The art for this chapter was made by https://www.quotev.com/NessaTheJellyBean and I love it! (:
Like Darrin Hunt, Katie Bell went to St. Mungo's, though we'd cursed her rather than poisoned her. Malfoy was utterly furious with me, and he now presented me with no responsibilities, treating me more like a house elf than a partner or even an assistant. In his eyes, I had screwed up both of our attempts at the task, and...well, he was basically right. His plan was flawed and destined to fail, but maybe if I had picked a different target, things might have gone differently.
October passed by anyway despite our failures, and no one seemed to suspect that Malfoy and I had been behind Katie's cursing...except perhaps Harry, who now glared at us across the Great Hall during every meal and glanced back in our direction every few minutes during D.A.D.A. I sincerely hoped that he wouldn't confront me about the matter, since without Darrin's promised lying lessons I was still a fairly pitiful liar.
November 2nd, a brisk but sunny day, was the date of our first Quidditch match, as well as Astoria's birthday. Ashley had conjured a cake for her to eat for breakfast in bed but it had landed on her face, which caused a major meltdown. The birthday girl had locked herself in our bathroom, forcing us to use the fifth year boys' one instead. Melody, of course, had found the whole thing sadistically hilarious.
Instead of going to breakfast, I spent an hour pacing inside of the locker room's broom cupboard, psyching myself out about the match while simultaneously and shamefully hoping that Malfoy might join me to share my unnecessary amount of stress.
When I exited the closet, I was met by an overabundance of shouts and quarrels bouncing off the walls of the locker room. Most of the boys had already changed, but I did catch an unfortunate glance of Crabbe struggling to yank his shirt over his head.
"Your dumb boyfriend is the reason that I can't play!" Carl Vaisey was shouting at Ashley as he dramatically clutched his head between his hands. "You shouldn't be allowed to play for it! Neither of you should!"
"They're both going to play," Urquhart interjected as he strapped his padding on. "They have to, or we really won't have a team. Baddock already has to play for you, and Malfoy's sick so Harper's playing for him—"
"Malfoy's not here?" I blurted from where I stood in the doorway of the closet.
"Given that he usually steps out of that cupboard with you, no," Urquhart retorted wryly, his eyes cold.
"So that's why she was in there. Hoping to get some snogging action before the game. Not a bad tactic."
At first, I couldn't pinpoint the origin of the familiar voice, but then I noticed him leaning over by Urquhart's locker, wearing a cloak and his Slytherin scarf with a green hat over his dirty blond head.
"Darrin," I breathed before dropping my Air Wave Silver and sprinting across the locker room to envelop him in a hug that he did not return. Rapidly, I pulled away and straightened myself.
"Uh—er—sorry," I stammered as I scratched my head. "I'm just...so glad that you're okay."
"Why, because you're desperate for lying lessons?" he mused with the raise of one eyebrow.
"Um, yeah," I answered, eyeing him skeptically. "And I didn't want you to die."
"Hm, I was a bit indifferent about death," he replied with a casual shrug. "I was curious as to what comes after life."
"You're...lying?" I suggested with uncertainty.
"Of course I'm lying," he snorted before shaking his head. "I'm going to have to track down the first year that poisoned me and give him a good hex. Lucky for me, he won't be hard to find, because I can always tell who's lying."
I was very tempted to give Urquhart a quizzical glance, but I refrained as Darrin stood up straight and walked past me.
"I would say good luck but Slytherins like to believe they win by talent rather than luck," Darrin said to no one in particular. "Try not to mess up, I suppose. I'll be sitting in the stands with your absentminded girlfriend, Brian."
"Girlfriend is a bit of a binding term," Urquhart muttered as his friend strolled out of the locker room. I finally stared over at him with puzzlement, and he just shook his head. "I don't wish to bore you all with some dumb speech like Montague did," he announced to the entire team. "But do know that if we lose this match, you'll all be living through hell in practices until our match against Ravenclaw."
"We're gonna win," Harper scoffed with a dismissive wave. "Potter's a chum."
"Potter has won every match against Slytherin," Urquhart reminded him darkly. "You'll have to be better than Malfoy ever was to beat him. Have fun. Pucey, practice with Baddock for a few minutes before the match starts. Crabbe, Goyle, go practice aiming the Bludgers for a bit, will you? Harper, go puke now so you don't in the air. Vaisey, go back to the hospital wing and whine to Pomfrey instead of us. Fitzroy, walk with me."
Everyone obeyed submissively, filing out of the locker room without a word. Harper caught my eye and tried to give me a reassuring smile, but I did not return it. Now that he was with Melody, he didn't have time for anyone else, therefore I'd barely spoken a word to him since our little squabble in the entrance hall.
"Carl's got a concussion from when Crabbe thumped him in the head with that Bludger last night," Urquhart said to me as we stepped out onto the field. The grass was brittle under our boots, and the chill air tickled my warm skin. "That means we only have two good Chasers, and our lineup's a bit troublesome... Why did Malfoy tell you he was skipping the match?"
"He...didn't," I replied slowly. "Maybe he is ill, but...I doubt it. He's probably just being a mope."
"Yeah, well, you need to straighten him out," he snapped gruffly. "This match is important, and if Harper doesn't pull through, we're done for. He'd better not skip all of the matches. Does he know what will happen if he does?"
"Do you mean did I tell him you're blackmailing us? No, not really. He doesn't know you know at all, actually, so that fact alone would probably send him into turmoil."
"Splendid," Urquhart muttered, biting his lip as hot air exhaled from his open mouth.
"Does Darrin know...does he know that I poisoned him? Accidentally, of course," I added touchily.
"No, he forgot what happened, so I told him the lie that everyone else believes."
"Oh," I blurted, blinking through the shock. "Um—thank you."
He snorted sardonically while looking everywhere but at me. "Sure."
"Does he remember...what I am?" I asked tentatively.
"No, he forgot about most of the day, I think," he informed me blandly. "He knows you wanted lessons but he doesn't remember that we actually had one."
"So...you're the only one who knows," I concluded, staring at the frost-covered ground pensively.
"Yeah, but don't try to murder me," he warned, finally glancing sideways at me with a crooked smirk forming on his lips. "I've got traps set for you, Fitzroy."
