Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and
situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but
not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No
money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The
Musketeers belong to themselves. Any further disclaimers can be found at the
end of the chapter.
A/N: Thanks to my beta-reader Haggridd for much-needed author-prodding;
to Fiat Incantatum and all the Muses for being the funniest and most supportive
bunch this side of the Internet; to Miss Cora for putting up with rambling and
late-night visits; to Galya for the kick-arse pics; and to the members of the
Bloodlines mailing list and all my reviewers for mucho patience.
~*~*~
Chapter Nine: Broken Ranks
~*~*~
By the time students began to file into the Great Hall for lunch, everyone knew that something had happened between Rory Malfoy and Jim Chang-Potter. No one could say exactly what, of course, and since both combatants stubbornly refused to reveal either the reason for or the nature of their confrontation, inquiring minds were left to speculate. And speculate they did, abandoning their sandwiches and goblets of pumpkin juice in favor of the latest gossip. They didn't bother to keep their voices down, either.
"It was bound to happen," Jason Anderson said self-importantly in a voice that carried up and down the Gryffindor table. "Everybody knows friendships between people that different don't last."
Cara Liveright gave him a withering look. "Maybe they just got up on the wrong side of the bed."
"Nope. You're both wrong." Leah Harris waved her fork as she spoke, as if she was planning to illustrate her theory with a piece of silverware. "It's sexual tension," she said with a knowing smirk. "Everyone with eyes and ears knows those two want to shag each other's brains out."
Harriet Black glared at her fellow seventh-years. "Could you be a little louder? I think there's a student at Beauxbatons who didn't hear you. Honestly!" She returned to her issue of Weekly Wizarding News, leaving Cara and Leah to exchange chagrined looks. Jason started to open his mouth, only to find himself on the receiving end of Cara's elbow. He was silent after that.
Even with the older students properly chastised, there were still the younger gossips to deal with. Lily and her best friend Annika Weasley were the worst of the lot, attempting to recreate a screaming match that Jim was certain had never happened. Tim Jordan found this enthralling, prompting him to dub his sandwich halves "Rory" and "Jim", and make them fight each other. Sandwich-Rory seemed to be winning at the moment, although Sandwich-Jim was staging a comeback. The first-years were watching avidly, occasionally placing Knut bets with the Unit.
Jim just kept his eyes fixed on his own sandwich -- which, thankfully, was content to be an inoffensive stack of soggy bread and corned beef. "Make them stop it," he muttered, not caring how petulant he sounded.
Maureen just shrugged. "It wouldn't do any good. They'll just start up again later." She propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly, studying Jim's face. "No offense, but I can't really blame them. You and Rory having a fight is a sign of the Apocalypse."
"Where is Rory?" Ife Adenuga asked. She was sitting next to Maureen, almost directly across from Jim. She was also the only non-Musketeer Gryffindor who wasn't having a field day with the Incident With Rory – probably because she had been there when the whole fiasco had started. "While we're at it, where's Brian?"
"Rory didn't come down to lunch and Brian went to find her." Maureen glanced at the Great Hall's doors, her mouth thinning into a line. "He's being a bit of a prat – won't admit that Rory overreacted."
"Well, can you blame her?" Ife asked softly. "I can't imagine finding out that my father was a Death Eater. It would kill me."
Maureen shook her head. "That didn't mean she had to snap at Jim," she said. "He doesn't take snapping well, especially when he was just trying to help."
"'He' is sitting right here," Jim pointed out. He wished he hadn't told Reen about the argument with Rory, especially not with Ife trying to interrogate him. Still, maybe it wouldn't do any harm. He had left out the more private bits – those things that belonged only within the confines of the Musketeers' tight circle – and it wasn't as if Ife was completely in the dark. She had overheard Rory's argument with Professor Delacour, after all.
The two witches glanced at each other. "Couldn't you ask your parents?" Ife asked finally, her dark eyes locked on Jim's face. "They're Aurors, right? Wouldn't they know?"
