"Old Magic uses only the four Elements, which is why newer magic disparages it." Snape stood in the middle of his brats, facing the aisleway.

"Earth, wind, fire and water," recited Draco, eyes alert with intense concentration.

"Disparaged," added Harry, "because it isn't fancy enough?"

Snape nodded. "To a point. Also because there have been so many refinements over the centuries that make a lot of what it does obsolete. That does not mean it is not powerful, just that its power is different. For example, New Magic is based on the recognition that a wizard's or witch's power comes from within. It requires a wand so that these magical powers can be directed outwardly. Old Magic recognises personal magic but uses it in relation with the Elements. As you have seen, it does not require a wand."

Two heads nodded, faces more focused than anything Snape had ever seen on them in his classroom.

"Which is why there can be such a negative response whenever a modern witch or wizard demonstrates any such ability. In many minds, it is too tied to a magic they have rejected as, I suppose, primitive and not worthy of modern times and thought. Moreover, not many of us care to connect to the source of Old Magic, due to its association with Darkness. These days, it happens more by happenstance."

"Harry can do some," Draco said.

"Yes, he can. Actually, anyone can who can tap into the source. It's really not all that difficult, but you do have to overcome a lot of personal training and prejudice to find it. There is another factor. You not only have to want to be in touch with it, Old Magic has to accept your doing so "

"And you're going to teach us how to do this." Harry spoke with a conviction that made Snape's decision all that much easier to bear.

"Yes." He stepped forward then turned to face them. "The source of Old Magic is all around us. In Earth, Wind, Fire and Water. What made someone a wizard in the early days was recognition of this fact. Once recognised, magic was there for the using. The main source is...Mother Earth."

And he paused, waiting for a snicker or some reaction. Old Magic was often derided as some child's fantasy, good only for some child's story book, if at all. Names which had been once so respected and therefore powerful were today cause for laughter and mockery. Old Magic would require that his brats forget about everything they had ever learnt or been told about Magic and its powers.

But his brats only nodded. Accepting.

"Which is why we are barefoot. In those days, when Magic was called upon, one first needed to be in contact with the main source. Here we are on bedrock and so can feel Her. And She can feel us. Close your eyes and clear your minds of everything you know about today's Magic. Try and feel the power in Mother Earth beneath you."

Snape closed his eyes and focused on the power around him. He had been taught how when he'd been a boy in his grandfather's care. It had been easier for him as an untrained child because there had been so little interference from any other kind of Magic. Would his brats, at their age, feel Her power? Harry already seemed to be able to tap into Her, but Draco?

"Oh!"

Yes, Harry could. Snape opened his eyes and saw Harry with his head back, mouth slightly open as felt the power of Earth. It was particularly strong here in the Chamber, since Salazar had made use of it.

Draco was frowning. He changed his stance a little, feet wider apart as though bracing himself. His head turned slightly, first one way then another, as though chasing a feeling.

Then Harry reached out and took Draco's hand in his. After a moment, Draco's face relaxed and his lips parted on a soft, "Ah."

Two sets of eyes opened and looked at him.

"Like that?" smiled Harry.

Snape was astonished. That quickly? It had taken him... But then, they'd been in the Chamber, surrounded by forces older than time, for over a week. He wasn't really surprised that Harry could tap into it, but Draco? Unless the boy had a sensitivity to it?

He decided not to question any longer. This meant that they could begin training right away. It gave them more time than he had calculated. He suddenly felt more comfortable with his plan.

"Of all the forces of Old Magic, Wind is the easiest to control as it surrounds us continually in its form of Air."

Controlling Wind had been his first success as a boy. He remembered the feeling of power it had given him. The pleasure. For there was much pleasure to be derived from Old Magic, something that had been forgotten along with everything else.

"The words we speak to call up the power of Wind are these."

He took to the middle of the aisleway and raised his hands to the ceiling. He spoke loudly, clearly.

"Piuthar-Gaoth, tromhad!
Thalla, Orteag!"(1)

The air in the Chamber moved, slowly at first then a little more quickly until Draco and Harry could almost see it as it surrounded Snape. He tilted his head back, obviously enjoying the way the air caressed his face, played through his hair, billowed his robes ever so gently.

Then with, "Buidheach, Piuthar!"(2) the slight wind calmed and all was as it had been.

"Oh...my!" And Harry turned to Draco whose face reflected the awe they both shared.

It was when Snape had them introduce themselves to Mother Earth, Māthair- Tolamh, asking for her blessing, that he finally understood the probable reason that Draco had so easily been received by Her.

He had asked for his last night, once he'd unlocked the memories. He still couldn't believe the surge of relief that had coursed through him at his being accepted once more. Now he had them repeat, each in his turn:

"Fāilte, Māthair-Tolamh.
Gabh beachd mac-māthar
Brigh Harry Potter
Beag beannachd
Māthair-Tolamh"(3)

And then Harry poured a goblet filled with wine onto the bedrock. He gasped when the wine was absorbed into the stone, a sign that his offering had been pleasing and accepted, as he had.

"Fāilte, Māthair-Tolamh.
Gabh beachd mac-māthar
Brigh Draco Black
Beag beannachd
Māthair-Tolamh"

And still stunned from that revelation, Snape watched as Draco's offering was also accepted.

"Black?" he asked when the two had finally begun to take in just the kind of power they were dealing with.

Harry smiled. "This seems to be a time for introductions. If I may, Professor Severus Snape; my colleague and fellow bondsman, Draco Black."

Draco shrugged a little ruefully "I've never been much of a Malfoy according to my father. And he has renounced me and all protection of me." Then, with a hint of challenge, "So why shouldn't I take my mother's name. At least she cares for me."

So other than coming to terms with each other while he'd been sleeping, Draco had used that time to renounce his patrimony in favour of his matrilineage. Yes, that would please Māthiar-Tolamh.

And Her pleasure might explain why his brats caught on so quickly that, by mid-morning, they were both able to call up Piuthar-Gaoth, Sister Wind, and control the very air in the Chamber.

Moreover, Snape, who had wondered just how much of his training he would remember, found the old spells readily at hand. He had been, after all, taught by a Master, his grandfather. And with the spells came the memories of that time when he had felt so carefree after the stifling atmosphere of his maternal home.

Over a light lunch, he had the two repeat spells so that they would be able to use them properly, pronouncing the old Gaelic until it flowed. Spells dealing not only with Māthair-Tolamh and Piuthar-Gaoth, but Brāthair-Aingeol, Brother Fire, and Brāthair-Uisage, Brother Water.

