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LIfe in an Alien Land 3: Minor Household Gods	By : tambrathegreat Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 3167 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All recognisable Harry Potter characters and settings belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from this endeavor.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
This chapter was red-moused by Jilliane. She makes my writing clearer, more concise, and less comma-heavy. Thanks J.

Of Days and Ends

Tonks watched Angel spread his roast beef sandwich with a disgusting amount of horseradish. He completed the task as he did everything else she had seen him do, slowly, methodically, and meticulously. She had the absurd desire to smash her fist on the bread that he had laid aside, before he could complete his masterpiece. The bloke was seriously mental in a by-the-book, square-jawed, steely-eyed kind of way. She drummed her fingers along her thighs underneath the desk, knowing from experience that she could not go over their case load until he had completed his ritual with the sandwich. He refused to look at her whilst he laboured over the task.

Tonks flipped open her notepad, a must for both Auror and Muggle police, and began reviewing her notes on the smuggling ring. Cocaine had found its way from Paris to London. Normally the matter would be handled by the proper Muggle authorities, but a few irregularities had occurred that had raised the flags in the Joint Ministry and Scotland Yard Task Force on Magical and Non-Magical Relations. Tonks attempted to come up with an acronym for that ponderous new bureaucracy, but couldn't. Perhaps if she spoke to Hermione soon, Tonks would put her formidable brain to the task. JMSYTFMNR just didn't cut it with wizarding folks. They needed cute, they needed simple. Maybe she could suggest Muggle Interference Network of Enquiry. That would good one, but she was sure Hermione could do better; she had come up with SPEW for house-elves.

Tonks caught herself mid-snort just as Angel finally took a bite of his lunch. With his cheeks stuffed like a hamster's, he raised his pale brows in question. "Mfmpat?"

"It's nothing," Tonks said, returning her gaze to her notes on their smuggling case. There was something hinky about the ease with which the smugglers and their contacts had been able to transact their deals. Merlin knew that the drug trade, especially cocaine, was fraught with violence, yet the participants had been unusually cooperative, almost as if they had been placed under an Imperius curse. That had been Tonks' first avenue of enquiry when she and Angel were handed the case. Severus had developed a potion that worked on Muggles and wizards alike to determine whether they had been cursed with Imperius or not. It was a variation of Veritaserum and quite effective. But none of the perpetrators that Tonks and Angel had apprehended had tested positive for the curse. Something from one of her long ago classes at Hogwarts niggled at the back of her mind about non-Imperius caused coercion, but she couldn't place who had even said it.

She jotted a note onto her pad to do more research on the topic. When she looked up, Angel was finishing his sandwich and dabbing at his thin, pale moustache with his serviette. He had brown eyes, warm, serious ones like Remus had. They were eyes she could get lost in.

"What?" he asked, his eyes widening at her scrutiny.

Tonks looked away before she answered, "Nothing. I was just thinking about the case. You know how I said there was something wrong with the way these blokes cooperated with each other?"

"Yes, you mentioned some magic being involved." Angel could barely keep the sneer out of his voice. The subject was a sore one between them. Angel had not wanted to work with an Auror, but had volunteered for the duty because he felt it would pad his already impressive resum�. He was as ambitious as any Slytherin, and as cold-blooded as any Death Eater she had ever met. "Didn't that beverage your ill-favoured friend made prove that there was no magic involved?"

"It's a potion, and his name is Severus Snape, and he's not my friend. He's a colleague." Tonks answered as evenly as she could. Her partner's wilful ignorance after so many months was beginning to grate on her nerves. "It only tested for the Imperius Curse, not magic in general. I think we may need to look elsewhere for our answers..."

Tonks bit the end of her pencil stub, (dead brilliant things if anyone asked her, no messy inks and parings and they could be erased with a bit of rubber) and caught a glimpse in her mind's eye of Professor Kettleburn lecturing Tonks' fourth year class in a clearing beside the Forbidden Forest. She rose, "I think we need to make a trip to Scotland. To Hogwarts. There's a person I need to speak to about this case."

"Let me ring my flatmate, and I'll let him know I won't be home this evening," Angel said as he rose and pulled on his suit coat. Absently he added, "so he can feed my turtle."

