Even in the brink of daylight, the manor's sharp architecture appeared like a nightmare brought to life.
Evie studied each crevice carefully as Narcissa pushed her wheelchair through the entrance and past the metal gates.
With an ashen grey blush, the building glared its eyes at her, studying back. Infinite pillars circled around like a shield, and its boxed windows, sealed by laced curtains, gave it a calculated, wizard model.
Sculpted serpents guarded the front doors, made of ancient stone. A large dragon's head at the precipice. Bush-trimmed oxens seemed to move alongside her, yet when Evie blinked, their heads magically turned facing the sky.
Given the amount of nature and beautiful greenery, the lack of fauna was unsettling.
It wasn't quite like the muggle homes with pointed arches and flying buttresses. A chimney that roasted buckets of wood or a steaming pumpkin scent staining the atmosphere from meters away.
Not even an obnoxiously large doormat that screamed welcome.
Nevertheless, it was a beauty on its own.
She just needed to familiarise herself. That was all. A small dose of exposure therapy.
Inside, the manor doubled in size. With stairs wide enough to fit two cows and a white marble floor the reflected the lights of crystalized chandeliers, Evie gawked.
Eyes wide, a smile just as big.
For a place so creepy, it was quite — cozy. Comfortable.
Two ghosts floated across the hallway. One with a beard reaching his ankles and fingers like talons, the other wore a top hat and stand of old parchment and dust.
"Can you believe they wrote about this?" the one with the beard snarled. "Anyone loyal to the lord who'd taken non-magical company should be as equally punished!"
The other one simply nodded, floating slower before gesturing a welcome with his hat at Evie and Narcissa. "Welcome back, Mrs Malfoy. Miss Carpathia."
"Good morning, Septimus," Narcissa responded as they floated away.
Evie raised her brows. She held out a hand as Narcissa opened her mouth to speak. "Septimus Malfoy..."
She dug deep inside her head.
Who was he?
She'd heard the name before. Had quite the significant influence on the ministry, surely. It was right there, in a book she read. Or a podcast she heard from on the Sunday radio, channel seven, the magical history of wonders.
Then it clicked. Evie snapped her finger, excitedly turning to Narcissa.
"Septimus Malfoy, born in 1772." A pause. "Or 1771, I can't remember... But he became an adviser to Unctuous Osbert in 1800, quite an influential one as well. He was the one who pardoned Sebastian Sallow for killing his uncle, wasn't he? Passed away two years later from old age."
Narcissa blinked, unable to move. "I've really missed you, Evie."
Evie blushed.
"Anything else you remember?" Narcissa arched her brow.
Evie's cheeks brightened as her head dipped. "He also had a pet thunderbird called Sparky."
A warm laugh, Narcissa called for Tiskey.
Within a second, a young, brutish elf poked its head out from the hallway. Its ears were drawn back and a shy smile painted its cheeks. "H-Hello."
"Tiskey, did you bring it?" Narcissa asked.
Straightening, Tiskey grabbed something from around the corner and hobbled across to them.
"Tiskey just finished polishing it now." He turned to Evie. "Tiskey hopes you like it very much."
Evie eyed the cane. Snake head, carved out of silver with a long pointed back, shined in onyx black.
"Thank you, Tiskey." Evie smiled.
"Master Malfoy has one just the same." She knew he meant Lucius. "Tiskey was hoping Evie wouldn't mind."
"Of course not," Evie said.
She'd not seen Draco with a cane. Must've meant his father, in that case.
Evie wondered if he was at home too, though more importantly why neither made effort to mention him whilst she rested at St Mungo's.
"She'll only be needing it for a day," Narcissa added. She helped Evie out of the wheelchair and stepped back, watching as Evie adjusted her balance on the centre of her feet. "You look wonderful. A true Malfoy wife."
Evie shifted, smiling awkwardly.