"Right," I grunted, but my voice was overpowered by the sudden eruption of cheering from the Slytherin stands.
"Gooooo URQUHART!" a mass of girls sang as they jumped and danced with signs that spelled his name I-R-K-H-E-A-R-T. Even from a far distance I could tell that it was Sadie Morton and her strange friends.
"Guess you prestigious kids born into wizarding families aren't taught how to spell in your youth," I noted, eyeing the signs humorously.
"In her case, apparently not," he agreed, giving her a curt wave in response.
"Is...is Sadie a Gaudium?" I asked abruptly, peering over at him to see his initial reaction. His brow was pressed together as he gazed in my direction.
"No...you're the only Gaudium in this school, Fitzroy."
"I'm not a Gaudium," I insisted hastily, and his expression remained dubious.
"Yeah, well...they're rare, and Sadie's definitely not one," he answered flatly.
"Why definitely?"
"Because she doesn't make me happy, she makes me horny. She's probably part veela, honestly. If you're really so curious, I can have Darrin interrogate her."
But I didn't care if Sadie was a veela. She could be a veela all she wanted, but if she wasn't a Gaudium, then she wasn't what I was searching for. And, if she wasn't a Gaudium, then who was? Who in this school made everyone happy? Was there even a person that perfect?
"Don't make any mistakes today, Fitzroy," Urquhart ordered as we approached the center of the field. "If we lose, I'll make sure to expose your little Mark to everyone."
I wanted to believe that his threats were empty, but his words still managed to send a chill down my spine. Numbly, I mounted my broom and moseyed over to the goal posts; the hoops appeared bigger today for some reason. There was no way I'd be able to guard them; every shot would go through. When I gazed across the field at the players floating in red, I spotted Ginny and Ron and Harry, sights that at one time would have brought elation to my heart. Today, however, they only brought dread, and the only person that could have quenched the sinking feeling was the blond prat who had decided not to show up.
"CATCH THE BLOODY QUAFFLE, MAL!" Ashley exclaimed from up in the air, and for a fleeting moment, I thought she was referring to Malfoy. When I glanced over, though, I was deflated to see that she was just yelling at the reserve Chaser, Malcolm Baddock, who was having a difficult time catching any of her passes. "You better not let any in, Lainey!" she called over to me. "We're done for if you do!"
"So encouraging," I muttered to myself as the rest of the team began to get into position. Urquhart was down on the field now, preparing to shake hands with Harry, the Gryffindor Captain. Ron was on the opposite side of the pitch, looking determined in front of the posts, and Ginny was floating next to her boyfriend Dean, whose spot on the team I hadn't been aware of. Then, with a gut wrenching sensation, I remembered that Katie Bell had always been on the Gryffindor team, but now she was at St. Mungo's... because of me.
After the whistle rang, Urquhart was quick to snag the Quaffle, and as he and Ashley raced across the pitch, I allowed my eyes to linger in the air toward Harper, who was searching desperately for the Snitch. Even though I'd been a bit peeved with his attitude lately, I still wanted to see him catch the little golden ball before Harry, which was odd because I'd never really wanted Slytherin to beat Gryffindor before. I did still care about Harry as a friend, but I realized, as I watched them whiz past each other, that I cared about Harper more.
Caught up in my trivial thoughts, I almost didn't notice that Urquhart had tried to score on Ron but failed, and now Dean was zooming down the field toward me with the Quaffle tucked in his arm. I readied my stance, focusing on the ball that would be hurdled at me, until...it wasn't thrown at me; Dean had passed it to Ginny, and as she barreled toward me with undiluted ferocity, my heart halted from anxious dismay. There was no hint of friendly competition in her narrowed eyes; only anger resided in the angle of her posture and the fieriness of her red hair. Her heated wrath froze me rigidly where I hovered in the air. With ease, she swooped in and plunged the Quaffle into the left hoop, igniting a chorus of boos from the Slytherins and cheers from the Gryffindors. Ginny high-fived Dean as she passed him but refused to look in my direction at all.
"FITZROY!" Urquhart bellowed as he zipped toward me. "What the bloody hell—"
"I-I'm sorry, I just—she just—"
"Don't mess up again," he growled, his green eyes like acid. I thought he might verbally abuse me a little but he didn't add any snide comments before whipping back toward the center of the field. Ashley was raging, and though I knew her fury should have been directed at me, she was taking it out on little Malcolm Baddock.
A sigh exhaled from my mouth as I watched Slytherin take the Quaffle and fly toward Ron. Ashley and Urquhart passed it a few times between each other, purposely ignoring wide-open Baddock. Though I hoped they would score, I remained on guard, ready for another attack from Ginny that was honestly more mental than physical. Ron had just deflected a tough shot from Ashley when something landed on my shoulder. For a moment, I thought it was a ginormous droplet of rain, but when I slowly pivoted my head to the left, I saw, to my horror, that a furry white animal was now perched on top of my Quidditch gear, his eyes wide and his little claws dug firmly into my clothing.
"What the—what—" I blurted, instinctually trying to fling the creature off of me. When I finally registered who he was, I halted my efforts to kill him and composed myself. "What are you doing here? How did you get here?"
"Oh, I levitated him over to you, harder than it looks," little Smellfoy's mouth said in Vince Anderson's voice. My breath caught in my throat and I tried to swallow as I stared in bewilderment as the little talking ferret on my shoulder.
"Oh—I'm hallucinating," I moaned, throwing my head back. "I've gone completely mental."
"No, this is real," Smellfoy/Anderson assured me. "Melody taught me how to make my voice come out of his mouth, neat huh?"
"No, creepy—And why are you making it happen at this moment? I'm trying to play Quidditch—"
"And you're sucking, sorry to tell you. My Weasels got past you with ease. But, I suppose she is just naturally talented at everything—"
"Anderson," I hissed, glancing around me to make sure no one was eavesdropping on my strange conversation with a ferret. "Where are you?"
"In the stands."
My eyes flew over to the Slytherin section of the stands, where Melody was reading a book and Anderson was at her side, waving feverishly. I groaned when I saw that his wand was up against his throat. So he had found a way to speak to me through his ferret and I wasn't going crazy. I almost preferred the reality where I was just having strange hallucinations.
"Well what do you want? Ginny's bound to snag the Quaffle any second and I can't have a ferret on my shoulder while trying to block her perfect shots."
