The artwork of Lainey for this chapter was drawn by a reader from Quotev (:
"Ugh, I just don't like the way your hair looks this morning," Astoria complained, her hands in my braided honey blonde hair as we exited the Slytherin common room. Having been up until two in the morning, our entire House was like a horde of zombies trudging out into the dungeons on this early Monday morning. Though murmurs rang through the common room, everyone became quickly silent once out in the corridor—everyone except Astoria, obviously.
"You should be quiet, Greengrass," Anderson sang as he walked past us. Spinning to face us, he began to walk backwards and raised his eyebrows at her. "Don't wanna get caught by the big bad Carrows."
"Oh shut up, Vince," she snapped, yanking a bit too hard on my hair as she unraveled it. "This is worth risking detention. Lainey's hair is finally no longer that ghastly black, and so I need to make it perfect. I wish I had some of my magical styling gel..."
"Don't put any gel in my hair," I said, frowning back at her as she combed her fingers through my knotty locks. "Just re-braid it or something. I don't want anything fancy."
Astoria snorted. "Now we know why Draco's taken so long to admit his love for you. You like to look ugly."
I glanced around for signs of Malfoy, but then I remembered that he was far ahead of the crowd, leading the trembling little first years toward the Great Hall, as was his Head Boy duty. As Prefect, Ashley should have been with him, but instead she was behind us, scribbling Quidditch plays onto a piece of parchment as she walked, using her boyfriend's back as a writing surface. The fact that Snape had outlawed Quidditch hadn't deterred her dreams in the slightest, and though she hadn't said so, I assumed she had plans to group together some sort of underground Quidditch league.
"What's that booger on your nose?" Anderson said, slowing down to survey my nose. When he brought his finger to my nostril, I realized he was referring to my nose ring. "Why is it green? Wasn't it black before?"
"She's done being Goth, Vince, please catch up," Astoria droned as she tugged on my hair. "I thought the green jewel would look nice with her eyes and her Slytherin uniform. As usual, I was right."
Anderson shrugged as he resumed his backward strides. "Looks like a booger to me. Your makeup isn't as dark anymore though, which is cool."
"That is also thanks to me," Astoria said, flipping her own hair arrogantly. "If Lainey would just let me do her hair, her beauty would be so astounding that Draco would forget all about the fact that you allowed him to be thrown in a fire...after you practically cheated on him."
I grumbled something incoherent, hoping that Malfoy couldn't hear Astoria's loud yapping from where I saw him standing at the top of the stairwell. He was pushing students past mindlessly now, searching the crowd of upcoming students for, I realized when we approached him, me. Joining the three of us wordlessly, he paid no mind to the fact that Astoria was playing with my hair or that Anderson was still walking backwards and kept his gaze steady ahead.
"Everyone's talking," he muttered quietly, eyeing our peers with distaste. "And I know I'm going to get blamed."
"Just blame it on Pansy," I suggested coolly. Malfoy's eyebrows shot up as he met my eyes. "What, is that too cruel for the notorious Draco Malfoy? Have you really got a crush on Parkinson? How sweet. Your children will be a mixture of pug and ferret. What would you even call that?"
"Pugret?" Anderson offered. "Ferug? Furget? Perrug? P—"
"Enough!" Astoria nearly shouted, her voice echoing through the otherwise quiet entrance hall. Everyone turned toward us, but she was too concentrated on my hair to notice. "You are breaking my focus, Vince—"
"Be quiet," Malfoy hissed anxiously. When I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, he added a rather pathetic, "Please." To everyone's surprise, Astoria actually listened, and, like the other students, we entered the Great Hall mutely.
The fog that had loomed above the tables the previous night had dissipated and the greenish glowing candles had vanished, leaving the ceiling bare as light streamed in through the tall windows. The Slytherin flags still hung, and the other Houses' tables still looked damaged, but students sat at them regardless, eating wordlessly, with only the clanging of plates and utensils to reverberate off the high walls. Snape was positioned at the center of the teachers' table, glaring out at the students, looking for someone stupid enough to talk. Instead of eating, the Carrows were pacing the Great Hall vigilantly, though they never came very close to the Slytherin table, where students were whispering and giggling without reprimand. We resumed the same seats as the previous night, Astoria on my left and Malfoy on my right, but the difference now was that Harper wasn't here.
"Where is he?" I whispered to Anderson, pointing toward the empty space beside him where Harper should have been.
Anderson shrugged. "Wasn't in our room when I woke up this morning."
I bit my lip and then grunted when Astoria yanked a bit too hard on my hair.
"And—there!" she announced, patting my head and smiling at me triumphantly. "Gorgeous!"
Since I couldn't see what she'd done, I brought my hands up to my head and felt about twelve small braided buns scattered around my head. "Astoria," I blurted too loudly as I pivoted to face her. "What the hell did you do?"
"I'm not really sure, but I love it. So new, so trendy. I've always wanted to come up with my own unique hairstyle. Now girls will come up to you and ask you where you got your hair done and you'll tell them it was me and I'll trademark the design and it'll become famous—"
"No one's going to come up to me, Astoria, because they're all scared of me. I'm putting it back in a normal braid—"
I cut my words short when snickers rose beside me, and I spun to see that Malfoy was snorting while Pansy was audibly cackling at me.
"Looks like an owl regurgitated on your head..." he paused to count, "thirteen times. Nice one, Greengrass."
"Don't compare my fabulous hairstyle to owl regurgitation, Draco," Astoria snipped in offense. "It's lovely."
Smirking, I picked up a biscuit and ate it while the rest of the Slytherins mocked my hair. Though Astoria's style was ridiculous, it kept my hair tame and it also served as a topic of entertainment on this dreary first day of school. Perhaps it would also piss off the Carrows. One could only hope.
"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Slughorn prompted as he stepped up behind us. After handing Malfoy his schedule, he reached over the table to hand one to Crabbe, who struggled to read what it said. "Miss Fitzroy...or should I call you Miss Potter now? Yes, yes, I've always known. Your resemblance to your father is stark, and your mother's eyes, like your brother... Do wish you'd inherited your mother's potion-making skills, though, like Harry..."
My lips pursed sourly while Malfoy did nothing to hide his amusement. Snatching my schedule from Slughorn, I let him saunter on without a word, wishing, as usual, that I was simply and purely a Fitzroy.
"Ooh, Muggle Studies first," Astoria enthused as she received her schedule. "I do love Muggle Studies. Always reminds me of my precious Evy..."
Anderson's expression grew cold as he looked over his own schedule. "I...have Muggle Studies first too. I don't even take Muggle Studies."
"The schedules must be wrong," I decided. "We always have Transfiguration first. And I barely passed any of my O.W.L.s so I shouldn't be in so many classes. And—and I have Muggle Studies first too—"
"That's because Muggle Studies is required now," Ryan Harper said tersely as he sat down next to Anderson, his schedule in his hands. Anderson seemed surprised that his friend had chosen the spot beside him, but Harper wouldn't even glance in his direction.
"I—forgot that's what Snape said last night..." I eyed Harper cautiously; his apathetic, distant demeanor was unnerving, and though I knew that he was angry about what had happened with Travis and Rachel, I was wondering what really bothering him. I'd never seen Harper so out of control, and it genuinely saddened me to see that he was ignoring his best friend.
"Ugh, I forgot that Charity was murdered," Astoria groaned, slumping her shoulders as she propped her elbows on the table. "I loved her. She always encouraged me to date Evan even when everyone else didn't because he was a Muggle."
