At the Henge

At the Henge

Finally the last student of Salazar's Academy had found and activated his Portkey and was gone. Severus, who had carried a slim bag to breakfast, bent over to his wife, bringing his mouth close to her ear without touching it. "Hurry up; take a cloak and sturdy shoes. We are leaving for a trip." When she returned, he met her half way, took her elbow and steered her out of the house before the headmistress could stop them. He embraced her as if in a sudden romantic need, which worked rather well to keep off his colleagues, but instead of the expected caress, Ginny felt the familiar squashing of Side-Along-Apparition.

A stiff salty wind greeted her. "Where are we?"

Instead of a reply Severus quickly pushed a round paper weight into her hand. The world around her disappeared, as she felt the well-known pull behind her navel.

The new ground beneath their feet was a mix of rock and muddy puddles. They had landed in a deep ditch, which Ginny estimated at more than three yards deep.

Ordering, "Wait here, I won't be long," Severus donned a cloak he retrieved from his bag and walked up the brink. Ginny climbed up far enough so she could see and then followed him with her eyes. He approached a henge! Its menacing, tall stones glistered in the morning light. Ginny clutched her wand and didn't dare move farther. A strangely eerie feeling of lingering magic took a hold of her. The place didn't feel normal. Its magic had nothing protective; it was not reassuring at all. Very likely the ditch went all around the henge, Ginny thought and searched Severus out again. With his dark clothes and hair, he fitted so well into the gloomy scenery that Ginny felt goosebumps erupt on her skin.

His wand drawn, Severus circled once inside the ring of stones, sending spells in both directions: red fizzling ones to the centre, and invisible but humming ones outwards. The latter spells resulted in more stones being added to those already there. In the end, Ginny counted sixty tall stones towering over Severus' figure. He remained inside the ring and met with some indistinguishable figures. They were a lot smaller than Severus and sported long noses and ears similar to elves, but their bodies were of a sturdier build and they moved with self-confidence. Could this one be Flitwick? No, she decided, all these persons moved differently than her old Charms teacher.

Was it Dark Magic she felt? An ancient magic, which was not taught any more? Or was it non-human magic from the creatures over there? A shudder ran through her, in a mix of fright and cold. Here, in the humid, misty morning air, Mrs Nott's old cloak was damp and clung around her, unsuited to keeping her warm. She glanced over to Severus, who was easy to identify in the group, since he was by far the tallest one. The way he gesticulated, he seemed to have some trouble getting his wish.

Minutes later, Severus returned and noticed how she was shaking. "It is all right, no reason to be frightened."

"There's strange magic here, and I'm cold, too," she explained, her teeth confirming the latter.

Quickly, Severus turned and shouted towards the henge, "Wait a moment." He crossed over once again and had another discussion with gestures supporting his words. Knowing Severus, this was most peculiar.

He shuffled along the corridor to the room where she worked. Unwilling, as well as unable, to reach the handle of the door, he simply willed it open and entered maybe four steps. There he halted to get an overview. She was concentrating hard on a gemstone-crusted oblong crate that stood on a post in the centre of the spacious room. To make sure the intruder wouldn't disturb her, she had lifted her hand in a stalling gesture. As if he would! He was her senior manager, of course. Yet, her work was more important than tolling him respect at the wrong moment.

Her forehead shone with sweat that irritated his sensitive nose already; her brows were furrowed as she muttered yet another spell. Not loud, but he could see her full concentration. Observing her, he wondered, not for the first time, about the human sense of beauty. Her ears were small and lay always equally flat against her head—almost as if non-existent. How difficult it was for the young of his kind to interpret human emotions! How could that be considered beautiful? Her hair was fair, almost white and didn't show the tiniest of curls. The pale skin on her forearms and head didn't show a single spot, colour, wart, or anything that could catch the eye. She had nothing that made her outstanding. Equally, her nose was neither long, as he liked them, nor pointed enough. Yet, among his human subordinates, her husband was considered the luckiest person in the world to have caught her. Ironfist was pleased with her magical abilities, oh yes. But beauty?

The left joint of the crate buckled. She slowly moved her flawless, highly polished rosewood wand over to the right joint, which buckled soon after its neighbour. With a creaking sound, the lid of the crate opened, but the young woman wasn't fooled, Ironfist was certain of it. It would not reveal its treasures that easily, as she had learned in her two years as a Curse Breaker. She cast a stasis charm, went over to a standing-desk and quickly noted down how she had reached this state.

Returning to her task, she greeted him, "Maître Ironfist," thankfully without the irritating human habit of baring the tips of their teeth. He was equally thankful that she was a woman and remained standing where she was. Encountering a male Curse Breaker in the afternoon was torture to every goblin's nose.

"Mrs Weasley, I see you are proceeding. Could you, however, stop early today and meet me in less than fifteen minutes?"

"Eet ees no problem, sir. Do you want me to come een your office?"

"If you would. The sooner we start our special task, the sooner we are finished."

With these words the goblin left her. She removed the stasis charm that would have worn off within seconds anyway. A series of curse-detection spells made the lid of the crate flicker red; then the front with the already broken lock was bathed in a greenish halo. The next spell had no effect at all. She frowned. Had the crate been clear, she would have heard a hiss. Had there been a severe curse, the hiss would have been modulated and damped into a groan of sorts. But nothing? She took a look at the inner roof of the domed lid.

With a sharp snap, the lid closed, barely missing her nose. She, for one, was glad it wasn't longer.

"Eush..." she exclaimed and rushed over to her notes to jot down how to approach it next time. Deciding that she could not summon the energy for repeating the two joint de-frosting spells today, she stacked her notes and left to meet with her superior. It was past dark already, and her day would end in less than an hour. What can he want at this time of the day? She wasn't opposed to the idea of doing overtime, but this week it came most untimely.

"Mrs Weasley, will you crack our precious nut?"