Jim just heaved a sigh. Although Ife and her family were as wealthy and pureblooded as they came, they were also Yoruba and recent arrivals from Abuja, in Nigeria. The complex relationships among the English magical families were completely lost on them. They didn't know which topics were off-limits, which families had detested each other for centuries, and which topics were off-limits. "My parents don't really like the Malfoys," he said simply, because it was easier than going into gory details. "I'd rather not ask them."
"What about my father, then? He doesn't have as many connections, but he could probably – "
"Don't." Jim held up his hands, silently pleading with her not to push the issue. He didn't think Rory needed to hear about her father's crimes through Ife's father, if indeed she needed to hear about them at all. He had it on good authority that Daren Adenuga had once openly accused Lucius Malfoy of being a Death Eater even after the courts had found him to be acting under Imperius. "Please don't ask your dad. Just let Rory deal with this however she wants."
Ife gave him a long, searching look. "I don't think she will deal with it. But you're her friend. You know what's best for her." She glanced at Emily Pankowitz, who was waving to her from down the table. "I should go head off the gossips. Excuse me."
The minute she was gone, Maureen grimaced and leaned almost all the way across the table, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I don't know who you think you're kidding. Rory never 'deals' with anything."
"She has a right to be upset," Jim said.
"That's not what I meant. She was having enough trouble with her mum – "
"You know about that?"
Maureen waved her hand dismissively. "She and I had a talk. That's not important right now. What's important is that she's been lied to a lot and she's decided to handle it by taking it out on you."
"I was arguing with her," Jim pointed out.
"Good. It's about time someone did." Maureen made a face, as if she had just smelled something unpleasant. "I've met her grandparents a couple times, after my dad's games. They always have the best seats, the stupid gits. They attack people like Rory does. I'm not saying she's a bigot," she added quickly when Jim started to protest, "but I am saying that she handles things by being mean."
"Or she explodes."
Maureen grimaced. "Or she explodes – and let me tell you, that's not something she got from her grandparents. The day those two blow their tops is the day I hand the Quidditch Cup to Ravenclaw on a silver platter."
Jim managed a feeble half-smile. "Would that be before or after Hell freezes over?"
"Are you kidding? Like I'm going to let Rivers get Best Junior Player again! After!" She let out a guffaw that silenced everyone in the Great Hall. A moment later the buzz of conversation started up again, louder and more excited than before. Far from being perturbed by this, Maureen just flashed a triumphant smile. "Just greasing the wheels of gossip."
"Please don't." Jim put his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do, Reen. Rory needs help."
Maureen sobered immediately. "Rory can take care of herself. Did you forget all about your little row with her? She's pretty damn strong."
"She's stronger than anyone I know," Jim conceded, "but that doesn't mean she knows what she's doing. I think she needs us, Reen."
"You mean she needs you," Maureen said quietly. There was a very strange look on her face, at once knowing and sympathetic, but Jim didn't have the energy or the courage to ask what she meant.
~*~*~
"Rory?"
Very reluctantly, Rory lifted her eyes from The Magical Student's Guide to Modernity and gave Brian a cool look. "What do you want?"
Her fellow Musketeer shrugged. "You weren't at lunch, and after Jim told me what happened..." He shrugged. "I wanted to check on you."
"Great." Rory scooted her chair a little ways over, giving Brian enough room to sit at the library's wooden table. It was no surprise to her that he had found her so quickly; the Musketeers had laid claim to this corner of the library as first-years. "Here to scold me, are you?"
"Mostly I'm just here to talk to you." Brian set down his own pile of books and propped his elbows on the table. "Honestly, I think Jim shouldn't have chased after you. I'm surprised he got away alive."
Only his teasing smile kept Rory from saying something truly impolite. As it was, she just shook her fist in a vaguely threatening manner. "Watch it, you."
"Don't hurt me! I surrender!" Brian threw his arms over his head as if to ward off a blow, but his eyes were sparkling with silent laughter. "I'm on your side, Rory. We all are."
Rory raised on eyebrow. "Really? You could have fooled me."
Brian gave her a long look. Then he reached over and squeezed her hand. "We're a family, Rory. Maybe not the kind of family that has the same parents or the same last name, but that's not all that matters anyway. Jim and Reen are going about this the wrong way, but they still care about you. I care about you. You're like my sister."
