Draco was waiting inside, leaning lazily against the desk with his platinum hair swept across his forehead.
"Hey," Amisty lingered hesitantly by the door, uncertain of how he felt with her attitude.
He chuckled, "You know, I'm not angry with you."
"I didn't think that," She lied, walking toward him quickly.
"Liar," He grinned, swooping her up in his arms and nuzzling her cheek with his nose.
"Stop that," She laughed, swatting at his chest weakly. "You're cold... and pointy."
"Runs in the family," He replied cheekily.
"So," She lifted herself up onto the desk, "what is it you summoned me for, if you're not upset with me?"
"Any dreams lately that don't quite feel like dreams?" He got straight to the point, as always.
She tipped her head to the side, "Since first year, actually."
"And..."
"My mother, when she's a wolf, comes down to say hello, I suppose," She replied slowly. "I didn't really see her, not properly at least, until this summer."
"What does she look like?"
"Silver, like she's made of stars," Amisty screwed up her eyes, thinking back and scrounging for details. "Kinda cold, I guess? Like she's not quite there but there at the same time."
"Yes, well," A smile played at the corner of his mouth as he sat down next to her, "I think I have an explanation for those."
"And are you going to tell me or are you just going to sit there taunting me with your superior knowledge?" She teased, giving him a faux glare. Maybe he wasn't so good at getting to the point.
"Wolves are pack animals, yes?"
She nodded.
"Strong family ties, especially to their ancestors?"
"I... I guess."
"As you know, being a friend of the Golden Boy himself, love is one of the strongest forms of magic, and love between family is a very strong tie indeed," He leaned down, plucking out his journal.
He opened it where the ribbon had marked his page, tilting it to show her the drawing of, well, a wolf that looked suspiciously like her mother.
"This just isn't fair,"Amisty grumbled with a scowl, glaring down at the drawing. "You can dance, speak French, make difficult potions without so much as breaking a sweat. What else can you do?"
"I'm a musician, but that's not what I'm here to talk about," He talked quickly, cutting her off before she goes on. "And this is one of Blaise's drawings. He's quite the artist if he tries."
"How in Circe's name did you convince him to draw that?" She raised an eyebrow.
"It's Blaise," Draco shrugged. "Bit of sweets and a galleon and he'll do anything you want, no questions asked. You two would be good friends if you tried."
"That's insulting."
"Because I compared you to Blaise or because I said it's easy to win you over with chocolate?"
"Bit of both," She shrugged, grinning and shouldering him gently. "Go on, then, what is this all about."
"They're called lýkos, spirit wolves," He pointed at the stars along the paws where the fur slowly faded. "Echo wasn't the first Wolf Born, but she was certainly one of the strongest. Lýkos are usually found in wolf culture, not including werewolves, and are particularly common in wolf packs exposed to magic. I wouldn't be very surprised if the wolves in the Forbidden Forest communicated this way. Lýkos are a way for living wolves to speak with their ancestors and find guidance.
"No Wolf Borns, few though there have been, have been able to mimic this tradition to the extent your mother has. At least, none have documented it. Until now."
"You said to find guidance... she's never spoken to me, though," Amisty murmured, and her heart twisted. "I haven't heard her voice in... in so long."
He took her hand in his, squeezing it tight, "I believe she's trying to figure out how, love, but it's a difficult thing to do. Her showing up is a feat in itself, and you seeing her is even more so."
"Does that mean that maybe... she could..." Amisty's voice trailed off and she looked away, not wanting to give herself false hope.
"There's a possibility," He replied softly. "There's always a possibility. Your father did say she was a brilliant witch, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did. Surprised everyone," She nodded, leaning against him, her head on his shoulder.
"And if she's as stubborn as you, since that seems to be a trait in the River family, then I'd make a strong guess that she's learning how," He ran his fingers through her hair, gently untangling a knot. "She's probably learning from her ancestors right this moment."
Amisty laughed softly, watching him with soft eyes, "And you don't find it weird that I'm half wolf?"
"I find it rather intriguing, to tell the truth," He smiled. "I could really make a name for myself, discovering all of this."
"You'd be using me to make you famous?"
"Not using you," He tapped her nose. "Helping you learn about yourself and maybe earning a little extra profit."
"Sounds like a synonym to me," She rolled her eyes.
"Whatever you wish to believe, love."
-=+=-
As good of a teacher Professor Grubbly-Plank was -- don't let Harry hear -- Amisty was getting more and more worried about Hagrid as they walked down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
They had just gone through two lectures, from both Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall, about how important the O.W.L. tests were and that it's about time they start thinking about jobs even though they were fifteen and still had two years of school left.