"I got closair, Maître Ironfist. The lid closed itself with what I identified to be a timing spell," she told him, wiping her face with a white kerchief. "You indicated you had anozzer task for me today?"

"We both have, Mrs Weasley. We are to meet a client. An important client, I dare say."

"A client? Oh la la! I'm not een the state to visit a client, sir. I would need to..." She looked down at her damp, wrinkled clothes that clung to her sweaty body. Considering his delicate olfactory-buds, she was surprised this high manager had received her in such a state at all. Normally the goblins held meeting with humans in the morning and avoided the curse-breakers' working rooms after lunch.

Ragnok entered, but kept himself in the background.

"Indeed. We'd do well not to disappoint him," Ironfist answered, waving his spindly index finger as if to scold her. Then he pointed at her. "Our client has specifically asked for you."

"For me? 'Ere in Eengland? This ees most unexpecteed. What can I do for 'im? Or 'er?"

"You are to identify his wife."

"Someone I know! Anozzer French woman!?" She got so excited, she almost forgot herself and smiled at him. Maybe it was worth a little overtime?

Ragnok growled, "I'm afraid not."

Her superior's response dampened Fleur's enthusiasm on the spot. She knew that his horizontal, forward-tilted ears indicated empathy, but this only enforced her disappointment.

"But I assume you will be very happy indeed." With these words Ironfist hopped from his high chair and went to the door. "Please freshen up. We need to buy clothes according to our client's wishes for you to wear. Meet me in twenty minutes at the back exit. It will be an exciting night."

Une soirée excitante? Our task will take the whole night, or at least considerable parts of it? Fleur was not pleased. In the week before Bill had to prepare himself for the full moon, he was most anxious to have her home. She had already carefully asked if she could possibly work less in these days and compensate during the three days he would transform and once again run wild, but the bank had not been co-operative. Goblins showed just as much prejudice against werewolves as wizards. Bill had lost his job immediately. Ironfist, the department manager, and Ragnok, her direct boss, had needed all their influence to keep her at all.

Severus finally returned to Ginny. "All is set. We will return here at half past five." Not waiting for an answer, he took her elbow and Apparated her again.

"Severus, you are so lucky Frank knocked over all the porridge off our table and I hardly got any breakfast," she complained, now feeling sick in addition to frightened and cold. "Why did you have to mix Apparition and Portkey?"

"In here, then," he muttered briskly, visibly perturbed by her moan.

He steered her into a cosy little pub and ordered with the bored man behind the counter. "Two full breakfasts. Bring us a bit of everything you have, please. Tea with milk and sugar."

Soon they relaxed in the warmth of a humming and crackling fire. It was a Muggle place, and since most of the locals were at work, nobody cared much for the pair enjoying quiet conversation and an extensive brunch. They had been served a small, sweet 'breakfast trout' from Loch Harray as well as a variety of local farmhouse cheeses, one of which was a rich, soft cheese that somehow still tasted of the cow. Another one was smoked and a bit crumbly and had been introduced as Grimbister Farm Cheese. It was served with bere bannocks.

Seeing her tuck in, Severus assumed his witch did not miss the runny porridge of the Academy any more than he did.

He shortly told her, "Generally I prefer Apparition; however, as I'm sure you are aware, it's unwise to attempt to travel across open water by Apparition."

"We passed over the sea? Orkney?"

"Yes."

She visibly worked her brain at that confirmation. "A huge henge on a small ridge between two waters: Ring o' Brodgar?"

"Indeed," Severus replied, surprised she had recognised the location.

"Wow!"

She looked up, excited, but turning to him, the expression on her face changed to annoyed. "Don't goggle at me like a fish, Severus. I do know a few things. Fred and George plan to... ah, maybe you don't want to know."

Severus considered her a while and decided that yes, he would indeed prefer not to know.

A group of men arrived around noon. They sat at the bar, ordering crab sandwiches or other local food. Then they engaged in a conversation.

Soon the pair turned silent and paid close attention to the debate at the bar. How come several people have had such similar dreams? All saw dark, hooded men and women with silver masks walking around the old henge as if in rituals. Some people reported that in their dreams the hooded figures had also worshipped the Comet Stone, an isolated menhir close to the henge.

"The first one might have watched a horror video and dreamed about it. The rest just picked it up and wanted to be important," a man in oily dungarees declared. "Look at those people who report these dreams, none of them is a hard-working farmer or fisher. Most are—" he snorted "—artists."

"The doctor reported a dream of his daughter, though. He's a highly educated man."

"Townsfolk from The Mainland," the first said dismissively.

Ginny caught Severus' attention and held his gaze. "A Muggle newspaper should report this. The Ministry could be prompted into action," she murmured.

"Muggle women accept the unexplainable easier than men. You go over and suggest this!"

"Excuse me, sir, did I hear this correctly, there are unexplainable mystical spectres here? This is most exciting, sir." Ginny addressed the man, while the proprietor was close. Severus put up a bored, disbelieving face. "Yes, Tobias," she turned back to him, ignoring his flinch. "They should have a reporter coming over. Certainly many people would be interested."

"No, thank you, Missy, we don't need those nosy newspaper folk over here," the first man told her.

"They drag photographers along," another continued, "and in their wake all kinds of... esoteric fools come and run around in our fields and disturb our cattle in what they call an adventure holiday."

Seemingly disappointed, Ginny shrugged and returned to her seat, but inwardly she smirked how clearly the glint in the innkeeper's eye revealed his smelling business.

For dessert they were served a huge bowl of strawberry and rhubarb fowl and local fudges. The proprietor was a bit disappointed that they would not taste any Orcadian wine made from local products. Finally, Severus tasted some and bought a small bottle of both gooseberry wine and elderflower wine, dropping another dismissive remark on these dreams to fertilise the seeds they had sown.

"Well done," Severus congratulated Ginny outside. "The innkeeper clearly took the bait."

