it to his lips. "It is perfect, love."

Slytherin and Gryffindor - perfect, happy, in love. It near boggled the mind when he thought how it had all happened and he started to remember.....