The fanart of Ashley was made by https://www.quotev.com/28952472 :)
"So, Lay, did you forgive Mel?" Harper asked me as he hauled Melody's unconscious body up the spiral steps to the Headmaster's office. His arms were looped beneath her armpits while Harmony was carrying her sister's feet. I'd offered to help, but, though no one had said so, it was clear that I was physically the weakest out of this odd group. Malfoy and I trailed behind the other three as we ascended the stairs, and the Blond Prat was grumbling incoherently about how much trouble we were about to get into. Though it seemed backwards to go right to the authority when we'd done something unlawful, I knew this was the only way we would get out of serious punishment, and so the five of us trekked up to Snape's dwelling. We'd gained access since Harmony, via her magical earrings, had overheard Snape changing his password the previous night; it was now "Potter Sucks", perhaps per request of the Carrows, or perhaps as a jab at me for intruding on him the day before.
"For what?" I asked Harper, referring to his question regarding my forgiveness of Melody.
"For almost brutally murdering you last June," Harper clarified, grunting slightly with exertion.
"Um, no, I did not forgive her for almost brutally murdering me. I don't think it's a thing that can be forgiven—and she didn't even apologize."
"I forgave you for getting me thrown into a bloody fire," Malfoy snapped at me. We'd reached the top of the stairwell now and he bumped into me when I stopped short and then scowled as though it'd been entirely my fault.
"Yes, well, I actually felt guilty about that. Melody's probably still bitter that she didn't actually kill me," I informed him, and there was no time for him to retort before Harper shouldered the door to Snape's office open and the five of us entered.
The new Headmaster wasn't speaking with a painting of the old one today; instead, he sat behind his desk, reading over a long scroll of parchment. When his dark eyes slid up toward us, they narrowed.
"What do you want now, Fitzroy?" he questioned blandly, not even bothering to stand as he eyed us with displeasure. It took only a moment for his vision to settle onto Melody, whose body swayed between Harper and Harmony like a pendulum. "Have you taken up dueling in the common room again? I recall that, in the past, that has not gone well for anyone."
"Trust me, Professor, if anyone'd tried to duel Mel, they'd be dead," Harper said, straining to keep the purple haired girl from sagging to the floor.
"I'm not sure if you've forgotten, but Melody didn't return to Hogwarts when she was supposed to," I explained diplomatically as I took a few steps closer to the platform that Snape's desk resided on. "It was no fault of her own—her father, Blagden Flemming, was holding her hostage."
Harmony was nodding vigorously, but Snape's skepticism radiated as he stood forebodingly from his chair.
"Did you see Blagden Flemming?"
"I did—before I escaped my house," Harmony told him hastily. "He's...he broke out of Azkaban two years ago and—and now he's a vampire."
This piece of information seemed to surprise Snape, but he quickly covered up his reaction and plainly said, "How did Miss Flemming return to Hogwarts, and why is she unconscious?"
"We don't know," I replied rapidly, sensing that Malfoy was about to spill the truth beside me. "We don't know why she's unconscious, I mean. We...found her in the common room fireplace with this note." I scurried up the stairs to meet Snape, whose expression soured as he snatched the charred piece of parchment from my fingers. There was a smear of blood on it—my blood—and the edges were burned—by Harper—and in Harmony's best impression of her father's handwriting, it said, "I surrender my ungrateful daughter to you. Do with her what you will."
To my astonishment, Snape savagely ripped up the note and chucked it into his roaring fireplace. I gaped at him, but I could barely breathe as he stalked back over to me and rather viciously snarled, "You will tell no one of this."
Swallowing, I nodded, and when he scowled back at my friends, they all nodded readily as well.
"This is not a peace offering," Snape hissed loud enough that only I could hear. "Blagden Flemming is unpredictable, but I observed him long enough to know what this means. He wishes the Dark Lord to take his daughter so that he has a reason to spark a war. We already have enough problems with Harry Potter, and we don't need another conflict with a psychopathic vampire. You must not let the Dark Lord learn of this through your dreams."
Again I nodded, because I wasn't really sure what to say. The note had been forged, of course, as a way to explain how Melody had arrived here, but wouldn't Snape want to tell Voldemort if Blagden was inadvertently trying to provoke him? Wouldn't he want to tell Voldemort that Blagden was now a vampire with a vendetta against him? And wouldn't he want to tell Voldemort that both of the Gaudiums—even if they were void—were back at Hogwarts and could easily be at his disposal?
"Take Miss Flemming to the infirmary," Snape commanded to the others. "I will inform the Carrows that they are not to punish her for her tardiness—though I cannot say that they'll listen..."
∆
"Do either of you know Coquito Cerebro? It's one of the spells that Melody tried to use on me in June and I can't figure out what it does," I said, looking between Harmony and Harper, who sat on either side of Melody's bed in the hospital wing. For the first time that I'd witnessed, every one of the white beds was filled with a groaning, wounded, or unconscious student. Though the Carrows had, apparently, stopped performing the Cruciatus Curse on students, they found plenty of other ways to physically torment their pupils. In the past six hours that Harper, Harmony, and I had been sitting here, waiting for Melody to awaken, at least fifty students had filed in and out, some with simple bruises and others with more intricate injuries.
"Another one of Melody's originals," Harmony told me dryly. She was slouched back in her chair, her arms crossed as she eyed her sleeping sister with distaste. Her blue hair had been pulled back up into a neat ponytail, but her face looked too tired for a fourteen year old girl, and I realized that I'd probably looked just weary in my fourth year. It was unsettling to see someone so young in so much pain. "If she'd finished casting it," the younger Flemming continued, "it would have fried your brain."
"Pleasant," I mumbled, staring at Melody as she breathed so peacefully. I'd never felt particularly protective over Melody Flemming—and I'd barely ever even considered her a friend—but knowing all that she'd been through and all that she was still going through, I couldn't help but want to save her from the world that had wronged her so.
"Do you think she'll wake up if I hurt myself?" Harper asked, his face wrought with worry as he ran a hand through his brown hair. "You know, since she gets more powerful when others are in pain?"
"I think there's been enough pain in this room that if Melody were going to wake up because of it, she would have already," Harmony assured him with a sympathetic sort of smile.
"What if she doesn't wake up?" Harper moaned, slumping deeper in his chair. "What am I gonna do—"
"You're going to shut up before I decide to curse you out of existence," Melody's hoarse voice droned, and a moment later, her deep green eyes popped open and glowered directly at Harper. "The sound of your voice is—"
"Like a beautiful spring day?" Harper suggested hopefully, and Melody rolled her eyes.
"It is, and I hate it." Grunting, she shifted in the bed and then glanced to the other side where Harmony and I sat, and her frown intensified. "What are you two doing here?"
Harmony's mouth fell open, unable to produce words, so I briskly replied, "We wanted to make sure you were okay."