"It's Astoria," Anderson's voice said uneasily. "She locked herself in the bathroom—"
"Yes, I know, I was there when it happened," I interrupted impatiently. "Anything else?"
"I'm worried about her, Mud. She's barely eaten in months and all she does is cry—I never thought I'd ask you this, but is there anything you can do to make your brother date her again?"
"Not at the moment," I grumbled as I noticed that Ginny had again acquired the Quaffle. Like lightning she sped through the air, her vicious aim trained on me. "A little busy here, Anderson. Could you get this ferret off of me?"
"Why?"
"BECAUSE GINNY IS COMING AT ME WITH THE QUAFFLE AND I NEED TO DEFEND THESE HOOPS!"
"Oh, well, in that case...no. I kinda want Ginny to score again—"
"ANDERSON!" I shouted, but just as I did, Ginny hurled the Quaffle at the right hoop. With one hand, I held Smellfoy to my shoulder, and with the other I dove to block the ball, but it grazed my fingers and shot through without hesitation. Again, Ginny and Dean high-fived, but unlike last time, Ginny actually spared a slightly remorseful glance in my direction. When she did, however, she quickly caught sight of the white fur ball on my shoulder, and she blanched in bemusement.
"Sm-Smellfoy? What—what—"
"Hey Weasels!" Smellfoy's little mouth exclaimed, and she nearly jumped off of her broom. "You're amazing—um—let's get back together."
Ginny gawked at me with an expression mixed with disgust and disorientation before hurrying back to the other side of the pitch. Smellfoy's little mouth sighed.
"That went better than anticipated," he noted optimistically.
"You didn't see her face," I retorted flatly. "Now, take this ferret off of me—"
"But what about Astoria? I went into your room, Mud, to knock on the bathroom door, and she didn't even answer. What if she's dead?"
Worry crept into my consciousness, but I allowed the boos of the Slytherins and the meaningless shouts from Urquhart to drown it out.
"Well, um, why don't you and Melody go check it out? She probably knows a spell that'll knock down the door—"
I heard the faint sound of maniacal laughter, and then glanced over to the stands to see that Melody was shouting a definitive, "No."
Before I could wonder how she'd heard me, I noticed that Gryffindor had the Quaffle again. Cursing Urquhart under my breath, I braced myself for another attack.
"Get this thing off of me now, Anderson," I snarled while keeping my eyes focused on Dean, who now held the ball.
"Uh—yeah—yeah—we wouldn't want Thomas Dean to score," Anderson agreed hastily. "Um... Crap, what's the levitation spell, Mel?"
"ANDERSON—"
Melody's snickers reached my ears just as Dean chucked the ball, and it soared through the left hoop with ease. The disapproval from the Slytherins was growing aggressively violent now, and Urquhart was throwing curses at me that I'd never heard of before. Ashley simply wailed.
After Dean and Ginny both scored one more goal on me, Anderson finally remembered how to remove the ferret from me, but by then I was ready to let the thing die. Urquhart had come close to kicking me off the field, and if he had been Montague, he probably would have punched me off of my broom.
Once I could stop worrying about accidentally (or purposely) flinging a ferret to his death, Ginny only managed to score one more goal on me. Even though I deflected almost as many as I'd let through, I still never managed to receive any applause from the Slytherins. They were silent when I caught or diverted the Quaffle, while the Gryffindors all groaned. Urquhart did cease to castigate me though, and he instead turned his berating attention to Baddock, who had dropped about ten passes so far.
The match came to an unfortunate end when Harper unexpectedly rammed into Harry upon seeing the Snitch, which was his ultimate mistake, because it made Harry, Hogwarts' fastest Seeker, notice the Snitch as well. Slytherin was utterly obliterated by Gryffindor, ending the game with zero points. How Ashley and Urquhart managed to score no goals was an absolute mystery to me, but it happened, and Urquhart was fuming. Luckily (for me, anyway), when the game was all over, most of his indignation was directed at Baddock and poor Harper, who was sulking enough already.
"Good try, Harper," I said lamely, giving him a pat on the shoulder as I passed him in the locker room. "You were close."
"Yeah," he grunted as he violently ripped his gear off. "Close."
"What did you say to Harry when you slammed him at the end?" I asked curiously as he threw some padding into his locker.
"I told him his Keeper was a blood traitor, but he didn't care as much as I thought he would... I thought it would get him off his game, but it only seemed to make him more adamant to beat me..."
"Oh," was the only awkward word I could muster. It was weird to think of Harper mocking Harry and Ron, but then I remembered how prevalent the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry was, especially at these Quidditch matches. Maybe Ginny's ire hadn't been directed at me after all. Maybe she was just playing the game... But...that gleam in her eyes...
"Weasels creamed you, Mud," Anderson said with a chortle as he swaggered into the locker room with Smellfoy in his hands. Melody was behind him, her book closed under her arm as her lazy eyes found Harper.
"And you were demolished by Potter," she droned heartlessly. "Looks like I won't be screwing you until you stop being so pathetically untalented."
Harper's blue eyes were glossed over with the utmost defeat, and before Melody could snicker at his pain, I whipped my wand out and cast a non-verbal spell at her that should have hexed her across the room. Unfortunately, she was too quick for me, and her wand flew up with an equally silent Shield Charm.
"I'm not impressed by your skill, but I am impressed that you had the nerve to try that," she drawled as she spun her wand in her hand. "Better not try to hurt me though, unless you want me to tell everyone here about what you and Malfoy have been doing."
My heart seized as I instantly assumed that she was referring to the fact that we were Death Eaters, but then I remembered that Melody was under the impression that Malfoy and I were "hooking up". Not much better of a rumor to be spreading, but at least I wouldn't be sent to Azkaban for it. I stood my ground, keeping my wand fixed on her as all of the eyes in the room were fixed on me. She opened her sinisterly smirking mouth to spew my secrets, but before she got a word out, Urquhart stepped between us with his hands up.
"That's enough," he commanded with a stern look at each of us. "You're not on the team," he added to Melody and Anderson, "and I need to scold the team for their atrocious performance, so get out."
