"Why do I always have to read letters that are not for me," he muttered to himself, but read nevertheless. It was a lot of mindless dribble in his eyes, a lot of...family and honour and name and hope for good, healthy, wizarding children. And, almost as a postscript, the news that his mother had seemed to have emigrated to America and had re-married. Inconsiderate bastard.

As an actual postscript, there were tiny words, barely legible.

PS (he deciphered): I would like to come and visit you as soon as possibly to meet your future wife. If I don't hear anything contrary, I will present myself at your godfather's house next Sunday at noon.

Nothing else. Typically Lucius. Always making sure people knew but only if they could read his 'hasty' handwriting. He could and he had learned to read it a long time ago.

"Will you?" he asked, Hermione reading over his shoulder and he could almost feel her bubbling over with questions. Well, he had not told her yet of the newest development within the Malfoy family.

Draco shrugged. "Might as well but I'm telling you, I will make sure Aideen cannot get hurt by Lucius. And if I have to put her behind protective wards or heap protection-spells over her. I don't care. He won't get to her."

"Probably wise but I don't think he will hurt her."

"I could help," Hermione offered and Severus had to roll his eyes. Woman just didn't know when to shut up. "I could come over and just...it's a wand more."

"We'll see about that, Granger," hissed Draco but he Aideen's voice was louder than his and more insistent.

"I'd like that," she said at the same time that Draco spoke. "Not because I think I'll need protection but I don't think I want to be the only woman in the house."

"You will accept that protection," said Severus angrily. "And Hermione..."

"I will come over," she only said with a disarming sort of smile. "You know I can protect me and others. I didn't think I'd have to prove it anymore."

"You don't have to prove it," he hissed.

"Erm, so it's okay for you and you knew about mother. Interesting," Draco interrupted. "I suppose I'll come back over in the morning and...you can fill in the gaps that my father left. And I'll know to sleep with earplugs," he grimaced and nodded at Hermione and him. "Good night, you two. And Uncle Severus, thank you for not telling me," he added sarcastically, swung himself over the wall and vanished into the house .

"He didn't mean it," Aideen said softly as Draco had disappeared. "He was just shocked at his mother marrying again. Don't take it seriously. And I think he's a bit afraid of his father coming and..."

Severus grimaced. He didn't want to hear this. Instead, he felt a slight push against his back and was he twisted his head once more, Hermione was nudging her head towards the other house. Maybe, he thought, this was one instance where he had to listen to her. Even though he didn't really want to. But, the rationality inside of him told him, that this was the right way and he ignored Aideen who kept on chattering and chattering and instead, stepped away from the warm hand on his back and followed his godson over the wall and into the house.

"Draco!" he almost shouted in what was his most authoritative voice. "Draco. You come back here this instance!"

Nobody appeared. Of course he wouldn't. He wasn't a petulant child anymore. These days, he was a pouting, petulant adult. Almost adult. Severus sighed and made his way carefully through the house. It was unchanged. Still full of Eleanor and if he was honest with himself, he knew that he couldn't have lived in that house. Too much to remind him. Too much.

He found the boy sitting stiffly on his bed up in his room. Even that was unchanged.

"Draco," he said in his former-teacher-voice but the boy (and he was a boy still it seemed) didn't even flinch. He didn't look up either and so, with a long-suffering, melodramatic sigh, he sat down on the bed next to his godson.

"I'm missing out on some..."

"Some, yeah, you're missing out on some. Cast some bloody Silencing Charms," the boy spat.

"We will," he replied. "I was planning to tell you."

"You're planning on shagging Granger, that's all you were doing," he spat still, malice lacing his voice.

"I'm very close to hitting you now, Draco", threatened Severus.

"Why don't you?" the boy shouted.

"Because it won't help," he said with schooled calm. "I talked to your father indeed. I don't know what he is planning to do but he wasn't happy with the news of your mother's...new marriage and your plans to marry Aideen."

"If he lays one finger on her..."

"He will pay," Severus interrupted wisely. "And don't think you'll be the only one who will make him pay. I will also. But I honestly doubt he will."

"He hurt Mrs Callaghan," he cried out.