"Is a Muggle," Malfoy corrected, barely even glancing over at us. "He's not dead yet. I made sure of that."
Astoria perked up immediately, her sparkly eyes lighting up fervently. "You—you've seen Evan? Have you? How is he? Does he still love me?"
Though I was attempting to claw Malfoy to death with my glare, he seemed unperturbed by it and simply shrugged at Astoria.
"Not really. He's got a new girlfriend."
I elbowed him hard in the gut, but his gasp of pain was overpowered by Astoria's shrieks.
"NEW GIRLFRIEND? NEW GIRLFRIEND!"
Every eye in the Great Hall had turned toward us now, and the Slytherin table had gone silent. The Carrows were approaching like hungry lions, and Snape had stood from his chair.
"Quiet, Greengrass," he barked, but Astoria had jumped up and was throwing a fit, her arms flailing and her face as red as her lipstick.
"Evy can't have a new girlfriend!" she yelled, banging her fist on the table as she glowered at Malfoy. His face had gone pale, and he seemed to honestly regret saying anything to her at all. "I am his only love! Me! Only me—"
Suddenly, Astoria's body began to convulse as though she'd touched a live electrical wire. Her eyes were wide as she trembled, and then she collapsed onto the bench, nearly toppling over it until I caught her. Though she was conscious, she was dazed and limp, and I had a hard time hoisting her up until Carl Vaisey, seated on her other side, reached over to aid me. She came back to her senses gradually, her body quivering as she began to hiccough. The Carrows, who had hexed her, stood behind Harper and Anderson now, cackling with malevolent grins.
"Silly, silly girl," Amycus jeered, twirling his wand in his hand.
"Lucky she's in Slytherin—and a pureblood! We won't be so kind to the rest!" As Alecto spun around to point her wand at the other Houses, they all rapidly diverted their eyes and cowered low in their seats—all except Ginny and Neville. They were glaring boldly, and I didn't manage to let out a breath until I was assured that the Carrows hadn't noticed them. Even though Ginny was practically my enemy now, I couldn't imagine sitting back while she was tortured.
"Are you all right, Astoria?" I questioned in a hushed tone once the Carrows had resumed pacing. The Slytherin table was docile now; no one laughed or even spoke above a whisper as they ate.
Astoria's eyes fluttered as her brow scrunched. "Evy...is cheating on me."
I released her and allowed her head to flop onto the table with a bang. Everyone looked at me in alarm, but I just sighed and shook my head. "She'll be all right."
"Oh, Potter," Vaisey prompted, leaning over Astoria toward me. She had her head rested sideways on the table now and was moaning about her Evy-poo. "Bletchley and I made something for you." He paused to dig through his pocket and then pulled out a massive glass beaker filled with a translucent purple liquid. I took it hesitantly as he passed it over Astoria's drooping back.
"What—um—is it? Poison?" I asked, scrutinizing the bottle until I found the label: Lainey's Laughing Liquid: Induces uncontrollable laughter. Inspired by the Mudblood, Lainey Fitzroy. "Ah, a laughing liquid. I remember suggesting you make one of these."
"By some miracle, I also remembered," Vaisey replied, grinning lopsidedly. "Bletchley loved the idea. Even gave me a raise, can you imagine? Anyway, I'll probably have to tell him to change the label since you're not a Fitzroy anymore."
"I am a Fitzroy," I insisted as I hid the beaker under the table. "I'm more of a Fitzroy than a 'Mudblood'."
"You'll always be a Mudblood," he insisted with a dismissive wave. "If not by blood then by upbringing. The potion's still a prototype, by the way. Got a few issues to work out, like the fact that the effect doesn't kick in until a half hour after drinking it."
"Hm," I hummed, but I didn't elaborate because my brain was working...
"INCOMING!" Ashley exclaimed wildly when a horde of owls came swooping into the Great Hall. None flew to any of the other Houses, which I assumed was because Snape decided that only Slytherin was worthy of receiving mail, and I was surprised when Dev flew down and perched his sharp talons on my shoulders. I hadn't seen the nasty eagle owl since he brought me Harry's letter—and my O.W.L. results—in July. He had a single note tied to his leg, and when I opened it, I immediately recognized Remus Lupin's handwriting:
Be cautious. Be safe. Be blind.
I folded it before Malfoy could read it over my shoulder. It wasn't entirely secretive, but I knew the meaning behind his succinct commands. He didn't want me to mess with the Carrows, or Snape, even. He didn't want me to involve myself with the war or the Order or the Death Eaters. And, most importantly, he didn't want me to have any visions. I knew he wanted me to try to suppress my Seeing powers because he didn't want Voldemort to use them to his advantage, but how could I even go about doing that? I barely knew how to make myself See visions; I certainly had no idea of how to stop them from coming.
Snape was staring at me intently when I glanced up, and I realize that he'd probably read through all of the letters before allowing us to receive them, which meant that he also wanted me to get this message from Lupin; he wanted me to be cautious and safe and blind. But why? Was he still trying to help me? He had helped with Evan, yes, but he didn't seem too fond of me still, and he was allowing the Carrows to torture children. It was impossible to know what side Snape was really on. I doubted Snape even knew what side he was on. He likely just did whatever benefited him most at the time.
"Whose owl is that?" I asked Harper, tearing my focus away from my brooding thoughts. There was an eagle owl sitting on the table in front of him, his eyes bright and orange like Dev's and Demy's. The owl still had some of his baby fluff, but he appeared mostly matured, his eyebrows narrowed in a demonic way. Harper had just pried a letter off of the young owl's leg and was reading it frantically.
"It's his," Anderson told me, since Harper hadn't even heard my question. "Well, technically it's yours. This bird right here is Nippy, offspring of Dev and Demy. Harper adopted him since you didn't want any of the chicks. His name's Nippy, because he bites. I claimed Fluffers, but he's not too bright and hasn't figured out the whole letter exchanging business. Ashley wanted King—"
"I needed an owl that was bigger than Adrian's," Ashley clarified, glancing up from her Quidditch strategizing only briefly.
"Yeah, and we wanted to give Astoria Wiry, but she didn't want him," Anderson went on, wincing slightly at Astoria as she continued to moan to herself, oblivious to all else. "And the one named Ugly's for Melody, but she's not here, so..."
Harper sprung up abruptly, tearing the letter in his hands to shreds as he did, and then stalked away from the Slytherin table without explanation. The pieces of parchment cascaded before Anderson, who stared with paralyzed dismay as his friend fled the Hall.
"I'll talk to him," I assured Anderson, hiding my beaker of Lainey's Laughing Liquid under my robe as I stood. "You...er...take care of Astoria, all right?"
Hesitantly he nodded, and, before departing from the Slytherin table, I conducted some of the mischief that had been brewing in my head. Malfoy glared at me belligerently, and many of the other students gawked as I took a slight detour around the Great Hall, but somehow I managed to evade the attention of the Carrows and Snape, probably because Snape had left the room and the evil siblings were too occupied with verbally assaulting some first years to notice. Feeling devious, I snuck out of the Hall, only for my mood to deflate upon the sight of Harper, pacing and clutching his head between his hands in the entrance hall.
"Harper," I prompted gingerly, halting his strides with the sound of my voice. His hands dropped from his head, but his face was still plagued with consternation. Though he had the same ruffled brown hair and vibrant blue eyes as my best friend, I felt like I was looking at a stranger. "Who...was that letter from?"