After sending a wicked glance in Harper's direction and a vengeful glance in mine, Melody stalked out of the locker room with Anderson and Smellfoy right behind her. Urquhart jumped his eyebrows at me before leaning toward me and whispering into my ear, "Saved your ass, Fitzroy. Better step up your game or I'll be the one to tell everyone."
Before I could muster a response, Urquhart had jumped up on one of the benches, and while he chastised the team for their incompetence and I watched Harper stick his head in his locker in an attempt not to cry, my loathing for Melody Flemming burned.
Instead of changing out of my Quidditch uniform or trudging back to the Slytherin dungeons with the rest of the team after Urquhart ruptured our eardrums and our brains with his yelling and degrading criticism, I stalked all the way up to the seventh floor of the castle, panting heavily by the time I reached the top of the endless staircases. Without giving notice to those who might be watching me, I stomped down the corridor toward Barnabus the Barmy and waited rather impatiently for the door to appear. As soon as I was submerged in the sea of clutter, the shouting commenced.
"MALFOY! MALFOY, I KNOW YOU'RE IN HERE! GET YOUR COWARD ASS OVER HERE—"
"You can stop yelling like a lunatic," he barked as he stepped out from behind a trash pile, rubbing his ears dramatically. "I'm the only other person in here—"
"Where the bloody hell have you been?" I fumed, marching up to him to stick my red-hot face in his. Unfortunately, he was much taller than me now than he had once been, and so I was just glaring up at him like a foolish child.
"Here," he grunted, motioning toward the room we stood in, "doing what we've been assigned to do. Where the bloody hell have you been?"
"At the Quidditch match, which you so carefully avoided," I huffed as I crossed my arms over my chest. "Harper had to play for you—Do you know how embarrassing that was for—for everyone? You know he's terrible, and now he feels terrible—"
"I don't care how your little boyfriend feels," Malfoy sneered scathingly. "What did you want me to do about it, huh?"
"I dunno—show up?"
"I have more important things to worry about than some dumb game, Fitzroy," he retorted, his grey eyes like ice. "You of all people should know that."
My teeth grated against each other as I tried to muster a level-headed response. "Quidditch may be dumb compared to the task, but at least it's a mental break from thinking about the fact that we're eternally bound to the most evil wizard in the universe—"
"We don't have time to think about anything other than this task!" he exploded as he took a menacing step closer to me. "We've already failed twice, Fitzroy, and we can't afford to fail again. I need you to put your full attention into this, do you understand me? No more Quidditch—It's taking up far too much of our time."
"We need to play Quidditch! How suspicious is it going to look if both of us all of a sudden quit the team? I overheard some Gryffindors saying that Harry accused you of cursing Katie Bell—if he thinks it was you, he's only one step away from discovering who we are—"
"I told you we could handle Potter—"
"I don't want to handle him—I don't want to hurt anyone that we don't have to hurt. Our objective is to kill Dumbledore, and if anyone finds that out, we're done. We need to remain normal—or at least look normal to the rest of the school."
"That can be your job then," Malfoy concluded, his eyebrows jumping patronizingly. "You focus on convincing everyone else that we're normal while I do the hard work—"
"I want to help you, but I need you to help yourself too," I insisted through gritted teeth. "None of this will go well if Harry—or anyone else—discovers our secret. You need to play Quidditch—"
"You're my measly assistant, Fitzroy," he cut in with a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. "You don't have the jurisdiction to tell me what to do. As I said, you'll play petty Quidditch and I'll work on the important things—"
"You can't be sick during every match! No one is stupid, they're going to know something is wrong! Melody's the only person in this school who will ever believe that we're 'hooking up', and that's only because she wants to believe that my life is a pathetic piece of trash—"
"Really?" he mused, cocking his head to the side. "You think your life would be worthy of a heap of garbage if you were hooking up with me? I was thinking the same thing about my own life, actually, if I were hooking up with you. If anything, your social status would increase if you were hooking up with me—"
"Oh please," I scoffed with an eye roll. "No one likes you as much as you think they do. They probably all think you're an annoying prick—because you are. Urquhart is especially furious with you right now, and if you don't start showing up to practices or matches, he's probably going to tell everyone our secret—"
"What secret?" Malfoy interjected, his eyebrows narrowing with abrupt seriousness. My breath caught in my dry throat as I sputtered in shock. I had completely forgotten that Malfoy had no idea that Urquhart knew we were Death Eaters.
"I—well—Urquhart...noticed us sneaking around..."
"And? Spit it out, Fitzroy—"
"And so I lied and told him we were hooking up," I spewed in a hasty fib. "He—he actually believed it—like Melody did—and he said that if you don't start showing up, he'll tell everyone."
Malfoy sighed as his lips curled impatiently. "So?"
"S-So?" I stuttered as my eyebrows shot high. "So? So you're the one who's always been insisting that no one can ever think that we're—together because it would destroy your precious pureblood status or something—"
"Let them think it," he drawled dismissively. "It's better they assume we're hooking up than know what we're really doing. Teenage romance is trivial compared to the secret we're aiming to keep. Unless, of course, you have someone else's affection that you're trying to acquire?"
My jaw set in irritation as my eyes slivered. "Aren't you with Pansy? Won't she be upset?"
His eyes rolled. "She's nice to have around, sure, and she's a pureblood, but...I wouldn't say I've ever quite fancied her... Aren't you...trying to impress Harper? What would he say?"
I licked my lips as I stared at the pile of junk to my right. "He's...with Melody—and I've never been trying to impress him. We're just...friends...and sometimes he says we should get together any—"
I stopped myself immediately, shutting my mouth as my cheeks grew hot with an excess of blood. Carefully, I evaded his gaze as a smug smirk danced on his lips.
"Does he really? That's interesting. I was always under the impression that he wanted you all to himself."
"He wants Melody all to himself," I grumbled bitterly. "But that—that doesn't matter at all. We can't tell people that we're—hooking up—or snogging—or together—or whatever. It's ridiculous and no one will believe it—"
"Crabbe and Goyle already think so—"
"Crabbe and Goyle are dumber than rocks—"
"Flemming and Urquhart believe it."