"No need, we can Floo there and back. You'll just have to hang onto me," Tonks said with a little smirk. The last time they had travelled by Floo, Angel had spent a hour in the loo, vomiting noisily.

Tonks thought she saw a green tinge suffuse his skin as he said, "Yeah, right. Forgot all about that."

&*&*&

Lucius was in his natural element, schmoozing with his fellow politicians at the summit in Egypt, greasing the wheels of progress, as it were. He fought to keep his attention on the agenda but discovered that the mere thought of attending this lavishly hosted excuse of a luncheon had him bored out of his mind. He wondered fleetingly when all of the trappings of power had begun to seem more a burden than a right. If he were truly honest with himself, his ambitions since Draco's death had run more along the lines of easing his very real pain. He had loved his son and had been gutted when the Dark Lord had sent Draco on that fool's errand to kill Dumbledore. He had thanked whatever family gods still watched over him that Narcissa had been clever enough to contact Severus for his help.

He had been nearly destroyed the night Narcissa was murdered and Draco lost touch with reality. Lucius' frame of reference, always self-serving before that event, had adjusted to one that wasn't any less self-serving, it simply affected a wider range of people. Lucius had worked to consolidate his power in the Era of Darkness, to effect the changes he needed to defeat the Dark Lord, the destroyer of his family. He had never meant that Draco would become the weapon of that destruction. He was no Albus Dumbledore and his son was no messianic Harry Potter.

As always, when he thought on his long dead son, his heart seemed to lurch and shift painfully. He ran his knuckle over the spot where that organ was rumoured to lie, and leaned against the back of his chair, his expression calm, a practiced mask over his inner turmoil.

To his right, a member of the Russian Ministry jostled Lucius' arm as the man went for his fifth tumbler of vodka. Lucius bestowed his frostiest smile on the man and resumed absently rubbing his chest over the damnable Muggle suit he was forced to wear on these state occasions. The German Ministry Ambassador, a witch with an impressive resume in the United Nations, WHO, and the magical branch of NATO, leaned toward Lucius, her harsh accent belying her excellent command of English. She looked rather more like Narcissa than Lucius was comfortable with, and he wondered how he had come to be seated alongside the witch. No doubt, the American President had something to do with the seating. The Yank, a Muggle buffoon who headed both the Magical and non-Magical branches of government in that country had been more than a little put out by the marked lack of support both the British Muggle government and the Ministry had shown for the latest American incursion in the Middle East. The witch bestowed a heated smile upon him as she turned her almost cat-like attention solely on Lucius. "I suspect you are as bored as I."

Her hand strayed underneath the table, brushing against his thigh as she shot a small, knowing smile at him. Lucius straightened in his seat, not wanting to discourage her attentions more forcefully. He needed the German support for the international treaty that had been proposed for the management of the different Were-tribes that were cropping up in Europe due to Greyback's vendetta against humans during the Dark Lord's ill-fated reign.

She pursued his leg again, this time squeezing his knee and then groping higher. Lucius placed his hand over hers to stop her progress. He leaned forward, covering his mouth with his other cupped hand as he informed the baggage, "I am truly sorry, Madam, that I cannot indulge you further. My wife and I have a damnably unbreakable contract. I do hope you understand."

The German merely laughed and then turned to the Nigerian Ambassador, managing to, no doubt, grope the stately black woman in her quest for companionship. Lucius settled back in his seat, and turned off his brain as the mind-numbing droning of the group continued.

A few moments later, Percy Weasley entered with an uncharacteristically panicked look and was ushered to Lucius' side by two of the rather stalwart Secret Service agents of the U.S. delegation. They stood to the side as Percy Weasley whispered, "Sir, a person fitting the description of... Dra... your son, has been sighted in Diagon Alley. Kingsley is holding him at the Ministry, but the Muggle he was with is demanding their release."

Lucius stifled the swift surge of hope that flashed through his body. Sightings of Draco Malfoy had become something of a phenomenon to which Lucius had had to accept as part of the familial notoriety. His son had become the saviour-hero that Harry Potter had failed to be. Lucius frowned, his tone more than mildly rebuking, "I believe you are able to deal with this latest impostor, Weasley. Please do so without further interruption of this meeting."

"Sir, I don't think I've made myself clear..." Weasley's neck, then cheeks flushed, whether out of irritation or embarrassment, Lucius could hardly care.

