FIRE & ICE
Chapter IV
"These passions are like fire, useful in a thousand ways and dangerous only in one, through their excess"
Christian Nestell Bovee
This is a man's world
But it wouldn't be nothing
Without a woman or a girl
James Brown: This Is A Man's Man's Man's World
…
(Ginny)
Dinner ended without further mishap, just a few forgettable words from Dippet. Juliet excused herself to attend to her Prefect duties, leaving Alphard and I to our own devices. Absentmindedly I watched her struggle with several insubordinate First Years – "My name is Iris Parkinson and I refuse to take orders from the likes of you! My sister warned me about you, you're nothing but a common tramp, an– "
"And did your sister warn you about me?"
Little Iris's jaw hit the floor.
Riddle raised an expectant eyebrow, plying the helpless girl with a silky smile. "Well? What has Persephone been whispering behind my back?"
"S-s-she told me t-to do what you said."
"Is that so? I say you were gratuitously disrespectful to Miss Montague, a Hogwarts Prefect, and that it would be only polite to apologise." He did not shout, his smile did not falter, his tone remained soft – even sweet, but Iris could not get her apology out fast enough.
"Touché," I muttered.
Alphard shot me a significant look. "Let them feel the velvet glove, but ensure they heed the iron fist inside it."
"And what happens when the gloves comes off?"
"You don't want to know."
I opened my mouth to demand a full disclosure and unintentionally yawned hugely. Alphard insisted we retire to the common room. He shepherded me down through the dungeons, the only part of the castle with which I was not entirely familiar. We stopped outside an unremarkable stretch of blank, stone wall. "We have my insufferable cousin to thank for the ingenious password, Juliet told me so on the train." He heaved a sigh, and said to the wall, "Aurum est potestas."
"And what does that mean?"
"Gold is power," Alphard translated in snobbish nasally voice, and laughed scathingly."Merlin, he is a prize fool! After you, fair maid, a gentleman insists."
The wall dissolved, and I stepped into a dim, oppressive room. The green-shaded lamps did not reach the corners, which remained deep and dark. It was furnished with hard, wooden chairs and long, polished tables. Beneath an immense stone mantelpiece a low fire burned a fierce red, but its glow was swallowed by the perpetual gloom. People had already set themselves up in little groups, playing cards or chess, talking about the summer holidays or new classes; some had even opened textbooks, looking to get ahead; and a trio of gleeful Fourth Year boys had cracked open a furtive bottle of Firewhiskey in one of the more shadowed sections. The atmosphere could not have been more different to the welcoming hustle and bustle of the Gryffindor common room.
"It's very dark," I remarked, squinting about.
Three muscle-bound boys I recognised from dinner – Flint, Harper and Vaisey – confiscated the Firewhiskey at wandpoint.
"It's better this way. Trust me." Alphard laid a hand on my shoulder. "The dormitories are through here and you have– " he consulted his watch " –approximately forty-eight minutes to get ready. It will be tight, yes, but I am confident we can work magic."
"Ready for what?"
"Sacre bleu! You must forgive me, I keep forgetting you are but a new edition to our little family. It's tradition for the Seventh Years to throw an aul' shindig on the first night back, up in their private common room. It's invitation only, meaning some Seventh Year must deem your presence tolerable, but – like I said – you are fresh blood, and not entirely hideous." (I elbowed him and he winked) "They'll be tripping over themselves for the pleasure of escorting you."
"Do I have to go?" I half-groaned. "I'd sooner go to bed. Or die."
"Ignore an invitation to this little soiree, and the only place you'll be going is the Hospital Wing," said Alphard ominously. "Also, it's rather rude, don't you think? It's a house warming, not the Spanish Inquisition. Everyone who thinks they're anyone will be there. Consider it an opportunity to … announce yourself. A word of advice, though – do refrain from cursing the hosts," he added slyly.
I smiled grimly. "I can't make any promises."
"This is the Warren." We passed under a stone archway into an equally murky passageway, long and twisting with many subsequent doors. "Personally, I think labyrinth a more suitable name, with all its nasty connotations of getting lost in the dark and starving to death and mythical, man-eating monsters lurking et cetera."
Students milled about, filling the narrow passages, and our progress was slow – until Darius Flint, Firewhiskey in one hand and wand in the other, sauntered through the arch and blasted two Second Years out of his way. I whipped out my wand and aimed at his back, thinking a good Jelly-Legs Jinx would put him in his place–
"Are you mad!"
Alphard's hand came from nowhere, grabbing my wrist and forcing it down. He glared at me, as though I had been about to do something completely idiotic – like bait a Blast-Ended Skrewt.
"Honestly, Red! Do have you a death wish?" he hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Someone's got to teach that git a lesson," I spat venomously. "You can't go around hurting people like that!"