I loathed myself for not telling him the truth about Urquhart, but given that I didn't want to evoke his monster of wrath, I simply sighed. "Fine—fine. We'll...tell people that we've been hanging out so much because we're...snogging—or whatever. But only if they ask or get suspicious. I don't want this rumor just floating around Hogwarts, okay? There are some people that I'd rather keep it from—"
"You're afraid Weaselbee will hear, aren't you?" he jeered with a mixture of derision and spite. "You'll just never give up—"
"I can't get over Fred just like you can't stop being a downright prat, so drop it, please?" I snapped aggressively. My words seemed to mollify his haughtiness, because his face drooped into a scowl.
"He's our enemy now, you know that? We serve the Dark Lord, Fitzroy. He's on Potter's side. Eventually one side is going to have to win. Eventually, you're going to have to fight your Weaselbee, and you'll have to choose between your life or his—"
"His," I interrupted emphatically. "I'll always choose his. Just like I would always choose Ginny's or my uncle's or my brothers' or—or—"
My voice trailed off with the word on my tongue, but I couldn't quite seem to spit it out. I couldn't say a simple "you", and judging by his sour expression, he hadn't been expecting me to.
"Sometimes I don't understand how you got into Slytherin at all," he stated coldly. "You have no ambition—"
"My ambition is to see those that I love be safe and happy—"
"Well that's...stupid," he countered, refusing to meet my eyes.
"It is not stupid. You would understand if you actually cared about anyone other than yourself."
"Do you think I'd be angry that you're so willing to sacrifice yourself if—if I—" Pausing, he ran a hand through his white-blond hair and tried to calm his furious breaths. "This conversation is over. Stop wasting time and let's go fix the cabinet."
As I followed him silently toward the Vanishing Cabinet, I couldn't stop replaying the thought of him confessing that he cared for me. With each time, my heart inflated with giddiness while my brain crumpled into a heap of self-loathing.
∆
"Still nothing," Malfoy grumbled as we exited the Room of Requirement hours later. Night had fallen, moonlight seeping through the otherwise dark windows in the corridor. It wasn't particularly late for a Saturday night, but if there was a party going on in the Slytherin common room, I would definitely not attend. Though, given our terrible performance at today's match, there would likely be no party, and I would be able to sink into slumber uninterrupted.
"We were able to get the apple to disappear, at least," I reminded him with dull optimism.
"Yes, but it never came back. It doesn't matter if we can get things out of the school. We need to get people into the school."
"Yes, yes, I know," I droned with a sigh. "We'll check tomorrow. Maybe Borgin didn't see it and he'll be able to send it back—"
"Stop acting like this is a simple thing that will just work itself out, Fitzroy," he growled agitatedly. "The likelihood—"
"Lainey?" a male's voice said, and when I glanced up, I saw that it had come from Dean Thomas's mouth. He was standing in the corner of the corridor with only one companion: Ginny Weasley. With the harshness of her eyes and the indignant set of her jaw, she was nearly unrecognizable.
"Hello," I greeted stiffly before trying to hurry along. Malfoy was walking closely at my side, but we both halted when Dean spoke again.
"Er—good game today," he offered weakly, his dark eyes earnest when I turned back to look at him. "You—uh—made a few good saves—"
"Yeah, just a few," I reiterated, my voice like acid. I was ready to spin around and stalk away, as was Malfoy, when another voice entered the conversation.
"What are you doing up here?" Ginny asked, her gaze darting suspiciously between Malfoy and I.
"Do you hold domain over this whole corridor, Weasley?" Malfoy sneered venomously. "Are you a Prefect?"
"No, but—"
"Well, I am, and I'm pretty certain it's against Hogwarts rules to snog openly in the corridor—"
"We weren't snogging!" Ginny fumed, her face burning as red as her hair as she took a fiery step toward us. "But I bet you two were! Harry thinks you two are up to something devious, but I know what it is—I know you two have been sneaking around—trying to hide your little romance—but you haven't fooled anyone—"
"There's nothing to hide," I stated firmly, staring into her eyes with as much placidity as I could muster. "Malfoy and I have been sneaking around together, but it's none of your business and there's nothing you can do about it—"
"It is my business!" she roared wrathfully. "How could you break up with Fred—my brother—the one who treated you with love and respect—for him—HIM! He is cruel to you, Lainey! He bullied you for years—"
"Yeah, well, he doesn't anymore," I cut in defensively as I glanced toward Malfoy for support. "He is—different. Things have changed—so you'd better get used to it."
"Nothing has changed, Lainey, only you have changed—"
"Really? Really? Nothing has changed? My brother wasn't murdered by—by Voldemort?" I stammered, trying to suppress the memory of my hand unwillingly holding the torch that sealed my twin's fate. "Everything has changed, and I've just changed with it. You're the one that's fighting to remain the same—fighting to ignore the obvious pain—the obvious truth. You-Know-Who clearly has a vendetta against me, and I do not need Fred to be the next name he crosses off his list. That's why I broke up with him. What I do after the break up has nothing to do with any of it."
"So that's it? You're with Malfoy now because you don't want to be with someone that you don't want You-Know-Who to kill? You're with Malfoy because you don't care if You-Know-Who murders him?" she questioned hysterically as she motioned toward Malfoy with her hand. "That's low, Lainey, even if Malfoy is a foul git."
"The burden of my suffering has sunk me into a low, low hole," I replied gravely, staring into her eyes even though I hated that I felt like I was staring at a stranger. "You wouldn't want to understand even if you could. C'mon," I commanded to Malfoy as I linked my arm with his to drag him along. The heat of Ginny's acrimonious glower was hot on my back as we disappeared down the corridor.
"She's wrong, you know," Malfoy said to me as we began to descend the stairs. With the sound of his voice, I realized that our arms were still linked, and I hastily withdrew.
"A-About what?" I asked, feeling utterly frazzled from the row. Even though my furor had raged hotly in the moment, my core now felt hollow and numb as my brain plunged into melancholy.
"About you not caring if I die," he answered coolly. "You do care. You fear it."
My jaw shifted as I sent him an acerbic side-glance. "Thank you for the cheery reminder."
"It's not so bad," he insisted with an aura of arrogance. "At least you have one person you can be truthful with."
"Yes, and I'm so happy it's you," I droned sarcastically, though even as I said it I was reminded of the fact that I hadn't been completely honest with him. I'd lied to him about what Urquhart knew...and he had actually believed me...
