Title: Shades of Surrender--Chapter 7
Author: Wandwaver
Rating: PG
Summary: It's been years since the diary of Tom Riddle has been seen, but the memory of it and its owner's voice have never stopped haunting young Ginny Weasley. Her determination to move on with her life is weighted down by her fear for her family as rumors of the Dark Lord's whereabouts spread about like fire. Yet no one knows for sure where the evil Lord is, and Ginny feels helpless as she watches Harry struggle to hold in his burdens and keep his friends safe. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy is discovering that the discontent that has followed him all of his life can, indeed, give him impetus to question the established rules he's been raised under. But will he have the courage to cut the ties that bind him and set adrift, especially when it seems he's preordained to follow the family? And what does the Dark Lord want with some moldy old book that's been damged seemingly beyond repair?
Chapter 7 - Challenge and Answer
"Mirrored; the patterns conclude
Discovery of which I am sure."
"Will it work?" he asked doubtfully.
"You think me ignorant of my own business? It will work. The spell will need to be repeated at regular intervals. A foreign body cannot house another's essence for too great a period of time. It warps the shell, burns the body from inside out. Especially if an older spirit vests within a younger vessel. The differing magic cannot remain side by side. Eventually the corporeal form withers completely. A switch needs to be performed before this becomes the case."
"A switch," he repeated.
"Think of it as a snake sloughing its skin. It needs to be rejuvenated and replaced at regular intervals."
****
Rest and Recuperation
They had brought her to him. His faithful servants of old. He padded silently towards her, noting the trembling limbs and defiant look of her eye. She was dressed in simple black robes, hair snarled and knotted as a result of her struggles on the journey.
"What's your name?" Riddle asked. She spoke no word, merely flinched as the shade before her sought to bring his shining limbs into contact with her chin, to lift her eyes towards his own.
"What is your name?" he repeated, enunciating each word clearly and precisely in order that the meaning could not be mistaken. "I won't ask again. Believe me, too, you won't like it if I need to employ other means." His dark eyes betrayed a glimmer of amusement, as though this choice would suit him perfectly well, perhaps better than the former. The girl remained silent, turning her face stubbornly from his. "Doesn't matter. I'll know everything before long, in any event." A slight smile began to twitch at the corners of the boy's mouth. It was at this point the young girl whirled to run. "Nowhere to go," Riddle told her. He approached her carefully, movements slow and unhurried. His captive was making frantically for the far doorway, a small whimper escaping her lips despite herself. Before she had even somewhat traversed the length of the room the older wizard who had brought her to this godforsaken place was upon her, pinning her bodily by virtue of his superior weight. After several ineffectual struggles, she opted to conserve her strength, deeming this a better course of action, if only temporarily.
Riddle brought his face into close proximity with the girl's, fortified by the way in which her eyes widened with fear. "Shh," he said softly. "I only want a kiss." He moved closer. "Just one."
He moved his lips towards those of the girl and, contrary to his instruction, blew upon them.
The brown haired girl, name unknown, became rigid as the white light which surrounded the shade of Tom Riddle became focused upon his pursed lips and spewed forth. It forced itself down her throat, lighting it from within, working itself meticulously further and still further whether she wanted it or not. The teenage boy seemed to become, by contrast, harder to discern. The brilliant aura which had marked him out previously was no longer in evidence. Riddle bestowed a final jet of breath upon the female wizard and faded from view. The girl collapsed to her knees, placing her hands before her upon the floor to steady herself, head down, hair covering her face, hiding any expression. Slowly, she climbed to her feet and a cynical smile curved upon her lips. "This is certainly. . . different."
****
Challenge and Answer
They had gathered in a deserted hall within a now disused section of the castle for the occasion. There were always places to hide within Hogwarts if you really wanted to. It was dusty and dimly lit, courtesy of the tall, narrow windows cut deeply into the stonework of the walls. The group had cast a collective silencing charm around the room, strengthened by the number performing the invocation. The entrance was sealed in the same fashion. None would enter or leave before the conclusion.
"I challenge you, Draco Marcus Malfoy." Draco turned, knowing before he did so who spoke.
"I answer," he said formally. He had an inappropriate urge to laugh. He should have known Quinlan would have to be the first. She couldn't resist.
He removed his wand from its place within his robes and turned to face his cousin. They bowed, Quinlan with a deep, almost mocking flourish, and raised their wands before them. Theoretically, they were evenly matched in magic. Both of pure-blood origin. Everything now depended upon their requisite skill and choice of spell. Draco found himself wishing Hogwarts taught Dark Magic with as little hesitation as Durmstrang. Who knew what Quinlan had hidden up her sleeve? What had once been an extra curricular activity, comical in the extreme considering the spectacle of Gilderoy Lockhart facing Severus Snape, had now become something else. It was horribly real and it could change everything if he lost. Then again, he had been left with little choice and, if not now, he would have had to have faced challenge sooner or later.