"Ever been on Orkney, Mrs Weasley?" the guard asked when she hastened to the exit, freshly showered and dressed in her personal, elegant burgundy robe with frills around the hem.

"Par les chevaux d'Epona, non!" She shook her head in shock over such a question. Ironfist, now next to her, sighed and asked the guard to have a Portkey at the ready when they returned.

"No word about it outside this building, do you understand?" her boss warned her, and the door opened at his wave.

"Now, our client wishes you to come to our meeting with two sets of new robes. He is quite specific about them, but I dare say you will not regret the purchase. We are to choose sets, where the inner dress and outer light robe can be worn together or separately, something that suits a young woman like you. He does not approve of red or pink though," Master Ironfist stated, knowing her penchant for scarlet tones. "He also prefers them demure."

Ironfist steered her over to Madam Malkin's, accompanied by the guard for their safety.

In the shop, Ironfist repeated the description, adding, "The lady needs one pair of shoes and a warm, black cloak going with both robes. The sets are to allow for pregnancy."

"Quoi? Maître Ironfist, I 'ave no need for such clothes, I am NOT expecteeng!"

"I would have hoped so. When you are, kindly inform me about it directly. The client desires to see you in such robes, nevertheless."

While Madam Malkin led them to the next room, Fleur muttered something French under her breath, along the lines that they could hardly afford her out of job as well. Loudly, though she noted, "This ees a most strange customer."

Ironfist stood and fixed her with his eyes. "Mrs Weasley, every customer is served, especially if he is as important as our current client."

Quietly she composed herself and whispered, "Should we not go to Twilfitt and Tatteeng's for such a reech man?"

"I said important, Mrs Weasley, not rich." Muttering more to himself, Ironfist added, "Not yet."

Fleur didn't dare ask which outcome of the war would make this specific client rich.

They were shown several sets of robes. Fleur would have liked a brown one with laces that her boss immediately rejected as "too frilly".

"Eet ees not," she started, but he told her he knew the customer's taste well enough, and the man would not approve. Disappointed she tried the set in green velvet Ironfist pointed out to her. "Sir, this 'as silver clasps and a snake woven into the material. My 'usband's family would not approve." So it was rejected.

Next they were shown an elegant, demure set in a shiny, yet not too light blue. Fleur beamed excitedly.

Ironfist screwed his ears to not blurt out any disparaging remarks about the feeble fabric with its softly falling pleats. Thankfully, none of the females of his kinship wished to look slippery and airborne like a stork-billed kingfisher. However, the goblin was well aware of the taste of his more human clients, and so he forced himself to praise the gown. "Wonderful."

The shop keeper commented on the material, how easily it would be taking on cleaning or ironing spells, and Fleur noted that it felt pleasant on the skin. The clasps were available in bronze, brass, silver or golden. Black was also an option, which Fleur discarded right away. Madam Malkin asked, "Are you a Ravenclaw, dear? Or feel related? Then take the bronze clasps." Fleur wanted to agree when Ironfist turned his head up sharply. "No, we avoid all houses. We take the... golden ones."

Brass would have done the job, Fleur noted to herself.

A silky, crimson inner dress of simple, comfortable cut with a matching outer robe of soft wool with thin, grey and wider blue stripes caught Fleur's eyes. "Maître Ironfist, this would be so wonderful."

"The colour is not acceptable."

Madam Malkin had little trouble with this harsh remark. "We have the same set in grey, the stripes in crimson and blue."

Ironfist inspected its material and seams carefully and nodded. The set was added against Fleur's slight protest that the colour didn't become her. She would so have loved the red set. Then she felt oddly nervous when Madam Malkin showed her how to spell the folded seams to get a step-by-step expansion over the pregnancy belly as well as the breasts. "Don't forget to undo here as well to get more length in the front." Leaning closer, the woman added knowingly, "Don't worry, love: your husband adores you whatever shape you have. A becomingly clad pregnancy belly is absolutely nothing to hide in any circles of society. Especially since the sight has become so rare these days." Together they refastened the expansions, and Fleur was told to put one set of robes on.

They found a wide, black cloak with hood made from fairly sturdy wool that was moderated by a soft cashmere component. It came with blue silk lining and felt wonderfully warm, soft, and yet durable. Again Master Ironfist selected golden fastenings. Black, self-fitting shoes with a darkened iron buckle completed their purchase.

The blue set and her own clothes were packed separately, and Fleur reduced the packets to pocket-size. Ironfist paid for their purchase one by one and collected the receipt. This all appeared extremely strange to Fleur. Is it actually the client who has paid for my new clothes? Am I to attend a fancy dinner party? In this case, of course, he could give specific requirements. But why two sets? Why colours that didn't suit her? And, would he let her have the purchase in the end? If not, she would definitely get herself this gorgeous cloak—the most expensive piece by far! Maybe she would even get herself the red set of robes, when her time came to wear such clothes. She and Bill had agreed to have a child right after the war—howsoever they would work out the finances.

The Snapes walked around the cosy, grey town of Stromness. They visited the piers from where so many famous British Muggle explorers had left for their adventures.

When they returned from the harbour, the door to a small Muggle museum suddenly opened. "We're closed outside the season, but you are lucky that I just felt like passing by today," the elderly keeper said. Severus led his wife in with a smirk. After they had learned about the geology and history from the Muggle point of view, Severus hinted towards a tapestry Ginny had failed to pay attention to. Behind it, they visited the exhibition of the wizard history of the archipelago. With a smile, Ginny understood the sudden urge the old woman had felt to open the house for them: the museum itself had felt their presence and compelled her in.

Ginny made her way to a display about the henge they had visited that morning. About their landing point, the ditch, Ginny read, "It has a diameter of over 120 metres (403 ft) and was once three metres (9.8 ft) deep and seven metres (23ft) wide. Muggles estimate it must have taken 100 people working ten hours a day for 80 days to carve the ditch with spades (a Muggle equipment for digging into the ground).