Most were calling up spells, gathering the powers of the Elements to them, asking for protection.

"Defensive magic was used in response to attack. It was not used for attack unless absolutely necessary for survival of the tribe. The wards I teach you are for protection of a tribe, of a unit. They are used to persuade the attacker of the uselessness of his actions. Only if he should persist should the spells used also become more aggressive.

"That's when the spells merging Elements are used. That way, a wind storm can become a tempest; a merging of Piuthar-Gaoth and Brāthair-Uisage. To increase its ferocity, one can call up Tāirneanach, Thunder, and Dialan, Lightning. Which can be used judiciously to call up Brāthair-Aingeol, Fire. Remember that at all times, nothing must be done that permanently damages any of the Elements, most especially Māthair-Tolamh, for She is the source of not just Old Magic, but of us all.

"And remember, when releasing the Elements in any of their forms, thanks must be given, buidheach, or they may not come when next you call them. And later, when there is time, there must also be an offering made to Māthair-Tolamh, to show appreciation of Her support."

By evening, under Snape's tutelage, both of his students could call up a breeze, a whirlwind, a shower progressing to a thunderstorm and then the wind again to dry the Chamber and themselves.

Snape expected them to be exhausted: they were, after all, new to this kind of wizardry. Instead they were both higher than kites, eyes overly-brilliant, and prone to giggling nervously. He himself felt better than he had in months. No, if he were honest, years. The Snapes had been tied to the old ways longer than the newer and this felt like coming home to his magic.

Snape managed to get his brats' thoughts focused away from their lessons – he had to insist on it! – and turned to those of bed and sleep.

After he undressed then crawled his way to the centre of the bed they all shared, he realised that the last thing they had on their minds was sleep.

"You had his cock last," said Draco, "it's mine tonight."

Snape looked over his shoulder just in time to glimpse a naked Harry grin wickedly, wand in hand, a jar of lubricant hovering at its tip. Then the brat bowed, his arm gesturing out, offering his ‘fellow bondsman' Snape's body. "After you."

Before Snape could respond, he had Draco on him, pushing him over onto his back.

He tried to reclaim his position as the giver of orders, of instruction, of authority. He was the master here, the head of this triad. "No, Draco. Sleep. We need..."

And that's as far as he got.

Which was why he came to be lying on his back, Draco straddling his hips, riding Snape's cock, while Harry, knees to either side of Snape's shoulders, hands gripping the headboard to keep his weight off Snape's chest, was leaning forward, his cock in Snape's mouth. Snape himself was occupied, his hands holding Harry's hips as steady as possible as he worked on driving his brat to the limits of his self-control.

Draco was the one to slip his hand under the pillows for his wand, to clean them all up. As he snuggled close to Snape, who was already drifting off into sleep, he murmured in Snape's ear. "I disobeyed you. Don't you think I should be punished for that?" And he gave the ear a sleepy, slurpy lick before nestling his head on Snape's shoulder.

Snape held back a groan. He had thought, in recent times, that either Voldemort or even Dumbledore would be the reason for his death. That he might be fucked to death had never crossed his mind.

Harry made a soft sound as he cuddled a little closer, a leg nudging its way between Snape's.

Snape sighed and...just accepted.

Snape woke to the sound of laughter and someone humming a waltz. He looked at the canopy and wondered if perhaps he was not dreaming. Still, laughter and song had never played much of a role in his dreams.

He sat on the side of his bed and watched Harry, sprawled in Snape's chair, applaud and cheer Draco who was dancing around to the tune he was humming, his billowing robe as his partner. It had quickly been apparent the previous day that Sister Wind had a particular affinity for the boy. Not that the Element responded less to Harry's instructions, but he didn't seem to have the touch Draco had with Piuthar-Gaoth.

It was a measure of how far these two had progressed that the fact did not elicit any of the usual tension, at least none that he could tell on Harry's part. He grinned at Snape who was watching him as Draco executed a dip with his ‘partner'.

"Must be that Arabian part of him," he laughed. "I'm still two left feet when it comes to dancing."

But he wasn't two left feet when it came to dealing with Fire. If Wind had selected Draco as a favourite, then Brāthair-Aingeol had designated Harry as his. Draco watched as Harry played with a ball of fire, his actions sure and quick as he tossed the ball up and directed its course around his head.

"He has no fear of being burnt," Draco whispered, a little awed. All three of them were wearing only their trousers and, of all that bare skin, only Harry's showed no signs of the slippage that had occurred when Snape had demonstrated the spells dealing with Brāthair-Aingeol.

Snape shook his head. He himself had never been completely comfortable handling Fire and, like Draco, could see that Harry and Fire partnered well. The ball of fire split at Harry's request and became a series of small dancing flames that hovered just over the lines of his out-stretched arms. He turned to them, grinning wildly.

This time Draco was the one who applauded and cheered.

"So," said Harry, as they were finishing their evening meal, "which Element favours you, Severus?"

Snape's eyebrow rose. "What makes you think one of the Elements would favour me?"

Draco licked a finger and scoffed. "If in New Magic we all have areas in which we excel, it must be the same with Old."

"Potions," Harry said, reflecting. "You're an expert in potions. Wouldn't that be Mother Earth's domain?"

Snape settled back in his chair. So far all they had worked with was Fire and Wind. The bedrock was too important to the continued good health of Hogwarts for him to instruct them on the ways of calling up Mother Earth. As for Water, the small streams that coursed under the bedrock could be and would be the subject of the next day's lessons.

"There have been times," he admitted carefully, "that I was worthy of Her particular attention. The materials for potions come mainly from Her, even now."

"But they work differently."

Snape nodded. "All things have their own Magic. Today we tend to impose ours on theirs, though without theirs we could not make the potions we do. In earlier times, we recognised theirs over ours and allowed the ingredients to work their magic in combination, with the specific potion wanted as the end result. The words spoken were not spells, but a request for their magic to co-operate in order to produce that potion."

"In other words," offered Draco, leaning back on his hands, "in the old days, Magic worked for us if it wanted to. Today, we force Magic to work for us, not caring if it wants to."

Snape thought a moment. "That's rather basic, but, yes. Man has become rather arrogant in relation to the Elements. He thinks he's better and that they exist for his use. In the early days, the Elements were respected and held in awe."