He raised an eyebrow towards his cousin, maintaining eye contact. "One-two-three." They both swung their wands up and over their shoulders. Draco had half expected Quinn to cheat by casting before the end of the count but she proved him wrong. As he cried: "Obstruere!" Quinn mouthed, "Expelliarmus!" A dazzling flash of scarlet light collided with one of brilliant aquamarine and both Draco and Quinlan instinctively took a step backward from the magical aftershock as a muddy, violet light dispersed slowly but surely.
There were no cheers. The silence was eerie and unnerving. One would almost think the Slytherin ensemble wasn't present. Draco knew they wouldn't interfere. No matter what. They stood witness to proceedings.
Again Draco shielded as Quinn thrust a further curse in his direction and suddenly he became lost in the frantic rhythm of shield, curse, combat, shield, hex as he sought to establish a weakness in his cousin. A steady stream of curses rained upon him, culminating in reciprocal bouts of the Cruciatus. Suddenly, his shield shattered beneath such intense pressure and he was forced to withstand the pain, hissing beneath his breath. It bloody hurt! He had not thought there was such pain in the world. . .
"Crucio!"
"Crucio!" Quinlan bowed beneath the last curse, hugging herself protectively, moving her wand from its offensive position by virtue of her stance. Draco's wand position remained unchanged.
"Enough," she gasped. "Draco, enough."
"Are we finished?"
"No more. You're not better than me, but I'm calling it here. I withdraw my challenge."
"It'll do." Draco nodded toward the assembled crowd. "Satisfied?" The remainder of Slytherin House began to file from the room singly, in pairs, or groups, without a word being exchanged among them. Draco waited until the final individual had left before he wiped the trail of blood from the corner of his mouth and returned his hair to its normal position. Quinlan was still seated upon the floor, maintaining a steady pattern of breathing. "Can you get up?" he asked. "You'll have to. We'll be found here before long."
"In a minute." She took several further deep breaths. "Join me?" She motioned towards the floor. It was beginning to look increasingly tempting towards Draco. He squatted, knowing he was safe from further curse. For all Quinn's front, she was essentially honest about the fact she considered herself his equal and had declared her intention in that regard without prevarication. It was either her only attempt at challenge or a brilliant bluff, bearing in mind any further attempt to oust him from his position would have to be made indirectly as opposed to via direct means. Durmstrang might have given her the necessary contacts.
"Why not," he said, wincing slightly. Tomorrow was going to be hell.
"Come here," Quinn said.
Draco watched his cousin warily as she reached toward him, brandishing her wand. "You think I'm letting you near me with that after the past hour or so?" His eyes gave nothing away.
"I am both hurt and offended by your lack of trust," his cousin returned easily. She muttered several healing charms which appeared to take almost instantaneous effect, if Draco were any judge.
"Sometimes I don't get you," Draco told her, for once too tired to dissemble properly.
"I know," she said, grinning wryly. "Just the way I like it. Besides, we can't have people wondering how you happened by those injuries, can we?"
"And there was me thinking you cared," Draco muttered, less than serious. Just as he was beginning to think he had got the measure of Quinlan, she did something else unexpected and he found himself pondering anew whether she could ever be deemed worthy of trust.
"Think about it, Draco," Quinn said, mood appearing to change suddenly. "You've withstood challenge from one of your own family; someone in a strong position to beat you down. You should be on a relatively even keel for a short while at least. Take advantage of it. Really use it. Form alliances, whatever it takes. Listen, I can find out where Blaise stands on this."
"Known him a couple of months and think you know him better than me, do you?" Draco said, amused. "Dating doesn't give you automatic access to everything."
"I know that," she snapped. "I can still help you. If you'll let me."
"If you like," Draco said, non commital. His cousin might produce something useful. Then again, the fact that she considered him strong enough to lead the way gave her a convenient figurehead to hide behind if it all went distinctly sour. Clever, clever Quinlan. "It'll keep you amused, at least."
"Who do you have so far?" Quinn pressed.
"I really don't think that's any of your business," Draco answered. "Too much knowledge is a dangerous thing, especially where you're concerned."
"Careful, Draco," Quinn warned. "Don't forget you're all alone now. No Crabbe or Goyle to back up your every threat. Crabbe and Goyle Senior have set out their cards early. Sent their sons far from the influence of dear old Dumbledore. Far from you."
"You think so?" Draco said and lapsed into silence. He would not give her the satisfaction of confirming he had no idea of the whereabouts of his former goons. It could be viewed as tantamount to challenge against his father by removing their support, physically at least, from the school. So much depended upon appearance. He wasn't sure of the truth and he would stand or fall by it.
****
Hurts and Healing
She was tired. . . . So tired. . . . She slept.
Draco Malfoy cursed his cousin. The healing charms she had performed had worked perfectly upon his physical injuries. What she hadn't dealt with were the magical after effects of such intensive spellcasting. His head ached abominably. So much so he couldn't be bothered sorting out his own painkilling potion. Hence his quick trip to the hospital wing to raid Madam Pomfrey's stores. It never occurred to him to ask.