"Historical documents reveal," the information board went on, "that in fact the pillars were erected by a group of sixty goblins who were skilled in magical construction. They were working for five hours to set up the sixty pillars and draw the ditch." Ginny grinned.

They checked two souvenir shops, one Muggle and one magical. Amusing herself with the available knick knacks, Ginny left warmed up but without a purchase. Severus exhaled deeply and then drew in the fresh, salty air.

A shoe shop was luckier with them, selling a pair of fancy Wellington boots sporting red poppies to Ginny.

"Finally I can get around in the garden," she exclaimed and had him pack her wet shoes while she kept the boots on. "They are a useful memory of our visit!"

The local butcher made business with them, too, when they stocked up on joint of beef for a roast and more of the wonderful cheeses. Remembering their breakfast porridge, they purchased bere flakes, a local speciality enjoyed by Muggles and wizards alike.

The fresh air and their purchase had motivated their stomachs greatly, and they visited the same inn again. After a hearty meal in the warm and dry room, they faced the cold winds again as they left for the henge.

The wind whistled around the stones. Even in the centre of the ring, Severus had to shout as he introduced Ginny to two Gringotts goblins.

The withered creatures positioned themselves back-to-back between them, touching each other at their tilted-back ears and bare scalps. Spreading their bare hands outward, they concentrated until a silvery web grew out of their long, spindly fingers. It formed a ring around them. The web grew upwards and down to the floor until it had put all four of them under a dome of light that kept the rain and the cold wind outside. The goblins turned to face the humans, tilting their head at Ginny's distress. She stopped shivering and exhaled as the strain eased.

The older goblin explained that, lacking her papers, a trusted member of Gringotts bank was required to identify her. Then she would be handed her own key to their vault 1783, Severus Snape, now renamed to family Snape, Severus Tobias and Ginevra Molly. This meant she could withdraw money at Diagon Alley on her own as well as in the Gringotts branch in Hogsmeade and associated banks in wizarding Europe.

Ginny swallowed hard; this was a sign of trust she had not expected, nor did she feel she deserved it yet.

Further, so the goblin told her, her wand would be registered, and she would be entitled to pay bills from magical purchases in the most practical way: by tipping them with her wand in every British magical shop and wherever Gringotts had a partner bank across the globe. She could look at the complete list of countries, the conditions and the fees in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.

Her eyes went wide. "Severus, this is all your money. Nothing is mine! I could bankrupt you."

He replied stiffly, "I do believe you are my wife. So everything that is mine is yours, too, bankruptcy included." He inhaled deeply. "You will have very little chance to empty our vault," he added sadly.

Annoyed at the interruption, the goblin drawled on, explaining that she would feel a pull as the money left their vault, and from the intensity she would be able to gauge how much money remained. He suggested that they set a limit for a single purchase as well as a limit down to which she could empty the vault remotely.

Ginny nodded. "I know about that. My parents have the same mechanism."

When two figures approached, Severus and one goblin left the dome and went to meet them. The other knobbly creature removed himself from Ginny and waited at the rim of the dome, his face still as if carved in stone.

Ginny Transfigured a stick into a chair, but her spell didn't work well, and she produced only a low stool. The goblin sneered at her. Despite the blurred vision through the dome and mist, it was easy enough to identify Severus. He was so much taller than everybody else. Two figures were undoubtedly goblins. The third and final person, standing somewhat aloof and fighting the elements to keep a cloak or coat around themselves, was a head smaller than Severus and thus possibly Ginny's size. Ginny could see Severus inspect this person, having the figure twirling and parading like a well-trained Crup. What was going on?

Returning to Gringotts, they immediately took the Portkey, which transported them into a thin rain. On her left she made out a water surface, but could not decide if it was the sea or a lake. Loch, she reminded herself, would be the Scottish word.

"We are near to the Ring o' Brodgar, an old henge. This way!" Ironfist declared and stomped ahead. In the dark, muddy ground, Fleur had to take great care to keep her new shoes clean. Soon she felt equally sweaty and wet as after her fight with the treasure box. The cool, salty breeze dishevelled her hair, and the speed her manager expected on the uneven ground didn't allow for much dignity. These British wizards have no style, she thought not for the first time.

Ironfist stopped at a singular stone several yards before the henge. A cloud of shiny mist hung in the sky, illuminating their position surprisingly well. It seemed to deflect the rain and wind as well. Another goblin and a man stood under the cloud. "Our customer is waiting," the goblin said, indicating the dark figure standing there in the wilderness.

Forget your fancy dinner, Fleur Weasley!

"Mrs Weasley," the tall man greeted her with hardly a nod. "If you would take off the cloak and show me your purchase."

Vraiment charmant! He doesn't waste time on pleasantries, this one, she thought. When Ironfist took the cloak, she shuddered in the sudden cold. Oddly enough, this seemed to go well with the client who had started circling her. His hooked nose gave him a predator's appearance, and his dark eyes bored into her as if to undress her. His creepy behaviour matched the place of their bizarre gathering.

"Take off the outer robe."

"But sir, eet ees so cold."

"Take it off now!" came his sharp voice. "Walk around a bit if you're cold. I prefer to see the dress in motion anyway." After a few paces, he approached her and examined the fabric of dress and robe, seams and all. His concentrated look met hers unexpectedly, but she held the gaze. "You are not pleased with this set," he stated. "Why is that?"

Fleur gathered her thoughts. This was a client, and he had already found out the truth. Be diplomatic now! "Sir, the fabrics and the style are wonderful. I'd myself have preferred anozzer combination of colours. The same model was available een red with the stripes een grey and azure."

"Understandable, for a person as pale as yourself."

Par la baguette de Circé, this dark beanstalk of a man is quite the gentleman. He waved her to once again pace in front of him and finally seemed satisfied. "I will take it. Show me the other one now."

The order left Fleur desperate. Being demanded to freeze for a client was perhaps acceptable, but to undress in this uncivilised place?

