"Clothilde"

Chapter 10 "A feather of the phoenix"

Hanging by threads of palest silver

I could have stayed that way forever

Bad blood and ghosts wrapped tight around me

Nothing could ever seem to touch me

I lose what I love most

Did you know I was lost until you found me?

A stroke of luck or a gift from God?

The hand of fate or devil's claws?

From below or saints above?

You came to me

~"Stroke of Luck" Garbage

Clothilde stood before the bathroom mirror, appraising her face. Heavens she didn't realize it looked quite so badly… both of her eyes were black, her lip swollen and broken. Where had she put that healing draught? She sauntered to the potions, there was a book of Egyptian magic lying open… she lifted it, it smelled of spice. Clothilde held it to her face for a moment, proof he had been there. What if she'd let him corner her? What if she'd let him envelop her in his billowing robes?… The thought seemed to hang in the air… still tense from the things that had just taken place. He had just been there, things had been moving along smoothly enough… and then she had rebuffed his advances, and he had left without a word of goodbye. Part of her wished she hadn't done it. He looked so broken when she brushed from him… stooped and foolish.

She wanted to speak to him when he turned… but what could she say? Thank him for being the only staff member on her side? Thank him for what he was about to do… or was about to do, speak in her defense at this… meeting. But she couldn't… it only registered in her brain that she was wearing a bathrobe, dripping wet… and he was telling her he knew everything that had transpired between them that Christmas years ago, in his lab. That he'd known what she had done at the time, that he had barely tasted the tea and was pretending to be in a weakened state… that she'd made a complete fool of herself. That she'd kissed the mouth of someone who knew exactly what she was doing, and had allowed her to do it to him. And, that he kept that memory. He had never told anyone about the theft… or apparently her incretions.

She inhaled the smell of spice… same as it had been on his skin, under her lips. She thought of him, just minutes ago, the way he looked at her, so intense. Her chest began to burn with warmth, and a strange dizzying sensation swept through her. She'd escaped that scene of horror where she had left Macnair on his way to the hospital, Severus had walked her back to her quarters, there was blood on the soles of her boots. She left Harry, Ron and Hermione in the care of McGonagall, their faces were pale… their eyes were on her. She was so emotionally wrought she knew she needed a drink. The Potions Master had been very kind, she then proceeded to condemn herself in private, pouring whiskey down her throat. Wrecking havoc, no doubt, on her liver.

Macnair… she should've killed him. Would've made things easier. Oh, awful thing to think, but now that he was alive… his life dangling on a thread, Poppy had no choice but to nurse him back to heath. Maybe she should take in on herself to finish him off? Oh, that's a thought… then the trio would really feel safe in her presence.

She slid the book back on the shelf and tried to think clearly. Looking at her vials of potions, she had left the healing draught where she'd be able to find it, in the front row… it wasn't there. She searched again. Nothing. What the hell did I do with it?

* * * * *

Snape swept back into his rooms, his robes just barely making it into the room before the door closed behind him. He needed a shower… he needed to think about what he was going to say to the crowd of non-Slytherins at the meeting. He needed to figure out how best to defend her. He ripped off his robes, throwing them onto a chair. Dashing into the bathroom… he stopped, he saw his own reflection in the mirror. Oh good lord he looked terrible. No wonder she backed away, no wonder she was so horrified… what in the world had he been thinking? He tried to breathe… how was he going to face her again?

He stepped into the shower, turned on the tap and pressed his forehead roughly against the rough hewn shower wall. This had been his first moment of peace since the Yule Ball, he was extremely tired… perhaps that's why he had chosen such an inappropriate time to drudge up the past. He had told himself only hours earlier he wouldn't… then exhausted he just let it slip out.

The heat of the water felt wonderful on his skin scalding it, his hair clung to his face in long black tendrils… he thought of her. The list of what ifs was lengthy in his mind. He had no idea if she was friend or foe any longer… the clear picture had vanished as quickly as it had begun to form. He wished he had never told her… it had all been due to fatigue he was certain. His breathing increased, the steam cascaded his pallid form…. She still looked so beautiful even with her face so battered, so strong… and proud. For a moment, just one, he thought… she wanted him to kiss her.

He turned on the cold water, forcing himself into it with a gasp.

* * * * *

The Order of the Phoenix consisted of Professors, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lupin, Snape and Hagrid. Along with Sirius Black, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron, Molly, Arthur and Bill Weasley, Madame Maxime, Arabella Figg, and Mundugus Fletcher. Though most of the staff were not for Voldemort they were also not actually involved in defeating him either.