"Have you been listening at all? The Hierarchy are untouchable. End of."
"Just because you're scared of them doesn't mean I am!"
Alphard recoiled as if burned. He looked livid, a completely different person, a million miles away from the generous, welcoming boy whose shoulder I had cried on.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
And he stormed off, leaving me alone.
...
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice
...
After Alphard left me, I couldn't quite move. I fell back against the wall and let people push past. I felt a sudden, consuming loneliness. Despite myself, I had taken to him, and he seemed to have liked me in return. It had been so nice to laugh with someone my own age – a friend, maybe?
I mentally shook myself.
Revenge took priority over my social life. A new friend only meant a new target for him – and I would be damned before I gave him any more ammunition to hurt me with.
I swallowed hard and squared my shoulders. One step at a time, I told myself, find your dormitory. Only this proved harder than it looked. The bright spark who designed the place had neglected to label the many identical doors. Reluctant to try each one in turn, I snared a passing student in the dark passage.
"Have you seen Juliet Montague? She loaned me something. I want to give it back." A blatant lie, but I wasn't about to admit to being lost. "What dorm is she in again?"
In the dim light of my wand, the blonde boy smirked. "My advice? Keep it. Should she complain, tell her to take it up with me."
"And you are ...?"
"The one and only Abraxas Octavian Malfoy. But you may call me Brax – so long as I can call you Ginevra."
He knew my name. And if Abraxas knew it, I could assume they all did. More importantly, what else did they know? I forced myself to stay calm. He was probably trying to scare me – test me.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Malfoy," I replied carefully.
"The pleasure, I assure you... " he took my hand and kissed it, his grey eyes never leaving my face, "is all mine. Permit me to escort you to your dormitory. After dark, the Warren can be perilous for beautiful ladies such as yourself."
Malfoy offered me his arm.
My brain ticked over at breakneck speed. It would be stupid to make an enemy of Malfoy so early in the game. From what Alphard had said at dinner, he had some clout. It couldn't hurt to have an ally or two within the inner circle.
It couldn't hurt to have a little fun with these bastards.
"And you'll protect me, I'm sure," I said, linking arms.
"With my life, fair maid."
"My white knight."
Up close, the similarities between Abraxas and his grandson were less. Abraxas' jaw was strong and square, his eyes a dark slate in colour and his build was more solid, muscular. He wore his white-blonde hair short and his complexion, though fair like Draco's, was dusted with light gold, no doubt a souvenir from a summer well spent at the family villa in the south of France. He was very handsome.
We stopped outside a set of double doors made from an almost black wood. The intricately carved silver doorknob was shaped like a snake's head.
I extracted myself from Abraxas' grip. "Well, would you look at that? We survived. How can I ever thank you enough?" I reached for the snake-head handle, but Abraxas' hand shot forward and held the door shut. He had me cornered between the wall and his outstretched arm.
"Excuse me?"
"You're excused," Abraxas said breezily. "And as for thanking me, I have an idea or two."
"Oh really." I glared, hot enough to singe his fair eyebrows.
Abraxas merely smirked. "Indeed."
"Enlighten me, please."
"I intend to. Over drinks, perhaps?" Suddenly, he was a lot closer. I could feel his breath on my neck, warm and wet. It sent shivers up my spine, and not the bad kind either. His hand, light, against my hip, and his grey eyes glittered.
My wand was up my sleeve. His hand danced, still so lightly, up my stomach. If I could just move, just an inch, to the left–
Abraxas leapt back –arms flailing madly as large, airborne bogeys swarmed around his head like angry wasps. He stared, eyes wide, from his snot to my wand to my face. I shrugged and smirked – daring him to retaliate. I gripped my wand tightly. I watched him, fighting not to laugh ... I should have been scared, terrified of the Hierarchy's retribution. Abraxas was sure to tell his friends of our little altercation... But I wasn't. I felt good. I felt strong, giddy with recklessness.
I hovered for a few, very enjoyable, moments and then consented to cast the counter-curse. We stared at each other. Malfoy was panting, his pale cheeks flushed an attractive pink, and I stood, tensed, like a tiger waiting to spring, with my gaze steely. If he retaliated – I could take him. I was razor-sharp.
Then Abraxas flung back his head and roared with laughter.
Relief washed over me, and I released a breath I didn't know I had been holding.
"You're the feisty sort," he said. "I like that!"
"You're repulsive. I don't."
"I don't deny it."
I went to open the dormitory door, but Abraxas grabbed my wrist to pull me back. I ripped free of his grip instantly, but I did stay. Arms folded, I looked at him expectantly. He ran a nonchalant hand through his fair hair, looking far too dashing altogether. "What I meant to say earlier, Ginevra, if you'll forgive my uncouthness … There's a little gathering tonight for us older students, up in the Seventh Year common room. What kind of a white knight would I be, without a damsel to cause me distress?"