The tall, intimidating man rolled his eyes and turned around, the second goblin took out the blue dress, and Ironfist wriggled his hands twice. Fleur found herself clad in the blue dress, while the assisting goblin packed the grey dress and robe neatly before shrinking the packet.

"Sir."

He scrutinised her again, making her turn in front of him. "And both models allow for... ahem, expansions?"

Oh, so he has feelings, somewhere under his high-closed robes? Well, somehow he has made his wife pregnant, she thought. "Yes, sir. The spell ees quite simple."

"I see. The robe now, Mrs Weasley. Or maybe I should say Fleur," he added with a smirk.

Taken aback by the insolence, she had to swallow hard not to put him right. He is an important client, she reminded herself and slipped into the blue robe. It helped slightly against the cold. Again she turned left and right. "The clasps are not bronze, I hope," the man said, coming closer, touching the fabric and examining the golden fastening. "This is... acceptable." With a nod, she was dismissed.

Ironfist magicked her into her own clothes, and the man—who started reminding Fleur of someone she couldn't place right now—took a look at the shoes and the cloak. Ironfist handed him the receipt. The stranger lifted an eyebrow. He checked the cloak once again and suddenly looked far less arrogant. Fleur went over, picking her courage. "Eet ees a bit pricey, but to be 'onest I like the cloak best of all. Eet ees warm and so soft, but still durable. Eet weel look... splendide for years!"

"Very well." A tip of his wand on the receipt, and the whole purchase changed its owner.

Sadly Fleur let go of the cloak. "I 'ope they 'ave anozzer one," she murmured. Remembering what she had been told, she asked, "Where is the woman I shall identify?"

Ironfist gestured to the centre of the henge. A lonely figure sat in a dome of light. "Let's go over. She cannot hear you," Ironfist explained.

The group outside Ginny's dome must have come to a conclusion. The unknown person and both goblins approached, while Severus held himself in the background. It was a woman, freezing, rain running down her face.

What witch do I know working for Gringotts? Fleur! Ginny rushed off her seat to meet her, but could not trespass the strange dome. "Fleur!" she shouted with all her power.

Sounding distinctly bored, Ginny's guard ordered something, but Ginny was beyond caring. As close to the dome as the softly repelling barrier would let her, she hopped on her toes and waved and shouted.

"Ginnie!" Fleur must have shrieked in recognition. Painfully clearly, Ginny heard in her mind how Fleur would stress the second syllable in French style, although no sound had passed through the dome. The two goblins discussed with Fleur. She nodded frantically, gestured wildly. Did they not believe her? Why did they not let them meet? Oh, she would have loved to talk to Fleur. Yes, even the most remote member of her family was welcome to her these days.

Fleur stood still now, contemplating something. She turned her back to the dome. "Fleur, don't leave!" Ginny's voice reverberated in the small place.

"Keep quiet," her guard hollered out.

The unknown goblin entered the dome and addressed Ginny. "Mrs Weasley has recognised you."

What? Is mum here, too? Oh, no, Fleur is another Mrs Weasley, of course. Hopefully her irritation would not influence the identification process. The goblin scrutinised her. "We need to exclude Polyjuice and other tricks that would allow you to register with a wrong wand. Mrs Weasley assumes you can tell me the insignia on her wedding band."

Ginny let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. That was easy. Good thinking from Fleur! "It is white gold. The centre shows a pentagram of slightly convex strokes, and there are two diagonal cuts on each side of it," she started.

The goblin made no sign whatsoever, but when she did not continue, he asked sharply, "Runes?"

Oh, dear. They had discussed so many of them. Which one had Bill finally taken?

"There is only one," Ginny stalled. "Bill had selected three, but only one is engraved. The three were 'flying love' for she is part-Veela, 'new place for home' for she comes from France and 'internal beauty' for... no," she corrected herself, that was Fleur's for Bill, just a moment what was the last? "'Strength from the earth'. Yes, these three. I cannot say which was engraved, it wasn't important."

The goblin's ears tilted just a bit, but Ginny had forgotten what emotion this expressed. He discussed with Fleur who once again threw her arms in the air as was so typical for her. Finally they called Severus to join them. The goblin reported endlessly, Severus reasoning patiently but unrelentingly and eventually... YES, a minute nod from Severus over to her. Simultaneously, her guard asked for her wand.

With the help of the goblins' magic, they all entered the protective dome, and Fleur shook herself like a dog. Without further warning, Ginny found herself in Fleur's embrace. French kisses left, right, left...

"Ginnie, 'ow are you? What a lovely surprise!"

Amazed to no end, Severus observed his young wife conversing with her sister-in-law. She had never expressed great affinity for her, nor had he recently noticed her being extraordinarily distressed over missing her family.

However, now that Fleur was her first link to her—previous life? normal life?—she sputtered little details of her recent experience, asked and answered six questions at the same time. Amazing, how these two communicated, both speaking and listening at the same time, rapidly replying and then asking a question of their own on a completely different subject. Still, he noticed with satisfaction and respect, Ginevra managed to steer their vivid exchange clear off dangerously wild waters.

Suddenly unsure of himself like a teenager, Severus held himself in the background, taking in the scene. Her eyes sparkled in a fashion he had never seen. Not with the warm adoration she harboured for him, which still startled him, but in a general expression of excitement. Every now and then, she would toss her hair around, smile or laugh at nothing in particular. She showed a merry joyfulness he failed to bring her.

A sound at his elbow made Severus jump. Griphook had cleared his throat. "The other wands?" Severus reached into his sleeve and produced his two new wands and took Ginny's new acquisition out of a pouch, explaining who owned which.

He was interrupted when someone tugged at his sleeve.

"Severus come over here," Ginny asked and giggled. "You have undoubtedly intimidated and scrutinised Fleur enough for tonight. Now you can show you have some manners, too! This is family! Consider yourself more than lucky that you are administered such a low dose first. Fleur please meet Severus Snape, my husband. Severus, this is Fleur Weasley, my sister-in-law. Now shake hands, will you!"