Melody was too involved with flicking her pale purple hair off of her face, as if each wisp was a bug, to look at us. "When have you ever cared if I was okay?"
"Always," Harmony blurted instinctually, and Melody pivoted her head to raise an eyebrow at her sister.
"You didn't seem like you cared very much when you abandoned me and Mother at that house with our vampire father—"
"You didn't want to come with me! I offered—"
"All right, all right, enough of the sibling banter," Harper cut in, holding his hands up as if they could silence the bickering sisters. "Just forgive each other and move on. We have more important things to worry about—like the fact that you murdered a Muggle." Harper lowered his voice, his eyes darting around cautiously. "Do you think anyone knows it was you?"
"I'm careful," she responded ambiguously. "And, if you're worried that I'll go to Azkaban for it, I won't. I'll probably win a medal instead."
"What I want to know is why—or how—you were out of your house. I thought your father was holding you hostage?" I inquired.
"He wanted me to run an errand," she explained through grunts as she hoisted herself into a sitting position. "It was still light out, and he can't go out in sunlight, as you surely know."
Harmony gasped dramatically, her spine becoming straight as her eyes widened. "Oh my God, I forgot about that! Why am I such an idiot?"
"I've been asking myself the same thing for quite some time," Melody agreed as she examined her nails.
"I was dueling my father when I should have just opened the curtains!" Harmony continued as though her sister had said nothing. "He would be dead. Now he's still out there, planning to kill us both—and Mum too, I suspect..."
"We'll protect you, Harm," Harper assured her, causing her cheeks to blush. Melody looked much less flattered.
"What about me?"
"You've never wanted protection, Mel," Harper insisted with a dismissive wave. "Besides, you can't die, can you?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" she ground out through her teeth.
"Well, you killed that Muggle to create a Horcrux, didn't you? So even if your crazy dad kills you, you'll be fine—"
"You think I created a Horcrux?" Melody spat leaning forward violently. Harper fumbled to slide his chair back as she grabbed his shirt. "What kind of sick psycho do you think I am?"
Harper's eyes were wide as Melody clutched his sweater, and he glanced over at us with dismay as Harmony and I exchanged wary looks.
I cleared my throat and tentatively began, "Er...I don't think you really want us to answer that question—"
"Do you think I want to live forever?" she questioned, dropping Harper as she spun wildly at me. "Do you think I even want to live at all? Lyle is dead. What do I have to live for?"
Harper's stiff bewilderment now sagged into sorrow while Harmony bolted to her feet, her green eyes blazing as she glared down at her sister.
"You want to die? You want to just give up? You want to leave me? After everything—after everything we've been through? Our father is an evil vampire! Mum is going to die any time—probably any day now—and you're all I have left!"
"It has always been about you, hasn't it?" Melody said coldly, almost void of emotion. "It's only about what will happen to you if I die, not what will happen to me if I live. You don't understand the misery, little sister—the emptiness, the purposelessness. The boy you Latched onto is still alive and well, and even if he is a sorry little muppet, he's still here."
At the end of Melody's acidic rant, her eyes had slid toward Harper, who, at first, hadn't thought much of it. But then we were all staring at him, and slowly, as his brow creased, his blue eyes flew over to Harmony, whose pale cheeks were flushed and whose green eyes were brimming with tears.
"Tell him, sister," Melody prodded almost sinisterly, her lips curling. "Tell Ryan Harper that you Latched onto him—that you've been fated to love him and be with him and feed off of him. Tell him."
While Harper was entirely bemused by this news, I'd expected it; Harper and Harmony had always had a natural connection, and even if she hadn't chosen to love him, it was clear to me that she cared for him. Now, though, she was only looking at him only with pain as her mouth opened but no sound escaped. After a moment, she closed it and hurried out of the room, wiping her eyes but refusing to cry as she disappeared into the corridor. Harper was still staring at the empty spot that she'd previously been in, while my rancorous attention snapped toward Melody, who was smirking smugly to herself.
"I feel much better now that some psychological trauma has been induced," she announced, swinging her legs over the side of her bed toward Harper.
"That was...cruel," I said needlessly, and she shrugged.
"I know. But it was necessary. She kept the secret long enough. And now maybe this buffoon will leave me alone," she added, nodding toward petrified Harper as she stood from the bed. Without Madam Pomfrey's permission, she sauntered through the exit, and I jumped up, dragging Harper along, to follow her.
"Where are you going?" I demanded as we stalked through the third floor corridor. Harmony had disappeared completely, probably retreating back to Gryffindor tower, and though I wanted to follow her, the Carrows had taken to monitoring the seventh floor corridor regularly for any sign of Dumbledore's Army returning to the Room of Requirement.
"Don't worry, Fitzroy," she droned as we reached the staircases, "I'm not planning on returning to my father—yet. He sparked a grudge that will last, but I won't strike until I have an adequate plan contrived."
"But—Madam Pomfrey wanted to check you when you woke up. Your father could have used dark magic—"
"He did, but it won't affect me much. He's done worse."
I pressed my lips together, staring down at her pastel purple hair as she descended the stairs ahead of us. Harper, with his arm looped limply through mine, was still in a paralyzed daze, and I wished, as I always had, that he hadn't fallen in love with the purple-haired freak. Harmony was clearly the better Flemming sister, but I knew this news must have internally crushed Harper; I knew exactly what it was like to discover that you could never be with the one you wanted most.
The three of us were relatively silent as we entered the dungeon corridor, save the random mutterings from Melody about how much she hated to be back here. The password to enter the Slytherin common room was now "Die, Muggles", and the phrase didn't amuse Melody as much as it once might have. She was almost somber as we emerged into the dingy common room, where all of the upperclassmen were unexpectedly crowded in the center. Some, like Blaise Zabini, appeared beyond bored, but Anderson was bouncing giddily where he stood at the center of the throng near Ashley, who was the apparent leader of this gathering. Malfoy stood on the outskirts, leaning against one of the tables with his arms crossed as he surveyed the scene with tetchiness. He'd accompanied us to the hospital wing earlier but had left shortly after upon learning the details of the Flemmings' Gaudium nature. When he spotted the three of us, his eyes met mine and his expression mollified, but upon noticing that my arm was still linked with Harper's, the agitation resumed.
"Oh thank God!" Ashley exclaimed, waving the clipboard in her hand at us with enthusiasm. "I thought I was gonna have to restructure the teams and that would have been so much work."
"Teams?" I questioned as Melody, Harper, and I approached the crowd. Though there were no windows, I realized that it must have been evening since the common room was full of students. All first and second years, though, had apparently been ordered back to their rooms, because the youngest person here was Travis Anderson, sitting on one of the couches and admiring what appeared to be a photograph of Rachel Harper. Ryan Harper was too involved in his own thoughts to notice, thankfully.
"Pucey is organizing an illicit group," Malfoy informed me as I paused at the outer rim of the group where he stood.
