"What is your mother's name?" Snape questioned as Margaret panted, bracing herself on the edge of a table. Sweat dripped down her temple.
"Stop," Margaret gasped, and her mentor crossed his arms, looking unimpressed.
"Do you think the Dark Lord will have any mercy should he find you worthy of his suspicion?" he asked slowly. "This is the perfect time to get any information he wants. So, what is your mother's name?"
"O-oreana," Margaret gasped before he plunged into her mind and Margaret scrambled. Her fatigued mind an open book, but she managed to pull her mother to the back of her mind, placing decoy memories to buffer any further attempts at the true answer.
"Adequate," Snape said as he pulled back. From Snape, that was a compliment. "Take a rest. Legilimency is also fatiguing on the caster. You simply need to hold out longer than them." Margaret nodded.
"Thank you," she breathed, looking at him as he sat behind his desk, hiding his own fatigue. "Potter says you've been training him in occlumency."
"You're friends with Potter?" Snape questioned, though he didn't seem to be surprised.
"No, more of... acquaintances. We have similar goals," Margaret explained.
"He's never going to master occlumency," he said practically. "A Gryffindor's very nature is opposite to the art." He looked her up and down as though surveying her. He didn't need legilimency to understand everything. "You need to be more careful."
"Your meaning, sir?" Margaret questioned.
"This school is no longer safe," Snape said, sitting forward. "The Dark Lord has returned, and you go prancing about the castle halls at night with Potter and his friends."
"I'm not prancing about," Margaret snapped, straightening, hoping her hair wasn't too out of place.
"Don't think I don't know about Potter's club," Snape said. "If you get caught, Umbridge will be the least of your worries."
"If what you say is true and there is a war coming, Umbridge isn't doing anyone any favours," Margaret said throwing her hands up.
"I'm teaching you what you need to know," Snape said standing, bracing himself with his hands flat against his wooden desk.
"Only half of what I need to know! I'm going to be dead before I even get on the battlefield, killed by my own cousin just to get me out of the way," Margaret countered before taking in a steadying breath. "I won't get caught. As for the others, I cannot speak for them."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Snape said lowly before returning to his seat.
"Tell Draco to stop being such a teacher's pet and I'll be fine," Margaret said, and Snape shook his head.
"That boy has his own set of challenges," he muttered.
"He's Umbridge's puppet is what he is," Margaret said. "And he's becoming a real pain in my arse."
"Your language has gotten worse over your years here," Snape said disapprovingly. Margaret scoffed, gathering her books and new potions for this week.
"I'll see you next week," she muttered before stopping at the threshold of the doorway. "By the way, my patronus is a fox. If you ever see it, you'll know its me." Margaret didn't wait for a reply before she slipped into the hallway.
~*~
At lunch Margaret found Harry sitting at her usual spot. She looked around the Great Hall seeing Draco glaring in Potter's direction. She took in a deep breath, sitting down across from him.
"Can I help you?" Margaret questioned, filling her plate. "You know how I feel about our... friendship, if you will, outside of the room of requirement."
"Could I ruin your reputation?" Harry asked with a smile.
"Yes," Margaret said plainly. "And Draco is watching so, make it quick, please." Harry brought out a potions book, opening it to tomorrow's homework. Margaret was unimpressed at the ruse, but she allowed it, nevertheless.
"Your father was among the prisoners that were broken out of Azkaban," he said, and Margaret slowly set down her utensils, levelling her gaze with his.
"You want to know if it was the doing of the Dark Lord," she said, and he nodded. "I could be killed for even speaking to you, Potter."
"Please," he said, leaning forward. "He's gathering his forces, isn't he?" There was a wavering in his voice that betrayed the boy's fear and Margaret softened.
"He is," she responded, barely a whisper. "I know nothing of his plans. Though, I suspect it's nothing good. Bellatrix Lestrange was among the escaped. She is extremely loyal to the Dark Lord and his designs for the world. The only thing standing in the way... is you." He nodded quickly, looking down.
"Thank you, Margaret," Harry breathed. "I understand how much danger sharing anything with me places you in."
"You understand nothing," Margaret whispered. "Those books you've read about families like mine and what you see in the Prophet are only glimpses into the life I lead." She glanced up seeing Draco moving toward her. "Now leave."
"Potter," Draco said before he could move and Margaret sighed, looking up at her childhood friend.
"Malfoy," Harry greeted coolly.
"Have you nowhere else to sit?" he questioned with an air of superiority; his head boy pin worn proudly on the front of his uniform.
"Just had a question about the potions homework," Harry attempted, shutting his book. It was painfully obvious he was not a player of The Game. It physically hurt to watch him lie.
"Couldn't have asked your Ravenclaw girlfriend?" Draco sneered as Margaret resumed her eating.
"Everyone knows Margaret's the best of our year in potions," Harry defended.
"You two on a first name basis, huh?" Draco asked, looking between her and Potter.
"Get over yourself, Malfoy," Margaret sighed. "Harry, have a good day. Draco, sit." Draco begrudgingly let Harry pass before taking his seat.
"Really? A Mudblood friend is bad enough, but Potter?" Draco questioned and Margaret rolled her eyes.
"Harry is not my friend," Margaret said. "We simply know each other." Draco's face twisted in disgust.
"What in Merlin's name is that supposed to mean? You two have been shagging?"
"Draco! What? Where did you get that from?" Margaret questioned, nearly dropping her utensils.
"You're the one who said you knew each other," Draco accused.
"We've simply crossed paths more frequently this year," Margaret said. "You've been spending too much time with Pansy." He rolled his eyes with a scoff before staring down at the plate in contemplation.
"You're in Potter's little forbidden club, aren't you?" Draco surmised, leaning back slightly, resting his hands flat on the table.
"What are you going to do, tell on me?" Margaret challenged. "We aren't kids anymore, Draco. We need to learn practical spells, not read about theories while our wands are stashed safely away in our bags. Now more than ever, we need practise. Harry is offering that."