Both addressees exhaled deeply and concentrated their thoughts on Ginny to overcome the awkwardness of the situation. Since no discussion followed, Ginny huffed and started one herself. "I've seen you over there. What on earth were you doing? Did he check your ballet skills?"

In short words, Fleur explained she had demonstrated clothes, wizard clothes, obviously meant for Ginny. Then a thought struck her "Ginnie! You are not... 'E did not..." she blurted out before she remembered just how the man looked like she was talking about, or how close he stood.

"I'm not what?"

Severus left the scene, hoping none of the ladies had seen his reddened cheeks. Quickly gathering her wits, Fleur reported, "The dressed and robes are suitable for pregnancy. Ginnie?" her voice dropped.

"Oh dear. No, I'm not. But it's good thinking. Don't be shocked now, sit down! Listen."

The stool elongated into a bench, and the story of Voldemort's intentions was told. Finishing, Ginny said, "I've been granted a delay until summer, till my seventeenth birthday."

Fleur was paler than pale, and her accent got thicker than ever. "'Ow 'orrible. With 'im? And for now, does 'e expect...? Must you...?"

Just in time Ironfist announced, "We can keep the dome for ten more minutes."

Severus crossed over to the women again. Ginny declared, "Now, Fleur, it is an arranged marriage, but it truly is not bad. Listen, I want you to promise: No word about this obligation to Mum, or to any other Weasley. You can't even tell Harry or whoever else, all right?" At Fleur's desperate face, she looked over to Severus and then gave in, "Tell Headmistress McGonagall if you must."

Severus added in a serious voice, "Mrs Weasley, the alternative is that I Obliviate you now. Since the aspect is woven deeply into the selection of the robes, and we have no time to sort it out, you would lack these two hours and could not report anything. I truly hope..."

"Eet ees all right. I understand. They put Percy's memory into a Pensieve to examine eet. I will make a cut where needed. Women's talk." She attempted for a grin, then, thinking shortly, she proclaimed, "We stop discussing this right now."

Ginny exhaled gratefully. "The wedding came a bit rapidly, but we are really happy with each other. I hope Mum will believe this." She went to demonstrate just how happy they were and caught Severus in an embrace and stroked his cheek.

Ginny faced Fleur again, declaring in a single breath, "We live in a rather normal house and lead quite a normal life. You do not want to know the whereabouts, and I'm really sad that we cannot even exchange owls. They must understand."

Severus handed Fleur a small parcel. "This is enough for Bill and Lupin and one more."

Ginny looked up and back into his eyes. "Oh, Severus, you remembered! Thank you!" She pulled his arms around her and didn't let them go.

Holding his witch tight, Severus quickly instructed Fleur on this new variant of the Wolfsbane potion. He promised he would try and send the wobbly cakes regularly. He asked for their address.

Fleur looked highly uncomfortable. "I cannot..." Looking straight into his eyes, she continued, "...nor can I let my 'usband be ze lab Kneazle of a... a..."

"Fleur! How can you..."

"I understand," Severus interrupted stiffly, standing straight and sober again. "I have had two willing candidates for four months now," he told her. Continuing in a softer voice, he added, "and yet, it is, of course, only an offer. Take them with you. Lupin and the boy might want them. They can store the other rations for next time, but then they must be destroyed."

He was about to leave, when Ginny caught them both. "We've two more minutes. Was there anything else?"

With a highly red face, Fleur conceded. "I apologise, S... Severus. I will let ze men decide. Zey know you better. I cannot give you our address. What can I do?"

Severus took two deep breaths before he could turn around. "Nothing, but thank you for being a messenger to Molly and the whole family. I'm doing my best to keep Ginevra safe and out of harm. She is in no immediate danger."

He straightened up till he towered over the witches and declared with force. "I can say that she is safer than any other Weasley."

"Hey you, you're not just keeping me like a pet! You make me happy and content, and I don't mind telling them," Ginny pouted, reaching her arms up to grab his neck.

"Well, I'm glad if I manage a little more than provide for her safety," Severus added, straight-faced. "Good bye Mrs Weasley, Fleur." He shook her hand.

The women embraced and wished each other luck. Checking her watch, Fleur asked, "Sir, can I Apparate to 'Ogmeade? I manage the distance, but ees eet safe?"

"You have a Portkey to the Mainland? Good. Hogsmeade should be as safe as any other place. I suggest make haste to reach the castle gates."

They parted hesitantly.

After five steps, Severus called Fleur back. "Cut the memory before this. Here is a note to the Headmistress. It is personalised to her. No one else can decipher it. Yet, make sure no one even sees it."

"Eef I'm caught, I should spit on eet and eet turns blank?"

"Yes, thank you."

Severus hesitated again. "Would you hand us a strand of your hair for Polyjuice? It will only be used by women who need to contact the Order for refuge. I will keep it safe. Please decide quickly, I must Obliviate you from the request in any case."

She frowned shortly, then deftly pulled a few hairs out, noting, "Quarter-Veela!" Squaring her shoulders, she faced him to be Obliviated.

The goblins let down the dome and disappeared without a trace.

Fleur didn't look back. She waved, reached into her pocket and was gone.

Tears rolling freely, Ginny faced her husband, and they nodded mutely. They could be satisfied with the outcome. Seeing the exhaustion in her face, he gathered the parcels and handed her the Portkey. They landed somewhere in the Scottish highlands. Severus embraced her gently before Apparating them to the clutch of trees close to Spinner's End.

With steady steps, a figure arrived at the school gate. Fred, one of the guards, recognised her. "Fleur! Where have you been? Bill is driving everybody crazy."

She panted from the brisk walk. "Listen, Fred, I weel send a replacement for you. I 'ave news de la plus haute importance, of utmost importance."