He snuck in through the door, keeping an eye out for the Mediwitch upon his arrival. He couldn't see her bustling between the beds or sitting at her desk in the corner. Presumably due to the fact that the majority of the beds were conspicuously empty. In fact, only one was occupied. As Draco moved closer to the wooden cupboard containing Madam Pomfrey's supplies which was located above the desk in the far most corner of the room, he became aware that the form within the bed was familiar to him. It was Ginny Weasley, sheets twisted tightly about her, arms clutching one corner, as though she had been restless and sought comfort from the physical hold upon the covers. Her toes were exposed. Draco felt voyeuristic, watching her sleep, knowing she could do nothing to prevent it. No insults, no antagonism, just the blissful oblivion of sleep. Perhaps the fact that she had no control over him in this moment was what compelled him to continue watching her. Her ivory skin was dotted faintly with freckles. She was remarkably pale. Too pale, in fact. There were deep circles beneath her eyes, etched into the skin, in much the same way as the small line between her brows; that little "I want" line with which he had done battle on more than one occasion. He smirked, despite the overwhelming urge to reach across and smooth it out. Her hair was a riotous mess. It needed combing. Badly. A sign of Weasley breeding that she took so little care of her appearance, not that he could envisage much of an improvement even if she did. Not when she saw fit to wander round in tatty, second hand robes and scuffed boots, currently very much in evidence at the foot of the hospital bed. Her brow glistened with sweat. She looked dog rough, frankly, and Draco didn't know what it said about him that he'd spent several important seconds contemplating that, except to remind him that any time spent feeling superior to a Weasley was an easy ego boost. He crossed to the cabinet and turned the key.
"Mind those hands!" the key snapped.
Draco shot a quick glance towards Ginny, thinking the noise would have woken her. She hadn't stirred. Presumably Madam Pomfrey had given her a quick sleeping potion.
"Shh," Draco hissed. "What do you mean about my hands, anyway?"
"They're cold," the filigree key said. "Can't you even warm them first?"
"I'll bear that in mind next time," Draco said dryly. "I just want a little painkiller, okay?"
"What do I get in return?"
"The benefit of knowing you've helped a Slytherin student," the boy said.
"All right then," the key grumbled, turning itself in the lock with a quick click!
"Thanks." Draco found a small blue bottle and poured a dose into a glass, swallowing it quickly. He needed to be going. Having cleared the evidence away, he turned to leave and was in the process of crossing the room when he was confronted by the figure of Madam Pomfrey in the doorway. She had returned from whatever errand had claimed her.
Think quickly, Draco, think quickly. . . . He nodded quickly in the direction of the Mediwitch, acknowledging her presence.
"Mister Malfoy," she said. "Might I ask precisely what you are doing here in my absence?"
"You might," Draco said. "Is she all right?" He nodded towards Ginny Weasley. He hadn't known that was what he had been going to say until the words had popped out of his mouth. That said, what other feasible reason would he have for having been in the room?
If Madam Pomfrey found the idea of a Slytherin prefect inquiring after the well being of a Gryffindor student several years his junior strange, she didn't comment upon it. "She will be. She's sleeping at the moment."
Draco nodded. May as well make this look real, he thought and crossed once more to Ginny's bedside, tucking the sheet securely over her feet.
She felt a cool hand and then was claimed by the all encompassing blackness once more. . . .
Draco left, thanking his lucky stars that that ruddy key had seen fit to stay quiet. All it would have taken was one smart alec comment. He tried to ignore the fact that he appeared to be the only person aware of the current whereabouts of Ginny Weasley. He'd thought the Gryffindors revelled in their sentimentality and yet even that moronic brother of hers didn't appear to have been in and left a gift. After all, it wasn't any of his business anyway. The less he knew about the lives of the Weasleys, the better.
*****
Money Talks
Draco might not particularly trust Quinn but he had to give the girl her dues. In this particular respect she was right. He needed to look to the prospect of alliances before it became too late. Consolidate his position. It was for that reason he was contacting Kavka. Privately. There was more than one way to do that and Draco had opted for the simplest method of all. He had filled a large bowl with water from the nearest basin and cast a brief incantation. As he did so, the rim of the bowl began to smoke and he moved forward cautiously until he was able to gaze into the mist curling upwards from the brim. Once this was done, he made a slight sideways wand movement with his hand and the mist began to clear. He spoke the goblin's name, once, twice, thrice. Three times the charm. Kavka surfaced upon the meniscus, quivering slightly. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?" Draco began, politely. It wouldn't do to offend. Goblins could be difficult customers at times. The wizened creature said nothing, merely continued to watch the Slytherin student, awaiting his next words. He made them more firm. "You know why I have called and what I want."
The goblin inclined its head, again without speaking.
"So, you're aware. Can I confirm that the funds have been received?"
"They have," Kavka said. The goblin's voice was low and rusty. His eyes were keen as they met Draco's own.
"Deposited separately from all others?"
"Indeed. They are my concern and mine only."
"They will remain so?"