All this time she spent day-dreaming of him and now that she was in his territory, that confidence — that spark of excitement slightly drizzled. Replaced by anxiety and fear that whatever they had was already long lost.
Sensing her uncertainty, Narcissa took her by the shoulders. "It'll be alright, Evie. You'll be back with us so quickly you won't even know it. You were ever so the determined warrior so I have all my faith in you. I think you'll be more than alright."
Evie nodded, still hesitant. "I'm just—"
"Nervous?" she teased. "Don't worry. So is he."
Tiskey clicked away the wheelchair and said, "Tiskey is one call away. Evie needs something, Tiskey is at your service!"
"Come on," Narcissa nodded her head over, "I'll give you a reminder tour."
-----------------------
It was settled.
The manor was thrice as big on the inside as it was on the outside.
With four floors, each wall was surprisingly coated with family portraits and achievement certificates.
Every ancestor welcomed Evie warmly, offering compliments and minute reminders of their time together.
Phoebe Black — the one to speak to for any gossip.
Although gossip wasn't much of Evie's forte, if she had to re-learn everything from her past, and keep up with the present, someone like Phoebe would work wonders.
She explored the grand hall and kitchens. Each person had their own personal pantry and Evie wasn't surprised to see Draco's stockpiled with sugar quills, sherbet worms and candied peels. Hers quite the opposite and a healthy mixture.
Pumpkin pasties and gingerbread lovehearts. Chocolate bread with vanilla custard to drizzle on top. Packets upon packets of crisps of all different flavours, appreciatively family packs because who could ever survive on a 'singular one'?
There were boxes of cheese flavoured crackers, shaped into wands, stars, wizard hats and broomsticks. Jars of Polish dill pickles fermented on the other side of the shelves, causing her mouth instantly smack at the memory of its tanginess.
Narcissa pointed around. "Tiskey ensures that the shelves are always full. Should you be missing anything or want anything extra, just let him know."
Evie nodded and allowed Narcissa to tour the rest of the home.
She stopped at a large double door. Shined black with a silver handle. "This is yours and Draco's room."
A cold metal ball grew inside Evie's throat, and unable to swallow it, a strained noise left her lips.
Narcissa let Evie open the door alone.
Inside, it hadn't been much different than the hallways and other rooms here. Perhaps a tad darker.
Its walls were pregnant with stacked books and scrolls. No hanging pictures except the frames perked up on a large crescent desk facing the back window.
Two loveseats faced each other, a fireplace to their left. Evie stepped forward, overlooking each detail until she reached his desk.
From a distance, the garden extended toward a monstrous lake, a garden island sat in the centre. She recognised it immediately from the group photo.
"I'll leave you to explore," Narcissa said softly and closed the door behind her.
Then there was silence.
Nothing but a click—click—click from the grandfathers clock.
Evie sniffed, looking around.
Whiskey, she noted. A little bit of coffee, but more pronounced with cologne Evie couldn't point her finger on.
Expensive, for sure, but uncertain whether it was French or Italian.
His — no, their bedsheets were made of refined silk. A dozen pillows perfectly straight and organised.
The room was immaculate. Clean. Hauntingly beautiful.
Roaming closer to his desk, Evie tilted her head as she read the spines of books piled atop one another.
War, more war. Astronomy and potion-brewing, elite level. Bloody hell.
She could pick through each book, study him more, but found that it'd be too much for her to swallow. Rather wanting him to reveal everything about each other on his own terms.
Plus, roaming through someones private belongings didn't seem like a smart idea.
The rest of the day she occupied herself in the library, reading, catching up on the news of the war which Narcissa kindly left and organised in chronological order.
She played chess and helped Tiskey with the dishes after lunch and dinner.
Word came that the Death Eaters would return from Lithuania the week ahead on Tuesday morning — including Draco.
She slept in their bed, assuming she'd taken the left side of the bed from the obvious dip in the right.
Hopefully this time, his welcome would be more fruitful.