"I have no choice!" she exclaimed crossly. "Snape got rid of Quidditch. There must be some competition or I will die!"
"Doesn't sound so bad to me," Malfoy muttered loudly enough that only I could hear.
"What kind of teams are you forming?" I asked Ashley, and a few people groaned.
"Teams of couples! Now—"
"Couples?" I repeated before she could speak another word. "What...does that mean?"
"It means that I've paired everyone with a partner—a romantic partner—that they will complete these competitions with. And all of the couples have been grouped into teams that they will work with—but don't get too attached to your team, because only one couple can win!"
"Ash," I began, shaking my head, "this sounds...fun—" Melody snorted beside me, and I suppressed a smirk, "but I didn't sign up for this. I'm a bit busy—"
"You might not have signed yourself up, but someone did because your name is on this sign up sheet. See?" She held up the clipboard, but it was blocked from view by Goyle's big head. "'The Mudblood'. That's you, isn't it?"
My eyes rolled to Malfoy, who was snickering silently at my side. "Well, if I'm signed up, then who's my partner?"
"I was just about to announce that!" she exclaimed, bouncing with energy. "Obviously, the first team is me and Crabbey—eek!" Briefly, she hugged Crabbe's thick arm while he remained still and boulder-like beside her. "And with us will be...Daphne and Blaise—" The two of them looked indifferent with this news "—and then Hestia and Carl—"
"Why didn't you put me with Stephanie!" Carl Vaisey moaned from where he was lounging on one of the couches. He had a beaker of an orange substance in his hands, and I assumed that it was Happy Hallucinations, hence the distraction in his eyes and the slur in his voice.
"Because she is a Hufflepuff!" Ashley shrilled, flailing her clipboard around and nearly whacking Crabbe in the face with it. I was honestly disappointed when she didn't. "Now, the last couple on my team is Melody and Ryan—"
"Did I just hear my name and Melody's in the same sentence?" Harper questioned, snapping out of his daze, his eyes darting around wildly. Judging by the wideness of his eyes and the drooping of his jaw, he hadn't been aware that we'd entered the common room.
"Apparently Pucey wants us to be a couple," Melody droned, her arms crossed and her eyes slivered glacially. "And no, I'm not doing it. I just got back to this bloody school and I'm not spending my free time senselessly competing. I have assassinations to plan."
"You know, I think we were all wondering what you're doing back here, but everyone was too scared to ask," Vince Anderson said, raising his eyebrows over at Melody from where he stood beside Astoria. She was nonchalantly sewing what appeared to be lingerie, purposefully oblivious to all that was occurring.
"Hm, the fear is justifiable," was the only response that Melody gave, and all of the nosy Slytherins' anticipation dwindled as they returned their attention to Ashley.
"Now, for the second team," she started, holding her blonde hair back out of her face so she could read, "Flowers and Kevin—"
"It's Flora," one of the creepy Carrow twins interjected from within the crowd. She and her identical sister stood rigidly, their flat brown hair hanging straight around their long, expressionless faces. I was unsure who Kevin was, but he didn't speak, so I assumed that Ashley had read his name correctly.
"Oh whatever!" Ashley barked before continuing to list the name on her chart. "Astoria and Vince—"
"No, thank you," Astoria injected tonelessly, her brown eyes still focused on her sewing, and Anderson shot her a venomous scowl.
"Yeah, I agree, no thanks," he said with a tense jaw.
Their refutes were ignored, though, as Ashley concluded with, "Lorene and Travis, and Lainey and Draco—"
"NO!" Travis and Pansy both shouted at the same time. Travis had hopped up, dropping his photograph of Rachel, and Pansy, who had been standing next to Daphne, was now pushing through the crowd to confront Ashley.
"I need to be with my love, Rachel!" Travis insisted desperately.
"Don't you talk that way about my sister!" Harper roared as though "my love" was the greatest insult that Travis could have spoken—or even an insult at all.
"Rachel is a Ravenclaw!" Ashley fumed at Travis. "This is only for Slytherins—"
"You can't put the Mudblood with Draco! He's a pureblood!" Pansy cried, now at the center of the circle. Heat was reddening her cheeks, and when I glanced over at Malfoy to see how Pansy's reaction was affecting him, I found that he was smirking at me.
"What?" I hissed, folding my arms uncomfortably over my torso. Harper had removed his arm from mine and was now charging through the mass of Slytherins, most likely in an attempt to punch Travis in the face again. Not even Pansy's screams about blood purity deterred me from scrutinizing Malfoy, though; his lips had quirked on one side and he was eyeing me drolly with his cool grey eyes.
"I just find it interesting that you aren't opposed to our match up."
Swallowing, I fought to keep my composure casual as I stared mindlessly at Pansy, who was very, very opposed to the match up. "Is there anyone else you think I would rather be with?"
When I peeked over at him, I noticed that his smirk had dropped to a bitter frown. "Not in this room, perhaps," he said, fighting to keep his inflection as aloof as he could. Though he didn't explicitly say so, I knew exactly who he was referring to: Fred, the one who always managed to get between us even when he was absent.
"You are paired with Greg, Pansy!" Ashley was shouting now, tearing me away from Malfoy and back toward the middle of the circle. "You should be grateful! He is the second hunkiest boy in this House! If you'll shut your annoying mouth, I will tell you of the other couples on your team."
"Has she been this over-excited the entire time?" I asked Malfoy, whose grumpiness had once against overthrown his good humor.
"Yes... I can't decide the proper way to tell her that this team business isn't going to happen. I fear she'll attempt to murder me. But the Carrows won't be pleased if they discover—"
"The Carrows won't care about some stupid little competition," I insisted lightly. He gazed over at me without conviction. "We're Slytherins. They'll let us get away with anything and you know it. Perhaps we should just play Ashley's little games for...fun. If you know the meaning of the word."
At first he huffed incoherently, but then, with a sly edge to his tone, he added, "You really do want to be my partner, don't you? I couldn't imagine why you wouldn't want to be, but I'm trying to decide if it's only because Weaselbee isn't here, or if it's because you've finally realized the extent of your undying love for me."
Rolling my eyes, I elbowed his arm and sarcastically said, "It's the latter, definitely."
"I always knew you couldn't resist," he drawled, his haughtiness radiating. "Still, though, I'm considering asking Pucey to switch you for Pansy—since she's a pureblood, and you're just a lousy half-blood."
I gasped theatrically. "You would condemn me to being partnered with Goyle? I think my undying love for you has died, Malfoy."
An actual laugh escaped his throat, but he quickly covered it with a cough and more soberly said, "I suppose I'll keep you as my partner, but only so you can heal me if any calamities arise—not because I enjoy your company, because that would be ridiculous."