He rolled his eyes at the drama in her voice. The only dramatic thing he saw was that they could not afford a task force for stray wives.

Fifteen minutes later, Fleur had duplicated her memory into two Pensieves, one of them carefully steering clean of the special requirement for the dresses. A shaking Professor McGonagall had helped her with the spells, smiling knowingly when she heard there were tiny aspects Fleur wished to exclude from the public eye. In fact, the old teacher was moved and utterly relieved to hear that the two of them had even found time and subjects they considered worth of keeping between themselves. With raised eyebrows, she then pocketed the piece of parchment from her former colleague, not quite sure what to make of it.

The whole Weasley family except Charlie—and Percy, but who mentioned him?—assembled in the office of the headmistress-without-school. Harry was invited, and so was, on Fleur's request, Remus Lupin.

This arrangement left Hermione and Tonks for patrolling, and they stomped off, trying hard to keep their temper low. How could Remus be more important than one of them?

When Fred closed the door, Fleur started her report with being requested to interrupt her work and go. "Maître Ironfist arranged eet so that I 'ad no chance to tell anyone. And I 'ave to say 'e was right. Because we went to see Ginnie," she stated, pausing for the effect. She was not disappointed.

When Fleur could hear her own voice again, she quickly confirmed that Ginny had been in very good condition, physically and mentally unharmed. She shortly explained she had to go shopping and they had travelled to the Orkneys—Professor McGonagall flinched—where Severus Snape had expected her to present the clothes.

"Then they led me over to a 'uge dome of light inside the 'enge." She prodded the Pensieve with a flourish, and the dome appeared, Ginny inside, jumping and shouting noiselessly. Molly, who had been shifting in her seat all the time, almost fell into the slowly turning figure. When the picture had fallen back into the whirling, silvery liquid, Fleur told them how they excluded a manipulation by asking her to describe her wedding ring.

Ron and George stared at Fleur in utter disbelief. "What made you think she might know?"

Fleur and Molly snorted, and Arthur's, Remus' and Professor McGonagall's lips curled in a suppressed grin.

"Of course, she would remember ZAT!" Fleur exclaimed.

She shortly turned to Bill, saying, "And there ees more to say, but I tink we do that een the end."

"As I was saying, she did remember the carvings and the runes, and Maître Ironfist was satisfied. We entaired and talked while the goblins arranged for 'er access to Severus'—that is their—vault." Her use of his first name didn't go unnoticed, but silence fell when she once again made Ginny appear out of the silver liquid.

Molly, Arthur and also all the boys had a very hard time looking at their lost youngest family member. Her over-joyful reaction to Fleur nearly screamed the presence of an inner loneliness, a lack of the safe harbour only a family could provide.

Harry reacted strongest to Ginny's affection for the despised Potions master, traitor and murderer. When she touched him, embraced him, caressed him, he jumped up, shouting, "He must have drugged her, or maybe he's using a spell? Imperius!"

Fleur shook her head, silently saying, "There was not a seengle indication for that."

The scene ended with Severus' regards to the Weasleys, " ...She is safer than any other Weasley", and Ginny's reaction " ...You make me happy and content, and I don't mind telling them." Then they heard Severus' presumably last words of good bye.

"Then we had to part," Fleur finished, and once again the cacophony of Weasleys and friends filled the room. Fleur was glad she had steered around the odd parts and went to embrace Bill.

Harry was outraged. "How can she be safe in that company? Who protects her from him?"

Ron's loud voice was to be heard over the rest. "And they are really married now? I mean living like a couple, doing..."

Fleur cleared her throat, stalling. "You'll understand that we did not 'ave much time to converse. I don't know. But I tink 'e is less 'orrible than 'e looks."

"That's bloody little relief," Fred shouted. "If he hurts her, I will..."

"'E certainly is attentive to 'er, and a very strong wizard," Fleur said, wondering what made her defend the man.

"Attentive?" Harry snorted. "Didn't you see how he jerked his head away when she was compelled to approach him?"

"Why did you let them go? Why didn't you take Ginny with you?! This was the best chance, maybe the last we'll get!" It was Ron shouting, his face red in fury.

Fleur had a hard time defending herself without revealing the demand to produce offspring. She knew she was not convincing, and before long, the younger men weren't even listening. Disappointed and furious, Harry and Ron left to fill in Hermione and whoever else was patrolling. Fleur's eyes followed them sadly. Fred and George shortly wondered if they should follow, but decided they rather wanted to gather the information on the Wolfsbane cakes.

"Remus," Fleur called the man over. "'Ere are these cakes. I don't know what to tink of them. Ginnie was positive that they are okay."

Remus, who appeared thinner and shabbier than ever, regarded them with relief; eagerly, if not to say greedily. "I don't know what Severus is up to, but I do trust his potions. He has never let me or anyone else down with regards to his brewing skills. If you don't trust them right away, I understand. Then we have stock for next time. Bloody hell, six cakes instead of seven times three beakers—this is progress!"

Seeing Fleur's fear, Bill suggested Remus try the cakes this time, and he would join in after a month. The potion didn't save him from the pain of transformation, and he was willing to take any step to make his wife feel less uncomfortable with his state—if only so she didn't lose her faith in him, didn't leave him. They had prepared the Shrieking Shack for the months without potion. He would bear it once more with nothing other than fear to keep him company. Fear in general, but especially the fear that he may return to an empty home.

Fleur held Bill's arm. "'E also said you are not a werewolf. Not like Remus or the ozzers. 'E still does not know details but someting ees different with you, and 'e will try to find out."

"Yes, well, he is at the source of information," Bill replied dryly. "I certainly transform with enough pain, thank you very much."

"I know. Noting changes right now," Fleur said silently, stroking his cheek. "But you are brave and strong." She searched his lopsided, deformed mouth with hers.

Suddenly building up in volume, she continued, mock-menacing, "Mais écoute, chéri, why didn't you show me that beautiful wedding band Ginnie suggested?" Startled, Bill remained quiet until she explained, "I saw 'ER wedding band. So beautiful! They 'ave two runes. Only I don't understand why they chose yellow gold."