1 WEEK LATER
"You're early," Narcissa stated, turning her seat to the dining room entrance. "Death Eater's aren't supposed to arrive for another three hours."
Evie stopped playing with her scrambled eggs to take in the stature stood stiff at the door.
The medication she'd been forced to take — thanks to Tiskey's much appreciated stubbornness — left her feeling drowsy.
Her hair had grown back to its normal length and the feeling of her fingers brushing through it was the first thing that gave her an extra inch of confidence.
Except she was still terrified.
So — so terrified.
She kept close to the walls of the manor, yet still she'd gotten lost a dozen times. Even with a week under her belt here.
Upon request, Tiskey gave her a thick, leather notebook for her to make notes on all the things she had to relearn.
So far, she'd drawn a map of the manor and all its grandiose four floors. Its back garden and forest, with a common pebble trail Narcissa enjoyed taking her winged stags for flight exercise.
Twiglets — Draco's only favourite non-confectionery snack that he gobbled every winter as though it were water.
If not Quidditch, Draco enjoyed a game of Aurifix.
Evie couldn't stop her giggle from that.
Proper nerd game.
And Draco seemed the type to laugh at people who played Aurifix rather than enjoy it himself.
Abraxas Malfoy apparently had been the one to introduce Draco to such a game, quite disappointed that Lucius never took interest. But he was ecstatic to see Draco, barely seven years old with six green flourescent dice tightly gripped in his hand.
They played as often as they could.
So Evie made a quick pit stop one night to get familiar with the rules.
Abraxas waved at her toward an open office that seemed to be unused for centuries. It wasn't until the named golden plaque at the head of the desk had she realised why.
"Come on then," Abraxas whistled, clicking his fingers. "Hurry up. I honestly thought you'd be here five days ago, not now. We could've won three more wars by this time."
Evie blushed with shame, took a seat next to Abraxas' ghost. "I'm still getting familiar—"
He waved her quiet. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. In that drawer, pull out the wooden box. Be careful though, it belonged to Arnand." He leaned forward. "And you wouldn't want to piss him off."
Doing as ordered, the small shoe-sized box opened to reveal a cushion interior. A set of six, six sided dice gloomed back at her. Two sets of cards, one with stars painted on the back and one set crystal rock.
Beside the dice, tiny three-dimensional runes were moulded out of pure gold, it seemed. Centuries in the box and not a singular scratch of rust.
"Right, listen close and write in that silly little thing because I'm telling you this only once."
Evie rushed her notebook but before she could even dip her quill into the cauldron, Abraxas began pointing and labelling.
"These cards with the stars — they each contain a unique magical enchanment."
Evie opened her mouth to ask a question. Abraxas grumbled a warning.
"The ones with the crystals, they represent the players' magical energy reserves. The dice, three with numbers, three with magical symbols."
"They look like glyphs."
"Well done, cookie for you," Abraxas snarled. "The objective is to be the first to reach a specific number of magical energy points. This can be achieved by casting spells, using enchantments and outwitting an opponent. Now my boy, Draco, is a fairly talented man. You might need at least... seventy years of practice."
Evie swallowed hard.
Severus slowly entered and poured himself a coffee. He added two sugar cubes. "Good morning to you too, Mrs Malfoy," he jested and took a long sip. "I've been assigned to help our dear Evie with her psychological capacity."
Narcissa frowned. "Her hospital reports didn't say anything about you."
"The Dark Lord requested it."
"Requested what exactly?"
"Testing her offence and defence."
Evie cleared her throat. "Excuse me... But why so early? I've only just got out of the hospital a week ago?"
Severus sipped his coffee. "The Dark Lord wants you to be able to protect yourself. With Malfoy as your partner, you are the first target for the terrorists."
"I thought they fled."
"Not all."
Evie hummed. Perhaps he was right.
Severus said, "When you're done, meet me in the paint room. I must speak with Narcissa first."