"I remember, Draco. But you and I both know that he was Imperiused..."

"He will would've done it."

"I don't doubt it," he was close to touching the boy's hands which were twitching on his thighs but he couldn't. He was demonstrative and only because he allowed Hermione to touch him and because he allowed himself to touch Hermione, didn't mean that anyone else should. "But he won't dare to hurt Aideen with me, and apparently, Hermione present. There is too much at stake for him."

"There's nothing at stake for him. Don't you see, Uncle Severus? He doesn't care anymore. I'm not his son anymore but some random relation and he even thinks he can pull the trick with the minute PS. I've seen him do it a thousand times."

"He underestimates you, godson. He always has. But I think I have an idea how you can effectively protect Aideen from any future harm and how you can pull your father back on your side," he said in a low voice.

"What? How?"

"Marry her," Severus smirked.

"I plan to and if you had paid attention to anything other but Granger..."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you," chided Severus. "And I do seem to remember well enough that you two got engaged. But this is not what I mean. What is that your father craves most in the world?"

"Money? Power? Insanity?"

He had to chuckle drily. "I agree with all three but he would only, under torture only, of course, agree to the first two. And who is in charge of the wizarding world? Remember, he still craves power only in the wizarding world. And only wizarding money."

"Gryffindors?" said Draco contemptuously.

"Yes. And half-bloods and Muggle-borns. It seems to be the political climate of the hour. Now you have an advantage."

"What? I'm not following," Draco looked at him and he was painfully reminded of a lost, little boy at Hogwarts. Surrounded only by Crabbe and Goyle who he was being told that they were not good enough to be decent friends but only...thugs.

"You do know a Gryffindor with a lot of connections to other Gryffindors and even the elite, if you will. Mind you, I am using elite in inverted commas. I still haven't decided yet whether they are or not and truthfully speaking, I do not want anything to do with them."

"Me neither. So what does it..."

"Stop interrupting me," he scolded.

"I'm not."

"You are. Now stop and listen. Marry Aideen and don't elope, don't make this a small wedding. Make sure you invite enough of Aideen's relatives — and she has enough — to make this a decent Muggle wedding and I will talk to Hermione and you will talk to Hermione. And you will talk to Potter and his flat-mate and you will send out invitations to Minerva McGonagall, to your other former teachers, to everyone in the wizarding world you know and who's been at least classified a blood traitor by...you know. My being there will ensure that they will come and they will all know how to dress like Muggles. By that, your father will..."

"See that my standing his bigger than his even though I'm marrying a Muggle."

"What did I say about interrupting? But yes, that is the general idea. He will try everything to get back into your good books again and then it is up to you to decide what you do. Tell him you can't meet on Sunday and make sure you have a date set as soon as possible. Yesterday, if possible. Send out those invitations and give him a chance to only see you there," he said with a smirk. He did enjoy a good plotting any day, it seemed.

"Are you okay?" Aideen asked, fishing a spare key, it seemed out of her pocket and opening Severus's back door.

"Yes, why?"

"Well, I don't know, just asking. I mean, you were out on a date, right?"

"We met Harry and Harry's new boyfriend, yes, why?" she asked, squinting.

"And you went in that?"

"If you go on about those shoes, I swear I'll kill you," Hermione hissed angrily. "I've heard enough of it. And if you complain about my lack of stockings or tights, I wear warming charms."

"But you haven't been together for long, I mean...I'm just saying."

"He was complaining about it, Harry was complaining about it, stop it. It's my problem what kind of shoes I wear, alright?"

"Hermione, I don't..." Aideen sighed and flopped down a kitchen chair. "I'm not saying anything okay?"

"He didn't like it either but...he was sort of paradox about it."

"Severus?" she nodded wisely. "He would be. Look, I don't know...Gran told me stuff about him which I'm not supposed to know and I know him and...he's grown to be more like my brother than my own brother. My own brother is an idiot by the way which isn't saying much. But...don't you want to be pretty around him?"

"What do you know about him?" Hermione asked curiously.