He sighed. "Unfortunately, today's opinion is the one we will have to deal with when we return Above." He looked at his brats and hoped they would understand what he was about to tell them. "Once we go back, there must be no mention of this, our time with Old Magic. It would not be welcomed in many important circles."

Hell, Dumbledore would have his hide if he even caught a whiff of Old Magic from them.

Draco and Harry exchanged rather grim looks.

"You won't have to beat it into us; we do understand, you know," said Harry.

"It's our secret and we both swore to keep it.' Draco managed to sound offended without being offensive about it.

"But," continued Harry, "we will need to practise, if only not to lose what we have learnt here."

Draco sat up and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Harry's right. And there must be things you can't teach us here, that need more space and a better environment."

Snape chewed his bottom lip as he wondered just how far he could go without putting himself in jeopardy. "To be honest, we will have to see how things are when we return Above. Frankly, I am surprised that we have been allowed this much time without someone coming to search for us."

"Does the Headmaster know that we're here, in the Chamber?"

Snape shrugged. "He must by now." His laugh was not funny. "I would have expected him to ‘pop in' by now to see how matters lay. That he hasn't..."

"Do you think that may mean there's trouble Above?"

Snape shook his head. "No. The house elves know we're here. If no one else, your Dobby would have come get us if we had been needed." He inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly. "No, for whatever reason, we have this time. And not much of it is left."

"What happens to us when we go back?" asked Draco. Harry moved so that he sat side by side with him. They both looked a little anxious at the thought.

"We go through the same everyday paces that we went through before we came here. I shall teach and you shall attend classes. The only difference should be that the fighting between you two will have stopped. At least," he gave them both his serious professor glare, "it is to be hoped."

Snape went on alert at the looks the two exchanged. The nudge from Draco to Harry only increased his sudden worry.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, we've been thinking about that," said Harry, who seemed to have been appointed spokesman.

"Yes?" His brats thinking, that didn't sound good.

"We think that it would be better for us...for this new relationship we have and we're supposed to have Above..."

Snape braced himself, wondering what was going to come out of his Gryffindor's mouth.

"Well, we think it would be best all round if we both moved out of our dorms and into a room together."

Before Snape could do more than open his mouth, Harry held up a hand. "Please, sir, let me continue."

Snape sat back in his chair and nodded, granting him permission. He wanted to hear what plan his brats had come up with behind his back. Since he'd been here, he was sleeping better and with fewer nightmares. He had thought that a good thing: maybe it hadn't been. Seemed he had been sleeping while his brats...

"Look, if we go back to our dorms, the same thing is going to happen again. The rivalries between our two Houses are very strong. We're going to be expected to be involved in them. And if we're too different from before the holidays, it will cause a lot of questions...so that we'll be more or less forced eventually to take up our old arguments." Harry looked at Draco. "And we don't want that. We're going to have enough trouble dealing with the effects of the Prophecy, we don't want to expend any energy or time dealing with traditional House conflicts."

Draco nodded his agreement.

"So, we thought that, when we went back up...before the others arrive...if we had already moved into a room together...we could tell them that it was the only way that those in authority determined this might assure an end to our fighting in public. You could tell the Headmaster that, if we shared a room, at least any ‘disagreements' would be kept between us, not setting the Houses off again like we did before we...we...whatever it is we decide to tell them we've done while we were gone..."

Draco seemed to have decided that Harry was not explaining things clearly. He took over. "Severus, you bound us together. We need to be together, and not just for the sex. Anyways, if that's a worry, we just do what we do in the dorms: ward the room against anyone surprising us. But we do need to be together. If the Prophecy is right..."

"All right, I see your point." And he did. He was rather surprised that they had considered the matter. "Since it is obvious that you've given this some thought, I suppose you have a room picked out?" And found himself wondering just what the hell they were up to when the smiles broke on both their faces. Delighted, satisfied, slightly wicked smiles.

Draco leaned forward. "We thought the room by the unused Prefects' bathroom. The one that doesn't have the fancy washing facility."

Snape considered the room under discussion. " Is that the one that lies at the end of the corridor? The one that's been used for storing things unclaimed after Prefects have left?"

Two heads nodded.

"How do you know about..."

"Oh, Hermione told me about it," Harry said, very casually.

Yes, of course, Miss Granger, now Head Girl, would have explored every nook and cranny of the Prefects' area, whether permitted to or not.

"That's the room at the end of the boys' section, isn't it?"

"Not really. It's sort of in between, so it's not convenient to either the girls' and the boys' Prefects' wings. Which is why it isn't used. Hermione calls it ‘no woman's land'."

Draco snorted. "She would."

Snape expected Harry to jump to his friend's defence but all that happened was that Draco got an elbow firmly planted in his ribs and a casual, "Knock it off. We wouldn't know about the room if not for her."

"I'll make sure to thank her then, if we get to move in." Draco used his eyebrows to query that last part of his comment.

Snape frowned, not ready to commit himself. He would have to suggest the idea to Dumbledore, who might not see the matter as his brats did.

"And," added Draco, at his most persuasive, "it has the added feature of being just off the hidden staircase that leads directly to the part of the dungeons where a certain Potions professor has rooms of his own."

Ah. Suddenly things made a little more sense. He had a more than fleeting suspicion that staircase – the one he had thought hidden behind the tapestry of an early design for Hogwarts that hung across from his doorway – might have been the prime reason for the selection of that particular room.

"Let me guess, more of Miss Granger's investigations?"

Harry shook his head. "No, for that bit of information we need to thank Percy Weasley. Hermione is not the only one who investigates, you know."

"Is nosey, you mean." But Snape noted that Draco's tone was lightly teasing and that Harry took no offense.

"He stumbled upon it one day, quite by accident. Literally stumbled. Mrs. Norris was in the hallway and he went to see what she was up to. He tripped over her when she took off and his hand hit a doorknob that wasn't there. Except that once he had his hand on it, it and a doorway appeared. So, being Percy, he had to see where it led to."

"And who else knows of this?" Snape snarked, "I can't see Mr. Weasley keeping such information to himself."

"He didn't," agreed Harry. "He told Penelope...Penelope Clearwater. She was his girlfriend at the time. Ravenclaw." He waited for Snape's nod.

Draco took up the narration. "She bragged about it to Baddock Major, who mentioned it to Baddock Minor, who mentioned it to me as a way of proving that he knew things I didn't about the school when I had to put him in his place one day."

"And since neither Baddock Major nor Minor are any longer with us..." Snape knew the Baddocks were strong supporters of Voldemort and had pulled both boys out of Hogwarts the previous year. He tried to find some argument to use against the plan: Dumbledore certainly would test him if he presented it to the Headmaster.