Lucius turned to face the young man full on, fixing him with the haughtiest of his sneers. "I do believe you understand me, however. If you value your position, you will deal with this yourself. I have no time for this."

Weasley's expression hardened perceptibly, "Be that as it may, Sir, Headmaster Snape and Kingsley Shacklebolt both require your presence. The man is claiming that he is not your son, but the standard blood tests have been administered and... it does appear that your son is alive and at the Ministry. Shacklebolt will not be able to detain him much longer."

Lucius felt as if a hand had gripped his heart as he drew himself up, making his apologies as Weasley awaited him a few steps away, ostensibly to escort the British Minister of Magic from the room. Lucius strode blindly from the room, ultimately using the younger man's arm to steady himself so that he would not stumble.

Draco was alive. His son lived, and Lucius would see him once again.

His chest burst into a fiery bloom of pain as his eyes swam with unshed tears. His step faltered and Weasley merely stiffened his stance, aiding Lucius away from the surprised stares and whispered outrage. He did not acknowledge Lucius' apparent distress. At least there was one good man out of that pulchritude of Weasley spawn.

&*&*&

Tonks spent a frustrating hour with Luna Zabini, stifling the urge to throttle her as she went on about some imagined beast and its ability to control the weather, thoughts of all sentient beings, and still have time to elude detection. Angel could barely contain his disbelief as Madam Zabini brought out several back-issues of her father's useless rag to illustrate her point about the fabled Buffle-headed Flinch Mice. She claimed the newspaper was of some repute, and Tonks agreed to the claim, with the rejoinder echoing in her head, if one were mad.

Tonks finally was able to extricate herself with a promise to return at a later date to enter another lively discussion with the airy girl. Angel merely gave that stone-faced cop look and turned on his heel as Tonks exited.

On their way up to the castle-proper Angel stopped at the field of stone markers erected since the end of the war. Tonks had intimate acquaintanceship with the main mass grave. It was from there that she had crawled over the bodies of her comrades and loved ones. She felt the familiar and unwelcome burn of tears as Angel asked, "How many?"

Tonks tried to act as if she didn't hear, but Angel's obdurate silence prompted her to say in equal hardness, "Don't know. I didn't have time to count them when I dragged myself out of the grave. My husband is in there somewhere."

She felt Angel's unflinching gaze on her face for a few moments. He turned away from her as he said, "I suppose we all lost someone in that bloody stupid war of yours."

Tonks toed a piece of sod that had been disrupted by the hooves of some animal, no doubt one of Luna's madness inducing creatures. "It wasn't my war I didn't start it, and I certainly didn't finish it."

"No, your new husband and that potions bloke started it," Angel snorted, and she knew without looking that the expression on his face was sour, ugly even.

"Sod off, Angel," Tonks rounded on him. "I'm sick of your bloody sneering. I'm sick of your attitude, and I'm really fucking sick of having to work with you, a useless sod that wouldn't be where he was if is nose weren't permanently stained brown from all that deep arse kissing you do."

Angel sneered, despite her words and snapped, "I still say, it wasn't us mooglies>, or whatever derogatory term you magicians call us, we never started this. It was all you lot with your sticks and your airs and your secret societies." Tonks attempted to take a deep, calming breath after seeing Angel's chin tremble as he attempted to master his emotions. The action failed miserably as Angel continued, grabbing her arm in a painful pinch. "What crime did my sister or my girl commit that caused them to be raped, tortured, or turned into beasts? Why did I have to lose them because you lot couldn't see us as human?"

His voice broke and he pushed her away. "Let's just get this over with so you can go back to feeling superior to me."

Tonks rubbed her arm, knowing there would be bruises there tomorrow. She would have to get Hermione to give her some bruise balm, or there would be hell to pay. The last thing she needed was for Lucius to wreak havoc on her Muggle partner.

Angel remained silent and sullen throughout their visit with the Headmaster.

&*&*&

Andromeda looked at the tarot cards again. Things were definitely falling into place for her. If she played everything just right, she might, just might, be coven leader by the end of the year. It all hinged on how long Malfoy stood out against sending the Weasley boy.