"It was from my mum." His voice was hoarse and strained; his eyes were glossy.
"Is she...okay?"
"Yeah, she's fine," he affirmed, staring past me rigidly. "And I should...be happy about it, but...I just wish it had been a letter from Melody." His voice broke with that, and his posture loosened as he looked at me with petrifying desperation. "That's how demented I've become. I'd rather get a letter from Melody than be assured that my mother's safe. I'm despicable—"
"No, you're not," I insisted, taking a few steps closer to him and placing my hand consolingly on his arm. He didn't shrug me off, but he also didn't seem particularly keen about my touch. Slowly, I dropped my grip and fought to force him to meet my eyes. "I always wish I could get letters from Fred. I just got a note from my uncle, and now I know he's all right, but still, I'd rather hear from Fred... Love blinds us, I guess."
"I don't—I..." He sucked in a breath, finally looking at me with frustration that I knew was inward despite the fact that he glared outwardly. "Do you know why I'm most angry? With myself, I mean. It's because...I feel better now that Mel's not here. Better, Lay. I feel...happier—and it's wrong. I miss her, but when I'm with her I feel like I'm dragging dead weight, and now that she's not here I feel like I'm floating. How screwed up is that? I love her, but I like it better when she's not around. How? How does everyone else have a better love life than me? Even bloody Travis can get a girl better than I can. Not that I'd wanna date my sister—that's more of your kinda thing—" His mood lightened momentarily, and I knew he was referring to the fact that I'd gone to the Yule Ball with Harry. I wanted to playfully punch his arm, but his lightheartedness disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and his tone fell back to despair. "But...my sister's great and Travis is lucky. Maybe that's why I punched him in the face..."
"Well..." I started, bracing myself for what I needed to say, "you picked Melody. You could have picked someone...um...nicer, maybe? No offense, and I'm not sure if you've noticed, but no one else ever has fallen in love with Melody Flemming, and I think there's a reason for that."
Harper coughed something that sounded distinctly like "Your brother".
"Dammit. I forgot about their gross romance... Well, I'm still certain she bewitched him, so I don't blame him at all."
"But you blame me? I didn't choose to fall in love with Mel." He paused, his voice becoming deeply theatrical as he added, "Her darkness drew me in—"
"Oh shut up," I said, giggling as I actually did punch his arm. Flinching to dodge my fist, he laughed along with me, and the brilliant smile plastered on his face now was enough to remind me of why I'd always assumed he was a Gaudium. As the thought of Gaudiums entered my brain, I was suddenly bombarded with the memory of what had happened with Rachel at the end of last year. "Harper...why did your sister risk coming back to school? I mean...she's a Gaudium, isn't she? Voldemort tried to kidnap her last June—"
"That was a big misunderstanding. You-Know-Who didn't tell you?"
My brow furrowed in perplexity. "No...?"
"Oh, well, according to Ray," he began, referring to his sister, "when the Death Eaters captured her, they realized immediately that she wasn't a Gaudium. I'm not sure how, since the Gaudiums don't have their powers anymore anyway, but they knew, and they also knew that they had to bring her back to You-Know-Who anyway—apparently You-Know-Who was convinced that she might a Gaudium—a third Gaudium—because you thought she was—"
"Hang on," I interrupted, my mouth ajar as I fought to process his jumbled story. "You're saying that Rachel is not a Gaudium but Voldemort thought she was because I thought she was? But he didn't know what she looked like...and when the Death Eaters realized what she looked like they immediately knew she wasn't?"
Harper's eyes strayed to the side for a pensive moment before he said, "Yeah, that's pretty much exactly what I just said."
"But that means...that there are still two void Gaudiums and I still don't know who they are? God, I feel like I'm never going to figure this out... Does Rachel know who they are? Selwyn said that they went to Gryffindor tower to try to capture the other Gaudium but it didn't work out... Rachel must know then. And...and you. I know that look on your face. You know."
Harper held up his hands in an innocent surrender. "I know nothing. Nothing at all."
My eyes slivered into a scowl. "You do know. You're lying to me."
"Lay," he sighed, biting his lip. "Even if I do know...you shouldn't. You-Know-Who can read your mind—"
"But he already knows who the two Gaudiums are—"
"Yeah, but he doesn't know that they still have some powers—shit. Shit, shit, shit—"
"They still have powers?" I blurted, my eyes protruding as Harper continuously shook his head and muttered about how stupid he was. "Does that—does that mean that Rachel is a Gaudium? She certainly makes me happy—but that would mean that that whole story you just fabricated is a lie—"
"Lainey," he groaned, rolling his head back. "Just...please. Don't think about it, okay? It's better if you don't know the details—or come to any conclusions. Last time you made assumptions, my sister almost got kidnapped for it. So...just, please, for everyone's safety, don't think?"
Though I wanted to object, I knew he was right; my mind was a danger to all. Rubbing my forehead, I inhaled a breath and said, "Fine, I won't think about it. But...since you know, you need to promise to keep the Gaudiums safe, okay? Whoever they are."
"Of course, I—of course..." He smiled at me meekly, and I struggled not to explode.
"Are you...sure you're okay?" I managed to ask, feigning some normalcy. "You're not going to go around punching kids in the face anymore, are you?"
"No, but I wouldn't say I feel bad about it," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "Every big brother needs to punch his little sister's boyfriend at least once, right?"
Chuckling, I shook my head. "I would pay to see Harry punch Malfoy in the face, honestly, since I have to marry him. Would be quite the sight..."
Harper winced now, eyeing me pityingly. "I didn't get the chance to say sorry about that. I mean...you've obviously got some feelings for Mal, but I know you love that Weasley, and being forced into a marriage must suck. I can't imagine having to marry anyone other than Melody."
"Yeah," I said through an exhale, staring past him at the old stone wall of the entrance hall. "It sucks, but...maybe no one's meant to be with the person they want."
Judging by the look in Harper's eye, he knew that I was implying that he and Melody didn't have a chance. Neither one of us said it, but it was a silent truth that he would have to accept, just like I was learning to accept that my fate was sealed without Fred...
"I should probably go apologize to Anderson," Harper said, glancing forlornly at the entrance to the Great Hall. "I was kind of a dick to him last night."
I snorted, suppressing a smirk. "Just a bit. I should go too. I'll meet you in class."
"Where are you going?"
"To verbally attack Snape for making me take all of these classes even though I failed the O.W.L.s," I informed him as I waved my schedule in the air. "If I failed the test, I shouldn't be allowed to move on."
One of Harper's eyebrows quirked up quizzically. "Are you saying that in a righteous way or in a lazy, 'I don't want to take classes' way?"
I paused, mulling over the answer for a moment before concluding, "Both, but more the latter, I think."
"Well, this is something I gotta see. Lainey chewing out the new Headmaster... It'll be like the good old days when you used to screw with Umbridge."
"A little more terrifying, I will admit, but hopefully it can be like that again, yes... You're coming along then?"
Harper's grin was crooked, familiar, and completely natural as he cocked his head to the side. "As long as you promise to protect me if Snape goes into a Death Eater rage."
∆
"Death Eaters rule! I love You-Know-Who! Um...I love my greasy hair! Anderson sucks!"
"His password would not be 'Anderson sucks'," I said with a laugh, shaking my head at Harper. We stood before the gargoyle that led to the Headmaster's office, which was now Snape's office, though we'd been unsuccessful so far with guessing a password. "Snape doesn't know Anderson's name."