"Do you really want another sister?" Rory asked.
Brian grinned. Casey and Wendy, his two little sisters, were both in Gryffindor and went out of their way to make his life interesting. "Sure," he said. "If I can put up with them, I can put up with you." His momentary mirth faded, replaced by concern. "I'll see what I can find about your dad, okay? If Delacour knows that much about him, he must be in some of the history books."
"You mean these?" Rory gestured to the shelf behind her. "I've looked through half of them. There's plenty about my family, but nothing about my father. It's as though he never existed." She almost added, Like my mother, but decided against it. Brian was worried enough as it was.
"He has to be somewhere," Brian said firmly. "I'll find him." He glanced down at his watch. "I will after Potions, anyway. We should get going. Snape will kill us if we're late."
Rory groaned. Putting up with the assistant headmaster was the last thing she felt like doing. "All right," she said, reluctantly abandoning her book. "I'll come help you later."
"Are you going to help with the Flying lessons this week?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't need Jim trying to talk to me."
"He's probably going to apologize a lot," Brian said as he scooped up his own stack of books.
Rory just stalked out of the library. Maybe if she walked fast enough, Brian would take the hint and drop the subject.
~*~*~
There were some things that remained constant no matter how much the world changed: the sun rose and set; the Four Founders were revered and almost deified by the English wizarding world; Snape was the most blatantly biased professor on the face of the Earth.
And of course, Maureen Wood could set anything on fire.
"I hate Potions!" she snarled as she stormed out of the smoking, smelly classroom. "I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!"
Jim carefully took a few steps back from his fuming friend. The damage had been minimal this time and the class had escaped with nothing worse than a few scorched robes, but that hadn't stopped Snape from declaring that Maureen was his worst student since Neville Longbottom. Naturally Peony had taken offense and despite her fellow Hufflepuffs' efforts to restrain her, she had practically challenged the assistant headmaster to a duel. Only Jim's ability to spot impending detentions a mile away had kept them all from having the most miserable semester of their lives.
The end result of all this was that although Jim had seen Rory in class, he had been too busy to talk to her. She had hurried out of the classroom the moment Snape set them free, and since her Magical Law class and his Muggle Studies class were in opposite wings of the castle, he had no chance of chasing after her. With a regretful sigh, he gave up for the moment and vowed to waylay her after supper.
"You look happy," Peony said. She had been walking silently beside him for the past few minutes, apparently content to watch and wait.
Jim just grimaced.
"Can I give you some advice?" She plowed on immediately without waiting for his answer. "Rory's like my great-grandmother. When she gets mad, you have to give her lots of room or she'll turn you into something horrible. It took us three days to fix Great-Uncle Horace," she added cheerfully, "and we never figured out how to get rid of the antenna."
Jim gave her a sidelong look. "You think I should leave Rory alone?"
"I think if you try to talk to her now, she might hex you."
The thought had crossed his mind. "So I should avoid her."
Peony gave a disgusted snort. "Boys! I didn't say that." She planted her hands on her hips and pinned him with a Look almost as terrifying as Rory's. "It's a girl thing, okay? Don't avoid her, just...don't be where she is."
"Easier said than done," Jim muttered. Musketeers gravitated toward each other. It was practically a law of nature.
Peony just smiled, her glower vanishing as if it had never existed. "Don't worry. I'll help you."
Jim wondered if he would have been safer with Maureen. "Oh," he said weakly. "Thanks."
~*~
There were two fourth-years in the Astronomy Tower when Rory arrived. She drove them away with a glare and sat down on the floor, crossing her arms and staring at nothing. Her stomach was growling, but she didn't feel like going down to supper and facing the rumors. More importantly, she didn't want to deal with Jim. He hadn't tried to talk to her yet – proving that his instincts for self-preservation were better than she thought – but she just knew that if she sat down at the Gryffindor table, she would have to speak to him. Most of the time she could ignore whomever she chose, but she had long ago discovered that nothing tugged at the heartstrings more than a certain Chang-Potter biting his lip and giving her hurt, questioning looks. Damn it, he actually looked cute when he did that!
"Rory? Are you up here?"