Evie wiped her mouth clean. "I'm done. I can go now. I'll wait for you outside."
His brow arched, but nonetheless, he didn't argue as she exited the dining room.
When he finally returned, he rushed to the paint room, Evie following closely behind. Severus conjured two chairs and a table, gestured her to sit.
For a room she imagined of brights and sparks, she was surprised to find the room a bland canvas instead.
A set of tall shelves stocked with paints and paintbrushes. Drawings of all sorts.
Quidditch, patronus animals and eyes. Lots of eyes. Ones that cried and ones that were crinkled from smiling. Aged and young, those of babes or animals.
"We will meet. Twice a week. Monday's and Thursday's, and we will practice legillimency, occlumency and test your memory. If I don't see you've made progress, we'll double our sessions."
"Alright," Evie said with a brief nod.
"How is your long term memory like?" he asked, conjuring a black leather notebook, an ink cauldron and a golden quill. "Tell me what you remember."
"I see some things. Not everything. Half of it is missing. I can remember myself in places, but I don't know who I'm with or what I'm wearing. It's all a very blurry facade... I—" her face twisted to one side. "Do you think you can help me bring all my memories back?"
Severus began writing. "I will certainly try. But if I do, I cannot promise that what I bring will be pleasant."
That didn't matter. As long as she could remember. Not only was it scary, relearning everything, but overwhelming too. So much that most days were spent hidden in her room or in the library.
But then Evie asked, "Shouldn't Draco not helping me with this?"
"He's busy. Won't be back until tomorrow."
Her brows furrowed. "Not today like all the others?"
"The Dark Lord holds much trust in our Sovereign. It is he who must deal with the most demanding tasks," Severus replied, dating the sheet in the corner.
Dare she even ask.
"Doing Sovereign things?" she questioned.
He hummed. "Precisely."
"Like what?"
Severus snapped his neck at her. Although his face was as blanch as the walls of the room. Perhaps the palest and most boring of the rest, she could sense the irate in his twitched chin.
"A terrorist from the Order has been sentenced to death. They moved their death date to today."
Witness duty, then, she guessed.
"No," Severus answered. "The messier job."
As Evie choked on her breath, failing to swallow the hard lump in her throat, Severus almost smiled.
This is exactly why the Dark Lord wanted her to practice. Fair enough, then.
"Who was it?"
Severus rolled up his sleeves, pulled up Evie's own. "A boy called Seamus. He was the one who attacked and nearly got Flint killed."
She stared at the matching tattoos on their wrists. Didn't give it much thought until now. But it all clicked very soon when she realised they were all matching.
Narcissa had one too, hidden beneath thick layers of her dress.
Draco must have one too.
The symbol of rebellion. The Dark Lord's symbol.
"How is Flint?" Evie asked.
"Surviving. Pansy is preparing to mourn. His survival doesn't seem likely," Severus replied bluntly.
"Pansy? Mourn?"
"His wife."
Pansy Parkinson married to Marcus Flint? Even from the pictures in the photo album Evie wouldn't have paired them together. How odd.
Severus took his wand, its tip began to light a bright blue-white.
"Wait," Evie gasped, holding out her hands. Unable to stop her thoughts. "Just one more question."
Severus narrowed his eyes. "What?"
"Did Draco love me? Back then? Narcissa showed me pictures of us together and we looked... happy. Now he's — I don't know. It's confusing. She said to give him time, that he'll come around but... he just... he seems so— maniacal. So hostile towards me."
Yes she only met him twice. But during those times, not once had he uttered a word toward her. There was nothing from him.
No hatred, but no love either. She couldn't determine what was going on inside his head. If Narcissa wouldn't be much help, Evie hoped Severus would.
She quickly learned that Severus was notorious for keeping away from drama. From talking at all.
Or rather enjoyed causing pain to anyone including his comrades.
Because he never gave her an answer.