"Clearly," I agreed, studying his face as he refused to look at me. Somehow, he appeared completely different to me than he had only a year ago. Though he wasn't nearly as carefree as he had been in our youth, his posture was less tense, and there was a dormant grin on his lips, one that would momentarily revive in a way that hadn't been possible only six months ago. Not all of his supercilious nature had faded, but I knew now when he mocked me for my blood status, there was no real weight to his insults. Perhaps it was because I was a half-blood now, less repulsive than a Muggle-born, but there was something about the way our relationship had evolved that implied that even if I were a true Mudblood, his sentiments would be the same. It was baffling to think that this human, who had been antagonistic toward me since the day we met, could have grown up to be someone that I admired, however secret that admiration was.
"What is the purpose of this game?" Blaise asked in his monotonous voice. Daphne had subdued Pansy's outburst, but the pug was still fuming in the corner, glaring at me ferociously.
"To win, obviously!" Ashley replied giddily. "The winning pair gets..." She paused to spin around and grab what appeared to be a metallic staff, "THIS!"
The silver stick glinted in the light of the fireplace as she held it up for all to see. It looked similar to the walking stick that Lucius Malfoy used, but the entire shaft was the purest gleaming silver, and the head was a three dimensional skull from which a snake protruded through the empty eye socket—in the same fashion as Melody's mysterious necklace.
"What is that?" Anderson asked, cocking his head to the side as his brow furrowed.
"Salazar Slytherin's walking stick!" Ashley announced proudly, and murmurs erupted amongst our peers. "It's real—one of a kind—and stolen from the Chamber of Secrets. It's said to hold special powers! So, who wants it?"
The general mood had sparked from dull to animated, and even Malfoy was eyeing the walking stick with intrigue, but as I stared at the staff and mentally recited her words, I caught onto what everyone else had missed.
"Wait," I began, barely loud enough to overpower the whispers of excitement. Some turned as Ashley hopped up on her toes to see me over Goyle's giant head. "How did you get into the Chamber of Secrets? You don't speak Parseltongue—"
"I made you bring me down there last year," Ashley interrupted as though it were common knowledge. "Don't you remember? I put you under the Imperius Curse and we went down there—and we had a blast! You were high on potions and you did everything I said and we danced around that huge dead snake and it was so fun!"
I choked out a breath, unaware of the eyes on me as I recalled the night last year when I'd drank too many of Vaisey's potions and dreamed that Ashley and I had danced in the Chamber of Secrets. "That was—That was real?"
"Of course!" Ashley replied, and Malfoy didn't bother to hide his snickers at my appalled facial expression. "So, now that everyone is dying to get their hands on the legendary walking stick, I can tell you about this month's competition... To win points, you and your partner must find the Golden Snitches! Whichever couple finds them will win a point for each couple on their team and two points for themselves!"
"We have to find...Snitches?" Anderson clarified as Astoria continuously rolled her eyes at her sewing beside him. "Like...like Quidditch but not on brooms?"
"What Snitches?" Pansy demanded furiously. Apparently she had yet to recover from her outburst.
"Snape hid all of Hogwarts' Snitches," Ashley explained, more calm and authoritative than I'd ever seen her, "and we need to find them."
"Why would Snape bother hiding all of the Snitches?" Anderson questioned with a creased brow.
"Because he doesn't want us to play Quidditch," Ashley replied simply. "I have done my research—I have checked every Quidditch locker room. I even ventured into Gryffindor's—" she gagged, shuddering, "—and the Snitches are nowhere! So Snape has clearly hidden them."
Anderson was still unconvinced as he said, "I don't think he really cares that much—"
"Just because he's a Death Eater doesn't mean he's not evil!" Ashley shrilled.
My head fell to the side as I contemplated her words. "You certainly nailed that one, Ash. Death Eaters are evil—most, anyway," I amended, bristling as I felt the heat of Malfoy's scowl.
"Is it even confirmed that Snape is a Death Eater?" a fourth year boy asked. At first, I thought his question wasn't directed to anyone in particular, but then all of the cold eyes of the Slytherins fell onto me, and I realized that they all expected me to know the answer. I did, of course, but...
"I'm not in a position to reveal Snape's secrets," was all I said with a noncommittal shrug. "Go ask him yourself—"
A yelp nearly escaped my throat as Malfoy slammed me with his elbow, shooting me a warning glare. "Shut up—"
"Oh, so he is a Death Eater," the same fourth year boy confirmed as whispers blossomed throughout the common room, some excited, others nervous. Despite the anti-Muggle sentiments that most Slytherins had displayed over the years, the thought of a Death Eater actually running this school was enough to rattle my oh-so-tough Housemates.
"Yes," I verified at the same time that Malfoy snapped, "No." We glowered at each other as Ashley clapped her hands to bring order to the murmuring crowd.
"Enough talk of Snape! You all need to be talking strategy—how you plan to find these Snitches. They are essential!"
"What are we planning on doing with the Snitches once we find them?" Anderson asked. "We aren't allowed on the Quidditch pitch—"
"You will see!" Ashley said with enough sharpness to silence Anderson. After straightening her sweater, she beamed out at the rest of us and sang, "Get to work!"
The mass dispersed as everyone caught up with their partners to discuss the task. Many of them were actual couples, like Daphne and Blaise, while others had never spoken before and were shifting with discomfort rather than speaking. Melody hadn't given Harper a moment to even approach her as she stalked toward the dormitories, parting the crowd with ease. Astoria was making a point to ignore Anderson as she continued sewing her lacy garments. I assumed that the same would go for Malfoy and I, that he would storm off without speaking to me, but when I rotated my head I found that he was still leaning against the table, his eyes roving over me as if for the first time.
"Well, Mudblood, it looks like we have another task to complete."
My jaw shifted as I recalled the last task we'd been assigned together, the one to assassinate Albus Dumbledore. The long hours in the Room of Requirement had been so strained and tense, but now as I thought about the two of us searching the castle for Snitches, a lighthearted scavenger hunt, I was actually...eager—eager for some healthy competition that wouldn't result in death or destruction—eager to work with Malfoy toward a goal that wasn't evil.
"Fitzroy is still my legal surname, you know," I reminded him, arching an eyebrow. "You don't have to call me Mudblood."
"I know," was all he said, his eyebrows jumping tauntingly before he stood up straight and sauntered off, his gaze flickering back to me every few steps until he disappeared from view.
∆
Despite Malfoy's teasing the night before—and all that we'd been through at Melody's house the morning before—he didn't speak to me at all the next day, ignoring me thoroughly even as other couples amongst Slytherin House quietly but actively searched for the hidden Snitches. I attempted to pass notes with him in Dark Arts, but he pretended to be fully engrossed in Amycus's lesson about how to force Inferi to attack innocent Muggles.
On Thursday morning, word got around that Travis Anderson was caught digging through the dirt on the Quidditch pitch, as though Snape had buried the Snitches underground. Though there was a clear ban against being on the pitch, he was only sentenced to write twenty lines of "Don't Dig" because he was in Slytherin. Ashley was, of course, nervous that her little competition was going to be discovered, and Vince Anderson was, of course, annoyed that his younger brother didn't get a bigger punishment.