Rory banged her head against the wall. Why can't I get a moment's peace? Aloud, all she said was, "What do you want, Claude?"
The normally cheerful Slytherin stood in front of her, looking more serious than she had ever seen him. "Here," he said quietly, handing over a piece of parchment. "It's the homework for Delacour's class. You left before she handed it out."
Rory took the proffered parchment without a word and scanned the single paragraph of text.
Identify and explain (in your own words!) the significance of the following people, places or events in relation to modern magical history: Aurors' Revolt, Avada Kedavra, Azkaban, Burning, Chamber of Secrets, Cognatus Commisceo, Common Room Massacre, Godric's Code, Greatest Generation, Heir of Slytherin, Muggle Theory, Operation Prongs, Order of the Phoenix, Polyjuice Prolongation, Sham, Siege, Third Task.
You will be expected to hand in detailed definitions by the 30th of October. Feel free to use and cite outside sources. Be prepared to discuss the above list during the next few classes.
"Wonderful," she said tonelessly, thrusting the parchment back. "Just what I need."
Claude made no move to take it. "I copied that out for you," he said. "You can keep it."
"I don't want it."
"You're not dropping the class, are you?" When Rory didn't answer, Claude sighed and leaned closer to her. "Look, I don't know you very well, but I know about you. I know that you're opinionated and you stick to your principles, and I know that you don't give up – ever. And," he added with a grin, "I know that you're the most stubborn student in Hogwarts."
Rory narrowed her eyes. "Are you trying to make me feel better?"
"Well...yeah. It's not working, huh?"
"Not really."
"Damn." He was silent for a moment, and then his face lit up. "How about a dance? I can do a dance. I'll even sing badly."
Rory felt the corner of her mouth twitch. Damn it. "I don't need to see you trying to make a fool of yourself."
"Trying? Who said anything about trying?" Claude contrived to look hurt. "I happen to be naturally clumsy and tone deaf, thank you very much."
"I don't doubt it."
"Glad to know someone has faith in me." Claude jumped to his feet and did a klutzy sort of bow – one that might have been elegant with a lot of practice and patience. That was who Claude was, Rory realized: someone who would have practiced being refined twenty years ago, when old money and older names meant more than abilities. Now he was just a funny boy mocking the very actions that had set his father and grandfather apart from the rest of the magical world.
She must have been staring at him, because he stopped goofing off and gave her a serious look. He was a little handsome when he bothered to hold still. His eyes were a smoky blue, half hidden under the fringe of his bangs. He had golden hair too – not white-blond like hers, but genuinely golden.
"Hey," he said softly, and the spell broke. "Are you okay?"
Rory opened her mouth to say that she was perfectly fine, thank you very much. Somehow that didn't happen. Instead she found herself balling her hands into fists and staring down at the ground. Her vision was blurring. It was fatigue, of course; Malfoys didn't cry. Still, there was no reason for Claude to see just how tired she was – of Jim's apologies, of her professors, of her family name.
"Why did my father have to be a Death Eater?" she whispered.
For a moment Claude didn't say anything. Then he let out a long breath, leaned against the wall and slid down it, his sweater making soft rasping noises as the rough wool ran over the stones. He ended up cross-legged on the floor beside her. "I heard about that at lunch. That must have been a bloody awful way to find out."
Rory frowned at him. "You knew?"
"Not really. I suspected, but only because of all the rumors about your family." His lips curved into a half-hearted smile. "I heard some Gryffindors saying your grandfather was You-Know-Who's right hand. I didn't bother to tell him every wizard and witch knows that was Pettigrew. Dumb Muggleborns."
"Watch your tongue," Rory snapped, and had the satisfaction of seeing Claude wince. For all she knew, she was a halfblood. Her anger vanished an instant later, as the full crushing weight of what she had learned that morning crashed back down on her shoulders. "My grandfather did not work with You-Know-Who. Otherwise he would be in Azkaban. He's just the biggest bastard in the world. But my father?" she added with a bitter laugh. "Who knows? Maybe he really was evil incarnate."