"Right, damn," Harper swore, stroking his chin as he pondered. "Gryffindors suck!"
"It's got to be something that's not obvious, Harper. He doesn't want anyone guessing it... What about... Lily Potter?"
The gargoyle didn't move; it remained there, stony and rigid as I crossed my arms.
"It wouldn't be Lily Potter. Snape hated the fact that she married your dad," Harper reminded me, reciting what I'd told him, and the rest of the Slytherin Six, on the train ride here. "What's your mother's maiden name?"
Biting my lip, I stared up at the ominous gargoyle and tried to recall my mother's maiden name, which I should have known, but I'd only heard it a few times. It was similar to someone else's name...one of my brothers'... "Evans," I decided when it sparked in my brain. "Lily Evans."
I was almost surprised when the gargoyle shifted, exposing the spiral staircase that Harper greedily began to ascend. "Snape is such a sop! Using the name of his dead crush as his password! Oh—sorry, Lay, forgot she's your mum. Must've been awkward for him when he told McG and the Carrows about the password."
"I doubt he did tell them the password," I countered as I followed him up the grey stone steps. "He probably doesn't want anyone bothering him up here at all... Do you think it's weird that my real mother's maiden name is Evans and my adopted brother's name is Evan?"
Harper glanced at me over his shoulder with raised eyebrows. "You think he was named after her?"
"I dunno... I know my—er—Lisa was close with James and Sirius, but I'm not sure that she even knew my real mother too well at all..."
Shrugging, Harper opened his mouth to reply, but we were at the door at the top of the stairwell now, and a deep, droning voice emanated from within.
"I have been speaking against Potter enough not to raise suspicion amongst the others, but not enough to turn every student here against him. You can imagine that some of his friends have already reinstated Dumbledore's Army behind my back."
Another voice replied to Snape, but it was not as loud or as clear, so I hastily dug through my robe and pulled out an Extendible Ear. After slipping it under the crack between the door and the floor, we were able to listen in with clarity.
"Obviously I will try to keep torture to a minimum," Snape was drawling with mild agitation. "Though, I'm sure you're aware that my loyalties will be questioned if I let every disobedient student off with a warning."
"Of course, of course, Severus. I trust you'll find a way to balance the two," a voice replied, and Harper and I stared wide-eyed at each other when we recognized it as Dumbledore's. Was he not dead? But...he had to be. Everyone saw his body—he was buried— "The most important thing, Severus, is that you aid Harry in his search for the Horcruxes. The students of Hogwarts will endure far more pain than just punishment if he does not find them."
"Horcruxes," Harper whispered, and though I shrugged, his expression indicated that he knew exactly what that meant. Though I hoped that Dumbledore might describe these "Horcruxes" further, the old Headmaster's voice was now speaking about some Sherbet Lemons that he'd left on his desk, and I was too anxious to go in there and see the dead man to listen to him talk about his candies.
Bursting the wooden door open, I stalked into the Headmaster's office, stuffing the Extendible Ears in my pocket just before Snape could notice the illicit contraption. He spun on us with bemusement in his cold, dark eyes, and I simply smirked as I took in the ambience of the room. Nothing had changed too much since the last time I'd been in here. Snape hadn't taken the liberty of hanging any Slytherin flags like he had in the Great Hall, and everything seemed to be in its place: the Pensive near the bookshelves, the Headmaster and Headmistress portraits on the walls, and, of course, the Sherbet Lemons on the desk. The only noticeable difference was the absence of Fawkes, Dumbledore's Phoenix, and the presence of a shiny golden box atop one of the bookshelves that seemed to shudder as if something living was trapped inside.
"Miss Fitzroy, Mr. Harper. Just because you are in Slytherin does not mean you have the privilege of barging into my office unannounced," Snape greeted frostily. I paid his hostility no attention as I searched the room for the white haired old man. The only sight of him was his portrait on the wall, beside where Snape stood. When Dumbledore's painted eyes met mine, he smiled cordially, as vibrantly as if he were still alive.
"Miss Fitzroy, how do you fare on this fine morning?" Dumbledore asked so amicably that I could only gape. Did this painting of Dumbledore not know that I'd aided in his assassination? Did he not know that Snape had been the one to murder him? How could he speak with us so freely, knowing we were Death Eaters? And how could Snape stand to speak to even a portrait of Dumbledore after he'd betrayed and killed his long time friend?
"Good—fine—er—well," I stammered, looking away from the dead man's picture as quickly as I could. Harper was standing beside me now, his head spinning as he marveled at the grand room.
"Sick office, Headmaster," he said to Snape, whose patience was clearly waning. "You should get a pet snake—"
"What do you want, Fitzroy?" Snape barked at me, ignoring Harper's existence completely.
"Shouldn't you be calling me Potter now?" I taunted, glancing over at Dumbledore's portrait briefly to see that he was unsurprised. There was no doubt that he'd known the truth, but I was hoping that he might have further insight on the subject. When he said nothing and Snape's glower intensified, I cleared my throat and pulled out my class schedule. "I came here to discuss this. Why are you allowing me to continue to take—" I paused, glancing down at the parchment, "Charms, Herbology, Potions, History of Magic, and Arithmancy? I didn't pass any of those O.W.L.s. In fact, I got Troll for two of them."
"Blimey, that's awful, Lay," Harper blurted, and I couldn't say I disagreed.
"McGonagall wouldn't even want me to continue Transfiguration because I got an 'A' and she requires an 'E'," I continued as Snape eyed me blankly. "You can't make—er—let me take all these classes. It's unfair to everyone else."
"I wasn't aware you were so conscious of fairness, Potter," he retorted, spitting my last name like it was a disease. "It is a disgrace to Slytherin House that you did so poorly on your exams, but I am willing to be lenient with you because I'm aware of the...situation you were placed in last year. You should be grateful that I'm giving you a second chance."
"You're only giving it to me because you loved my mother and you don't want her daughter to end up dumb," I snapped, my tone revealing how very bitter I actually felt. "What did you say she was? The brightest witch of her age? Have I tarnished her legacy yet? If I have, it's no fault of my own. You can blame your Dark Lord—"
"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted as though I wasn't being intentionally rude to the new Headmaster. "You mustn't forget to give Lainey the new potion. It's very essential to the plan."
"What plan?"
Snape pretended I hadn't spoken as he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a large velvety green pouch. Sweeping toward me, he plopped the bag into my hands, and I was baffled by how heavy it was.
"It's a new potion I've concocted, by Dumbledore's request," he added to make himself seem less noble. "It will help suppress your dreams from the Dark Lord so he cannot see if you have any visions regarding your brother—or myself, for that matter. He cannot know I have given you this potion, or that I've helped you in any way."
"Is that...the plan?" I asked, glancing toward Dumbledore, who only smiled.
"The plan hasn't much to do with you at all," Snape replied aloofly. "But we cannot have you accidentally dreaming of the plan and revealing it to the Dark Lord. Before you go to sleep, take a vial of the potion while thinking about what you would have the Dark Lord see rather than your true dreams."
"For example, you may imagine a land where the clouds are made of Sherbet Lemons, and that would be what Voldemort would see," Dumbledore clarified, and Harper snorted beside me.
"You could make You-Know-Who see some weird shit—I mean, uh, stuff. I said stuff."
Snape eyed him without amusement. "I suppose I should erase this boy's memory now—"
"Harper won't tell anyone," I assured the Headmasters as I grabbed Harper's arm and began to back away. "He's kept your secret about your undying love for my mother well hidden so far."
