"Home"

New Year's Day 1994

Fireworks were still lighting up the sky early into the morning. Drunken yells of 'Happy New Year!' Carried on the air and over the Rier Estate.

Christian Rier, now knocking on sixty-three, never grew tired of the display his neighbours put on every year. They were muggles, always had been even when he was a child, who were famous in the muggle world for creating music, and then for the movies the muggles had thought were the dawn of a new era. He had never met them, never been allowed nor had he ever intended to, but they held lavish parties and their new year firework display was simple, colourful, loud and beautiful.

His new normal, since the estate no longer housed thirteen, was sitting in the garden with the love of his life, Hayley, and more often than not his nephew, Dexter.

During the war his family had fallen apart at the seams. His grandfather and sister killed, his daughters, sister and nephews lost to the death eaters, his parents, sister and niece ran away and have been unheard-of since. And, in the wake of all the chaos, with who-he-must-not-be-named dead and no one coming back to him, his descent into retirement is dependent only on his nephew and partner.

On dry nights, he took any opportunity to sit outside and watch the stars. Tonight, he was wrapped in a beige knit cardigan and breathing in the cool night air with Hayley asleep in his arms. He didn't understand how she could sleep with such a beautiful display of light above their heads and the loud bangs of the night; but he thought it fortunate for her to be tuckered out tonight, especially when the fireworks stop and the voices fade. After moving her dozing body to bed, he busied himself with cleaning up the garden. Serenading the night as he worked.

On the edge of the forest, however, where faeries used to appear regularly before the war, he heard a twig snap and a bush rustle. It was unusual because the morning is young and the air is still cold, no creatures would be around at this hour. And so, drawing his wand, he stalked towards the noise.

He could hear breathing as he approached, irregular and heavy and desperately trying to stay quiet. An intruder was the last thing he needed now, and with 44 years of service in the department of magical law enforcement, he'd be damned if he let a thief onto his grounds. Snatching at the visible arm poking out from behind the tree, he swung around, wand poised, and shoved the intruder against the tree.

A shrill cry erupted from them, and he lit his wand with a muttered 'lumos' and watched in disbelief as the woman squirmed under his hold.

This was not how Serenity expected to reunite with her father. It was dreadfully clear that Christian did not recognise this broken and unstable woman in front of him. She dressed like any other woman and looked like any other woman, but there was something in the way her eyes clawed at the darkness around them in terror that put any thoughts of violence out of his mind.

"Who are you?" He demanded, his eyes harsh and trained on her, his hold loosened, and she stopped squirming.

"It's me," she cried, "Serenity."

The wand fell from Christian's grip, lighting up the beetles that skittered between the mushed leaves at their feet. He recognised her now, eleven years older, heartbroken and scared, but he could see the eleven-year old he had waved off to Hogwarts, unaware of the danger she would soon become familiar with. Staring at her now, he felt a sudden pit of shame form in his stomach. He felt empty looking at proof that he failed as a father. She was living evidence of his regrets and his shame... he couldn't comprehend it.

Serenity dropped her head back against the tree, closing her eyes and begging not to cry again. This was not how she pictured this meeting to go. She had it all planned out. They would reunite with tears and apologies and hugs and then- then he would tell her how to get close to her daughter. It was supposed to be easy, so why can she not find the words to say what she needs to say.

For the first time in her life, Serenity Rier is speechless.

"Uh," Christian looked off into the distance at the main house, searching for something familiar to ground him. His eyes landed on the window Serenity and Merritt had once shared, "how have you been?" When he finally looked back at her, he winced as she glared at him, the dark circles make the red veins webbing the corner of her eyes so much brighter. If he had never known his daughter, he could've mistaken her for an animal. He scratches the back of his neck. "Right, uh..." his eyes find the main house again, "would you like a cup of tea?"

The two silently move into the main house through the back door to the kitchen and cut through to one of the studies. This one had no windows and the door locked, the floo network no longer connected to the fireplace, so it was the perfect room to hide away and talk to a fugitive of the law in. They sipped their tea in a stiff, sedated silence.

Serenity's eyes were locked on the portrait above the fire place. Gentle brushstrokes of blues and browns and greens moved across the canvas like most portraits did and, upon finding the portrait's attention, the image of Merritt smiled sadly down at Serenity. Seeing the sympathetic and kind smile her sister always gave her, even if she had been horrid to her, Serenity allowed the tears to form in her eyes, and she gasped as her heart seemed to writhe against her chest.