"I actually am glad that it's you," I heard his voice say, and I turned to gawk at him to see if the words had really escaped his lips or if I was just wishfully imagining. When he felt my wide-eyed gaze, he pivoted his head toward me with a sly smirk. "If I was doing this task with Nott he'd try to take the glory. If I was doing it with Crabbe or Goyle they'd be too incompetent. You're the perfect blend of humble and obedient, Fitzroy."
I rolled my eyes and let out a caustic laugh. "Of course I am. And you're the perfect blend of pretentious and obnoxious."
The small chuckle of lighthearted humor that emanated from his throat was just about the only aspect of my life that didn't make me want to break down in tears. With that, I managed to walk all the way down to my dorm without succumbing to my depression. When I arrived in the fifth year girls' dormitory, however, a new wave of self-abhorrence washed over me at the sight of Astoria Greengrass.
Melody was, as expected, reading in her bed, and while I wanted to strangle her, I instead kept my focus on Astoria, seated in the bottom bunk of her bed beside Ashley, and also surrounded by millions of shredded pieces of paper. I caught the sight of Evan's handwriting on one stray fragment, and a lump formed in my throat.
"I thought..." Astoria began softly, her eyes dry and her face pale without makeup. "I thought that for my birthday he would send me a letter. I thought...maybe out of curtsey he would explain why he stopped writing to me—or why he didn't want to be with me, but...he didn't."
"Well, it's okay," Ashley assured her as she patted her friend's back. "I made you a cake for your birthday."
"Yeah, one that you dropped on my face," Astoria moaned miserably. "You're my best friend, Ash, but you're not my Evy-poo. I was going to marry him."
Ashley pressed her lips together as her blue eyes fell to the floor. "Well...you can marry Goyle—yeah, you can marry Goyle, and then—and then we can have a joint wedding! You and Goyle and me and Crabbe—"
"No!" Astoria shouted, her voice loud enough to cause Melody to glance up from her book and her tone harsh enough to make Ashley flinch away. "I don't want to date Goyle," she added with a bit more composure. "I don't want to date anyone. Evy-poo was the only one for me, and without him I'll just have to be alone."
Ashley stared at her best friend sadly as I also gawked at her, my mouth ajar and my eyes heavy with despair. As Astoria retreated to the head of her bed and curled up under the covers, I jumped up onto my own bed and did the same, nestling myself in a cocoon of despondency. Astoria was now doomed to a life of unhappiness because of me, because Voldemort wanted to torture me and I'd been forced to send my brothers away and then lie to her. She would never know how much Evan had truly loved her and for his own safety she never could.
And then Ginny—Ginny had to hate me now. The look on her face when she'd been soaring toward me in the Quidditch match had been venomous and hateful, and it was the same exact expression she had portrayed during our fight. She thought I was a terrible person and, as usual, she was right. For months I'd been trying to convince myself that I was still a good person, still worthy of love, happiness, life, but...I was just doing what I did best: lying. Despite the lack of lying lessons, I'd been so dishonest that it came naturally to me now. Convincing Ginny that I was snogging Malfoy rather than working as a Death Eater with Malfoy had really taken no effort, and I'd even been able to persuade Malfoy that Urquhart had no idea of our true identities. I'd lied to everyone, even the one person I was now supposed to be truthful with, but worst of all, I'd completely lost my best friend. That look in her eye hadn't been loathing, not truly: she'd been looking at me with a hopelessness so intense that it enraged her. She had finally given up on me, and it was entirely my fault.
Without any hesitation, I slipped my hand into the pocket of my pants where I'd been keeping the Bottle of Bliss since the day I bought it. No joy would come to my life with the absence of Ginny as my best friend and greatest supporter. She'd always believed the best in me, always encouraged me to press on and try to be a better person, but she'd given up and that felt worse than all of the years of being harassed and bullied by the Slytherins. How ironic that it was a Gryffindor—my best friend—who had ultimately made me want to turn to a mind-altering potion rather than my oppressors. Silently, I gulped the blue liquid down my aching throat.
Unlike every other night where I would lay in bed for hours, recounting the reasons I hated myself, wondering how we were going to complete Voldemort's task, and replaying the deaths of my loved ones, I thought of only happy memories of giggling with Ginny, pranking with Fred, hanging out with the Slytherin Six, and even the few mild laughs that Malfoy and I had shared over the past few months. Everything seemed perfectly perfect, and I woke up with my lips curled into a smile, a facial expression that felt almost foreign to my muscles.
All three of my roommates were gone by the time I hopped out of bed, still wearing my Quidditch uniform from the previous day's game I now noticed. I was about to begin undressing when I realized there was someone standing in the doorway, his cool gaze tracing my form as his lips twitched into a grin.
"Are you that lazy, Fitzroy?" Draco Malfoy questioned, obviously referring to my attire. He wore a black suit, which had become his everyday outfit, though I imagined it was a different one from yesterday. "Couldn't even change out of your Quidditch uniform?"
"I will now if you would leave," I retorted gruffly, grabbing the door and threatening to slam it on him.
"You should be a bit nicer to me, you know," he drawled, maintaining his position between the room and the hall. "I am your only friend now that all of the Gryffindors despise you."
I gritted my teeth, staring darkly into his eyes. "I don't know that I'd consider us friends."
"Neither would I," he agreed calmly, ignoring the door that was inching closer to him by taking a step closer to me. "After everything, you really think I want to be your friend?"
"Obviously not," I growled as my eyes narrowed. "So get—"
"I want to be more than your friend," he spoke over me, smoothly and confidently. "You know that, you have known that, and I know you feel the same way."
My mouth tried to form words that would not emanate from my throat. "I—uh—er—well—I don't know—what you're talking about—"
"You can't tell me that you didn't enjoy our little detention kiss last year, even if it was brief because you were too nervous—"
"Nervous!" I laughed, shaking my head. "I didn't know 'nervous' and outraged meant the same thing to you, Malfoy. Regardless, things have...changed."
"Really?" he mused, as his eyebrows shot up. "How so?"
"We're on the same side now," I said, eyeing his expression carefully. "And I can't—I'm not with Fred."
"So," he started, positioning himself at such a close proximity that I could feel his body heat through my layers of Quidditch clothes, "are you saying you aren't nervous anymore?"