...
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice
...
It was a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Three girls in sparkling silver dresses stood before an enormous, ornate mirror. By the looks of things – cosmetics scattered over every available surface and a blusher brush floating in midair – they had been preening. Now they stared at me, open-mouthed and unabashed. The ringleader, an irritatingly pretty girl with glossy, chestnut-coloured hair and by far the best dress, finished applying a coat of blindingly red lipstick. It was almost the same colour Regan Trevelyan that had worn at dinner – almost.
The vacant-looking girl on the left whispered, "But I thought Abraxas was taking Persephone to the party?"
"I should say Persephone thinks so too, poor thing." Despite her sympathetic tone, the ringleader looked like Christmas had come early. "She is probably in her room, all alone, waiting for him. She told on me train that she bought a new frock, all the better to impress him. She is quite besotted." If she was trying to make me feel embarrassed or ashamed for Abraxas' invitation, it wasn't working.
"She'd be dreadfully upset."
"Obviously, dear Brax was only being polite to our new friend here. He has such splendid manners, we know that. But there are hateful people out there who might tease her about being spurned. Think of the rumours!" She sounded completely unconcerned. "We had better warn her. It's best she hears it from a dear friend and cousin. Oh Meeny, do be a pet and go – Now."
On cue, Philomena waddled from the room.
The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes derisively and flicked her wand at the door. It shut with a resounding snap on her dumpy friend. In the mirror, she turned her smile on me, sweeter than a whole vat of Honeydukes' Jelly Slugs. "I would say make yourself at home." She pouted indulgently at her reflection and smacked her blood-red lips. "But it seems you already have."
I said nothing.
"Vivian Rosier." She announced herself like Cleopatra. "But you must call me Vee, all of my dearest friends do. I'm sure even you have heard of my father, Archibald Rosier. I know you're Ginevra de Valera. We heard about you at dinner … about how you're from Ireland, and that you're an orphan, with no family and no home and no money." Again, I didn't let her provoke me. Vivienne smiled even wider as she approached, laying a sympathetic hand on my arm. "You poor thing. But you mustn't be sad about that, because we'll take care of you. In Slytherin, we always look out for our own. You can borrow my lipstick, if you like."
I rose to the challenge with a smile of my own. "Gosh, thanks. But it's not my colour."
Her painted smiled slipped a notch. "Not everybody can pull it off, that's true. It's so very trendy. Regan gave it to me."
The girl behind her sighed longingly.
Vivian waved a careless hand to her emaciated friend. "This is Gertrude Warrington. The other girl was Philomena Bullstrode. Go easy on the blush Trudy, you look like a hag in drag."
Beneath her heavy-handed make-up, Gertrude blushed a blotchy scarlet.
"Don't fret now, darling," Vivian soothed her insincerely. "I'll fix you up when I'm finished."
Deciding this was a conversation I wanted no part in, I stalked over to my bed and knelt by my truck. I threw back the lid and began rummaging around without any real idea of what I looking for. Abraxas had invited me to this party; judging by Vivian and Gertrude's glittering attire, the dress code was out of my league. Apart from my school uniform, all I owned were three white nightdresses and few skirts and blouses – hardly evening finery.
I took out a nightdress and laid it on the bed. It was ghastly, with frills and full sleeves, and it fell all the way to my ankles. I could raise the hem… My mother had made sure I knew how to sew. I imagined myself, resplendent in a mid-thigh monstrosity, like some travesty of a bride. It was even transparent in the right light. I fingered the rich, emerald green velvet of the bed hangings … What if I made some kind of toga from them? If I was going to make a scene, I might as well do it properly.
Vivian let out a tinkling laugh. "I hope you're not thinking of wearing curtains to the party!"
"I thought I'd give people something to talk about," I said seriously. I did a twirl, wrapping the hangings around me. "Obviously, I'll have to take it up a bit… Maybe here?" I kicked a leg free.
It was worth it, just to see Vivian's scandalised face.
To her credit, she swallowed her shock quickly enough. "You're too funny, Ginevra. Isn't she awfully hilarious Trudy? I just want to say, it is so inspiring that you can laugh when you've lost all your possessions. Goodness, I know I would just cry all day. How do you stay so cheerful?"
Vivian's heels clicked across the stone floor. I heard a door creak open and shut, and then she was beside me, perched on my bed. She laid a black dress carelessly on my bedspread. With just a glance, I could see it cost more than the entire contents of my trunk combined. Her sickly sweet smile firmly in place, she leant in closer to me. "I know that you're a refugee. And I am so sorry that you're … poor." She mouthed the word, as if speaking it aloud might contaminate her. "I just want to you know that I am your friend. If you ever want to borrow anything, all you need do is ask. I have so much to spare." Her eyes pointedly lingered on my open trunk and its meagre contents.