Snape nearly growled at that, and Harper had a hard time suppressing a laugh. I knew Snape had been embarrassed by his own password, hence the fact that he hadn't questioned how we'd gotten up into his office in the first place. Now he seemed on the verge of hexing us, so I hastily stumbled back toward the door.
"So I'm exempt from all of the classes that I failed, right?" I added once we were in the open doorway. Snape did snarl this time, and when I noticed him reaching for his wand, I shoved Harper down the spiral staircase and slammed the door shut just before a spell could hit me. Giggling, Harper and I descended the steps and emerged into the empty corridor in a fit of laughter.
"He is going to kill you next time he sees you," Harper said, keeping his voice low as we hurried through the hallway. We passed the Charms classroom, which was full of first years and Flitwick's high-pitched voice, and we knew that classes had already started for the day. I had never been particularly keen on arriving to class on time, but we did have Muggle Studies first today, and I didn't want to miss whatever fun activities Alecto had planned for us.
"Hopefully he does," I said as we approached the moving staircases. "It might bring some excitement to this dreary school."
"What I don't get is why Snape was conferring with Dumbledore. Did he kill him?"
"He did. I know he did, but...I dunno. It's impossible to tell which side Snape's really on. At the moment, he seems to be on the good side, but...when we're at the Manor, he's Voldemort's right hand man. The way he was talking to Dumbledore before we went in, though, made it sound like he is part of the Order... Hey—you know what those Horcruxes are?"
"Oh, yeah, Mel told me all about them," Harper informed me as we ascended the stairs for the fourth floor. "She was looking into creating a Horcrux, you know, because she's convinced she's dying."
My eyes went wide as I whipped my head toward him. "What?"
"Ooh, you didn't know... Well, I suppose she didn't really want me to know either. I found her researching Horcruxes late last year, in a book that she took from her father's library. Apparently they're objects that you store part of your soul in so that if you die you don't really die. They're not easy to make, though. Mel said she'd have to kill someone to split her soul and put it in a Horcrux, and she'd never do that."
"She...wouldn't?"
"Nah, she's not that evil. Anyway, I asked her why she wanted a Horcrux and she said 'So I'll never die.' And I said, 'But you're not gonna die', and she said, 'Everyone dies.' And then I said, 'But you won't die soon' and she said, 'Don't make assumptions', which led me to believe that she would die soon. Not sure how, or why, but... Lay? Are you all right?"
He poked his face in front of mine as we landed on the fourth floor, but I was deep in thought, working through the information he'd just given me.
"Horcruxes allow you to live on if you're killed," I said slowly, my brow furrowed. "And...when Harry should have killed Voldemort, he didn't die... So do you think that Voldemort has Horcruxes? Do you think that's where Harry is—searching for them?"
"Multiple Horcruxes? That would be insane, Lay. Even Melody was unsure about making one—"
"I know, but this is Voldemort. He's never had a problem with killing anyone. It makes the most sense. That's what Snape and Dumbledore were talking about before we came in—helping Harry find Voldemort's Horcruxes... God, I shouldn't have figured this out, Harper. Now Voldemort will read my mind and know what Harry's doing!"
"Snape gave you those potions, though," Harper reassured me as we approached the Muggle Studies classroom. "Just think about Sherbet Lemons before you go to sleep and You-Know-Who won't have a clue about the Chosen Prat."
"I hope you're right," was all I said, but my brain was swirling. How many Horcruxes did Voldemort have? Would Harry be able to find them all and destroy them all? Even then, would he be able to kill Voldemort? And why did Melody think she wouldn't have long to live?
Though I'd never been in the Muggle Studies classroom before, I knew that it must be much darker and drearier now than it had been before. Alecto stood behind her desk, looking eerily like Umbridge with her short, stout structure. If she wore pink instead of black, she would have reminded me greatly of the toad. Alecto was more like an orange-haired hyena though, always smirking or cackling sinisterly. Right now she was simpering out at all of the sixth year students as a row of skulls on her desks stared out at the class despite their hollow eye sockets. The other five Slytherins in our year were seated on the right side while the Ravenclaws sat quietly on the left. I noticed Luna Lovegood among them, her bright blonde hair standing out among the dimness of the room. She, like everyone else, pivoted to look at us when we entered the room, and Alecto's lips broadened.
"Late for class?" the Professor mused, slipping her wand from her pocket as she sauntered around her desk. Harper gulped at my side, but I simply grinned.
"Is that a problem, Alecto? We were only having a meeting with our dear Headmaster. You can imagine that he always comes before school."
Carl Vaisey snorted from his seat, and, to everyone's surprise, Noah Palmer did as well. Alecto, who had been approaching Harper and me like a hungry carnivore, now turned her blood-lusting attention toward the two Slytherin boys, but before she could reprimand them, another snort emitted from the Ravenclaw side of the room. Just as Alecto spun to face them, Astoria let out a hiccoughing laugh, Ashley began to giggle, and Luna exhaled a few lighthearted chuckles that were unnaturally contagious. As Alecto twisted from side to side, debating over which student to scold first, the volume of laughter gradually rose throughout the room until every student, including myself, was caught up in an uncontrollable fit of giggles. Harper, staring around the room in bewilderment, seemed to be the only one that wasn't laughing, and that was because he had fled the Great Hall before I could spike his drink with Lainey's Laughing Liquid. The fact that the prototype's effects didn't kick in for half an hour proved beneficial for this prank. Like Umbridge so often had, Alecto seemed utterly perplexed as she spun around in circles as though it might help determine the source of this laughing rebellion.
When I thought she would give up and start uselessly deducting House points from Ravenclaw like Umbridge would have, I was unpleasantly shocked: Instead of verbal discipline, Alecto raised her wand above her head, pointing its tip toward a chortling Ravenclaw boy and exclaimed, "CRUCIO!"
The magically induced laughter throughout the room did not halt as the blond boy crumbled to the ground and began to writhe. His screams were mixed with his chuckles in a way that was painful to listen to, and I tried to will myself to stop giggling as his body convulsed. Everyone's eyes were wide with panic despite the fact that their mouths continued to snicker, and even Carl Vaisey seemed appalled by the ruthless torture.
Alecto's eyes blazed with delight as her shrill cackles joined the rest. The boy's laughter was beginning to subside, the power of her Curse cancelling out Bletchley's potion and leaving only raw screeches that overpowered the rest of our dying giggles.
"No!" I cried though my last bits of laughter, once I could breathe better. I wanted to charge at Alecto but my chest was heaving and my head was dizzy from the overdose of chortles. "Stop! Leave him—alone! It was—it was me! It was my fault!"
As the last few chuckles faded, allowing the Ravenclaw boy's shouts to echo alone against the walls, everyone's fearful eyes glanced between Alecto and me, wondering which one of us to be angrier with. One Ravenclaw girl had stood, prepared to fight Alecto, but the Professor quickly flicked her wand away from the screaming boy and toward her, and the girl cowered before she could become the next victim. The tortured boy was still whimpering when Alecto spun on Harper and me and ordered us to sit in a way that neither of us could question. All joy that had filled the room moments before had decayed into anguish, and as Alecto resumed her position behind her desk, all of the Ravenclaws' vicious eyes were trained on me like eagles eyeing their prey.
"I hope you all enjoyed that demonstration," Alecto said, her expression so ecstatic that she looked like she'd just won the Quidditch World Cup. "My brother will show you more in your Dark Arts class, but for now, let's get back to the subject of filthy Muggles, shall we?"