"He always manages to get out of every shituation," Anderson said as we ascended the stairs toward the Divination tower. On his other side, Carl Vaisey snorted, though I couldn't tell if it was because Anderson said "shituation" or because he was chugging on some of Lainey's Laughing Liquid. "I wish Harper would punch him in the face again. Would be a better punishment than writing lines."
"Are you just cranky because you have Astoria as your partner?" I questioned with a crafty grin.
"No," Anderson huffed, but Vaisey was shaking his head at me as he continued to giggle. "I'm not cranky... I don't care that Astoria's my partner. I just want it to be clear to everyone that we're not a romantic couple. We're just..."
"Ex-snogging partners?" I suggested, causing Anderson's brown eyes to narrow. "What? I thought you two used to snog."
"Not anymore," he mumbled, making it very clear that this conversation was over as he hoisted himself up the ladder to the Divination tower faster than I'd ever seen his body move. Vaisey followed him, nearly falling because he was laughing so hard. I was relieved once the three of us were safely in Trelawney's tower...until I noticed a new addition to our classroom.
"Ugh, you're in this class?" Astoria groaned, barely glancing up at Anderson as she filed her nails. She was sitting at the small round table that he, Vaisey, and I normally sat at, and once the two boys joined her, there was no room left for me.
"What are you doing here, Astoria?" I asked carefully, avoiding Ginny's glowering eyes as I passed my old table. Since I'd skipped classes on Tuesday, this was the first time I'd been to Divination this year, and also the first time I'd been this close to Ginny since our encounter on the train. I was almost expecting her to pounce on me in a vicious attack.
"Well," Astoria sighed, "since Muggle Studies became a requirement, my parents insisted that I take an extra elective—as if nine classes at this ruddy school isn't enough. So, here I am. In Divination."
"Shouldn't you be with the third years?" Anderson inquired. "Since you've never taken Divination before—"
"If you're going to sit beside me, Vince, I expect your mouth not to move," she interrupted savagely, and I was actually glad that there wasn't an extra seat for me to join them. The only problem with not sitting at the Slytherins' table was that the only empty space for me in the room was alone in the corner beside Trelawney's desk, or at the table behind me with Ginny and Luna.
The choice was not as easy as it would have been two years ago.
Ginny's eyes, which had once been filled with warmth and love, were noxious as I resumed the empty seat at her table that had been mine for two years. I bit my lip at the tightness of her posture, the way she looked as though she might snap and hex me across the room if I breathed improperly. There was a red aura around her, as vibrant as her hair, and I could almost See it physically, in a way that I hadn't truly Seen on her—or on anyone—before.
"I..." The words were lost as I stared at her; how could I even begin to apologize for all that I'd done?
"You didn't bring the Death Eaters to the wedding," she said tautly, without any formal greeting, and I couldn't manage to even nod. "I know, Fred told me. I know that you saved us all. But you still shouldn't have come. You did something heinous that day, and it had nothing to do with Death Eaters. Did you know that Fred was healing before you came? He was broken, but he was healing—finally starting to come to terms with the reality that the two of you could never be together. And then you slept with him."
My mouth went dry as my eyes slid over to Luna, who was too engrossed in reading The Quibbler to register a word that Ginny said. I knew others probably heard, though; Ginny wasn't making any effort to keep her voice low. Slowly, I pivoted my head back toward Anderson, as if for support, but he looked as unsettled by his ex-girlfriend as I felt.
"He didn't tell me," Ginny continued as if my attention hadn't shifted elsewhere. "But I could tell, because that quiet healing turned into blatant joy—hope. False hope. He thinks you two have a future—"
"I made it clear to him—before...it happened that there would be no future for us—could be no future for us," I clarified softly, hoping the lowering of my tone would encourage her to do the same. "If it were up to me, I would have dropped out of school by now to go work at the twins' prank shop. I wouldn't have this Mark on my arm, and I would whole-heartedly be with Fred. But...not everyone gets a choice."
"I can't...imagine what it would be like to lose my family like you did," she replied quietly, her wince only flickering for a moment, "but it doesn't excuse what you've done. Dumbledore was our only hope—Harry's only hope—and he's dead because you made it possible. You've put so many at risk just to save a few. Was it worth it?"
I didn't have to think before I said, steadily, "No, perhaps not, but it's worth it now, because I'm not going to blindly follow Voldemort's commands anymore. And I might be in a position to reverse some of the harm that I've done." I stared into her with the corner of my eye, and she knew what I meant: I wanted to betray Voldemort and any of his secrets to help the Order, to help Harry, even if it was a risk to myself and those that I loved.
"It's irreversible, but not unforgivable." Though she didn't smile, I knew by the lack of coldness in her expression that we were no longer enemies. Friends wasn't an appropriate term; I wasn't sure that Ginny Weasley would ever want to consider herself my friend again. But perhaps we could be allies through this war, inconspicuously working toward the same cause in different manners. She, with Neville, would lead Dumbledore's Army, and I...I would do my best to discreetly foil Voldemort's plans while maintaining his trust. If I still had his trust at all...
"Where—um—where is Arnold?" I asked, noting the empty spot on her shoulder where her Pygmy Puff normally resided.
"I left him home because I didn't want him to become the Carrows' toy." Her humorless smirk assured me that she knew that I despised them as well. "Where's Sal?"
"He became Pansy's toy," I grumbled, my words etched with spite. "That was why I...had to let Amycus torture Neville in class on Monday...why I couldn't intervene."
The lack of shock on her face confirmed that Neville had told her about what had happened to him during our first Dark Arts class, and because she didn't sneer, I assumed that meant she didn't blame me. I still blamed myself, though. If Malfoy and I hadn't helped Voldemort...maybe Dumbledore would still be Headmaster. Maybe Hogwarts would still be a safe sanctuary for young witches and wizards. Maybe I wouldn't be this soulless shell of what I once was.
"I don't need this rubbish class or even your Seeing powers to know that suffering is coming—pain is here, and war is ahead," Ginny said, her gaze fixated on the crystal ball at the center of our table. "I am glad, though—truly glad—that we'll face it on the same side."
∆
"What the hell are you doing here?" Draco Malfoy snapped as I slipped into the seat beside him. We were in Arithmancy together for the first time since the year before, and the class size had dwindled to about seven of us. The chair that Harper usually occupied on my other side was empty, and, to my surprise, Melody was absent as well. Considering the fact that she hadn't appeared in History of Magic the period before this, maybe she'd taken the liberty of dropping half of her classes completely.
"Did you forget that you have to endure this torturous class with me?" I questioned, arching my eyebrows over at him while neatly folding my hands on the table before me. I hadn't bothered to bring any books, which didn't seem to surprise Malfoy or Professor Vector, who only gave me a pitying look by way of greeting.