"Yes."
"You are authorised to distribute the assets for investment as you see fit. The discretion is your own."
"As you wish." The eyes flashed once as if in acknowledgment of the challenge. "And if your father should inquire as to the existence of any funds of which he is not aware?"
"I have already stated that the assets are my own," Draco said, choosing his words carefully. The discussion would form the basis of the binding contract between himself and the Gringotts banker.
"Yet you have not precluded disclosing knowledge of the account," Kavka pointed out. "The matter must be clear between us."
Draco became still. My thanks," he returned. "Keep the existence of the monies secret and safe. Especially from Lucius Malfoy."
A gleam in the goblin's eye acknowledged receipt of the instruction.
"You have a free reign within the terms of my instruction. More than would be forthcoming from my father. Remember that," the boy said seriously. "If I need you?" The question remained incomplete.
"Should you need me for any reason at all. . . " The answer likewise.
So be it." Draco nodded and cast his hands through the water, breaking the connection and dismissing the goblin within the same motion. Another piece of the puzzle put into place.
****
T. Nott Esquire
"Nott."
"Malfoy." The two boys nodded at each other in greeting.
Draco was wary of Theodore Nott. Perhaps due to the fact that there were so many similarities between themselves. Nott Senior's arrest and subsequent "fall from grace'. The association to Voldemort. Their respective positions of pure-blood. It made for an interesting stand off. Neither was unaware of it. Nott played a subtle hand and Draco was unaware as yet of the nature of it. An unknown factor. He knew himself the lengths it was possible for someone to go to in seeking their own ends.
"I want nothing of it." Theodore Nott spoke first. "I have no idea what your plans are and I know better than to suggest that you trust me enough to discuss them with me but I want you to know I'm not interested.'
Draco raised an eyebrow pointedly, the implication clear.
"You need to consolidate your profile in light of recent attacks and your father's blackened name within polite society. You want to know where I stand. Without asking which would be tantamount to admission, of course, should you pose the question which you won't. The answer, Draco, is nowhere. I won't take your part. I've had my fill of the raising of fear and killing of love. Let Potter carry on his crusade. I don't care enough to take the risk." He paused. "It would be kind of interesting though."
"What?"
"To see."
"See what?" Draco asked.
"Who's better." Theodore Nott turned dispassionate eyes upon his fellow Slytherin. It's an intellectual question, of course."
"What would it take for you to want to know the answer?" the other boy said.
"More than you've got. I don't actually think I need to do anything. You're more than capable of messing things up all on your little lonesome." Nott fixed Draco with a knowing look. "If you want a piece of friendly advice watch your back. Quinn's the first. There will be others and then still more. Blatant, covert, whatever. You will be challenged and you will crack. There's no need for me to act. I can enjoy it all quite easily from the sidelines." There was a brief quirk at the side of Nott's mouth and the two Slytherin members parted ways, walking in opposite directions towards their new destinations.
****
Out and About
The incident occurred on the way back from lessons. Draco had thought he had taken all the day could dole out. Apparently, there was still more before he was through. He was walking along the corridor, having left the potions laboratory, on his way towards the Slytherin dormitory, to look himself over before the evening meal. It was still a novel experience to be doing so alone, without even Pansy for company on this occasion. The corridor was temporarily clear of students. He reached the intersection at which he needed to turn right towards the staircases always presuming they were still in the same place as he had left them that morning, sometimes they were impossible to predict and the flooring of the corridor fell from underneath him, rucking up upon itself and jumping perceptibly to one side and back again, or so Draco described it to himself, when he considered the event later. He swore the floor shrugged yet couldn't find it within himself to process the precise mechanics. He was too busy falling to have paid particular attention when it mattered. He tumbled gracelessly over himself, feet flying, to collide violently with the corner partition of the stone wall. His ankle had twisted malevolently upon itself in such a way as to throw him with more force. Draco strung an eloquent string of expletives together, muttering under his breath. He looked about him cautiously. He drew his wand surreptitiously from within his robes and pointed it before him. The spell had been subtle. Discreet enough to pass off the incident as mere clumsiness upon his part, should there be any minor injury caused as a result. So much the better had the fall caused him to break his neck when colliding with the stonework. Nevertheless, it had been too much for mere coincidence and he was not fool enough to mistake a malevolent message when it was being directed at him. No one to see, no one to bear witness. Very clever. So well planned, in fact, it might have been possible for it to have escaped detection by the magical monitors within Hogwarts which were intended to be triggered should forceful magic be used against any of the students or staff of the school. After all, with so many spells being performed within the castle, what was one more, albeit of a sinister nature, at such an insignificant level?