"What, yellow gold?" — "A Slytherin like Snape?" — "Did you see his band as well?" Fred and George asked what everybody wondered.

"She said eet is the same. Isn't eet normally?"

"With Snape in the game," — "nothing is normal," they continued in their famous way of completing each other's sentences. "Certainly not if" — "he marries our sister!"

Arthur Weasley was still cradling his quietly sobbing wife in his arms. In the silence following the twins' last statement, he opened his mouth for the first time tonight. "I'm still touched with what I saw, and I want to thank you, Fleur, for sharing this with us." General murmurs of agreement rose from the assembled. "We draw hope from these memories, but I must ask you for your judgement if the two appeared to be genuine."

"I 'ardly know the man. From le Tournoi des Trois Sorciers, the Triwizard Tournament, only. You can judge eef 'e is always so creepy. But Ginnie was very much 'erself. She ees missing you; probably she feels lonely. This ees to be expecteed, even with the nicest of husbands." Snorts from Fred and George accompanied this last thought, while Bill registered that Fleur was also talking about herself.

"What makes you trust Fleur, Severus?" was the first question to spill from Ginny's lips.

"The very capable headmistress of Beauxbatons selected her as amongst the most capable students to come to Hogwarts. The Goblet of Fire chose her out of the dozen entrants from her Academy," he replied. "I've thoroughly investigated its magic ever since Potter was chosen as a fourth champion."

"Doesn't it imply that you should trust Harry?"

Severus harrumphed. "He was the only candidate for a fictive fourth school." Reluctantly though, Severus remembered how Albus had urged him to research under what conditions a school would be left without a champion if no candidate deemed worthy enough for the task.

"Ah, but some five hundred years ago, the Goblet refused to nominate any participant from Beauxbatons."

Severus huffed.

"Fred had engaged me in their research," she added, in a sort of excuse.

Hastily changing the topic, Severus encouraged Ginny to explore her new garments and went to the kitchen to store their purchased food. The bere flakes promised wonderful porridges and muesli for the coming breakfasts in Spinner's End. An exclamation of joy called him to the sitting room.

He stopped at the door as if stunned. "You look... fabulous."

In her new blue robes, Ginny gave the impression of a proud young woman rather than the fierce, juvenile fighter she impersonated on occasion. She held her head high and laughed enticingly. Quickly Severus closed the space between them and embraced her possessively.

Their caresses became urgent and demanding, their breathing was unsteady when the house alarm chimed.

"Oh, damn!"

"Mrs Snape, such language is not becoming of a young lady."

Ginny recognised the two werewolves. A frightened girl of about twelve years accompanied them. All gaped at the young lady in front of them. Severus, normally a very attentive host to the poor men, was extremely short with them tonight. He produced the twelve cakes, the rations for two, he had prepared. "I'll make more before Friday. She is welcome to join." Within minutes, they were dismissed.

"No more visitors for tonight," Severus declared with determination and pulled his wife towards the bedroom.

Some of the Gringotts goblins greeted him; others looked away when Bill picked up his wife after work. They went to the jeweller and goldsmith. "Sir, could we see your collection of wedding rings again?"

"Mr Weasley! You are not in need of another pair just yet?" the man asked, consternated. They rapidly explained their errand. "Ah. Yes, I remember. A strange customer, I must say. Let me see..."

He opened a big leather-bound tome and followed down the rows with his agile finger. "Here, it was, December tenth, early in the morning. She had very clear instructions, and she needed them the next day. You know, Mr Weasley, I was wondering who this woman was. She wore jewellery far beyond my upper class collection and shopped her wedding rings of all things below her standards!"

"She came on account of somebody else," Bill explained.

"The young bride was most pleased with your work. She showed them most proudly."

"A young woman, you say?"

"Very young. Why do you ask?"

"It is unusual for young couples to take yellow gold. Also, the woman who came was... not young."

"What did she look like?"

"This was weeks ago, Mr Weasley, and she was in some form of disguise. But I recall how she was staring down at me, so she was taller than I am. And she was slim, too slim, looking unhealthy as if in grief or sorrow, if you get my meaning. The expression around her mouth was elegant, but bitter. Her own, most exclusive rings have contracted themselves over the years to fit her bony fingers. She had a commanding tone in her voice when she ordered, 'I wish to see the rings Mr William Weasley was presented!' No, sir, I don't miss her not returning here."

"This is how she described them?"

"Yes. Then she bellowed, 'Which is the band his baby sister would have selected, but he discarded?' She selected just this one, gave me the runes and the time limits. She even had the audacity to doubt I would have them ready in time." The man was clearly not pleased at the memory.

"As we said, your work was highly appreciated. Thank you for your time, sir." They had a look at his other jewellery but left without a purchase.

Outside, Bill said, "I still like my choice. It looks good on you. Do we check the clothes shop you visited for Ginny?"

Fleur made up her answer most rapidly. "Not today, Bill. My feet can 'ardly carry me."

My betas, Coshie and esp Savine Snape, have been excellent partners in crime for this chapter. They helped develop the characters of goblins and set up the scenery of the henge. You're also saved lots of language problems thanks to their watchful eyes. You're great, girls!

Very special thanks go to Cyrielle, who provided me with Fleur's French exclamations.

A/N:

1.

The stork-billed kingfisher (Pelargopsis capensis) has bright-blue feathers.

2.

I've tried my best with the Orcadian specialities and the terms. When you detect mistakes, please tell me, and they will be corrected!

3.

In France, kisses on the cheeks (or in the air while the cheeks touch) is the normal greeting, a habit that is very much out of place in many other European countries. For a traditional British family as the Weasleys, this must be very awkward.

I've now heard that a 'French Kiss' can also be understood as a kiss with tongues involved. This is not what I have in mind.