"You must wear this tonight! Abraxas was so generous to invite you, you know, so you could get to know us all better. He wouldn't appreciate it if you came looking…" She raked an appraising eye up and down my figure. I felt like I was being strip-searched. "Scruffy."
"Heaven forbid."
"Unfortunately, the dress is last season. But I just know it will look fabulous on you. The black will accentuate your complexion and your… hair. Not that it needs it, mind," she added. She laughed again, tossing her own luxurious curls over her shoulder.
She reminded me of Umbridge, only she didn't look like a toad. Unfortunately.
Vivian clapped her hands, smiling even wider. "Hurry up and change – Now! I can't wait to see how stunning my dress will look on you. It's custom-made, I'll have you know, from Paris. Daddy commissioned it for me when he was there on business. I wore it last year, so of course people might remember it. But beggars can't be choosers."
I was honestly surprised that no one had strangled this girl in her sleep.
I could have politely declined her offer and marched off to the party in my uniform, my nose in the air – but I couldn't see the point in that. After five minutes in Vivian's company, I was ready to hex her into the next century. Girls like her had made me feel insignificant and ugly in my threadbare, second-hand robes for too long. However, there was no sense of deeper substance or power about her, as there had been with Juliet and Regan. She was just another pampered princess, shamelessly parading her wealth in front of her idiotic, adoring friends. So I would wear her stupid dress go to their stupid party, and I would look damn good doing it. That would be the best revenge.
The dress was beautiful, I admitted grudgingly, as I admired myself critically in the greenish glow of the bathroom. A long-buried part of me was secretly thrilled to be wearing something so exquisite and expensive. It was a rich velvet and very fitted; the heavy material clung tight to my figure, coming down to just above my knees, showing off my narrow waist in a way I liked. Hermione always said I had an hourglass figure; it was funny, that I always envied her willowy stature while she wanted fuller breasts and hips like me. In this dress, however, they were a little too full. I was certainly more voluptuous than Vivian. I wriggled about, trying to pull the material up higher over my breasts. I would have been pushing the boat out on propriety in my time, so I imagined I was indecently exposed for 1943.
I wondered if that was Vivian's plan – to make me out as some impoverished slut, make it look like I was trying to seduce Abraxas, heir to the Malfoy fortune. I snorted with laughter at the very idea.
It was a serious question, though. Did I want this kind of a reputation so early in the game – just another silly girl looking for a husband? Would Riddle go for a girl like that? Or would he think it too easy, beneath the likes of him?
Wouldn't it be fun, if I could get him to chase me.
I stood in front of the large, silver-framed mirror, experimenting with my hair. The contrast between my pale skin, the black dress and my red locks was startling... alluring. I pinched my cheeks and bit my lips for extra colour.
"Ginevra! If it doesn't fit you, you mustn't worry. I have plenty more dresses." Vivian rapped impatiently on the bathroom door.
"Just a minute," I called out.
I pulled a face in the mirror and then wrenched the door open. Vivian's reaction was priceless. As I sauntered out, hips swaying, I made a point of tugging the material over my breasts – to no avail – and flashed her my best smile. "Like I said. Let's give them something to talk about."
"Somethings, it would seem."
Over my shoulder, I saw Gertrude staring, open-mouthed, at me. "But, Vee," she protested weakly, "She looks pretty."
Vivian just smiled. "Now, Trudy. You mustn't be jealous, it's unbecoming in a lady." She laid a hand on my shoulder. Her long nails were neatly shaped, and painted the same eye-watering red as her lips. "It's very flattering of your figure, Ginevra. Of course, you're not as slim as I am, so remember to breathe in! We wouldn't want any accidents. Abraxas won't know what hit him, poor thing, he'll be dumbstruck by your… beauty. Don't worry about accessories, darling. I can help there too. I've already found the perfect pair of shoes, and stockings, of course. Come sit here, now, and I'll see about your hair. It's very red, but that won't be so obvious if we put it up, I assure you."
I sat down in the chair she indicated, facing the mirror, and Vivian came up behind me. She tested several styles, all of them pulling my hair back primly, before settling on some fancy twist at the back of my head. She pronounced it simply darling.
I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn't come. The problem was it did look sophisticated; it looked beautiful. Give me Aunt Muriel's tiara, and I would be a princess. For the second time that night, I stared at my reflection, unable to reconcile the girl in the glass with how I felt inside. This girl looked elegant and mature – a million miles away from the terrified, tortured Ginny who had crash-landed in the Forbidden Forest.