He raised himself slowly, using the walls as support to prop himself up, forcing himself to take his full weight on his feet. Both of them. Pain shot through his right ankle and he lifted it instinctively from the floor, grimacing. His eyes continued to search for any imminent threat; the attack he suspected wasn't coming; not here, not now, anyway. His ankle was shot and looked to be increasing in size to boot. He suspected if he took off his shoe he'd have significant problems getting it back on again. "Bugger," he muttered, under his breath. He cast his mind back to the healing charms he had learnt, knowing there was no way he could make it to the dormitories the way things were and blowed if he was going to give in and accept defeat. Somebody had wanted very badly to provide him with a warning. Let them see he wasn't to be trifled with. "Remedium," he said, quietly. "Sanure iniuru! Rapere!" he added. It appeared to work, as the pain receded as rapidly as he had requested. The swelling would take a little longer but would be hidden by his trouser leg. Any residual hurt he'd just have to put up with. Wild donkeys wouldn't persuade him to make another trip to the hospital wing within the same day, especially if Ginny Weasley was still within its confines. Draco raised himself slowly, putting the emphasis upon his left leg as he made his way towards the staircase at last. There was a slight limp within his gait, perceptible only to the most discerning of gaze. No one else would have been any the wiser.
****
A Silent Observer
Ginny Weasley had had the distinct advantage which Draco Malfoy had not of being able to observe his accident quite closely. She had not, as he suspected, been detained for the entirety of the day by Madam Pomfrey and had attended the final lesson of the day as normal, if slightly less than refreshed. She, too, had been traversing the corridors, making her way via the left intersection of the T-junction to the midway point at which the Slytherin student had encountered his fall. She, in fact, had seen him before he had had chance to catch sight of her and hastily flattened herself against the wall to allow him to cross, praying that he didn't take it upon himself to turn left and walk her way. She could do without another confrontation for the time being and she wasn't particularly looking to be jumped either. Yet Malfoy had not turned at all. She had watched in disbelief as the corridor shrugged beneath his weight and found herself observing incredulously. Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her? But no, there was Malfoy, freewheeling towards the floor, head hitting the wall. Hard. She found herself frozen into place to the stonework by reason of her shock the only thing which prevented her from flinging herself recklessly into the junction to see whether he was all right. After all, she would do the same for anyone in a similar situation and so strange a situation, at that but was literally rooted to the spot. She raised a hand towards her mouth, wordlessly. Malfoy had pulled himself into a more upright position but appeared to be taking his time finding his feet. He muttered something she couldn't quite catch and finally turned in the opposite direction, away from her. Goddess alone knew what she would have said had they had to face one another after that.
Ginny struggled to put the pieces of the puzzle together in her head. She knew without doubt she had witnessed something important. Someone or something had manifested magic against Malfoy. That much was clear. She had seen it for herself. Yet blink and she would have missed it entirely. . . The incident had been so quick! Who and what was somewhat less obvious. Ginny had not the slightest idea who would have wanted to harm Draco Malfoy. That he was disliked, she knew. By whom, too. Harry, Ron, Hermione, even herself those within his House, certainly, for seeking to play the lord of the manor. She understood the boundaries which formed the basis of those relationships. Insults, hexes, rivalry; par for the course. Yet, this was something else. There had been direct malice within the spell against the Slytherin. It would have been so easy to miss. . . Ginny thought about the mere chance which had led to her being within the otherwise deserted corridor at the same time as Malfoy. Had it not been for that, there would have been no witness whatsoever. The problem lay within the fact that, when it came down to it, aside from it being a proven fact that Draco Malfoy was an insufferably obnoxious git, she found herself realising she knew very little else about him. She had never had cause to consider him in a personal capacity. She felt cast adrift in a sea of intrigue, struggling to grasp the implications of the information floating about her like flotsam and jetsam, no vessel to assemble. There was not, and never had been, to her mind, justification for the actions which had played out in front of her. If Malfoy had fallen somewhat differently. . . and therein lay the rub. Someone had come close to causing him irreparable harm more force behind the spell might have resulted in his death. She wondered why he had seemed so unsurprised by the surreptitious attack, why he had not seen fit to fall into his usual habit of whinging incessantly at the first sign of misfortune, even in the absence of an audience and why it bugged her so much to see that the older boy wasn't tattling to the first tutor he could find. Snape, perhaps, being the most likely option. She sighed and found herself wishing wistfully for the days when things were terribly simple and she believed every ending concluded with a happily ever after. One thing was certain, however; she might have traded a significant amount of her innocence in exchange for a hasty coming of age and experience courtesy of her scuffles with a certain decrepit diary but it had also taught her something. Lack of knowledge was a dangerous weapon. A situation she intended to remedy, if at all possible.