"There's no way you passed the O.W.L.," Malfoy scoffed, now copying down the mystifying symbols that our teacher jotted on the blackboard.
"No, there isn't, but Snape is forcing—excuse me—letting me continue all of my classes, even if I failed the O.W.L.s. Splendid, isn't it?"
"For who?" I thought I heard him mutter, but I didn't get to inject a wry comment before Vector was speaking in a foreign language of magical numbers.
I nearly fell asleep until I felt something warm against my thigh, a hand draped over the fabric of my pants. It was an effort not to jump at the sensation of Malfoy's touch, and the only reason I didn't outright smack him was because I noted that there was a folded piece of parchment between his hand and my leg. He allowed his fingers to linger there for a moment, raising his eyebrows in mock seduction, but I just stuck my tongue out at him before shoving his hand away and retrieving the note.
Do you want to SNOG in the dungeons tonight, Mudblood?
I had to reread his words three times before registering that there was a hidden meaning behind them. My heart was still beating rapidly though at the prospect that his inquiry had been genuine. Keeping my hand steady, I scribbled a quick reply: Oh? The dungeons don't seem very romantic to me. Though I suppose it'll have to be down there, since you'd have to put me in chains to force me to snog you.
His crooked smirk didn't waver as he wrote a reply and placed the note on my thigh in the same fashion as before. This time I pinched his hand before he could withdraw it, and he cursed under his breath as I snickered under mine.
I can arrange for such if that's the kind of sexual fetish you prefer.
It's a wonder you've never had a girlfriend before, Malfoy. You're so accommodating, I wrote slowly enough that agitation began to darken his features as his eyes darted between our note and our professor. Judging by the fact that he'd stopped copying down the Arithmantic symbols, our written conversation was more enthralling to him than this lesson.
You'll do it then? he wrote in a swift reply, eagerness apparent in the sloppiness of his scrawl.
What? Snog you or be your girlfriend?
Both, if you're feeling inclined.
Licking my lips, I glanced over at him from the corner of my eye, searching for any seriousness to his words. There was no seriousness to it, I realized, when I saw the jocose curve of his mouth. I made my eye roll obvious.
Meet me in the common room at midnight, Head Boy. If you're feeling inclined.
∆
The darkness of my attire concealed me so well as I stepped out into the dimly lit common room that Malfoy almost didn't notice me from where he lounged on one of the couches. Only my honey blonde hair, glowing in the faint candlelight, gave me away as I approached. Gradually, he stood, surveying me where I was planted before him.
"Going Goth again, Mudblood?" he challenged softly, as not to alert any of our sleeping Housemates of our midnight excursion. "At least your makeup's not as dark as it was before. The lighter colors suit your complexion better."
Since I couldn't discern if his words were meant to be a compliment or an insult, I merely cocked my head toward the common room's exit. "Do you still want to chain me up in the dungeons and snog me, or has my choice of clothing turned you off?"
Though he seemed motivated to give a flirty reply, he simply smirked before swaggering past me, a silent invitation for me to follow. I noticed, as I trailed behind him, that he'd opted for dark clothing as well; it was the first time I'd seen him wear a black button down instead of a white one since last year, but I knew it had nothing to do with his mood shifting toward depression. This midnight meeting was indeed about something beyond our suppressed physical attraction, and we would need the stealth of darkness to evade the Carrows' attention.
"I'm on Head Boy duty," he informed me quietly as we entered the dungeon corridor. The air was frigid, and without any of the torches on the walls lit, Malfoy resorted to lighting his wand. "So if anyone asks, you were sleep walking out here and I had to follow you."
"Why are we going into the dungeons, exactly?" I asked, hugging my torso for warmth. Malfoy showed no signs of sympathy as I shivered.
"I can't think of anywhere else Snape might have hidden the Snitches."
"Ah, so this isn't about snogging. Good thing I assumed it wouldn't be; if I'd thought you were serious I would have worn something a bit more alluring."
His eyebrows shot up as his lips bunched on one side. "Oh?"
"Astoria has this dress—The Sexy Dress, she calls it—that's been charmed so that no one can take it off her, even though it's skimpy enough that most guys probably would want to if they saw her in it. She says it's fun when playing hard to get."
"Is that what you're doing, Mudblood? Playing hard to get?"
The way his wry, prying eyes were glued to me was enough to bring heat to my cold cheeks. I wanted to tell him that I'd been joking about it, but maybe I had been playing hard to get.
"You're interested in that walking stick, then?" I asked instead of prolonging our previous conversation. He registered the shift in my mood and his teasing demeanor slid into lazy arrogance.
"Most of the heirlooms I possess were gifted to me by my father. I'd like something that I could claim I'd worked for on my own."
"You mean something that we worked for together. If we win this walking stick, we're going to split our time with it. You get it one week and I get it the next—"
"You want to meet with me once a week for the rest of your life to pass a walking stick back and forth? Perhaps you are in love with me."
I attempted a scowl but it wasn't very spirited. "I want something that I can claim as my own as well. I have even less than you, if you've forgotten. But, it might not even matter regardless; if I'm bound to the Dark Lord forever and he continues to use your Manor as his headquarters, maybe I'll be stuck living with you for the rest of my life."
Malfoy gagged, but mostly for show. "That thought alone is inspiring more nightmares than this decrepit dungeon, Mudblood."
I rolled my eyes at him, but dread was starting to sink in as I said in my most aloof, hypothetical voice, "Would it be so bad? To be stuck with me forever?"
Instead of answering my question, he stared pensively ahead and asked, "Do you remember when we were stuck down here with that bloody ferret?"
"You mean in my fourth year when Peeves trapped us in that dungeon cell?"
"And I healed your lip," he added, his eyes flickering toward my lips. I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of that gaze, as he went on. "And do you remember the time before that, when we had to sweep down here together?" I dipped my chin again, my pace declining as we held each others' eyes. "So you remember what we talked about—how you found me that day in Flourish and Blotts—how your Clairvoyant powers brought you to me because you missed me—or perhaps even because of our healing connection." I couldn't force myself to nod this time as I waited for him to make his point. "You'll always find a way to see me—to be with me—magically or not. You'll always need my ability to heal you. And, mentally and emotionally—perhaps even physically—you won't survive long without my presence."
His last statement was cocky enough that he couldn't suppress a grin, and I fought my lips as they tugged up in tune with his.
"It's something I accepted a long time ago," he continued, his expression sobering only slightly, "that I'm doomed to be around you for the rest of my existence. But..."
He paused where we stood outside one of the dungeon cells, maybe the one that we'd swept together in my second year or maybe the one we'd gotten locked into in my fourth.