She tapped her finger on the card that represented him, the Fool. He carried the means of destruction in his blood. Andromeda didn't need to look at the cards to see this. Weasley's rather profligate sexual exploits had been followed closely by her loose association of spies in England. He carried a virus in his body that would eventually kill him, but not as quickly as the Muggles it also affected. He would be able to live at least another seventy years. But, if she could get Sanguini to sup from him, to sleep with him, it would considerably shorten that vampire's life. In a race of eternal beings, having a finite existence severely limited one's staying power as a leader. Andromeda intended to end the race of vampires once and for all, so that no other mortal being would be cursed with immortality at the expense of their soul.

It was fortunate that she had the one talent that would assure success in this area. Vampires each had a different talent. Sanguini's was to be able to withstand most curses. Hers was to spread dreams, prophetic dreams, throughout the tribe, so it did not appear that the images were being manipulated in the dreamer's mind. Doing so with vampires was her one power. The race normally did not dream.

She looked over at her maker, who sat on his throne in the semi-gloom of the room, his booted feet rakishly kicked out before him. He knew the powerful image he created as the coven went about cleaning their months of neglected squalor. It wasn't true that vampires slept during the day and only lived at night. They were like any other creature, able to function during any hour, their only limitation being that exposure to sunlight caused anything from severe burns to death.

She felt Sanguini's eyes on her as she swept the cards into a pile again. His attention had become tiresome. It had been since she had been made. She had never wanted to live, had never asked Sanguini to change her. The act itself had ruined her. She still didn't know what lay beyond that veil between life and death, but she was sure she would never be reunited with Ted, the only man she had ever loved, the only man who hadn't used her. She hated Sanguini the most for that.

She lifted her pale eyes to Sanguini's blood-dark ones, "Yes, Darling?"

"The boy. He will wake soon. I need you now." Sanguini rose and beckoned her. She followed, her skin crawling at the thought of his touch, the grazing of his teeth on her skin. She joined him, taking his hand as he propelled them both toward their chambers.

She would only have to endure his touch for a little while longer.

&*&*&

It was Lucius that stole the sense of calm that Tonks had finally achieved in the library. The state had eluded her all day until she had, at Snape's direction, settled into the Restricted Section and immersed herself in the type of study she had abhorred as a teen in that very institution.

She had spread out her books whilst Hermione and Snape entertained Angel with stories about the war. Hopefully, her partner would come away with a better understanding of all the wizarding world had gone through. It was odd to consider Snape and Angel together, less odd with Hermione there. Snape had ever been a spy, one who could never seek out recognition for his exploits. Angel was forever grandstanding about this or that exploit. When the two men had met, Tonks had expected disaster. Snape was the ultimate wizard, and Angel... well "Muggle" was the only polite term she had to apply to him, and he fit the mould so well.

What she hadn't expected was Angel's complete understanding of Snape's duties, and Snape's commiseration with the younger man about his losses.

Tonks wrapped her hand around the tome she was attempting to read, one that contained lore about vampires, ghouls, Inferi and the like. She had just come to the portion of the book that spoke of the compulsions that each of the creatures could effect, when she heard the doors to the library open and Lucius' distinctive footfall on the hardwood floors. She waited for him, drumming her fingers impatiently against the table, and finally rising to meet him halfway. She stood at the end of the stacks, her arms across her chest. He was supposed to be at that boring summit, not here looking for sex, though a little thrill went through her at the thought. She quashed the feeling, not wanting to betray the resting place of her late husband. She covered her lapse with a scowl.

His grey gaze ghosted to hers, and her heart stuttered, and then started again. He looked as if he had aged a hundred years since she had seen him just this morning. He leaned heavily on his cane as he almost shuffled to her. She asked more sharply than she intended, "What is it? Have you found..."

She swallowed the remaining words as his face contorted and he paused to cover it with his free hand. When he looked at her again, his iron control was in place, he looked every inch the pureblood bigot he had been. "It's Draco. He's been found."

If Tonks had been one to swoon, she would have, her relief was so great. "Oh, thank the gods."

"Indeed," he answered dryly. "I will need you at the Manor whilst I fetch him. Please make his chambers ready."

He turned, his gait once again steady. Tonks cursed under her breath, feeling foolish that she had hoped Lucius would need her to be with him.

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LIfe in an Alien Land 3: Minor Household Gods