"It is such an improvement, isn't it?" Vivian congratulated herself. "Isn't it, Ginevra? It looked so common before. Now you look practically royal. Doesn't she look so sophisticated, Trudy?"
Like clockwork, Gertrude answered, "You're so good with hair, Vee. I wish you would do mine too."
Vivian ignored this. "And now, for the most important question – earrings or a necklace? No outfit is complete without a little sparkle."
She pointed towards her bed; what looked like the entire crown jewels of a small kingdom was strewn across her silky quilt. "Honestly, I have so much jewellery, I don't know what to do with it! I tell him to stop, but Daddy keeps on buying me more and more. There aren't enough days in the year for me to wear all these earrings… Here, Trudy, darling!" Vivian picked through one of the many velvet-lined boxes littering her bureau and pressed a pair of earrings into Gertrude's hand. "Would you believe it, I forgot I even had these. I know they'll look just splendid on you. Personally, I find gold rather dull. I'm more of a diamond girl."
"You're so generous Vee!" Gertrude exclaimed shrilly.
"I know. You must wear them tonight. Everyone will be asking you where you got them." Vivian smoothed her perfectly coiffed hair, pouting over her shoulder at the mirror. She eyed me, daring me to demand my own gift.
So this was what Vivian did. Like one might decorate a Christmas tree, she hung her wealth on her unsuspecting friends for the world to see. Was she doing it purely to show off, a way to ensure people would talk about her, or did she really think she was being kind?
I didn't know which option was worse.
Unperturbed, Vivian took matters into her own hands. "I have the perfect present for you as well, Ginevra."
She was holding another small, velvet box. Even if she offered me the Philosopher's Stone, I wouldn't take it. I was not some doll she could dress, I wouldn't be another mindless mouthpiece spouting her praises.
Vivian opened the box: nestled within was a delicate silver chain hung with a single emerald. She lifted it out and passed it around my throat. The silver was surprisingly cold against my skin. The chain was short and the jewel hung, a glittering green teardrop, at the hollow of my neck. It was exquisite.
"Do you like it?" Vivian smiled wide enough to eat me whole. "I thought green, you know, for Ireland. And Slytherin."
"It's lovely," I said with restraint. "But I can't wear it."
"Don't be silly! I insist. It's so beautiful, someone ought to wear it."
"Do you forget about it too?" I said, before I could stop myself. If I owned something so beautiful I would never let it out my sight! There had to be a good reason why Vivian wouldn't want to wear something so clearly grand and expensive.
"Well. To be honest, it was a gift from … Juliet Montague." So, obviously, I can't be seen wearing it. People will think we're friends! I mean, we used to be awfully close, she and I. Daddy and her father do lots of business together. As you probably know, Tywin Montague owns the controlling share in the Daily Prophet. The Montagues are one of the oldest Pureblood families, and Tywin is such a respected figure in the community…" She was speaking a little louder than before, and more deliberately, articulating her every word. It seemed like a story she had told many times. "You can only imagine his shock when he find out that his beloved daughter, his only daughter, was nothing more than common tramp. I suppose, with her mother dead and all, there was no one to guide her down the moral path. I did try – oh, Trudy, you know I did. But there's no helping some people. Even in the best of families, some people are just rotten."
I felt a sudden swing of empathy for Juliet. It was no surprise she was so sullen – she had lost her mother, the respect of her father and all her friends. What's more, she had spent years enduring Vivian Rosier malicious prattle. I wondered if Juliet had been a similarity eager gossiper; she had seemed smarter than that.
As much as I didn't want to encourage Vivian, I was curious for the rest of the story.
"What did she do? It can't have been that bad."
"Oh Ginevra. It was so awful." Vivian looked transfixed. She heaved a dramatic sigh, but nothing could mask her smile. "She had us all fooled, especially Slevin. He loved her so much, poor thing, he was blind to her true nature. And poor us! – to think we must share our dorm with her. It's despicable! I complained to Daddy, obviously, and told him what a bad influence she is on us respectable, young ladies. He took it up with the board of governors – most of them are family friends, you know. Unfortunately their hands were tied, they can't be seen to be favouring certain families over others. But at least we all know what a whore she really is." Vivian ploughed on relentlessly. It was like watching someone crash their broom – I didn't want to listen, but I couldn't tear myself away. "I don't worry about us though Trudy, honestly I don't. I know we will be all right, she can't lead us astray. Our parents saw to it that we were raised properly. It's her father that I think about, poor thing. He must be so ashamed. I mean, everybody knows …"
Behind me, someone heaved a dry sob and Vivian smiled obscenely, her eyes glittering with vindictive glee. I whirled around in time to see the edge of Juliet's robe whip out of sight as she fled – I hadn't seen her lingering by the door, but Vivian must have. I was no fan of Juliet's, but hurried after her, pausing only to throw Vivian Rosier back her necklace and the filthiest look I could muster.