Christian watched her, alert and prepared. Serenity put down her mug, breathing heavily, and placed a hand over her heart.

"I miss her so much," she choked out. Her voice was thick and deeper than normal, her eyes never leaving the portrait that was the spitting image of Merritt. Christian looked up at the portrait aswell and nodded his head.

"So do I- every day."

"You don't understand," she shook her head, "for eleven years, the dementors did their best to suck every happy memory from me. I let them do it, they could have it all... but not her. I have been fighting so hard for her memory, but I'm the reason she's dead anyway." By now, she was rocking in her seat, clutching her heart and choking up dry sobs. Christian, disregarding any hesitance or scepticism of the woman in front of him, leapt from his seat and smothered his daughter in the tightest hug he could muster.

She clung to his shirt, bunching the material in her fists, and pressed her face into him, desperate to drown out the noise of the real world.

He couldn't remember the last time he hugged Serenity. It must have been over thirty years ago, and he intends to make up for each of those lost years.

"Oh, my darling," he brushed her hair down and shushed her, sitting down and letting her curl her body into him as she once had as a child, "my poor child. I've got you," he shushed her and the rocked slightly, "you're safe here."

Dear Circini,

You don't know me and, unfortunately, I don't really know you, but we are connected.

You will understand one day, and I can't wait to one day meet you. I hope you enjoy the present your Grandfather sent, a piece of me is what it really is.

I love you dearly,

SR

"Draco?" Circini stood leaning against the doorway to her brother's dormitory. Crabbe and Goyle stayed late at dinner, and she figured now would be the best time above all to approach such a subject. He looked up as she crossed the room, cross-legged and dressed for bed in a black dressing gown and cotton trousers. Circi, wearing an old t-shirt of his and similar cotton trousers, sat beside him and held up the letter. "I'm so confused."

He put aside his anthropomorphic care of magical creatures textbook, which he had taken to stroking when he needed to think, and looked from the letter to his sister, waiting patiently for her to continue.

"It's from my mother..." she whispered, playing with the corner of the paper and avoiding eye contact, "it doesn't say it's her explicitly, but they write how I imagine she would." She opens the letter and shows it to Draco. "See how she does her 'S's and 'C's with the little curl at the start of the letter? That's how I do them aswell." She looks up at him. He reads the letter quickly and looks at her.

"You do have similar handwriting." Part of him felt the need to tell someone, probably Lucius, about this change in events. But it was very clear that the emotional toll anything other than support would have on Circi would have dire effects. His little sister had more in common with him than she knew, they were both much more fragile than they appeared- and he would do anything to save her from breaking. "Why are you confused?" Draco suddenly found himself wanting to talk with her all night. True to her word, Circi hadn't spoken to him since the last letter correspondence they shared.

"I feel like I should be happy to hear from her but- but, I'm scared, Draco."

"Any reason?" She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder and shrugged to the best of her ability.

"I guess, I'm scared to meet her. Everyone talks about all of the horrible things she did and what happened to her- and Father only ever tells me the story about her caring for the greenhouse. What if she's nothing like the person I have in my head?"

"Then it will be a surprise," Draco poked her nose, like he used to when they were little to make her laugh- Circi had a ticklish nose. She scrunched her nose up slightly and relaxed her face again.

"I'm also scared for her. She escaped Azkaban and I don't want her to go back." Draco wrapped an arm around her, saying nothing to her last statement and simply hugged her against him, allowing the silence of the room to envelop them. A beat passed, and he let go to dig through his trunk at the base of his bed.

"Here," he produced a parcel wrapped in old parchment paper, tagged 'CIRCINI MALFOY', "Father doesn't want you to have this but clearly you Grandfather and Mother do."

Carefully, with a soft thanks, she unwrapped the parcel and pulled out the faded black and mustard yellow scarf. The two Slytherins stared at the Hufflepuff memorabilia in momentary confusion. Draco picked it up, turned it over once and then twice before flipping it on its end and presenting the name tag to Circi. There, in blotched ink with a swirl beginning the 'S', the name 'Serenity Rier' was smeared on the tag.

Circi took the scarf in her hands, much more carefully now, and lifted it to her nose and sniffed. She'd never smelt anything like it and, sure, years of dust collection faded the smell, but she could still smell something different. Her mind ruled it off as Serenity's scent, and she shrugged the scarf on and hugged it close. She smiled and closed her eyes, proclaiming her love and gratitude to Draco for deciding to give it to her.