My gaze fell to his lips, thin and bunched into a crooked smirk, and then I glanced up at his eyes, which were dancing across my face in a suggestive manner. With unusual boldness, I reached up, gripping his neck in my fingers, and then feverishly pulled his face toward mine, quenching the desire that had been burning my interior for as long as my Dark Mark had been burning my exterior. His lips mashed against mine in a passionate way that excited me but somehow did not satisfy me in the way that Fred's sweet embrace did.
Almost reluctantly, I pulled away from Malfoy, feeling an impossible mixture of pleasure and remorse. His ceaseless grin was provocative, as though he planned to grab me himself and yank me back toward him, but before he could, a person with bright red hair materialized in the doorway behind him. Registering my disbelief, Malfoy spun around, and his expression soured as his eyes met Ginny Weasley's.
"I knew it!" she spat, her face red with anger but her eyes brimming with saddened tears. "I didn't want to believe it, but I knew it! Fred—look!"
Before I could move, before I could take a step back from Malfoy or even remove my arms from around his neck, Fred popped up next to Ginny, mimicking his sister's emotions in his own expression. While he managed to suppress the feelings of outrage and dejection, I could see clearly that he wanted to cry and hex me across the room simultaneously. I had betrayed him. His assumptions about our break up had been correct. And now his abhorrence toward me would match my abhorrence toward myself.
Mortified, I rapidly removed myself from Malfoy's grasp and stumbled back into the pole of my bunk bed. Malfoy followed me, positioning himself at my side as we both stared at the redheads in the doorway. Before I could spew questions like how Fred was here or why Fred was here, another form popped up between them, pushing his way through until he had a clear view of Malfoy and me, standing shoulder to shoulder beside the bunk bed. His curly hair was finely groomed, and his eyes were pained but full of life as they fell upon us. I wanted to jump out and hug him—maybe burst into tears of joy—but the adverse reaction on his face was enough to convey that I should stay still.
"This is surprising, Lainey," Sirius Black noted with disappointment. "I had thought we were alike in some ways, in our love for mischief and will to do what is right, but I would never align myself with scum like the Malfoys—the enemy."
"I—I—you—you're—"
"He's right, Lay," a voice chimed in, and when his blond head emerged from the crowd, I instantly fell to my knees as though a wave of incredulity had slammed me from behind. Before me, now nestled between Fred and Sirius—who should have been dead—was another person who should have been dead: Lyle. His skin was flawless and unburned, his body was fully intact, and though his face was just as I remembered, never had I seen an expression of such disapproval on him.
"L—Ly—Ly—"
"What are you doing, Lay?" he asked, gentling crouching down in front of me to meet my eyes. "What are you doing with the Blond Prat? I loved Fred—you love Fred—"
"I—I can't—"
"Because of this," he said as he tenderly grabbed my left arm and pushed up the long sleeve. The Dark Mark was blinding and agonizing to my own eyes, but Lyle did not wince. "Because you've joined Voldemort. He killed me, Lainey—"
"I had no choice!" I sobbed, salty water now streaming down my cheeks. "I had to—I had to to save Remus—to save everyone I love! I failed you, Lyle—I can't fail anyone else—"
"It was not your fault that he killed me," my twin brother insisted, shaking my hand for emphasis. "You can't control the actions of that raging psychopath—but you can control your own actions, and you chose this. You chose to help him—"
"I—I didn't—I had no choice—"
"There's always a choice, Lainey," he said sadly as he dropped my hand. "And you made the wrong one."
"What did you want me to do!" I cried, watching torturously as he stood and joined the other three in the doorway, now staring past me, expressionless. "Did you want me to let Voldemort use our uncle? Did you want me to let Voldemort kill you, Fred, or you, Ginny, like he already killed you—" I motioned to Sirius, "and you—" I motioned to Lyle, "and—" I paused as my eyes fixated onto a new individual that had surfaced in the doorway. His hair was a mixture of blond and grey and his face was as affable and caring as ever. He smiled at me somberly, and I struggled to finish my sentence. "And—and you," I finally blurted, staring at my father through the veil of tears.
Hastily, I pulled the sleeve of my shirt back over my Mark in fear that he would see it. I would rather die than let him see what I had become. Unfortunately, he'd caught sight of it before I'd been able to cover it up, but he did not chastise me with words or condemn me with his gaze. Instead, he dropped to his knees and took my shaking hands in his.
"Your mother, Lainey, she made a choice a long time ago, one that she knew would negatively affect those she loved for years to come," he began, and I knew he was referring to how my mother had refused to resurrect Voldemort. "But, in doing so, she was able to prevent much turmoil and death and war. I know that you're trying to protect the ones you love, Lainey, but if that dark wizard returns, no one will be safe. Remus and your friends will decide to defy him on their own, and they will die. Do what is right, Lainey, not what is easy, and not what will only temporarily relieve the problem. Look ahead, Lainey. You have the ability to do that better than anyone else. Look to the future and be brave."
"I'm not," I choked, shaking my head violently. "I'm not brave, Dad, I'm not! If I was brave, I'd be in Gryffindor! I'm a coward—"
But he wasn't listening anymore; his eyes had glossed over and he retreated back into the line of statue-like people in my doorway.
"I'm not brave!" I shouted at all of them, my voice raspy and cracking. "I'm not brave and I'm not moral and I'm not good—I'm evil and scared and—and selfish—"
Suddenly, my eyes flew open to a different reality—a real reality, where I was panting and sobbing in my bed rather than on my knees. The door to my dormitory was closed, but Melody was standing by it with her book in her hands and her green eyes raised to me.
"You're right about being a scared little baby," she informed me blandly. "Evil is stretching it a bit though, don't you think?"
I cleared my throat and brushed my messy black hair out of my face. "S-Sorry... Was I—"
"Crying in your sleep? Yes. Nothing new for this room. Usually it's Greengrass that's doing the night wailing, though. But today she actually went to breakfast with Pucey. Seems like her patheticness has been deferred to you."
With a taut smirk, she spun around and exited the room, slamming the door behind her. I groaned, massaging my temples as I tried not to envision my dead loved ones standing in the doorway. Or Fred, or even Ginny, for that matter.