"So?" Claude asked, looking genuinely bewildered. "My father isn't exactly the nicest wizard in the world and my grandfather and uncle were Death Eaters. They got sent to Azkaban before I was born. Hell, half of Slytherin has one or two dark wizards somewhere in the family tree. All that stuff happened twenty years ago, Rory. It doesn't matter now."
"Argh!" Rory banged her fist against the wall, ignoring the fact that it stung like hell. "That's just it! It does matter! My father was murdered by Death Eaters, Claude! I thought that meant something! I thought maybe he died for a reason!"
"Um...why are you telling me this? Wouldn't Brian and Maureen – "
"Reen thinks I'm being unreasonable," Rory said flatly. "And Brian...doesn't know things. I'd like to keep it that way."
Claude just frowned at her for a moment. Then he let out a humorless laugh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're not going to tell me what these 'things' are, are you?"
"Of course not."
"That's what I thought." His mouth twitched into a half-smile, but there was no pleasure in it. "You're more secretive than a Slytherin."
Rory fought the urge to glare at him. "What does that have to do with anything?"
He shrugged. "Maybe that's why Jim and Maureen aren't on your side. They're very open people, and they don't understand you because you never tell anyone everything."
"You think my problems will go away if I just stand on my chair and shout them out in the middle of supper?"
"No, but I think it would make things easier if you were more willing to trust."
Rory shook her head. "You didn't grow up with my grandfather breathing down your neck. I'd like to see you be open and sharing then."
"I'm just saying." Claude propped his chin on his hands. "You're not all Malfoy anyway, right?"
"My mother stole my father's money and abandoned me," she retorted, falling back on the old lie because it was easier than the truth. "Oh, yes. There's a role model."
Claude just looked at her, a strange steady stare that she didn't know how to interpret. "Do you really believe that?"
No one had ever asked her that before. Not once. She didn't know how to answer. When no words came, she settled for leaning forward and staring right back at him, her face inches from his. "Do you?"
The answer was immediate. "No. Never."
"Why not?" she demanded, an Auror interrogating a suspect.
He just held her gaze. "Because I can't believe someone like you could be the daughter of someone like that."
Rory didn't know how to answer. She didn't even know if she could answer. Claude was little more than another face in her classes, sitting on the far side of the room with his fellow Slytherins. Yes, he was considerably nicer than his housemates, but she hadn't really spoken to him before this year. How could he have that much faith in her?
Maybe this was what he meant about trusting people. After all, he trusted her to be a good person.
"Claude..."
"Hello, lovebirds."
"ACK!" Claude tried to scramble to his feet, only to trip over himself and land on his rear. Rory just wondered why the universe hated her.
The old woman who hobbled up to them was a frequent sight in Hogwarts, usually seen talking animatedly at the High Table, watching the Quidditch practices or taking great delight in terrorizing any transgressors incautious enough to spend too long a time in the Astronomy Tower. No one knew exactly what she taught or even what her name was. Certainly she was a strange figure, with her pale eyes, polished cane, and short gray hair that stuck out in all directions. Many a late-night wanderer had come scurrying back to the Common Room, thankful to have escaped with their dignity intact. Maureen was brave enough to call her Old Biddy, but only when she was sure that she wouldn't be overheard.
None of these facts had any effect on Rory, who met the woman's gaze levelly. "Can I help you?"
The woman just smirked. "You can move. I need to make some observations." She nodded to one of the telescopes before giving the pair a sly, sidelong look. "If I were you, I'd try one of the storage rooms down in the cellar. No one ever goes down there."
Rory felt her face flame. Old Biddy actually thought that she and Claude were going to... "I'm going back to my dorm," she said stiffly, climbing to her feet and stalking out of the Astronomy Tower before anything else could happen to her. I can't believe this, she growled at the universe in general. Why can't I be left alone for five minutes? She touched her cheek. It was very warm. And why the hell am I blushing?! Malfoys don't blush!
Claude fell into step beside her. "I hate her," he muttered. Then he grimaced and glanced at her. "Rory, what were you going to say up there? Before the old bat interrupted, I mean."