"You're—you're not going to torture her?" the brave Ravenclaw girl questioned, pointing her finger at me where I now sat next to Harper. "She admitted that the laughing was her fault—"
"She's in Slytherin, foolish girl," Alecto sneered, her wand still held menacingly at her side. "And what are you, hm? A precious Ravenclaw? If you're as wise as they say, Ravenclaw, you'll know to keep your mouth shut before I do to you what I did to your little boyfriend. I'd enjoy it very much." The Ravenclaw girl remained silent, but I felt her glare on me even as Alecto continued to speak. "Now, Muggles, Muggles, Muggles. Petulant scum! Anyone want to give me three reasons why we hate Muggles? Only three—though I know it'd pleasure you to give even more..."
No one spoke, and though I feared Alecto might torture us all for our lack of participation, she instead lectured on giddily about why we should despise all Muggles. I saw Astoria squirming in front of me, and the only thing that made me refrain from marching up there and assaulting Alecto when she started explaining ways in which we should torture Muggles was the fact that all of the Ravenclaws' aversion was focused on me rather than her.
Guilt clouded my brain as I glanced over at the tortured Ravenclaw boy, who had been hauled into his seat by two of his friends. He was shuddering and moaning quietly as the brave girl stroked his arm tenderly. I should have been tortured instead of him. I almost wished that Alecto would torture me now, but I knew that no matter what I did, she wouldn't. I was a Slytherin, and I was one of the Dark Lord's servants. I'd have to do something much worse than administer a laughing potion for her to punish me so severely. And yet she'd so easily used an Unforgivable Curse on an innocent boy for the same petty crime. It made my insides twist with fury and...fear. I'd never been afraid of Umbridge because no matter what Umbridge did to me, she never physically hurt another person because of my actions. But Alecto, she would torment every student in this school for my pranks, and maybe that was a punishment in itself; perhaps it was worse to watch innocent people suffer for my actions without any power to stop it.
Despite the fact that Snape thought I didn't care about fairness, I did, and this—the unnecessary torture, the intense cruelty, and the hatred toward anyone who wasn't in Slytherin—was more than unfair.
∆
The remainder of Muggle Studies was horrendous. Apparently we would have a quiz on Wednesday during which we would have to state the ten best reasons why Muggles all deserved to burn in a fire. I felt that this was directed mostly at me, a passive way to poke at my pain over Lyle's death. Yet, I would have to study those reasons, since I was sure that failure would also result in torture, and probably not my own torture.
I'd tried to catch up with the shivering, moaning Ravenclaw boy as his friends carried him out of the classroom, but their scowls had been venomous, and so I was unable to apologize. Vaisey had congratulated me briefly on my prank, though even he seemed a little shaken up by what had happened. Most people hadn't seen Unforgiveable Curses being used, as they were illegal, and so everyone from our class seemed mildly scarred by the incident. I wanted to apologize to Luna, or tell her to pass the message on to the poor boy, but when I'd approached her in the corridor, she'd simply given me a sad, wistful smile before hurrying along.
Charms was not nearly as dreadful as Muggle Studies had been, but I could hear the strain in Professor Flitwick's voice as he taught. He didn't allow anyone to ask questions, and his notes on the blackboard were unusually sloppy. Everyone was terrified of what was happening to this school, and if Muggle Studies was not enough to confirm it, Flitwick's fear was: This would not be a repeat of my fourth year, when Umbridge had taken hold of Hogwarts. There would be no open rebellions, no bending of rules, no pranking...
Lunch was much quieter than breakfast had been. All of the sixth year Slytherins were still numb over the events of our first class, and word had somehow spread throughout the rest of the school that Lainey Fitzroy had, essentially, tortured a Ravenclaw boy. Whoever started spreading the rumor had left out the facts that it had technically been Alecto and that I had tried to stop it. Some Slytherins regarded me with apprehension, while others seemed pleased with what I'd done. Among the other Houses, my pranks were now regarded as "evil", and everyone was being warned to stay away from me. I almost got up on top of the Slytherin table to refute these claims, but Snape was at the head of the room, watching me intently.
After lunch, during which I ate almost nothing, I retreated to the library, secluding myself in a red armchair in a corner that was hidden behind a massive bookshelf. I'd had plans to study for the Muggle Studies quiz during my free period, but every time I glanced down at the ten reasons that Muggles should be burned I wanted to vomit. I was almost relieved when Draco Malfoy found me and plopped into the empty armchair across from mine, which my legs had previously been propped on. I kept my feet on the armrest even when he sat, and he eyed my shoes contemptuously.
"I hear you tortured a kid in Muggle Studies," he drawled, tearing his eyes away from my shoes to look at me. He had a textbook in his lap, but he didn't open it as he leaned back and studied me instead.
"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," I warned him as I doodled on the parchment in my own lap. I was drawing a rather grotesque picture of Alecto, and it was difficult not to smirk.
"You didn't unleash a poisonous snake on a kid?"
"No, and I'm not sure why you think I did."
Malfoy shrugged, flipping open his book to a random page. "That's the newest rumor I've heard. Thought you finally decided to use your Parselmouth abilities for something amusing."
My eyes rolled briefly in his direction as I scribbled devil horns onto Alecto's head. "I dripped a bit of Laughing Liquid into all the drinks of the kids in my Muggle Studies class. I'm not sure how they didn't think anything odd of it; they saw me do it. Anyway, it kicked in during class and Alecto decided to torture a random boy instead of me. So yes, it was my fault."
"I'm not sure what you thought would happen—"
"I thought she'd become passively angry like Umbridge and take away some House points. I thought everyone would silently laugh and later congratulate me on my cunning prank skills." The tip of my quill broke through the parchment since I'd been pressing on it so hard, and I sighed before turning my attention up toward Malfoy. He was scrutinizing me carefully from where he sat across from me, his grey eyes pensive but not necessarily judgmental. His nearly white hair was styled so perfectly on top of his head, as though it had never been burned off by a raging fire, and I silently cursed him for always looking so put together, even when the rest of the world was falling apart.
"You thought everyone would find your little prank amusing?" he finally said, his lips curling into a crooked grin. "Your jokes have never been funny, Mudblood."
"Never?" I challenged, placing my quill flat on the ripped parchment as I raised my eyebrows at him. "Not even once?"
"Well," he began, fidgeting slightly in his chair, "I will admit that you did a fair impression of Umbridge two years ago. I didn't find it funny, but it was accurate... Wouldn't suggest trying that with the Carrows, though."
"Hmm," I hummed, stroking my chin. "Now that you've said it, I kinda want to try it. I think I could impersonate Alecto well. I just need to become a lunatic that revels in physical and psychological torture."
"If you resume your natural hair color, you'll look just like her," Malfoy agreed, referring to the fact that Alecto's hair was as reddish orange as mine truly was. It was easy for me to forget that my hair wasn't naturally blonde, and even now it had been difficult for me to get used to the honey color since I'd become too accustomed to being surrounded by crazy black curls—or greenish black curls. Now, though, I felt like I had no hair, since it was still pinned up in Astoria's strange style of thirteen tiny knots.
"Are you trying to call me ugly or are you insinuating that I'm a lunatic?" I questioned as my head tilted to the side.
"Well, you do look ridiculous with that hairdo," he reckoned, nodding toward the knots. "But I wouldn't call you ugly. That's a strong word; unpleasant to the eyes is more accurate."