Draco seemed to understand. "We can put a confusion spell on the doors just in case, one that responds only to us three, if that will assure...you. Actually, it might be best, so that the upper door doesn't disappear on us when we want to use it."

Harry nodded his agreement.

Snape contemplated the ceiling of the Chamber. He knew that his brats hadn't decided on this plan just out of an altruistic need to maintain peace in the halls and Common Rooms of Hogwarts. Damn, he was going to have to rework the wards on his doors to recognise them: it would be that or else arrive at his private quarters to find his wards had attacked them. Or, now that he knew them better, that they had broken through.

He tried not to think of their presence in his rooms, more especially in his bed. He didn't delude himself for a moment that had been one of the prime motivators behind this plan of theirs. Dumbledore would...

Snape sighed. Not matter what he did, Dumbledore would go berserk if he ever discovered his Potions instructor was fucking the salvations of the wizardry world. Mind, the way things were going with the Ministry and Voldemort, the Headmaster had been less than patient with anything he did lately. No, he had to be honest there: the Headmaster was less than patient with the entire staff and student body. The tension was telling on the old man.

So, depending on how he presented the suggestion to Dumbledore... Depending on what had been going on while they'd been down here... Depending on...

He rubbed his face with his hands. "I can't promise you anything but, yes, I do agree with you that taking you away from your peers might improve the tenure of classes for the next terms. If I present it as such to the Headmaster..."

"And it would take Draco away from the situation in Slytherin House," added Harry.

"Things not well?" Snape sat up, examining his suddenly tight-lipped Slytherin, who only shrugged a little in response. Damn, he had thought... "I'm sorry, Draco, I should have known."

Draco shrugged again, as if it weren't important. "You had end of term on your mind, along with other things."

Harry leaned into Draco, offering him some consolation on what must have been a more than difficult situation for the Slytherin. True, most of those whose families supported Voldemort were no longer part of the student body – and not just Slytherins – but those Slytherins left would have found Draco less powerful without his father backing him, even if they had urged him to battle with Harry.

"You could tell the Headmaster," said Harry, "that if Draco and I were to share a room, that would help both of us remain focused on our studies as you doubt that we would have much else to keep us occupied."

"Studying rather than talking Quidditch and gossip till all hours of the night, you mean, as is common in all Common Rooms?" Snape thought of the Headmaster and his concern about the way both Harry's and Draco's marks had fallen of late. He nodded. "Yes, that too would add some ammunition to the proposal."

"Well, that's settled then," said Draco, rising to his feet.

"Not so quick, young man," said Snape, at his most snide. He was a little irritated that they had yet again taken control of the situation, even if it had been well thought out. "There is the small matter of disobedience that has yet to be settled."

Draco froze in mid-rise.

Harry's head snapped from Draco to Snape and back again to Draco. Who remained as he was other than for the tip of his tongue which slowly moistened his lips as though they had suddenly gotten very dry. Oh, and the flush that coloured his pale complexion.

Snape glared at Draco until he did move, unconsciously graceful, into a kneeling position, the same one they had assumed so often before the bounding. Once he had, Snape turned his glance onto Harry.

"Will you be all right with this, Harry?"

Harry was surprised at the concern from Snape. He was also surprised to find that he didn't doubt the man's sincerity. He didn't get this kink but it seemed to be something that gave both Snape and Draco pleasure. He wondered what about him was kinky; if he even had one. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't mind playing along with this scene. With a small dramatic sigh, he managed what he thought was a rather smoother rise of an eyebrow, and made himself comfortable on the floor.

"Well, sir, he did disobey you. And, knowing Draco as I do...as we both do...if you let him get away with that, he'll challenge you every time. Like he does me on the Quidditch pitch."

"I see," said Snape, catching on to what he was doing. "And what do you think would be an appropriate punishment for this willful disobedience on his part?"

Draco peered over at Harry from under the fringe of hair that now drooped rather elegantly over his brow. Harry took a good look at his fellow bondsman. Damn but he was beautiful. And like the Arabian he was, he was trembling with restrained nervous energy at the thought of what he knew to be coming. Still, Harry decided to ratch up the anticipation. He'd learnt that would add an extra sweetness to Draco's ‘punishment'.

"Well, sir, there are so many options available to you."

Snape used a hand to cover up the smile that he couldn't prevent at Harry's getting seriously into the game. "Such as, Mr. Potter?"

Harry made a small production of appearing to consider the possibilities: Draco sent him a glare, as though to tell him to hurry up, so Harry, of course, took his time. He crossed his legs, propped his elbows on his knees, his chin on his joined hands, and pretended to consider Snape's request.

Snape suddenly coughed but Harry didn't take it as a clue to get to the point: Snape's shoulders were actually shaking a little.

"Let me see. There's detention with you when we go Above. Don't the second years have to make that potion this term which requires all those slugs that need pre-gutting?"

Snape nodded. "That they do, but I prefer to keep that detention for the fifth years, especially the squeamish ones."

Harry nodded. "Good point. Well, you could hand him over to Filch. The Trophy Room probably needs polishing again."

Snape shrugged. "I would never abuse Filch's authority there. Besides, he prefers using first through third years for that chore as they are more susceptible to his glares and rantings as they work."

And the glare Draco was sending his way would have challenged Filch's expertise. Harry ignored him, finding that he was indeed enjoying his role in all this.

"Well, though I'm certain it would not be something that would have much approval in certain quarters..."

Snape nodded, all seriousness. "Yes, I see you hesitate, Mr. Potter, but since it is merely a suggestion you are proffering..."

Harry took a deep breath as though bracing himself. "Well, sir, though it has certainly fallen into disfavour in modern pedagogical..."

"Will you get to it!" muttered Draco, his hands fisted on his knees, his back reflecting light from the small tremors that ran under the skin.

Harry actually batted his eyelashes. God help him if...when Draco would have his turn...but damn if this wasn't rather getting to him. A whiff of Draco's arousal added to the itchiness that was slowly claiming his attention.

"As I was saying, sir, though it has certainly fallen into disfavour in modern pedagogical, I have found that physical chastisement sometimes manages to get the point across to Mr. Black."

"Ah," said Snape, smiling openly at his brat's Gryffindor courage, "so that might explain the many times that you and Mr. Black..." He coughed. Calling Draco that name would take some getting used to. He wondered how long before Lucius heard of it. Snape hoped he wouldn't be around Malfoy's wand and temper when he did. "The fisticuffs in the hallways and the changing rooms and the Quidditch pitch?"

