Silvanna Snape {Marauders}

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Thirty-Eight

When she arrived at Whitechapel, flooing into the entrance hall, Quintin was waiting for her, travelling cloak secured. "You're here," he observed. "I trust you feel well?"

"Yes," she said simply. "Healer Marsden's work I think."

"He is a good chap-" Quintin began, but was interrupted when the door to the dining room opened, and the rest of the family filed out. Maude and Joules rushed forward and gave Silvanna a surprising hug, but Nola - now eleven and just as snooty as ever - held back. Edith copied her children and checked she was well, but thankfully that was where the embracing stopped.

"Healer Marsden has spoken to me and suggests rest for our first few days, but I don't see how that will be a problem," was all Evelyn said, without so much of a hello. She looked unusually tired, but for anyone who didn't see her regularly they wouldn't be able to tell.

From what she'd gathered during her few months here, floo travel was avoided at all costs, usually used to avoid pedestrian access to a house with wards around it, such as their own. Portkey travel was much preferred when travelling with children, and apparation was ideal.

Today, they'd be side-along apparating with the three cousins, and as it was both Severus and Silvanna's first time to the TransFloo station, they would be as well. Quintin took Silvanna, Evelyn, Colette, and Edith with the children, and Floyd took Severus. She remembered just how much she hated side-along apparating as she gripped her grandfather's arm tremendously tightly, her chest being squeezed more than any corset could. Finally her feet found scrubbed stone, and she looked apologetically at him, but it seemed he hadn't noticed because he was already striding towards the exit of the balcony they were on.

The group walked through the doors and into a large lobby. She gazed around, vaguely remembering that Henry from gobstones had told her about this a couple of years ago. International apparation wasn't possible for witches and wizards - even the most powerful - due to both the distance and border wards, so in the last twenty years international flooing became the result.

The lobby was huge, with a ceiling so high it stretched into the heavens, and floors shining so that she could see her reflection. Light flooded in through the long, dusty windows. It was bustling with witches and wizards, many of them carrying bulging cases and dressed for hot weather like them, except they had no cases, their luggage sent ahead. There were sounds of shouts and children, and although it was crowded there was still plenty of breathing room.

They followed Quintin wordlessly, past the winding ticket queues and the queue to the departure hall, to where two wizards in pressed uniforms stood on either side of a set of doors. They swung open on their approach, and the two wizards nodded at Quintin.

As she left the lobby, the space around her went instantly quiet and cooler, and a corridor lined with heavy black doors stretched out before her. They didn't stop here, and continued along, the plush red carpet underfoot softening their steps. Behind her, she could hear Edith chatting to Joules, but other than that, all was silent.

A door on their right opened and they walked through. She spied a brass plaque on it that read, Prince. Inside was a large square room, with three squashy sofas inside. There was a table against the left-hand wall, with a tea set and jugs of water and pumpkin juice. These were ignored.

"It's set for Marseilles," Quintin announced, before stepping into the blazing fireplace that was in the centre of the room. It flamed green, and sent him to his destination. One by one, they were ushered through, and she found herself in another grand hall, much like the one from before. This one was lined with fireplaces, each with a flag of a different country hanging above it, except theirs.

There was a steady river of witches and wizards towards a set of towering double doors, which they didn't join. Instead they were led through another set of doors and onto a balcony, overlooking the city of terracotta roofs.

They apparated again, side by side, and again Quintin was ignorant of her tight grip as the abyss around them threatened to pull her away.

They landed, this time on a gravel path, directly in front of a set of wrought iron gates, much like the ones at Whitechapel. Ahead of them was a sandstone maisonette, it's light walls and pillars casting black shadows of cool air that they relished as they walked towards the front door. Lining their walk were peach trees, of which Maude tried to reach up and grab one but was quickly stopped by her father.

They crowded onto the front steps, wanting to shelter from the beating sun under the pillared porch. Quintin knocked, and the door was answered a minute later by Druella Black.

The building was as bright and airy inside as it had been outside, but a far sight cooler. Probably cooling charms, which she was sure she had on her thin cloak but probably not to such an extent. The entrance hall had polished granite underfoot, and as she looked up she saw a steady staircase with an iron railing creeping up the walls to the first floor. A huge domed skylight protruded from above, the bright blue sky seen above them.

She brought her attention back to the people. The other Blacks had joined Druella to greet them, and there was a flurry of, "It's nice to see you," and, "I hope the journey was well."

She joined in with the greeting of the vilest people on the Earth, thanking them when they wished her health well, even though she could only hope someone would curse them in the middle of Diagon Alley. Druella and Cygnus were there, as well as Orion and Walburga, and of course, Regulus. He made quick time of showing Severus to his room and then the gardens, disappearing quickly. The sly bastard, she should just tell his parents now about how much he missed his brother.

But that would be no fun, would it?