I extended my leg to kick him in the shoulder, and, after grunting, he grabbed my ankle. His grip made me shudder, even through the stockings—and it wasn't a shudder of disgust or revulsion, but more like a refreshing shock of electricity that livened my senses and evoked an involuntary laugh. His eyes danced impishly as I attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, and by the time I'd freed myself, my cheeks were flaring red with embarrassment rather than exertion. Being playful with Draco Malfoy was like being playful with a snake that had always tried to bite me, and I wasn't sure if I found it exhilarating or frightening. Either way, I crossed my legs guardedly as I retreated into the back of my seat, and I was careful not to let our knees touch in the slim space between the armchairs.
"You've gotten stronger," he observed, his lips still bunched onto one side. My heart was racing, but he looked cool and collected, as though touching me meant nothing. It shouldn't have meant anything, I supposed; it was just my ankle, and we'd been much more intimate than that before. Still, I was left with this unsettling sensation of wanting more that made me feel helplessly pathetic.
"You didn't let me win?" I asked, trying not to sound too breathless.
"Well, obviously I did, but I'm surprised you put up a fight. You've been frail since...the summer..."
"I know, I hate it," I admitted, glancing down at my thin legs, concealed by my black stockings. "Maybe I'll start doing some Muggle exercises."
Malfoy snorted something that sounded like "Mudbloods". After a moment of staring blankly beyond me, he added, "Do you think...since I can heal you...I could...restore your weakened muscles?"
"Would you even want to?" I countered, though judging by the intensity in his eyes when he met my gaze, the answer was clear. "Well... I suppose we haven't touched each other's skin in quite some time...except when I healed you after the wedding, but you wouldn't have been strong enough to heal me then, so...it could be possible..."
"Come here," he muttered almost inaudibly as he moved his textbook to the side and leaned forward in his chair, beckoning for me to do the same. Gingerly, I placed my belongings on the end table beside me and shifted forward, flinching slightly when our knees met. His hand was steady as he reached out toward me, and I kept my gaze averted from his as my fingertips grazed his. We'd touched plenty of times before, but there was something tender about this moment that sent a tingly sensation through me, one that had nothing to do with magic. I didn't feel any stronger, necessarily, but I didn't feel uncomfortable either, which was not something I could have said even a few days ago. Perhaps he could get over what had happened with Fred. Perhaps, one day, we could be a happily married couple, even if I would never truly get over what had happened with Fred...
Malfoy withdrew rapidly, almost as if he'd been reading my mind. His brow was furrowed with frustration as he stared down at our parted hands. "It won't work."
"Well...we've healed each other before, but we've never strictly strengthened each other. Maybe...maybe it's just something we need to practice."
"Are you suggesting that we practice touching each other?" he questioned, his face morphing friskily.
"Are you opposed?" I countered slyly.
Malfoy opened his mouth but then clamped it shut, his demeanor darkening as he ran a hand through his hair. "There's no point to this, Mudblood."
"No point to...what?"
"This—this flirting. You'll always fancy Weaselbee, and I'll always end up with Greengrass. This is futile."
I bit my lip. The words were on my tongue—I made an Unbreakable Vow—but I couldn't get myself to voice them. He wouldn't feel any better than he did now if he knew the truth. Narcissa was right: I had to make him fall in love with me naturally. But...what if he already had?
"What if...what if you didn't have to marry Astoria?"
"You would still fancy Weasley," he mumbled, staring down at his fidgeting hands.
"And...if I didn't fancy Weasley?"
His eyes flew to mine now, looking clearer than they had in months. "You..."
"I—It—it'll take time," I stammered, my eyes darting around wildly to avoid his. "But...I can never be with Fred, because of...the Dark Lord. That's why I...slept with him." Malfoy's expression immediately soured, so I plunged on hastily, "Isn't there a girl that you would want to be with just once if you knew you could never be with her again?"
"Yes," he said through his teeth, his vision narrowed specifically at me.
After managing only to swallow, I spewed, "I overheard your parents talking to You-Know-Who over the summer. They—they don't want you to marry Astoria anymore. They want to pick someone—else..."
"Who?"
"Um...someone who's better connected to the Death Eaters..."
Malfoy snorted, and for a second I thought he'd guessed. "It better not be Pansy. Her father's joining, I've heard. I'd rather end up with Astoria."
"I...always thought you liked Pansy?"
His eyes sparkled mischievously as his lips curved. "That was the idea, wasn't it?"
My lips parted, but I wasn't sure I wanted to delve into the topic of Malfoy's plots to evoke envy. "Doesn't it...bother you that you don't get to choose who you marry?"
"I've always assumed that I wouldn't," he answered indifferently. "I'm a pureblood, and I'm only allowed to marry a pureblood. I've known for a while that I wouldn't end up with..." He cleared his throat and glanced over at the bookshelves that enclosed us in this corner. "My mother had a crush on Rookwood in her youth. She told me about it this summer. Apparently she got into a row with your Gaudium mother when she Latched onto him, but my mother realized it was stupid to argue, since she could never be with Rookwood anyway. His blood's not completely pure. Not pure enough, anyway. She's over it now since he's a bloody psychopath."
"That's true," I snorted, though I was ruminating over what he'd said. "Your mother loves your father, though. She said so to my mother—in a vision I Saw."
"Yeah, and I s'pose I'll fall in love with Pansy too once I accept that I'll never be able to be with...anyone else."
"Well, no matter what, you'll be stuck with me forever," I said as lightly as I could. He whipped his attention back toward me, and I added, "We're the only ones that can heal each other. If you even get a paper cut and I'm not around, it'll be there forever."
"Hm. I'm sure my wife will enjoy the fact that I have to be healed by another woman. Who will you end up with if you can't be with Weaselbee? Are you planning on marrying the Dark Lord?"
I gagged violently and struggled to regain composure. "Oh God, I hope not. I s'pose I'll always be bound to him, though. I am his bloody slave, after all..."
Without warning, Malfoy reached his hand toward me again, though this time he brought the exhilarating tips of his fingers to my chin. Gently, he twisted my head to the side, and I fought to remain still as he examined the slave mark. When his fingers unexpectedly brushed the sensitive skin behind my ear, I shivered involuntarily, and he let out a snide laugh.
"Cold, Mudblood?"
"Yes," I replied automatically, but the hot blood rising in my cheeks told otherwise.
"It looks darker than the last time I saw it," he informed me, ignoring my awkwardness as he continued to study my magical tattoo. "Maybe because your skin is paler, or because your hair is lighter."
"Or because the lighting's a little better now than it was last time?" My eyebrows arched with my reference to the time that Malfoy had discovered my slave mark, when we'd been in that dark detention room in my fourth year. It was hard to believe that we were the same two people now as we had been then, but maybe we weren't.
His fingers were still behind my ear, and his face had drawn rather close to mine as he scrutinized the intertwining snakes. Despite the coolness of his touch, his breath was warm on my neck as he said, "Are you suggesting we should go into a dark closet together, Mudblood?"
"No," I said, keeping my posture firm and my voice detached. "I wouldn't really fancy a repeat of what happened in Snape's closet."
He tensed before withdrawing from me, his expression bitter, but the antagonism wasn't aimed at me. "I shouldn't have...acted that way," he said, regret evident in his tone.
"You shouldn't have sexually harassed me, you mean?" I clarified with a bit more sass than I'd intended. "I'd have to say I agree."
His eyes slivered as they rose toward me. "I thought you...would want it."