Harry, he noted, suddenly chewed on his lower lip as though no longer quite certain of the games aspect of all this. Draco may be up for ‘punishment', but his Gryffindor would soon be in need of reigning in, if he didn't misjudge the response to their successes. But not this way: this was for Draco, not Harry. He smiled, inviting Harry to rejoin the game. "And what kind of physical chastisement do you recommend, Mr. Potter? I mean, I for one do no approve of fisticuffs at the best of times." There, that got the message across without garnering that wary look in those delicious green eyes.

"Yes, sir," said Harry, almost humbly, "I understand, sir." Then he tilted his head and offered, almost as though expecting to be further ‘chastised', "Well, sir, a spanking would certainly not fall under the definition of fisticuffs, would it now?"

Draco gasped, drawing their attention back to him. Snape would have been ready to swear that the boy's arse was quivering with anticipation.

Time to give him what he wanted.

Damn them! Did they have any idea what they were doing to him?

Of course, they did. That's why they were doing it!

Draco wriggled his knees a little further apart, allowing a bit more room for his cock to rise.

He glared at Harry...at frigging Potter...trying to get him to hurry up with the stupid act he and Sev...Snape were putting on. Oh, shit...they were having far too much fun. Hell, this was supposed to be his time, not theirs.

He had finally understood that Harry needed that snuggling and cuddling stuff far more than he did. Wuss Gryffindor that he was. Okay, not that he, Draco, didn't get pleasure out of that as well, but he'd discovered that he needed something more. Something...firmer. Something...special, just for him.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Harry wasn't comfortable with all this. Probably why Snape had felt it necessary to clear the matter with him. But why the hell did they suddenly pick this time to develop a...a...comedy routine?

"Come here, Draco."

Ah, at last!

How to approach what was going to happen? On his knees? On his feet? No, he leaned forward and placed his hands on the floor. They had made him wait, now he was going to return the favour. Besides, it helped that Harry was actually watching him, face intent. He knew part of that was because Harry didn't understand, but part of it, he knew, was that Harry liked watching him.

So, though he didn't want to antagonise Snape, his crawling took a slight detour on the way, passing in front of Harry, then a little to the side so that he could get a good view of his arse wriggling in anticipation of what it was about to receive.

Those times when Snape had inserted the plugs into his arse had awakened in him an itch that had grown with each insertion. He hadn't known just what it was, but when Snape had spanked him, just a couple of slaps, the itch had responded.

And had left him aching for a ‘scratch'.

He'd gotten some relief with that first real spanking Snape had given him. Strangely, it had focused him as nothing else had, until Severus had introduced them to Old Magic.

But the itch had come back and, though he hadn't quite been certain how to ask Snape to deal with it, a chance comment had done the trick. He would remember that.

Draco rested his head against Snape's clothed thigh and titled his head up in what he thought was a beguiling manner. He put on his most innocent look, the one he had developed for his father, and waited to see what the reaction would be.

Snape looked at him sternly as he reached down and brushed the hair off his face. "Brat. Don't pull that innocent act on me. I know you better. You disobeyed a direct order and now you have to suffer the consequences."

Oh, Merlin! What that voice did to him!

"Yes, sir." He made his own voice as humble and contrite as he could. He was rather proud of the little tremor in the tone, which was a perfect mate for those running under his skin.

"Over my lap, Draco. And be quick about it!"

Oh, yes, what that voice did to him! He hurried to comply.

Snape's knees were far apart, forming a platform on which he lay. The wool of his trousers was rough on Draco's sensitised skin. He was startled when a hand reached around and took hold of his genitals. Oh, yes... Please! But all Snape did was verify that they were dangling in the open space between his thighs. Draco caught the whimper when he removed his hand and rested it on the small of his back.

"Brace yourself as you did last time, brat."

Last time? Oh, yes. He grabbed the nearer ankle with both hands and rested his head against Snape's calf.

But then, the leg moved and suddenly his cock and balls were caught between Snape's thighs and...oh, shit, that felt good! He jerked his hips a little and yes, there was friction there. Not all that much, but enough for him to have something against which to rub.

One of Snape's hands gripped his waist, as though to hold him in place and the other rested lightly on his buttocks.

"Are you ready for this, Draco?"

What a fucking foolish question! He'd been ready hours ago. But he turned his face enough so that his muttered, "Yes, Severus," was audible. He felt rather audacious using Snape's name in the circumstances.

"Why am I punishing you, Draco?"

Huh?

Oh, shit, did the man have to ritualise everything?

He raised his head so that he could glare at the man. And encountered the professor.

"I'm serious abut this, Draco. I don't mind giving you what you need, but there are courtesies that should be followed, even in this. Yes, some are there for form but others are there for your safety. We will follow these courtesies, brat. Or this ends here and now."

Draco gulped and then nodded.

"I am being punished because you told me to sleep and I..." He what? Made Snape come instead? Not very tactful. "And I blatantly ignored your order."

Snape nodded, as though that was enough to please the courtesy. "And you are ready for me to begin dealing out the consequences of your disobedience?"

Draco went to nod then gave Snape the words. "Yes, sir, I am." And he braced his head once more against the wooled leg.

But all Snape's hand did was rubbed the fatty part of his buttocks, nudge his legs apart so that the hand could have access to his inner thighs.

Draco's sigh was as close to a complaint as he dared to offer. When was he going to get what he wanted?

And then he did.

"Oh!"

Not a hard smack, but one that immediately went to the itch. The action rocked him a little, enough for his cock to rub against a hard thigh.

And, this time, his sigh was a happy one.

At last!

Draco closed his eyes and concentrated on the slight pain that radiated from the spot where Snape's hand had landed. It stayed there, the hand, not moving, then slowly rubbed back and forth, long enough for Draco to wonder if that was going to be all.

It wasn't. The next blow landed on a different spot. But again the hand remained there, only to rub the initial sting away.

Draco was surprised at the slight warmth that filled him at the gesture. This was so very much not the punishment that he and Harry had endured on first arriving in the Chamber. He allowed his body to sag, releasing a tension that he hadn't even known he was bearing until he let it go.

Snape, he was surprised to conclude, really understood what he was doing. Draco had given himself over to the man and only now realised how much he trusted him to know what it was Draco needed. To know far better than Draco did himself.