...
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice
...
I found Juliet huddled on the floor down a dingy side passage. Her head was in her hands. She had been crying. I didn't say anything or put my arms around her, I just sat down beside her on the cold stone. For what seemed an age, we sat in silence, but I was in no rush. When she was ready, she would talk, and I would listen. I did feel sorry for her, and I was determined to get to the bottom of the whole sordid tale. The more I understood about the so-called Hierarchy, the better. It was secondary to Riddle, of course, but very idea of it annoyed me on principle. I just wanted to throw a spanner in the works, and sit back and watch the mayhem. That's what Fred and George would have done.
The cold was beginning to burn against my bare legs and I pulled out my wand to conjure up a handful of Hermione's bluebell flames. They crackled merrily, and seemed to spark a little life back into Juliet. She sat up straighter and wiped her eyes with a fierce hand, sniffling.
Then she said, "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," I muttered, my teeth chattering. My bare feet were blue. I hadn't the chance to put on Vivian's shoes.
"You probably think me awfully weak, crying like that."
"Vivian Rosier was trying to get to you, clearly. She said some really awful things." I said blandly. "I think you're normal."
"They were all lies, I swear," she said vehemently. "I swear it. I would never– "
I shot her a hard, appraising look. "If you think I'd take the word of a narcissistic cow like Vivian Rosier at face value, frankly I'm insulted. And, even if it were true – well, so what? It's your business."
Her eyes sparkled with fresh tears and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "I've never been so humiliated," she whispered. "So degraded. I am a pariah. They act like I am unworthy of their company, unworthy of Slevin's affections … when I would never, I have never– " she sounded desolate.
I put a cautious arm around her shoulders. At first she stiffened, then relaxed – like myself, I supposed, only it was out of shock, and not fear.
I leant back against the damp wall and pieced together in my head everything I had learnt so far. There was a Hierarchy, an elitist power-hungry clique, and then there was the carnage they left behind. Along with her friend Vivian Rosier, Juliet had been Queen Bee before Regan Trevelyan arrived with her golden hair and glacial smile and decided she wanted the crown for herself. Slevin Lestrange had been her golden ticket. What I didn't know was how, exactly, she staged her coup d'état – had she actually seduced Lestrange herself, or merely planted rumours of Juliet's infidelity to drive him away from his devoted girlfriend.
I wondered if Riddle had a hand in the plot? He and Regan had seemed close at dinner, and I doubt such a seismic power-shift would have escape his notice. Did he think student politics a waste of his time?
Would be worth my while befriending Regan?
"Juliet …" I gathered up my gumption and asked the question. "What happened? What's the real story?"
Juliet raised her head, tear-tracks glowing a dull pearl in the light of the bluebell flames. Her expression was uncharacteristically soft and the good-looking girl I had anticipated shone from behind the martyred grimace. "I suppose," she sniffed regally, "you ought to hear it straight from the hippogriff's mouth, as opposed to some fanciful, gutter version from Rosier. It's common knowledge, really. You would have thought, in a school this big, that there would be fresh gossip by now… but alas. No such luck." She then fixed me with a shrewd look. "How much has Alphard told you, the wretched beast?"
"Alphard? Nothing," I said hastily.
Juliet looked sceptical. "I'm not cross, only I don't want to repeat myself unnecessarily. I find it rather painful to talk about." I duly summarised what I had deduced so far.
"I don't know who started the rumour," she said, "Or how it spread so fast. The whole school knew in a matter of hours, and everybody ... you should have seen the way they looked at me. They didn't even have the decency to whisper. People shouted after me in the corridors, it was something awful! They said the most vulgar things, like would would not believe. I was accused of being unfaithful, of sleeping around … like some - some - common whore!" Her voice rose, shrill and thin, when she said the words. "It couldn't have been more untrue. I haven't done – done it – not once, not ever! ... I was s-s-saving myself. And Vivian knew that, she was my best friend. We told each other everything." Her voice quavered, but she plunged on bravely.
"Naturally, Slevin and I, we were one of those couples beloved of the people. He was – is – so handsome, and people thought me this sweet, harmless little thing." She gave a derisive, mirthless laugh. "I suppose I was sweet, back then … But she could have been Queen without Slevin, you know. She doesn't love him, not like I do!" Juliet wailed in an anguished whisper. "She doesn't love him at all! He means nothing to her. She's just using him, but he can't see it. He's blinded by her beauty. She's the real whore."
"But ... but she's with him. Isn't she?" I instinctively lowered my voice, despite the deserted passageway. "I saw them, at dinner. The way she looks at him …"
Juliet nodded. "And the way he doesn't look at her? I want her to felt that pain, the pain I felt when Slevin broke my heart, when he betrayed me. If she could feel that, it would be revenge enough."