Slowly her thoughts settled into some semblance of order and Ginny knew there was something she could do. Casting a swift look about her, she walked forward to the point at which she had witnessed Malfoy's trip and brought forth her wand. "Malice aforethought, answers sought", she whispered. It was a form of casting incantation designed to render the remnants of a spell in the immediate aftermath accessible to the witch or wizard performing the charm. She wasn't sure precisely what the result of the spell would be, never having had occasion to put it to use before. As she waited, an image formed. Green. Clear vibrant green filled her vision, almost blinding in its vivacity. Nothing more. She had expected additional information, although she was unable to determine precisely what that might have been. Emerald. . . There were certain implications raised by virtue of the colour, the most obvious of which was potentially Malfoy's House colour. Slytherin green and silver. Grey, really, if you wanted to be pedantic. Still, it could be nothing more than an indication of Malfoy as the victim. Hard to say. There was a heck of a lot of room for interpretation within a single colour. Despite the lack of conclusive proof, she remained convinced there was something foul within the realms of Hogwarts. Much as she found herself discomforted by Malfoy, it would appear someone had a point to prove to him. Who? Why? She found herself asking. Questions to which she had no answer. What had Malfoy done to merit such treatment and why had he seemed so circumspect in the aftermath?
*****
Old Friends
A knock on his door. It opened and he found himself face to face with the image which had haunted his dreams on more than one occasion. "Kaede," he said. "You do turn up in the most unusual of places without warning."
"Glad to see you still utilise your powers of observation," she returned.
"Enough to recognise you despite a change of hair colour, amongst other variations. Blonde. A nice touch," he said, mildly.
"I knew you would."
"Knew? Or hoped?"
She was silent, the gleam in her eye a subtle salute.
"Is this a good idea?"
"Is what a good idea?" the female tutor returned. "We have to speak at some point. We can't go on pretending to be strangers to one another forever."
"Oh? Really?"
"Don't be difficult, Severus!" Kaede snapped. "You can be incredibly pig headed at times, you know!"
"Can I?" Severus Snape said, his tone becoming somewhat icy.
"Yes. You can," she said, pushing her long hair back from her face and glaring firmly at her companion. "We're adults. Let's act like it, shall we? And don't you dare use your mind reading tricks on me. I'm not falling for those either! You should know you ruddy taught me! Everything you know, at least," she added as an afterthought.
"So I did and now you're doing an admirable job of installing those skills into the Potter boy," Snape drawled.
Kaede's eyes gleamed. "So that's it! You're sulking because I've taken over your duties with Harry Potter! Severus I thought we'd got past all this rivalry," she said, sobering. "I'm not interested in one up manship. It's such a macho thing. We've been through too much for all of that. We trusted one another once. Just because we haven't seen one another in a couple of years doesn't mean we can't be amicable towards one another, does it? Even if nothing else."
"This isn't a matter of rivalry and it has absolutely nothing to do with Potter," Snape stated bluntly. "You left without telling me. Anything. No message. Nothing."
"You know why." It was said steadily, without remorse.
"I know why." Without inflection upon the words. "Still, how many years now with no word? Not knowing whether you were dead or alive. After everything. It was. . . hard."
"Yes, after everything." Kaede said, mildly belligerent. "It's who we are and what we do, Severus. You know it as well as I. If we weren't capable of everything it entailed we would find another job, something else to fill the minutes, hours and days. The really stupid thing is, you criticise me and yet you're as bad. You know it. If there wasn't a small part of you that loved the challenge you face, you couldn't carry on. I've seen it before. That little bit too slow, the chink in the armour. Get to that stage and you've had it. There is no room for error."
"You know the risks you run?"
"Don't preach to me about risks! I know the risks! I've always been aware! They're mine to take," she said, defiantly.
"That much is true," Severus said. "At the very least, your motivations are pure."
"Indeed?" Kaede raised an eyebrow, enquiring.
"Call it an educated guess."
Severus Snape reached an arm towards her and grasped her wrist, pulling her towards him. He tightened his grip and pulled the woman against him. "You always were completely hard of heart when it mattered." The words contrasted directly with his actions.
"I do what I was taught to do. No more, no less. As you do, in a different capacity."
"With that in mind, perhaps you might inform me as to precisely why I should trust you?"
"Dumbledore does. I wouldn't be here otherwise," she countered. "Then again," she smiled wryly, "perhaps you'll always wonder to some extent, greater or lesser."
Snape sighed. "Just let me hold you, let me know you're real."
Kaede let him hold her, although the grasp wasn't comfortable. The silence was charged with emotion. Of words unspoken.
I would never have betrayed you,' Severus muttered imperceptibly.
"I know," Kaede said clearly. She turned her head until her eyes met those of her colleague. I always knew." She smiled at him.
"Have you told Potter of our understanding?" Snape said abruptly, the thought having just occurred to him.
"No," Kaede said. "You know why."
Snape sighed. "Things could become exceedingly interesting if he should find out."
"Well, he won't find out from me. I have all the relevant information filed away safely from prying minds."
"Good," Severus returned.
Kaede's mouth quirked slightly. Sometimes Severus took his tutoring duties a little too seriously. Still, the point was a sound one. Things would not be made easier should Harry Potter become aware of her pre-existing relationship with Severus Snape.