He flinched at the next blow, but though the pain was growing sharper, Snape's ‘treatment' after each only augmented the feeling of warmth and...and security he felt in this man's hands.

As his arse heated up, Draco tried hard not to fight against the pain, just to coast with the feelings aroused in him.

How he...

Oh, hell, Draco, admit it.

How he loved this man!

Oh, Draco knew that all those who shared his Potions class thought that Snape favoured him. Maybe it had begun that way, early on back in first year.

He knew Snape from the rare get-togethers that his father had held to satisfy and re-enforce his position as a power to be contended with amongst the pureblood families. Snape had usually attended because, after all, he was family. Draco knew him even better from the less rare occasions when actual family was invited to share in Lucius Malfoy's ‘benevolence and magnanimity' on special occasions. Mind, Draco couldn't remember ever seeing Snape kowtow to his father as other distant and even nearer family members did.

On those occasions, when Draco was permitted to join them for a short period of time – his performance to be later evaluated by his father – Snape had been one of the few who had taken the time to speak to him.

Once, Snape had actually conversed with him about a book he'd been reading. He'd been about nine and absolutely astonished that an adult would not only solicit but listen to his opinion. That is, until they had been interrupted by his father who had scorned to believe that anyone could find anything worth discussing with his son. Snape had responded with that disdainful eyebrow of his and the opinion that he was always ready to listen when someone actually used his brain.

So, when Draco arrived at Hogwarts, he had been more than predisposed to pay particular attention to his Potions class. He may have gotten high marks right from the beginning, but then he had worked for them. Yes, Snape allowed him to get away with everything short of murder in his classes, but the marks, the successful potions were all his.

Draco closed his eyes more tightly as he gasped with each blow now. There wasn't an inch of his arse that didn't radiate pain and heat. And, for whatever reason, the itch in him was pleased.

It bewildered him a little that he still felt such trust in this man.

Until he'd overheard his father discussing the return of He-Who-Must-Not- Be-Named with his mother, he hadn't known at all of Snape's involvement with the Death Eaters. The tone of pride, the thrill of absolute pleasure in his father's voice that night had given him the creeps. And the thought that his favourite person in the world might be involved...

He had been devastated.

But whenever he'd been home, if the occasion allowed, he had watched from his hiding place on the draped landing when his father's fellow Death Eaters had arrived for a meeting.

Once, for an even rarer audience with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.

He'd been terrified that night, but the need to know what was going on in the manor had led him to drum up the courage to spy on that small portion of the gathering. That was sufficient for him to know that these people were more than scarey. And to overhear enough to understand there was the fear of a spy in their midst. Too many little things gone wrong.

He'd thought carefully about the matter, then went so far as to begin spying on his Potions instructor. Maybe it had been only because he had known what was going on at one end that he had been able to add that to the little things he had picked up at the other. In his initial anger at his feelings of disappointment in Snape, he had thought to reveal what he'd learnt to his father, as a way of garnering a compliment, maybe even some respect. But then the thought of what would happen to the only person who paid attention to anything he did, who even now offered him compliments, of what the members of the organization he was betraying would do to him...

Which was when he had begun him to consider just what position he himself preferred to back in all this.

Anything his father stood with, Draco automatically wanted none of it. But this situation was different in that, at some point, he, Draco, would have to take a stand. One what would have irreversible consequences.

Trelawney's prophetic trance had been the last straw before he'd stopped thinking about defecting and actually done so.

The pain in his arse was growing too much to ignore. He pressed his face tightly against Snape's leg and sobbed quietly, no longer trying to control his responses.

The itch had built up as it had been scratched so that now every time Snape's hand landed on his arse, every time his hand soothed the skin it had hit, the balance between pain and relief perched on a needle-point. Draco was terrified that if the balance over-tipped, he would either fall into a pit of pure pain or, what would be worse, into a relief that would be only superficial at the very best.

Draco wanted Snape to stop but knew if he did, he would not find what he was looking for.

Once again, Snape seemed to understand. The rhythm of his spanking changed, breaking the pattern that had permitted Draco to accept, making it harder to disregard the warmth that was spreading from his arse to the inner core of himself. Snape's hand moved to include the undercurve of his buttocks and the sensation was nearly overwhelming.

The pain was dragging tears from his eyes, the warmth eased the spot deep within him that housed the fear that...

No, he would not think of that. Not now.

Now he would concentrate on the hand and the skin under that hand. The pain that rippled up his spine, the warmth that followed, filling him.

He would concentrate on his cock rubbing against the fine weave of Snape's trousers as he rocked forward on impact and on his balls which suffered the same treatment as his body rocked back.

He would concentrate on the fact that, in Snape's hands, he felt safe and cared for and wanted.

That he was now bound to this man. And, through him, to Harry.

And that he would never be alone again. That he had people to stand with him and besides him.

Oh, Merlin! Maybe this was all an illusion, brought on by the...the euphoria that was rising within him.

The changes in rhythm, the fact that he never knew – and couldn't care less – where that wonderful, relentless hand would land next, the ease the pain brought...

He couldn't help himself: he lifted his head and howled.

And then the most wonderful thing happened. The knees he was lying upon separated and a hand closed around his cock.

A hot, blessedly tight hand that proceeded to milk his cock until his howls changed to a shout and every bone in his body disintegrated.

"Is he all right?"

Harry watched as Snape lowered Draco's limp body onto the bed. His fellow bondsman was not unconscious, though Harry would have sworn he had been after his orgasm. No, what he was, was off somewhere that had put the most peaceful smile on Draco's face.

"He's coasting," explained Snape. He looked over his shoulder at Harry as he gently draped a sheet over Draco, careful to cover only legs and shoulders.

"Aren't you going to deal with that?" Harry pointed to the brilliantly rosy arse still radiating a heat that he could sense even from where he stood at the head of the bed.

Snape finished tucking the sheet under Draco's shoulder before he straightened. "No. He needs to feel it when he wakes. I'll deal with it then."

Harry shook his head. "I don't get it," he mumbled.

Snape opened up his arms and Harry stepped into their embrace. He leaned against this man whom he had just watched beat...no, not beat...what the hell was it that he'd done?

"I gave Draco what he wanted and what he needs."

Harry looked up at the face watching him. He hadn't been aware that he'd spoken aloud. Maybe he hadn't: he was pretty sure his discomfort with this was more than obvious.

"Do I need that?"

Snape shook his head. "No. What you need right now is this." And he took Harry's chin in his hand and tilted his head so that his mouth was accessible to him.