Aideen shrugged. "What he does, he does with completely. There are no half things for him. It's either completely — or nothing at all. That all or nothing thing. He had this thing with a lecturer, Gran said but she wasn't even sure if it was a thing or not but I suppose that didn't come out for anything but...Gran said, when he arrived here, he painted his house at night. He got the whole house in top shape within a few days. And it was a hovel, I'm told. I wouldn't know, I'm only relying on me gran's opinion. But seriously, if he's in a relationship with you..."

"We haven't established that it's a relationship yet," she shrugged.

"If he brings you here, it's a relationship. He didn't do it with that professor anyway. As I said, if he's in a relationship with you, he will possibly want you...completely. No sharing. He is that way. If he talked to Gran, I got the glare when I interrupted. The only exception was right after I was...you know, you were there. If he talked to me or Gran, or if he talks to me, most of the time, he is focused on me. He doesn't do things half-heartedly and I don't think...oh, what am I saying? I'm not someone to give advice but I think I can understand the paradox you were talking about..."

"He wanted me to wear stockings and heels but then it felt like he didn't want anyone to see my legs at all."

"You do have pretty legs," she said, then grinned, "she said, jealously. Seriously, Hermione. Of course he wants to see the legs but he doesn't want anyone else to notice that you've got pretty legs. It's a male thing, I'm told. Well, I know, over there. First it's 'will you marry me', then Gran dies, then it's not quite marriage, then it's jealousy because you and Severus...do it, and now it's wedding as soon as possible. I don't know whether I'm coming or going and I don't suppose you feel any different. But girlie, one thing. This one is worth keeping. Severus was there for me when nobody else could give me any kind of security. And if he acts a bit possessively, just let him know that you're his."

"I try," Hermione replied, defeatedly. Just what she had thought as well.

"Do more than just try," Aideen shrugged. "He is worth it, I tell you. I love Draco and I wouldn't want to change him for anyone but if you have Severus, you won't have to worry about anything for the rest of your life. He is the most reliable person — after me Gran — that I know. And that is worth so much," she cocked her head to the side. "Besides, if he went out with you in those boots, he really must like you."

She grinned then walked around the table to Hermione and gave her a hesitant hug. "If you want to talk about this — I know you don't have any girlfriends really — just come over. I have the advantage of knowing both Severus and you."

98. Informative Signals

A person listening to you may become informed about you via a number of signals which you have not intentionally sent. She may not that you have a cold (you sneezed), that you aren't at ease (you shifted around in your seat), that you are untidy (unbrushed hair, rumbled clothing), hat you are disorganised (non-matching socks), and that you are from some other part of the country (you have a strange accent). However, when you use language to tell this person, "I would like to apply for the vacant position of senior brain surgeon at the hospital," you are normally considered to be intentionally communicating something.

(Yule, 1985)

Aideen Mary Callaghan and Draco Abraxas Malfoy

invite you to join them at the celebration of their marriage

on Saturday, the fifteenth of December two thousand and one at four o'clock in the afternoon at St Mary Magdalene's Church in Eccles.

Reception to follow at The Waterside.

The favour of a reply is expected before the tenth of December.

Muggle Clothing required.

It had been a long time since Minerva McGonagall had to sit down upon receiving some post. This was one instance where she felt the need for some Firewhiskey and a sit down. Her deductive skills, however, were as sharp as ever and since she had never heard of an Aideen Mary Callaghan and since Mugle Clothing required had been added to the invitation — written by hand — just above their signatures, she supposed that this was a Muggle wedding and Aideen Mary Callaghan a Muggle. Imagine that — and the cause for another strong urge for Firewhiskey. Draco Malfoy marrying a Muggle. She had to think whether she wanted to go but the chance seemed immense to see at least Snape and that, she wanted to do.

Molly Weasley had been charming some needles to knit a new jumper for little Teddy when the owl arrived and afterwards, the needles had done anything but knit a new baby-jumper. The needles jumped around and across the fireplace and seemed to shriek when Molly yelled.

"Arthur!"

Her husband appeared almost immediately, thinking that there was an emergence, possibly because his wife's voice only ever reached that sort of pitch if she was angry or scared but there was nothing but a wedding invitation.