My jaw dropped slightly as his words pierced my heart. This wasn't the normal Malfoy arrogance; this was agony, a stark reflection of his constant confusion. I had led him on so awfully, and it was because there had been many times that, despite my hatred for him, I had wanted it. There had always been a tiny part of me that had wanted Malfoy, whether because of his appealing looks or his enticingly argumentative attitude. We'd always seemed incompatible, though, and then there'd always been Fred...
"I don't know what I want," was what I said now, but it was a lie. I hadn't known what I wanted when I was fourteen, but if I were to find myself in Snape's closet with Draco Malfoy now, in this moment, the scene would go much differently.
"It's quite an annoying trait of yours," Malfoy replied flatly.
"I'm..." The word sorry was on my tongue, but I didn't get to voice it before the bell rang throughout the library, signaling the end of our free period. He seemed just as perturbed as I felt, but neither of us addressed the emotional conversation that so abruptly died. "Do you... Do you want to—"
"Yes," he responded before I could even finish my thought. His face had returned to its good-humored cleverness as he said, "Weren't you going to ask if I wanted to skip class and snog in this secluded corner?"
I actually laughed, wishing, if only a bit, that that had been what I was going to say. My voice was drowned out by the shuffling of students who scampered in and out of the library, all fearful of being late.
"I...was actually going to ask if you wanted to walk to class together."
"But now that I've suggested the snogging, you can't resist," he concluded, and I rolled my eyes at him.
"Cute, Malfoy, but no. I don't fancy getting into any more trouble with the Carrows today." Retrieving my books from the end table, I stood and found myself chest to chest with Malfoy, who had decided to stand at the exact same moment.
"Are you positive about that?" he asked so lowly that I almost didn't hear.
My throat was dry as I stared up at his lopsided grin and his seductive, half-lidded eyes. "Ye-Yes. Positive," I blurted before scurrying out of our tight position.
"Lame, Potter," he called after me as he collected his books.
I spun around to face him again, walking backward toward the library's exit. "Are you only going to call me Potter when I'm being lame, then?"
He flashed a grin as he sauntered toward me, catching up in only a few strides. "What's lamer than being a Potter?"
∆
Malfoy spent our entire walk to Dark Art yanking Astoria's knots out of my hair rather violently. He claimed that he couldn't be seen with me when I looked so ridiculous, and I thought it was a step in the right direction; usually he couldn't stand to be seen with me at all.
Strolling into the Dark Arts classroom, my honey blonde hair was a tangled mess, but no one seemed to notice due to the room's lack of lighting. The atmosphere hadn't changed much since Snape was our teacher the previous year. All the curtains were drawn over the windows, leaving only the light of a few eerie candles to guide us through the relative darkness. Amycus was positioned at the front of the classroom, pacing methodically as he watched each student enter the gloomy room. The Gryffindor side of the room was fairly empty: Neville sat alone in the front row on the right side while Lavender, Parvati, and Seamus sat behind him, far less defiantly. And that was all of them.
As I had for the past few years, I claimed the seat next to Malfoy, which Pansy seemed immediately miffed by, since she'd been saving him a spot in the row behind us. Keeping a neutral facial expression was impossible when Pansy demanded that I switch seats with her and Malfoy instinctually said no.
"I heard what you did this morning to Alecto," she hissed up at me after the classroom's doors swung shut. Amycus, his greedy eyes scanning the room, seemed ready to start, but Pansy didn't care. "You better not try any of your dumb pranks in here."
"Or what?" I questioned, spinning my head to face her. "You'll give me detention? I'm terrified, really—"
"I'm not going to give you detention!" she fumed under her breath. Pausing, she reached into the pocket of her robe and yanked out an object that was barely visible in the dim lighting: a small green ball of fluff. "I'm going to crush your precious little puffball!"
My eyes widened, and I didn't hear a word that Amycus said as he began to address the class. I'd completely forgotten about my Pygmy Puff, Sal. Malfoy must have intentionally left him here when he packed my belongings at the end of last year since the creature had been a gift from Fred. Apparently, since then, Pansy had found him and was now going to use my poor little pet as leverage over me.
With a pointed scowl in her direction, I twisted back toward the front of the room, crossing my arms so I wouldn't be tempted to unleash the Dungbombs I had in my pockets. Maybe it was best for everyone if I refrained from pranks.
"We'll start with some Unforgivable Curses today, eh?" Amycus was saying as he continued pace the front of the room. His wand was out, held carelessly between his fingers, and his voice was slimy and gross to listen to. "Heard my old friend Bart taught yeh all three of them a few years back. So...who'd like to demonstrate first? What about...Longbottom?" Amycus's dark eyes glowed in the faint candlelight as he aimed his wand at Neville, whose back remained straight and head high as he returned the teacher's gaze. "Why don't yeh show us what the Cruciatus Curse looks like? Yeh know all about that, don't yeh? Try it out on...that pretty blonde girl behind yeh."
Lavender emitted a noise that was a cross between a hiccough and a gasp before covering her mouth with her hands. Her tight curls bounced as she stared wildly between the Professor and Neville, who had not moved upon Amycus's command.
"I won't," Neville said, his voice steady and strong. I couldn't help but recall the scared boy that Neville had always been, the one that had always averted his gaze from me and had rarely wanted to speak to me, and wonder if this was the same Neville.
"Won't?" Amycus repeated, as though the word was foreign to him. "Is that what yer Mummy taught yeh to say? Do yeh know what happened to yer Mummy?" Amycus raise his wand in the same moment that Lavender and Parvati both cried out and I moved to jump out of my seat. None of our actions proved useful, though, because Amycus shouted, "Crucio!" before anyone could stop him. Neville flopped onto the floor just as the Ravenclaw boy had this morning, and my throat constricted with the déjà vu. Unlike the Ravenclaw boy, Neville refused to scream, and he only groaned and thrashed as Amycus demonstrated the Unforgivable Curse on him.
On the edge of my seat, my hands were in my pockets, ready to whip out the Dungbombs as a distraction, but Pansy kicked my chair from behind, and when I pivoted toward her, I saw that she was holding her wand to Sal.
"I'll explode your little puffer if you try to help Longbottom," she sneered, causing my teeth to grind together. Though I pulled my hands from my pockets, empty, I wasn't sure that I was ready to just sit back and watch Neville writhe in agony. I'd allowed the Ravenclaw boy to suffer—in fact I'd caused that suffering—and I felt that I at least owed it to Neville to help him, even if Pansy did murder the innocent little Pygmy Puff. With my brow set in determination, I reached back toward my pocket, but Malfoy caught my wrist before I could make a move. His grip wasn't debilitating, but it was firm.
"Don't be brave," he hissed through his teeth, his eyes boring into me meaningfully. As he said the words that he'd repeated to me multiple times, I became aware of what I should have known for years, of why he was always telling me not to be brave. It wasn't because he wanted to watch Neville endure torture, but because he didn't want to watch me endure torture. He was protecting me in his indirect and slightly deranged away. Maybe he always had been.
Malfoy's hand inched down toward mine, and he held it there, our fingers intertwined as he willed me to be passive, to be still. Closing my eyes, I breathed in the smoky scent of the candles and focused on the sensation of warmth that Malfoy's chilly fingers brought to my aching heart. And, as Lavender sobbed and Pansy snickered, I allowed Neville's groans to hit my eardrums and imprint my brain with the fact that this was Hogwarts now, this was reality, and there was nothing I could do about it.