"Everyone here?" The Professor cast a quick glance around them all. "Let's crack on then -- who can tell me what these things are called?"
Hermione's hand shot up. Everyone else leaned closer to get a better look since they hadn't even bothered in the first place.
They had looked, after all, like a pile of sticks.
Pansy seemed to have let out her patented shriek of laughter that quickly morphed into a shriek of terror as the sticks moved.
Amisty's lip twitched.
They looked like pixies, and Amisty had a very sudden reminder of the horror that was pixies in their second year with that awful Lockhart idiot. With a body made of wood, two fingers on each hand, and dark brown eyes, she was rather impressed with their level of camouflage.
"Oooooh!" Lavender and Parvati, per usual, squealed.
"Kindly keep your voices down, girls!" Professor Grubbly-Plank ordered, throwing a handful of woodlice over the creatures. "So -- anyone know the names of these creatures. Miss Granger?"
"Bowtruckles. They're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees," Hermione replied promptly.
"Five points for Gryffindor."
Hermione beamed.
"Yes, these are bowtruckles and, as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"
"Wood lice. But fairy eggs if they can get them," Hermione replied yet again.
"Good girl, take another five points," The Professor praised. "So whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of wood lice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will gouge out human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few wood lice and a bowtruckle -- I have enough here for one between four -- you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labeled by the end of the lesson."
Ron stepped forward, winding through the crowds and grabbing a bowtruckle.
Harry had disappeared, probably going to ask Professor Grubbly-Plank about Hagrid, so the three of them sat off to the side and set to drawing the stupid thing.
A few moments later, Harry joined them.
"Malfoy just said Hagrid was messing with stuff too big for him," He whispered hurriedly, face pale. "That he was hurt."
"Dumbledore would know if something had happened to Hagrid," Hermione replied calmly, sketching out an arm. "It's just playing into Malfoy's hands to look worried, it tells him we don't know exactly what's going on. We've got to ignore him, Harry. Here, hold the bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face."
"Yes, Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on substandard teaching in this place," Draco's voice drifted over to them, and Harry's face twisted into a scowl. "So even if that overgrown moron does show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straight away."
"OUCH!" Harry hissed. The bowtruckle had just swiped at his hand, two deep cuts already oozing scarlet forming.
Amisty sighed, flicking her wand at a nearby rock and muttering a spell under her breath before reaching for Harry's hand.
He stared at her, "What did you do to that rock?"
There was a muffled thud as the rock collided with the back of Draco's head.
She flicked up her left hand over her shoulder, not even bothering to look behind her and acknowledge him.
"Tergeo," She muttered as Ron snickered.
Hermione handed her a handkerchief, and after she healed the cuts she wrapped it up tight. "That should work."
"Did you just throw a rock at Malfoy's head?" Harry blinked.
"No," Amisty shook her head, grinning faintly. "I charmed it to hit him in the head. There's a difference."
"And you're just... not going to... well, apologize, or anything?" Harry continued.
"Why should I? He deserved it."
-=+=-
Amisty almost tore out her hair in the next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.
She was on her wit's end with all the faux smiling and incredibly polite insults being thrown around about half-breeds.
"You're going to destroy your quill," Hermione whispered gently, nudging the back of her hand. "Calm down."
"She was looking right at me when she said half-breeds were freaks of nature," Amisty hissed, her voice trembling.
Hermione's mouth pulled into a frown, and she tugged on Amisty's sleeve, concealing the bracelet that was glowing far too brightly than it should.
The brunette tore off a corner of her parchment, scribbling something down and pushing it toward her.
She's a wicked woman, absolutely dreadful, but unless you want to out yourself to the whole class, I need you to calm down. You know how quickly rumors spread.
Amisty nodded, though grudgingly, and took a deep breath to try and reign control of her temper.
She pried her fingers off her quill, pretending to take a break, and let her gaze wander around the classroom.
Her heart leaped to her throat as her eyes locked with the icy blue of Umbridge's. The toad-faced professor's lips curved into a small smile, her bulging eyes glinting.
Amisty immediately turned back to her work, trying to ignore the icy finger that just trailed down her spine and brushed against her heart.
'She won't hurt you, not with Dumbledore as Headmaster,' She thought to herself, staring down at her notes and unable to write. Her hand was shaking too badly. 'She won't. She can't.'
But somehow... she couldn't convince herself.
Can I just say my favorite headcanons are French speaking Draco and musician Draco? I don't really know why but they're just so cool to me?? It fits him really well, I guess. I just like it a lot. Plus Slytherin's just generally being into the arts because they're not all evil and wickedness and Death Eaters is one of my favorite fic things. Thanks for reading!