Harry had become aroused while he and Snape had been teasing Draco but the actual scene had put an end to that. Now, Snape's tongue in his mouth, his body responded and Harry rubbed himself against the man, pleased to find another ridge of hardness. While Snape held him upright, his hands dropped to his waistband and began dealing with the buttons then tugging at the wool until Snape's trousers coiled at his feet.

Harry's hands braced themselves around Snape's shoulders as he shifted his position onto tip-toe so that his cock could rub against Snape's. He whimpered when Snape pulled his mouth away.

"Easier on the bed," he gasped and Harry, still in Snape's arms, agreed. Somehow, without releasing the hold each had on the other, managing to avoid the inert Draco, they found themselves lying across the bed. Harry entwined his legs with Snape's and pushed hard, dragging a low moan out of Snape, which went directly to Harry's cock. And then Snape pushed back and Harry felt the moan in him begin at his toes before rolling its way out of his mouth.

They went slowly, judging each other's responses before adding a little movement, a hip rotating, a kiss, a hand caressing.

It had been, Harry decided as he lay replete in Snape's arms, a nice, slow fuck. He sighed, content. "Yeah, you were right. That was exactly what I needed."

Snape's snicker was very self-satisfied but Harry didn't care. He raised the hand that had given Draco what he'd needed and placed a kiss in the middle of the still red palm.

They were lying in bed, under the covers, when Harry asked, "How much longer before we have to go back?"

Snape opened his eyes and stared at the canopy. "If you are serious about the move..."

Harry raised his head. "We are. It makes sense, Severus. You know it does."

Snape's hand caressed the head back onto his shoulder. Draco, at his other side, was snoring softly, as he did whenever he'd had a strong orgasm.

"Well, then, we should go back Above at the latest the day before everyone is set to arrive. That should give us time to deal with...things." With Dumbledore, who might not see things as Harry and Draco did. Merlin! What would the old man have to say when he heard Draco's new name?

"With the Headmaster," murmured Harry, nestling a little more.

Snape nodded.

"Have you used the Time Turner as much as you dared?"

Snape raised his head to peer at his Gryffindor. "How...?"

Harry grinned sleepily. "Hermione used one just like that in third year. I noticed it when the bed got here."

"I'm not all that familiar with its limits," admitted Snape. "That's more Minerva's area of expertise." He yawned and closed his eyes. "But we do have five full days left."

He felt Harry's nod then his arm slipped down to Snape's waist. Harry yawned. "And five nights," he murmured contentedly.

Snape's eyes snapped open.

Draco woke, clear-headed and energised, ready to delve into more complicated Old Magic spells.

Snape watched as his brat played with a miniature tornado. "Remember, everything we do here is smaller because of the wards I've set up. In the outside world, that whirlwind would be a full-sized tornado and far harder to control. You would need to keep focused on it exclusive of any other distractions."

Harry's attention was suddenly diverted from his whirlwind which spun at a much slower rate than Draco's. He released it with a respectful "Buidheach," then went over to examine something by the wall behind the row of Snakes.

He crouched and seemed to be speaking. With a laugh, he stretched out his arm and, after a moment, rose, his arm now streaked black.

"Our activity seems to have gotten some attention," he said with a grin.

Draco, too curious by half, thanked Piuthar-Gaoth, and came to investigate.

Snape sighed. Maybe it had been a bit much to expect constant concentration from his brats, especially when they were doing so well: both were naturals with Old Magic. In those long ago times, his brats would have been powerful wizards. Hell, even in these times, they would be. He went to see what Harry had found.

A snake, of course. A long one. Long enough for it to wrap its body around his arm and still have enough tail left over to drape over Harry's shoulders. The end of the tail flickered back and forth against the biceps of Harry's other arm.

"He wants to thank us," explained Harry, stroking the snake's head with a finger. The snake reared a little and Snape smiled, knowing how he himself responded to that touch.

"What for?" Draco waited for Harry to nod before stroking the sleek head.

"For the light and the heat. Seems we've been drawing some rodents and he and his bed of snakes have been feasting."

Draco smirked, "Ask him if he's seen any Basilisks lately."

Harry hissed at the snake then listened. "No, he says none since the one that was killed. And he thanks us for that as well. Seemed the monster was not against eating his own brothers."

"I was joking," said Draco.

Harry and Snape exchanged a look and a smile.

"Oh, fuck," said Draco, moving back from the snake.

"It's okay, Draco," said Snape. "It's not here any more. Harry took care of that."

The snake hissed again and Harry leaned over, his face now serious. He nodded as the snake spoke then responded. The snake slowly unwound itself and dropped to the floor. There it rose majestically onto its tail and bowed its head. All three humans returned the salutation. The snake dropped to the floor and slithered back into the shadows and its people.

"What did he say?"

"That there have been sightings of another larger serpent. Not a Basilisk, but something as evil. Rumour among the snakes has it that this serpent has mated with a human and produced a human-snake. He says that there is battle coming, that his kind are seeking deeper holes and preparing for a long period of sleep. That most of his kind don't care about the doings of humans, but it seems that this human-snake, who can speak to them, has been asking for their service. And that some – he scorned them as ‘easily fooled' – are promising to do whatever he asks."

"In return for?" Snape asked.

Harry sighed. "For all that they want. That's why this snake calls them foolish."

Snape folded his arms over his chest. "How like Tom Riddle, to promise the impossible and to be believed."

Harry said nothing but glanced over at Draco who was staring at the ceiling.

"It's going to happen," Draco said, his voice soft. He blinked then looked around at the Chamber, as though noticing it for the first time. "There's nothing we can do about it. It's going to happen and we're not really prepared, are we?" He looked from Harry to Snape. "Between Fudge and my father, they've managed to cast enough doubt that even with the attacks, even with people, with Muggles and wizards dying, most think this is wild speculation." He sighed, looking at the floor. "Shit! This really is going to depend on us."

"Yes, I'm afraid it is." Snape watched as the weight of all this settled once more on the shoulders of his brats. For a moment, he thought Draco would collapse onto the floor from the sheer realisation of the fact. Harry, he knew, had long ago accepted his burden.

Then Draco straightened his spine and pushed back his shoulders. He hadn't regained any of the colour he'd lost but his chin was steady and his voice strong when he said, "Well, let's get on with it. We're not learning anything just standing around."