*****
Black In Name
It had been her duty to marry well, of course. To uphold the family name. They had never hidden that from her. Her fortune lay within her face. They had discussed potential suitors calmly and rationally, laying the options before her for her approval. It was the way it had been for her mother, her grandmother, her mother before that. Sometimes Narcissa found herself tired of the notions of family, respectability and honour. Still, it was the way it was and she would make the best of it. These had been her thoughts before she had attended the Solstice Masque. It had been an opportunity to meet some of the individuals upon the prospective suitors list. Whilst they would wear masks until midnight, come the witching hour those would be removed to reveal the hidden identities. She herself had been resplendent in a moonlit satin shift as Diana, Queen of Witches. She had danced with Apollo, Loki, Thor. . . too many to keep count. . . Until she had been manoeuvred skilfully into a smooth waltz by the Horned God. Such had been her introduction to Lucius Malfoy and his shifting politics. Sometimes she wondered if he had engineered it to occur thus. He had certainly proven himself capable of orchestrating arrangements perfectly well in subsequent years. Still, she had found a portion of what she had sought in her husband. A powerful and charismatic man, if not always with herself admittedly, able to provide a refuge from the emotional upheaval of her immediate family. A sense of belonging. Although sometimes she felt more as though she belonged to her husband as opposed to alongside of him. A child. There had been none to follow. Save the solace she had found in her offspring, she had found herself moving automatically from social event to occasion, a caged bird who sang her song with the approval of her man. She had hoped for somewhat more from her marriage. That Lucius would entrust her with some of the knowledge garnered from his nocturnal visits to goodness knew where. Or so he would have her believe. She knew all too well where he was without direct confirmation from him. Likewise, why the secret chamber beneath the mansion was locked against her. More than he suspected such as how regular amounts from their Gringotts vault had been siphoned into offshore accounts and that the number of items within the cellar store had decreased, their value having been converted into monetary format and forwarded likewise. Lucius had anticipated a Ministry raid preceding the attack, at least. Strange that he should fail to credit her with intelligence. He, with his mind subtle as a serpent's, could not countenance ability within his wife. She had tried to encourage him to talk to her. Once. No more. Let him see the pretty packaging without imagining what lay beneath. The mundane social calendar provided her with the ideal opportunity to seek information from acquaintances and even friends. Arabella Harcourt, for example, was an incorrigible gossip. Where she would have sought to support her husband, now she listened for the sake of her son. Lucius' allegiances placed him in somewhat murky waters. She would watch and wait. Should the time come that Draco required her assistance. . . she would be ready. Aid in that direction would not be refused. She had taught him what she knew how to follow the threads of family lineage, how to recall facts of historic and ancestral import, how to listen for what remained unsaid, how to see. It would have to be enough.
****
Krum's Crowd
There had been some stir caused by the sight of Krum and his companions seated at the dining table upon the first morning following their arrival at Hogwarts. After consultation with McGonagall, it would appear the Durmstrang students would be staying. Krum had said very little regarding precisely why they had appeared so suddenly and seemed in no particular mood to discuss the decision either, beyond a very curt, "Ve brought vord."
"Word? Of what?" Ron had asked the others, more than once.
"Seriously, Ron. Think," Hermione had said. "Word from the East, I'd imagine. I'm not surprised some of the Durmstrang students want out. The school isn't the safest of locations in the present climate. Don't forget, Dumbledore issued an open invitation to each and every one of those pupils following the Triwizard Tournament and I, for one, think he was right to do so."
"Obviously, I'm not going to question Dumbledore," her boyfriend said. "But how do we know they can be trusted?"
"We have faith," Hermione returned. "We stand united in strength." Ron frowned, before realising Hermione had paraphrased Dumbledore's own concluding words from their fourth year dismissal. Sometimes he wondered how there was room for all of the knowledge she had stored within that brain of hers.
The students had settled quickly and without fuss into the Hogwarts way of life. If anyone noticed that they no longer sat alongside of the Slytherin students for meals, no one thought fit to mention it. Indeed, they slotted in amongst the other Houses, no apparent preference regarding which. It was perhaps one week following their arrival that Krum sought Ron out. "I must talk vith you," he began.
"About what?" Ron asked, nonplussed. They had formed an uneasy alliance following Krum's return but Ron saw no particular reason for him to seek him out for a cosy tete-a-tete.
"I bring vord not only for Dumbledore but for you," Victor said, his eyes serious. "Your brother. Charlie, yes?"
Ron's mouth began to gape slightly.
"I do not know vere he is. Nor do I vant to know. I know only that he is all right. He vishes that you are made avare."
By this stage Ron's mouth was hanging open. "Wh-? How do you know?" he gasped.
Krum shook his head at the other boy. "There are many things I cannot tell you. It is safer that you ask no more." He nodded, bushy eyebrows frowning in his earnestness. "Ve understand each other?"
"Yes," Ron found himself nodding in agreement. "I understand - and. . . .thanks." On impulse, he found himself proffering his hand to the former Durmstrang student in order that they could shake to emphasis matters. They clasped hands briefly to indicate their new appreciation. Ron could only imagine what other news had been garnered as a result of Krum's presence and sent a heartfelt vote of thanks to him for it. Silently. As Viktor himself had said, it did not do to voice too much aloud.