I was confused. "What?"
"She deludes herself. He's only with her because he wants something. He couldn't care less about her! He's just using her, like he does with everyone else – like the way she uses my Slevin. They all think he's perfect. Ooooooh, Tom Riddle, he's so handsome, so intelligent, he's such a gentleman," she simpered in a high-pitched imitation of the many girls who fawned over Lord Voldemort. "One smile and he's got them wrapped around his little finger – it's pathetic! They never stop for a closer look, those girls. They're like Slevin, they can't see the forest for the trees," Juliet sneered contemptuously. "But I am not so blind. He's not as perfect as they think."
We dissolved into silence. I turned everything over and over in my mind, trying to jam the pieces together into something resembling sense. I could feel Juliet's calculating eyes on me in the darkness. A wonderful, terrible, idea had crashed over me like a rogue wave, and I was glad I had followed her.
Like me, Juliet was woman desperate for revenge. She knew the subtle ways of Slytherin, though she would never act herself – perhaps she was scared of upsetting the precious order, or maybe she thought it to sacred to disrupt? I wasn't scared. What did I care for gossip and dirty looks? I had no reputation to preserve. Regan Trevelyan, Lestrange, even Riddle – they could not hurt me.
We could help each other.
Or I could use her. Take a leaf out of Riddle's book.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps, echoing down the passage. I leapt to my feet, my wand already raised. Gripped it tight with one hand, I closed the other around the bluebell flames, concentrating them into a ball of intense blue light, and held it high. They illuminated the dank passageway and the approaching figure.
"Alphard?" I called out, surprised and relieved. I raised a hand to shield my eyes from his lit wand. "Alphard, what are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," he answered, and the rigidity in his tone told me he had not forgotten our earlier argument. "That is to say, Abraxas Malfoy is looking for you. He enlisted me in a reconnaissance mission."
I groaned loudly and wriggled to my feet. In the wake of Juliet and Vivian, Abraxas and the party had completely slipped my mind.
"Care to explain why Malfoy's looking for you in the first place?" Alphard asked. "You didn't go after Flint, did you? Honestly, Red, I– I– " His mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. He simply stared.
"You what?" I prompted. "Go on?"
Juliet got there first. "Where did you get that dress?"
I allowed myself a little laugh. "My benefactor. I'm a charity case, didn't you know?"
Juliet's eyes narrowed as she examined me. "I didn't notice it in the dark. Alphard, hold your wand higher, please… I think recognise this dress. Is that – is that Vivian Rosier's?"
"It didn't look like that on Vivian Rosier," Alphard muttered darkly.
"Meaning?" I ground out, glowering at the boy.
"Meaning Abraxas Malfoy will be eating out of your palm by the end of the night. At the expense of your dignity, of course," he added lightly, a sour look still hanging around his face, "but if that's a price you're willingly to pay… "
I threw Alphard a filthy look. "There's no need to be crude."
He raised an eyebrow. "Well if the pot isn't calling the kettle black? You're about to enter the dragon's lair dressed up like dessert. You have not experienced crude. Maybe your old chum Flint will help you out there."
I opened my mouth to retort, angry red patches flaring up in my cheeks – Alphard's pugnacious sneer egging me on – but Juliet held up a hand for silence.
"I'm sorry," she said, staring from me to Alphard and back. "But did you just say Abraxas Malfoy? Did you just say Abraxas Malfoy ... asked you ... to the party?"
"That's exactly what Vivian Rosier said, funnily enough. I can see how you two were friends," I snapped waspishly. "And, apparently, I'm disastrously late, so if you'll excuse me– "
"Calm down. You couldn't possibly go without shoes. Or lipstick." Juliet delicately poked around in the little bag she kept slung over her shoulder, fishing out a small silver compact mirror and a tube of lipstick. She herself wore a shell-pink shade that I knew wouldn't suit me; I was about to say this, but she shushed me with a knowing look. "It's enchanted," she explained, tilting my chin up. "It automatically selects a shade that emphasises your natural colouring. Rather ingenious, wouldn't you say?"
"Did Daddy bring it back from Paris for you?" I asked innocently.
Juliet laughed hollowly. "As if I would trust my father with something so important as lipstick. Smack your lips, now," she ordered, and I did as I was told. She held up the mirror, calling to Alphard for more light. She smudged some on to her fingertip and rubbed it into my two cheeks. "It's good that you're wearing black, you could never wear silver with your pale skin. You'll stand out all the more because of it. If every girl there isn't wearing silver, I'll eat my hat. Dear Regan wore silver to the Malfoy's garden party two weeks ago," she explained, her tone less than friendly. "And now it's all the rage. It's pitiful, really, how they all copy her."