"It wasn't anything important," Rory said sharply. Too sharply. "I'll see you in Philosophy, Claude." She hurried down the stairs as fast as dignity allowed, the scrap of parchment clenched tightly in her fist, and tried desperately not to think about what had happened up in the tower. She never acted like that! Especially not around someone she didn't really know!
To her surprise, the Gryffindor Common Room wasn't completely empty. Brian was sitting at one of the tables with a number of large, thin books stacked all around him and the remains of a sandwich sitting on a napkin in his lap. He wasn't taking notes, but he had an air of concentration very familiar to Rory. Brian had found a puzzle and he was determined to solve it.
"That doesn't look like homework," she said as she walked over to the table.
Brian didn't raise his eyes from the books. Instead he just shook his head. "I think I found something," he said softly.
"About my father?" When he nodded, Rory pulled up a chair and squeezed in next to him. "Show me!"
"Look at this." Brian handed her Aurors Through the Ages and flipped it open to a dog-eared page. "See the paragraph all the way at the bottom of this page? Read from there until...here." He turned a few pages and pointed to another seemingly random paragraph.
Rory frowned at the book. She liked reading as much as the next prefect, but this wasn't exactly a subject she wanted to study. "My father wasn't an Auror, Brian."
"Just read it."
There was no arguing with him when he used that tone of voice. Rolling her eyes, Rory flipped back to the dog-eared page and skimmed the tiny print.
"Perhaps feeling the need to lead the quiet life previously denied him, Mr. Potter requested permission to be removed from the Aurors' active duty roster and transferred to the Office of Training and Recruiting. Certainly his last field assignment must have exhausted him; he spent at least six months actively pursuing a fugitive across the Middle East, the Indian sub-continent and much of North America – "
What followed was a rather boring account of the structure and management of magical law enforcement in all of these areas. Rory skipped to the very end of the chapter, which thankfully had returned to the narrative.
"Mr. Potter's last assignment ended with the capture of the fugitive in the American Southwest that evening, although this selfsame fugitive was later murdered by persons unknown on 8th May, 2004."
"That was exciting," Rory said dryly. "We all know Jim's father is wonderful. Was there a point to this?"
"Oh, for the love of – " Brian cut himself off and pushed over a neatly bound tome. "Look at that."
Rory glanced at the title. A Complete Roster of Hogwarts Alumni: 1990 – 2000.
"I talked Pince out of it," Brian said smugly. "It's supposed to be for researchers from Unseen University, but I convinced her that I was taking summer classes there."
"Aren't you?"
Brian's cheeks turned pink. "Well, yeah. Just Theoretical Magic and Thaumic Structure, though." He nodded impatiently to the book. "Well?"
"Well, what? What's this supposed to…?" Then the light dawned. "What page is my father on?"
"Here." Brian turned to a bookmarked page and pointed to a list of neatly hand-printed names, dates, and notations. "He's the sixth one from the top."
Indeed he was. "'Draco Thomas Malfoy,'" Rory read aloud, "'Slytherin, prefect 1995 to 1998, Seeker 1992 to 1998, Quidditch captain 1996 to 1998.'" She smiled humorlessly. "Grandfather actually told the truth for once."
"Keep reading," Brian urged.
"There are dates here. Birth and death. September 16, 1980 and…" Suddenly no words would come. She couldn't even make a sound.
Brian removed the book from her suddenly slack grip. His voice was very soft. "And May 8, 2004."
~*~
Shoutouts: Big thanks and schnoogles to the HP Bloodlines Yahoo!Group and everyone who reviewed Chapter Eight: AB, amanda_kay_c, Aradia Ring, ari stottle, CasMac16, damsalndistress-aif, Elektra, Frangelicah, Galya, HeraWhite, jam jackson, Jello Ink, JSawyer, K Weasley, KitLee, Lehle, Liz, Lyta Padfoot, Mabra46268, Malfoy Princess, Meghan, Moolamannil, Narcissa Malfoy, NecessaryEvil, Pandora20951, Piggily, Ray the Red Witch, Rhianna, Rowena, Shortcake, sikhchicky, SlowFox, Springrain, Storm, Syvia, Tamz, Tarawyn, Thena, Triskelion, Undercover Angel, wolf550e and the mysterious Unregistered.