After changing out of my Quidditch uniform—which I actually was still wearing, embarrassingly enough—I stalked out of my dorm and into the common room in search of one person. As I had hoped, he was sitting on one of the leather couches alone, preparing to down a small blue vial. Before the glass touched his lips, I snagged it from his hand and chucked it onto the floor, sending tiny shards of glass ricocheting off the stone ground. His brown-eyed glare was immediately rancorous.
"Mu—Fitzroy!" he bellowed as he jumped up from the couch to tower above my short stature. He wasn't as tall as Malfoy or even near the height of Fred, but he was lengthy enough to make me feel miniscule. "You know Bletchley keeps me in short supply—"
"What the bloody hell is in that stuff?" I demanded, emphasizing each word with my tight lips and glowering eyes.
"I'm not telling you," Carl Vaisey scoffed, shaking his head incredulously. "It's top secret—"
"I thought it was supposed to make me happy—blissful!" I exclaimed in a whisper, now conscious of the Slytherin eyes that were turning toward us throughout the common room. "It...didn't! It gave me—weird dreams."
"Mm," he hummed, bobbing his head pensively, "they're usually not best when taken right before sleep."
"You didn't tell me that!" I exploded with enough volume to elicit a snort from Brian Urquhart, who was passing with Darrin Hunt.
"Stop quarreling over there," our Quidditch Captain commanded, his voice monotone. "I want you both to eat before practice."
"Yes, Master, anything for you," I snapped sassily, spinning back to Vaisey before Urquhart could make a retort.
"So, what was your dream?" Vaisey asked casually as he sat on the armrest of the couch. "Had to have been pretty bad to have put you in this mood."
"It was—um—kinda good at first," I admitted uncomfortably, thinking of the sensation of Malfoy's lips that somehow still lingered on mine, "but then it just went terribly, terribly wrong."
"Hm, sounds about right," he noted with another nod.
"Seriously? Really? Are you kidding me—"
"Nope," he interjected as he popped a new blue vial out of his pocket. "Care to buy some more?"
"No I do not want to buy more!" I fumed, though as my heated breaths subsided, I gazed at the little vial with a new level of intrigue. "Well...maybe I do. I want to know if it'll make me feel...better during the day. You know—if there's an emergency of some kind."
"Seems to me like you're always undergoing an emotional emergency," he observed as he flipped the vial toward me. I caught it clumsily. "Cough up."
Reluctantly, I fished through my pocket and then plopped a few wizard coins into Vaisey's open hand. Just as I did, a voice barked throughout the common room, causing me to jump and nearly lose my grip on the small potion.
"Fitzroy!"
Briskly, I slipped the newly acquired Bottle of Bliss into my pocket and then turned toward the common room entrance, where Draco Malfoy was impatiently waiting. Without a word, he nodded toward the exit, beckoning me to follow him, and I exhaled a sigh.
"Oh, right," Vaisey said before I could step away. "I should congratulate you, but I don't really care that much."
"Congratulate on what?" I questioned, ignoring Malfoy's scowling eyes from across the room.
"That you and Draco finally admitted to the public that you've been snogging in private," Vaisey responded smoothly as he stood up straight.
"W-What?" I managed to blurt, blinking frantically as I glanced briefly toward Malfoy. "No—no—just no—"
"Everyone's been talking about it," Vaisey cut in with a shrug. "It's spurred great business for me, actually. All of the fawning girls that are in love with Malfoy have been buying Bottle of Bliss to quiet their distress."
"Oh no," I moaned, smacking myself in the face and letting my hand run languidly down it. Of course, in her bitter rage, Ginny had begun to spread the rumor that Malfoy and I were "snogging partners". Still better than the truth, but not by much.
"I don't believe that any girls are in love with Malfoy," I finally said, glaring up at Vaisey with narrowed eyes.
"Oh don't get jealous. There are a few guys that bought a fairly hefty amount of Bottle of Bliss just this morning. Maybe you've got some secret admirers too, ex-Mudblood."
I threw my head back as I groaned. "Malfoy and I are not snogging—"
"Then why have you been together all the time?" Vaisey challenged with high eyebrows.
"We're—friends!" I insisted desperately. "We can be friends now since I'm no longer a Mudblood. It's pretty much the same story with about every person in Slytherin. Even you."
Vaisey scrunched his nose as he surveyed me. "I like to think we have a more professional dealer-buyer relationship."
"Whatever," I grumbled, puffing out a breath before I stomped past him to approach Malfoy. Judging by his crossed arms, he was agitated but not angry.
"Were you really just buying potions from Vaisey?" he questioned irascibly.
"No," I huffed, avoiding his eyes. "We were just...talking. Am I not allowed to talk to people now?"
Malfoy pursed his lips but chose not to answer before marching out of the common room. I trailed swiftly behind him, trying to catch his words as he spoke in a hushed tone.
"Just saw Hunt, the one that you nearly murdered. We'll have to use a Memory Charm on him before he starts spewing your secrets to the entire school—"
"He doesn't remember any of it," I interrupted rapidly. "He thinks that he really was poisoned by a first year. We're...good."
He snorted, keeping his head high as he said, "Well, maybe your plan wasn't an utter failure after all. After we make an appearance at breakfast, we'll need to work on the Cabinet again. I found a new spell that I think might mend it."
"We have Quidditch practice," I reminded him, feeling very small as I said it.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Fine, we'll appease Urquhart, and then we'll go snog in the Room of Requirement."
I knew he didn't mean it, but my stomach still lurched with unease. "Everyone thinks we actually are, you know."
"I've heard," he grumbled, glancing around warily. "Nott wouldn't shut up about it this morning. Any idea how the rumor got around so fast?"
I didn't want to pin the blame on Ginny, but it had to have been her. She felt like I'd betrayed her, and now I felt like she'd betrayed me. Anxiously, I wrapped my fingers around the potion vial in my pocket. My most loyal friend had lost hope in me; how long would it be before everyone I knew and loved grew to loathe me? And how long would it be before Ginny told Fred that I was "snogging Malfoy"? How long before his greatest fear—that I'd left him for Malfoy—became reality to him? From how he'd reacted to the kiss in my dream, I knew that knowledge of my new "relationship" with Malfoy would kill Fred's heart, and with his heart would go mine.
The events in this chapter correlate with The Half-Blood Prince Chapter Fourteen, "Felix Felicis".