*****
He had been accosted by her following a Slytherin quidditch practice and scarcely found himself having time to consider how much attention she would have had to pay to his timetable before she was gazing earnestly up at him, despite his forbidding stare.
"It's no good. I can't do it," she said.
"As far as I was aware there were a great many things you were incapable of doing, Weasley," he hissed, exasperated. Why was she even here, talking to him? Again? With her next words she took the wind out of his sails.
"I can't ignore what I saw."
"What?" he said, before he was capable of preventing himself. The world stood still about him as he calmed himself. "What precisely is it you think you saw?" he questioned, carefully.
"Your non accident the other day." He cast a surreptitious silencing charm about the two of them without her appearing to notice. Somehow it made him think less of her for having failed to register the gesture, although she was concentrating steadfastly upon staring up into his face at the time. Unless someone walked straight into it, it would hold. Still, it would be unwise to use it for too long. People might wonder what was hidden by the silence.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Weasley. As usual. What a surprise." The words were flat, emotionless. She really didn't have a clue what she was getting herself into. Her inadvertent admission could place her in danger from the unknown source of the attack. It had not been intended for there to have been a witness. He didn't stop to consider precisely why that piece of knowledge left him feeling uncomfortable.
"Yes. I do," she insisted, her eyes meeting the Slytherin's own in challenge. "You went flying, head over heels. Why won't you admit it?"
"I don't know what you mean," Draco said.
"I don't know who or why but I do know what I saw. Someone wanted to hurt you." Silence from the elder student. Ginny sighed. "Bloody minded as well as arrogant and rude. For what it's worth, it has something to do with the colour green." She turned to move and was arrested by the sound of Draco Malfoy's voice raised in command.
"Stop." His arm had appeared casually upon the wall, preventing her from leaving. A barrier. Just how would you happen to know that, Weasley?"
"What? As far as you're concerned, you don't know what the heck I'm wittering about." She presented a dazzling smile in the other student's direction, then flinched a little as Malfoy's other arm found its way around her other side.
"Not that easy, Weasley. I want to know how you came by that information."
"So now you're admitting it?" she exclaimed. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, she thought and answered, voice small. "I cast a spell in the aftermath."
"How?"
She shrugged. "It's not that hard. I remembered reading something about malice making a mark and I improvised. . . " Ginny hazarded a glance at Malfoy. He was watching her, expression unreadable. She drew breath again. "I don't like you, Malfoy, and I don't understand anything about what I saw. I'm not really sure I want to understand but I don't like it either. It was covert and cowardly and you had a right to know what I discovered." Ginny didn't stop to consider precisely when she had decided Draco Malfoy had a right to anything from her, least of all help.
Stupid, pig headed Gryffindor with her idealistic principles of right and wrong. . . he found himself thinking. She had blundered headlong into things without the slightest notion of what she was involving herself within. What a foolish plan. . .
"You have to keep quiet about this," he said, gritting his teeth. Much as he hated to provide for the safety of any of the Weasley brethren, yet again he was forced into a situation where he could not afford for her to shoot her mouth off at the earliest given opportunity.
"Do I?" she said, pointedly. "Why is it so important?"
"It just is."
"Not good enough, Malfoy," Ginny countered. "Not that easy." There she was throwing his own words back at him. "Don't you think you owe me some kind of explanation, at least?"
In reality he owed her more than an explanation. By providing him with information regarding the spell, he had been placed within her debt. Purely by virtue of the fact that a threat had been made upon his life, a Malfoy would be forced to acknowledge a wizard's debt to a Weasley. The irony of the fact did not escape him. His face was blank of expression as these thoughts ran through his mind. If Weasley was unaware of the implications of her revelation, he didn't see any reason to enlighten her. "Is that all you want?" he asked. "An explanation?" He might get out of this more lightly than he had thought.
"For now," she said. Nope, he was stuck with it.
"I don't know any more than you do what's going on, Weasley," Draco said. "I do know, however, that it won't do your physical safety any good to run around talking about what happened. You weren't meant to witness the spell, even less to find some kind of clue as to whoever the hell cast it. The best thing you can do is forget you know anything."
"It's not that simple!"
"Yes. It is," he insisted. Why was she being so stupid? It hurt to look at the stubborn frown which creased her brow and the mutinous pout upon her mouth. Weasley as she was, he still wouldn't drag her kicking and screaming into a mess he needed to sort out. Much as she might deserve it for being so stubborn. Her safety wasn't his concern and, besides, she really needed to keep the hell out of his business. He took the only route he could see and took refuge in the old, familiar sarcasm. "Look, you've done your duty, you can pat yourself on the back and toddle off!"
Ginny stood, wide mouthed.
"Go on! Congratulate yourself on a job well done and bog off! It's not like you've provided any important information anyway," he finished, snidely. "Forget all about it and leave everyone else to deal with the consequences," he muttered, scarcely aware of what he was saying, and stormed off.
He left Ginny with a single thought. . . What consequences?
Posted by Madmaxime at March 15, 2005 07:32 PM