"But it won't be so bad," he concluded, his eyes avoiding my mine as he twirled his lit up wand anxiously. "You're the only one that can...understand what it's like—what it's like to be put under such pressure from the Dark Lord. To fear doing the evil things he asks, and to fear not doing them. My parents gave up a long time ago—trying to defy him, trying to be good—if they ever even wanted any of that at all... You've never given up, though, not really. Not in your heart."
I shook my head. "I think you have an unrealistically noble impression of me. I...I did give up. I gave up when I let him put this on me." I pulled up the sleeve of my sweater to reveal the Dark Mark; the ink blended with the blackness of the corridor. When I glanced back up at Malfoy, I saw a twitch of enmity in his eyes as he surveyed the tattoo. "I didn't think enough about the consequences. I didn't think that...that maybe it would have been better if I'd let him kill me than use me."
His gaze was hard when it met mine. "You would have left me to do it alone?"
"Would you have done it alone?" I countered, my voice sounding small.
The fact that he looked away was enough of an answer: Yes.
"It doesn't matter now," I said hastily. "There's nothing we can do to change the past. We...we killed Dumbledore, and this school—and possibly the entire world—is going to hell because of it. Will you fight with me? Will you lay your life down now that you've seen what it will be like? Now that you've seen how miserable it will be if we don't...if Voldemort..."
Malfoy emitted a noncommittal, incoherent grunt before grumbling, "I don't think the Snitches are down here."
I blinked long enough that he had time to spin from me and retreat back the way we'd come. "You...you don't?" I questioned as I hurried after him. Even once I was walking beside him at his brisk pace he didn't turn his head toward me.
"No, I never did."
"Then...why...?"
"You've always been suicidal, Mudblood," he huffed, "but...do you really expect me to go down with you? Do you really expect me to forfeit everything I've done to preserve my life, my family's lives—your life? Do you really expect me to give that all up? We are on the winning side of this war. We have a chance to make it out alive. And you want to give it up. For what? For your brother? Or for your Weaselbee?"
"Not everything is about Fred—"
"Everything is always about him where you're concerned," he barked, pausing to whirl on me. I halted as well and put my hands on my hips.
"Just a few moments ago you were...admiring me for my desire to be good. And now—now you're condemning me for trying to fight back. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you not to get killed." Though his irises were still a glacial grey, there was fire behind those eyes, and it was an effort to keep my expression neutral.
"I don't have a death wish. I'm not going to stomp up to Voldemort and demand a duel—"
"You've been known to try."
I pursed my lips. "We are in a position to help people. We have at least some sway with the Carrows—"
"You don't, not after that prank you played on Alecto."
"Well, then, you do, at least. I just...I want to do everything I can to protect the students at this school—and maybe, hopefully, extend some of that to the people outside of this school...in the most subtle way possible. To everyone else, we'll still look like subservient Death Eaters, bowing to our master, but in secret we'll be doing all we can to help—not for glory, but for...good."
Malfoy snorted, rolling his eyes. "I shouldn't have let on that I admire your inherent goodness. I won't make the mistake of trying to compliment you again."
"Does that mean you won't help me? Are you going to go turn me in to Voldemort right now, tell him I plan to betray him?"
"I don't think it would come as a surprise to anyone that you want to betray him. He's learned that he can't trust you unless he has something over you, and I think he's lost patience searching for your Muggle brothers—or brother, in his mind. He won't tell you anything of importance."
"Perhaps not," I sighed. "Perhaps there's not much I can do in the grand scheme of things, but at least I can try to make a difference here."
"By doing what? Playing pranks?"
"Don't sound so disdainful. You enjoyed one of my pranks, if I recall. The idea of impersonating Alecto is still brewing in my head, if you were wondering."
"Don't," was all he said, spinning to stalk away just as I caught a glimpse of the smirk on his lips. I followed again, feeling lighter than before as we emerged in front of the Slytherin common room. He started toward the entrance but I grabbed his sleeve before he could go any further.
"Don't you want to help claim Slytherin's walking stick with me?"
He twisted his head around to glare at me. "We're done for tonight—"
"Even if I know where the Snitches are?" I questioned before he could finish his sentence.
He paused, brooding, then said, "Where?"
"Well, I've been trying to tell you for two days now—" I cut myself short when I saw the intensity of his impatience festering in his glowering eyes. "They're in Snape's office, I'm fairly certain."
"Do you Know?" he asked, and I bit my lip. "I'm not risking sneaking into the Headmaster's office unless you Know."
"Don't you trust me?" I coaxed, taking a few steps back to provoke him. He nearly growled before prowling past me and up the stairs. It was impossible not to let my triumph glow.
"Where is it?" he demanded under his breath as we ascended toward the third floor.
"In a golden box on one of his shelves. It was...moving when I saw it—like something living was trapped inside. It had to have been the Snitches though, all trying to break free."
"You'd better be right about this," was all he said as we approached the gargoyle on the third floor. The only problem, though, I realized as we approached, was that the gargoyle wasn't there. Instead, the spiral steps to Snape's office were fully visible, as if tempting someone to intrude.
Malfoy and exchanged wary looks that heightened into apprehension when a grunt reverberated from within the stairwell. Rather cowardly, Malfoy was already inching back the way we'd come, but the noise didn't sound like Snape...
Without Malfoy's consent or blessing or whatever he probably felt entitled to give, I approached the spiral stairwell and peered up to see that it was empty. But...the door at the top of the steps was open.
"Someone's gone into his office," I hissed back at Malfoy, who was still retreating.
"Likely Snape. Let's go—"
"This is the perfect opportunity," I insisted. "We don't even have to guess the password—"
"But we do have to face whoever's up there. What if it's the Carrows? They'll see you and torture you. You don't have your brother's Invisibility Cloak. It wasn't entrusted to you."
I didn't let on that his words stung as I ignored his pleading and began up the stairs. I'd never really thought over the fact that James—my father—had left the Invisibility Cloak to Harry rather than me. My brother had mentioned it once to me—before I even knew he was my brother—and so it hadn't bothered me, but now...
I puffed out a breath to clear my head, keeping my steps light as I continued toward the open doorway. Malfoy was on my heels now, making too much noise with his stomping for my comfort. I assumed he was planning to claim he'd followed me here to scold me for being out after curfew, as were his Head Boy duties, but there was no one for him to tattle on me to when we emerged in Snape's office, because it wasn't the Headmaster or the Carrows we'd heard, but Ginny, Neville, and Luna.
"Hello," Luna greeted, being the first one to notice us. Neville and Ginny were too busy trying to remove the sword of Gryffindor from a high shelf, but when Luna spoke they both froze. Upon pivoting their heads and realizing who we were, Neville loosed a breath.
"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked. Despite the fact that we'd come to some sort of truce during Divination that morning, she was still as stiff as she had been while thinking I was someone else.
"Stealing from Snape," I replied, my eyes sliding away from them and toward the shelf on the other side of the room where the golden box had been perched...but it was no longer there. Had someone else from Slytherin retrieved it already?