It may have just been the flickering wandlight, but I swore I saw the makings of a truly diabolical grin flash in Juliet's golden eyes. She applied a second coat of lipstick, leaning more heavily than before.
Behind us, Alphard cleared his throat impatiently. Juliet rolled her eyes at me. "You can't rush art, Black," she snapped. "That said, I think we are done here." And she squeezed my shoulder … in an almost affectionate manner.
"She needs shoes," Alphard pointed out baldly.
"Take mine. We look about the same size."
Juliet stepped out of her smart, shiny heels, indicating that I should step into them. Hurriedly I did so. "Thank you," I said, a little stiffly. What was it about Slytherins and loaning out their clothing?
She dismissed my thanks with a wave of her hand. "Don't thank me. I should be thanking you."
"For what?" I demanded. I sounded ridiculously suspicious.
Juliet paused. She leant in close to me under the guise of fixing my dress "For your kindness earlier, and your understanding."
Alphard clicked his tongue. "Time's a-wasting, ladies."
Juliet locked her eyes on mine. "You look beautiful. Every boy will want to dance with you tonight, and you should let them. Only you must do me one favour, you simply must dance with Riddle – and he will want to, I wager you. He will want to size you up, so keep your cards close … Ooooooh, won't it make her green with envy! It will knock her dead!"
"Yes, yes, they won't know what hit them," Alphard said hurriedly. "So long as Irish doesn't lose her temper – in which case, it should be obvious."
I threw him a filthy look. Alphard motioned to the corridor, indicating that we had better get moving, and fast. Juliet walked with us back to her dorm, after which Alphard and continued on alone. I had so many questions for him; where we were going, for starters – but he shot me a warning look. The words died on my lips. We walked on in silence, until I could take it no longer.
I stopped walking and took a breath. I've never been good at apologising – too stubborn, too much pride. "Alphard. What I said earlier, about you being scared of them – I'm sorry and I take it back. I–"
"You're only saying that." Alphard's arms were folded, his expression closed. "You're only saying that because you want something. You're about to walk into the snake pit and you're scared."
I agreed, apologising again. It was true… all for the last part. I wasn't scared. For some bizarre and morbid reason, I was excited. I could feel myself vibrating as adrenalin coursed through my veins.
"Apology accepted," Alphard said coolly. He subjected me to long, appraising look. "You wicked wench. I had my doubts, you and that righteous vigilante act of yours, but you definitely belong in Slytherin. Manipulative little thing, aren't you?"
I only smiled.
Alphard chuckled darkly. "You don't miss a trick, Red," he said, shaking his head. "Abraxas is as good a target as they come at that level. Ambitious, yes, but attainable – and that dress. Between Juliet and Vivian, they really have you chocolate-coated."
"Target?" I repeated. "It's not Malfoy I want."
"You said you wanted to teach Flint a lesson, well here's your chance. Get Malfoy on your side and he'll give you a free reign. Come to think of it, he would probably do it for you, if you asked nicely. You probably wouldn't have to open your mouth, you could just stand there and let him drool."
At one time, such a comment would have got my blood boiling. I used to hate it when boys objectified me – partly due to the embarrassing and overblown reactions it provoked from my overprotective brothers. Now, I couldn't care less. My body was another weapon in my arsenal, it would be stupid not to use it to my advantage. I hadn't thought about clothes or make-up, about looking pretty, for so long… I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the simple pleasure of feeling attractive. Now I felt sexy and powerful – not a little girl, but a grown woman in control.
I smirked up at Alphard.
"So I'm supposed to trade sex for status?"
"Yes," he agreed. Then added, cheekily, "But you're not supposed to talk about it. Most unladylike." With that, I knew our fight was water under the bridge.
I snorted with laughter. I could hear the unmistakable sounds of a party drifting from close by. We reached a corner, and Alphard grasped me by the shoulders, pulling me into the shadows. He looked me hard in the eye. "You are special," he hissed, low and fast. "I can feel it. I knew, the moment I laid eyes on you, that you were different. I can't explain it, and – for Merlin's sake, stop trying to interrupt me! Juliet must have seen it too. You mustn't let your temper get the better of you. Reign in that fire. You could change things around here, Red. Don't throw this chance away. Please." He pushed me forward into the light. "Now go forth!"
I couldn't think of the anything to say, standing, stranded in the middle of an empty passageway, so I spun – near desperate – and called after him, "It's Ginny."
"Pardon?"
"My name – it's ..." But it wouldn't come out. I shook my head. "It's nothing. It's nothing now."
Alphard smiled at me. "Break a leg, Ginevra – Orion's, if you can wrangle it, but anyone's will do."
I took a breath, hitched up my dress, and rounded the corner.