And he turned, raised his arms to the ceiling and called out, " Piuthar-Gaoth, tromhad! Tionail, Sian!" And the air in the Chamber thickened, darkened as it rushed up to him, spinning around him until Harry and Snape could barely see him.

Draco had been particularly silent during the evening meal. So that when he spoke, it took both Harry and Snape by surprise.

"Severus, what's the story behind the peregrine on the shield? Do you know it?"

Snape sat back in his chair and looked at the boy who had become a man over the afternoon.

Harry looked confused. "It's your family history. Don't you know it?"

Draco shook his head, his eyes not leaving Snape's. "No, there are certain things that are not mentioned in any wizardry family. Black sheep, for instance. The shield was stored away in a dark, unused gallery. I only found it because it's the only part of the manor where I can go without being watched. For some reason, the house elves think it haunted and won't go there. And I never asked because I didn't want it known that I went there."

Snape propped his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers. "There are things, Harry, known to other families who were around at that time. Wizards are very fond of gossip and rumours. And of the black sheep in other families."

"So you do know," insisted Draco.

Snape nodded. "When the Malfoys first arrived with William the Bastard, they were no more respectful of local habits than were the rest of William's troops. A trait that remained dominant until one of the Malfoys decided that it was more fun to play with the rules than to ignore them."

Draco gave a short nod of agreement.

Harry sat back and listened, carefully watching the two as Snape explained.

"The first Malfoy brought over his wife and sons. According to tradition, he had four of them. In typical Malfoy behaviour, he left his entire property to the one son who could defeat his brothers for it. The second son won and it set a precedence for the next couple of generations. Eventually, the idea of only having one male heir put an end to the fratricide, but for many years, the death of the head of the Malfoys meant family warfare."

Draco nodded. "Yes, I know that."

Snape continued. "His grandson, the then lord, had taken as his mistress a local witch. It seems that she had not been a willing bedmate though she did bear him a child. A son she named Peregrine. A son who watched his brothers fight for positioning in preparation for the day when their sire died. As a bastard, he had no chance of becoming head but he did want vengeance for the manner in which his mother, and he himself, had been treated.

"She had been a powerful witch, his mother, but in the old ways, ways which this Malfoy readily disparaged and ignored, since the magic he'd brought with him from Normandy was so obviously superior, having long before cut its ties to the primitive. But it is said that she'd taught the old ways to her son well. Very well.

This Malfoy had a daughter, also ignored because he thought her of little value other than as a marriage chip to increase his value. He'd wed her off to some idiot who cared even less for her as she had proven barren."

Snape shrugged, "Well, barren in his view. Something you should both remember: just because a woman doesn't bear doesn't mean it is her fault. Anyway, tradition has it that he couldn't cast her off as the property they lived on would have remained in Malfoy hands and he couldn't kill her because he was terrified of her father."

"Alyse hated her husband and the father who had foisted him on her. So when her half-brother came to see her, she was more than ready to listen to his proposal. Nine months later she bore a son, whom she called – no matter what he had been named by her husband – Peregrine. Soon after the boy was born, she became a widow. Her husband died in some kind of hunting accident. How exactly never made its way down but whenever her father tried to marry her off again, as was his right, his candidate died, usually in some hunting accident.

Finally, he left her alone on her land where she raised her son. It seems that Malfoy never questioned the fact that, among her household, was his bastard son. The boy grew and, unlike the customs of the time, was not fostered in another magical family. Alyse kept him home, claiming that the boy was not strong. In fact, it was only when Malfoy died that the other members of his family caught sight of the boy when he came to lay claim to his right to fight his uncles for sole proprietorship.

They laughed at him. He was, in their minds, only a slip of a boy, slender and without the strength to be much of a threat. They even thought him a Squib. But then their sons began dying, attacked by wild beasts, trodden by their horses. And the servants began noticing that, at every death, there was present a larger than normal falcon, a peregrine that seemed to be supervising the death of yet another Malfoy.

The bothers – yet again according to tradition, there were three of them – actually decided to put their enmity on hold and gathered to discuss the situation. One of them never arrived. He had brought his men with him, but had left most of them behind in camp, departing for the meeting with only a couple of bodyguards. Their bodies were found when a searching party was sent out. Their necks had been broken, even though all three had been wearing armour. Their helmets bore signs of deep scratches. The brother's wand was found still in its sleeve: he'd never had time to draw it out.

The two who remained used their magic to try and track down whatever beast it was that had killed their brother, but Old Magic did not respond to their spells and, besides, they probably never thought of it as they had been taught English magic was beneath them.

So, once certain that whatever the killer had been was not to be found, they turned to the matter at hand. In the battle that followed, the elder brother was killed and the last brother declared himself head of the Malfoys.

And that's when Alyse's son came out of the shadows. He came under a flag of truce to the castle of the Malfoy and, once allowed into the Great Hall, endured the mockery of his uncle and his men. It is said that he stood there, a boy really – he was barely sixteen – not saying a word, garbed only in clothes. Unarmed. Waiting.

It is said that suddenly the sound of wings flapping filled the Great Hall and, to the horror of all save the youth, a peregrine falcon, the size of an eagle, flew in and attacked the new lord. It is said that the surprise was so great, the attack so fierce, that the lord was dead before any of his men could react. And so Alyse's son declared himself the new lord."

Harry frowned. "I don't get it. Why would that have been kept from Draco?"

Snape smiled. "Well, I doubt that it was, for the next generation or two. But the Malfoys have always prided themselves on the purity of their blood."

Draco snorted. "The mingling of only the purest of the pure bloods for the Malfoys."

Snape agreed. "This Malfoy was the get of a bastard, who was of the old ways, on his own sister. Moreover, he had used Old Magic to attain his position, nothing to brag about even in those days. The shield you found was his. It is said that he was one of the fiercest to bear the Malfoy name until recent times. That he lived to a ripe old age, old even for wizards back then. I suppose that the generations which followed were superstitious in their fear of destroying it. But relegating it to the darkest corner..."

He shrugged. "The Malfoys have always been very good at ignoring what they don't understand."

AUTHOR'S NOTES:
The Gaelic used in the Old Magic sequences is an improvisation of my own using English-Gaelic on-line dictionaries. My apologies to all Gaelic experts.

(1)

Sister Wind, come to me
Come along, Breeze

(2) Thank you, Sister.

(3) Hail, Mother Earth.
Accept, if it pleases you, as your son
The essence of Harry Potter,
With this small blessing,
O Mother Earth.

As I said, this is very improvised. :-)

Go To Part 9

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