"So are we," Luna replied, a faint smile on her pale pink lips. "But really, I suppose, the sword does belong to Harry, since Dumbledore entrusted it to him in his will."
Ginny cut a stern look toward Luna, but I ignored it as I asked, "You're stealing the sword for Harry?"
"It belongs to him," Neville insisted unyieldingly. "We're taking back what belongs to him, in case he needs it."
With that, Ginny hopped up on her toes again and, with a quick maneuver, pulled the sword free. Wielding the silver hilt in her hands, she looked like a fierce warrior, but Malfoy did not look so impressed as he stepped up beside me and demanded, "Where is the box?"
"I'm not sure—"
"What box?" Ginny questioned, her brutal attention now aimed at the boy beside me. I opened my mouth to answer her, but then we all heard it: the squeak of a doorknob; we'd awoken Snape.
Malfoy was halfway down the stairs before Snape even opened the door that led from his office to his bedchambers. The rest of us were quickly behind, darting around the spiral staircase, Ginny holding the sword behind me. Snape had clearly heard us, because there was the bang of a spell hitting the wall above, and Luna yelped as stone and dust rained down in the stairwell. A few pebbles pelted my skin, but I ignored them as I flew out into the third floor corridor.
I expected Malfoy to be gone by now, pretending he'd never even be present, but as soon as I stumbled out of the stairwell, his arms steadied me—not for my sake though; he was holding me upright like some prize—like he'd caught me. His wand was trained on Ginny, Neville, and Luna as they appeared, and Ginny, her eyes wide and blazing, looked like she was about to stab Malfoy with the sharp tip of the sword when Snape stepped up behind them, drawling, "Well, what have we here? Five students out after curfew, sneaking into my office to steal an ancient artifact?"
Malfoy shoved me away before Snape's eyes could really settle on us, before he could see that Malfoy had been clutching me like I was a prisoner. Rage surged within me, and I readied my fists to punch him as he said, "I have no business with these troublemakers. I was on Head Boy duty in the dungeons and heard commotion above. I came up here to check it out and then these three came flying out of the stairwell with your sword—"
"It isn't my sword, Malfoy," Snape retorted hotly, "and you say three as if Fitzroy had nothing to do with this—"
"She didn't," Malfoy injected, shocking all of us. He swallowed, fighting to maintain his poise as he added, "I found her sleep walking in the dungeons and was forced to bring her along when I came up here. She's innocent."
"Hmm," was Snape's unconvinced response, but he didn't press the issue. "I appreciate your assistance, Mr. Malfoy. You two are dismissed."
Malfoy grabbed my arm to haul me along, but my feet remained planted as I watched Snape's focus turn toward the other three. The coldness in his gaze was a harsh, stormy winter.
"Stealing from the Headmaster—and thieving an artifact so valuable—will not be tolerated."
I waited—we all waited—for Snape to turn his wand on one of the three Dumbledore's Army members and cast the Cruciatus Curse, which was, apparently, the new favored method of punishment at this school. Ginny still held the sword before her though, as though she were prepared to plunge it into Snape heart at any moment. Neville stood straighter and taller than I'd ever seen, bracing for the impact of an Unforgivable Curse. And Luna was still, serene, and smiling, as though she knew that Snape wasn't going to resort to violence. She was certainly the only one of us that didn't gape when he slid his wand into his pocket and said, "A hundred points from Gryffindor. Fifty points from Ravenclaw. All three of you will serve detention tomorrow evening—"
I sucked in a breath. "With the Carrows?"
Snape ignored me, his attention honed on the other three. "With Hagrid," he concluded, "in the Forbidden Forest."
With those words hanging in the air, he reached over and snatched the hilt of the sword from Ginny. I felt Malfoy relax beside me. He thought she was going to stab him. I couldn't say that I would have been surprised. There was enough fire in her eyes that I expected her to at least hex him now that she no longer wielded the sword. But, she knew as well as the rest of us did that the three of them had gotten off easy this time. Detention with Hagrid would be like a gift compared to detention with the Carrows, which is probably the punishment they should have received for attempting to steal something so precious from Snape's office, even if it did rightfully belong to Harry. Snape was being merciful...but why? Was he truly trying to keep torture to a minimum, like he'd claimed he would to Dumbledore's portrait?
I didn't have the nerve to look at Ginny or the others as we turned to retreat to our separate common rooms. They ascended toward their towers, and Malfoy and I descended toward what felt like hell—and perhaps that was where I deserved to go after this incident. It was no doubt our fault that the three of them had gotten caught; if we hadn't been looking for those dumb Snitches, the three of them would have retrieved the sword and somehow given it to Harry. Instead of foiling Voldemort's plans, I'd foiled Dumbledore's Army's plans—unintentionally, but still...
Malfoy was still gripping my arm when we arrived back in the dungeon corridor, so I shrugged him off violently, not sparing a glance in his direction as I stomped toward the common room's entrance.
"What are you so narked about?" he called after me. I paused only to say "Die, Muggles" at the entrance, but the stone moved aside so slowly— "I just saved your ass up there, Mudblood—"
"You saved your own ass up there and added my innocence on as an afterthought," I flared, spinning to narrow my eyes at him. "You couldn't have thought of some way to save the others as well?"
"Weasley was holding the sword. I couldn't claim all four of you were sleep walking—it would have been ridiculous! Besides, Snape would have found a way to punish them even if they had been innocent. The only reason he let us walk is because we're...Death Eaters—and I'm Head Boy—"
"And we're Slytherins, yes, yes, we have so many excuses not to be guilty at this nasty school. Ginny was trying to help Harry—help Harry against Voldemort! Don't you want to be free, Malfoy? Don't you want to see good triumph, if not for the sake of others, then just so you don't have criminals and murderers dwelling in your manor? I thought—I thought that earlier—that you'd finally seen the truth in this. That you'd finally realized how serious this is—that we have to act or we'll be his slaves forever. But of course you didn't, and it was foolish of me to have hoped that you would. You stopped. If you'd kept running, we all could have gotten away—"
"Snape would have—"
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that you didn't try. You didn't hope. You accepted defeat and...and that's all you ever do. I thought you'd changed, but...you never will."
A muscle near his jaw flickered as he stared down at me, his gaze firm despite the roughness of my accusations. I thought he might refute my claims, but he knew I was right. There was an embedded part of Draco Malfoy that would always be that supercilious bully, that boy that reveled in the failure of others and cared only for preserving himself. It might be buried deeper now than it had once been, but when situations became grave and decisions became crucial, he would always choose what benefited himself.
And after tonight, I wasn't going to waste a breath wanting, expecting, or hoping for anything other than the worst from him, even if we were magically and emotionally tethered for the rest of our existences.
The attempt to steal the sword of Gryffindor is mentioned in The Deathly Hallows Chapter Fifteen, "The Goblin's Revenge".