Snape came to the phoenix which led to Dumbledore's office, jerked his shirt down into place attempting to compose himself, ran fingers through his eternally, no-matter-how- many-times-you-wash-it, -it-still-seems-greasy, hair… and hissed out the password before he could stop himself. "Pumpkin pasties." Pumpkin pasties indeed… he thought as the stairs spiraled him upward.

"So the infamous Clothilde Corgan is actually a Malfoy hmm?" Sirius asked Harry.

"Do you know her?"

"No, we've never met." He pondered the whole thing for a moment. "Suppose Snape's going to try to defend her."

"Snape?!" Ron spat, "why would he? You should've heard the arguments they had in his class."

Sirius didn't have a chance to respond as the Potions Master himself was the last of the lot to enter. He was looking particularly gloomy, his raven black robes billowed about him as he surveyed the crowd. Nearly everyone was in attendance, they were only missing the three… Madame Maxime, Arabella Figg and Mundugus Fletcher.

"Ah," said Dumbledore, "looks like we are all present now. I have called you all here to discuss the matter of Harry's bodyguard, Clothilde. Minerva feels this to be an issue worthy of a meeting. The issue of course is to decide if she should be reinstated or removed permanently. Minerva, I believe you wanted to say something?"

Professor McGonagall took a step forward. "Thank you Albus." She faced the crowd.

Snape took note of the room… everyone there was from the Gryffindor house, it was going to be difficult if not impossible to sway them to listen to him… especially since Minerva was going to speak against him and she was the head of that house.

She related the series of events which led up to this very meeting, how she had had the duel with Macnair, defeated him with Dark Magic, a curse that Clothilde had apparently written herself, which did the nasty deed of rupturing organs, how this was all done in front of Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"How can we trust her? She's been working as a mercenary for a decade, somehow she's managed to elude the Ministry of Magic and has been practicing all this time. Why she doesn't even have a diploma from Hogwarts… she's unpredictable, and very dangerous~"

"Yes. She is very dangerous." Came Snape's voice, barely a whisper, but easily heard, he glanced around the room. His eyes met McGonagall's, then Lupin's, and Black's… irritably. He met the empathy and the defensive expressions. Snape's eyes next fell upon the trio and lingered there, arms folded, pacing the room. "Clothilde is dangerous," he continued, "like an incendiary waiting for the right opportunity to explode and devastate the offending party. Luckily for us," he hissed, "she has complete control over this. Luckily for us… she's on our side, isn't it?"

The room was utterly silent, his voice had commanded the attention of the room as if he was standing in the potions class lecturing on the twelve uses of dragon's blood.

Harry stole a glace at Dumbledore who in turn was smiling fondly at Snape.

"She's from the Slytherin house isn't she?" Black said breaking the silence of the room. "Don't suppose that could be the reason you're speaking so passionately in her defense."

There was a note hanging in the air, that perhaps Sirius was hinting at more than her simply being a member of Slytherin.

Snape met Sirius' eyes with a cold look. "What area you getting at?"

Sirius folded his arms, "I am saying, you're defending her because she was once one of your own students."

There was some truth there Snape was unable to deny, luckily Black didn't know the half of it.

"Slytherin or not Clothilde Corgan should not only be reassigned her duties." He turned to face Dumbledore, "I believe she should be admitted to The Order of The Phoenix."

"Absolutely not!" It was Minerva.

The room was full of sudden murmuring.

Dumbledore motioned for them to settle down and within a few moments the cacophony was silent again.

"Severus, please continue."

"How can Clothilde possibly do her job with any effectiveness without knowing all of the facts? We would only deter her from protecting Mr. Potter if we did any less than admitting her."

"Corgan," Sirius began, "that's not her real name is it? She's a Malfoy. That family is associated with Voldemort."

Snape's eyes glittered dangerously, "she is a Malfoy, but I can assure you there is little love between her and the Malfoy family. Her mother is a Muggle, do you honestly believe she would be welcomed into a fold of Death Eaters?"

"Perhaps… as a spy."

That remark nearly sent Snape lunging at Black but Professor Dumbledore intervened.

"I do not believe she is a spy Sirius. I trust her, as I trust you. Time is short and I have to agree with Professor Snape, she would be a powerful addition to our Order. She could help us defeat Voldemort for once and all."

"With the use of Dark Magic Albus?" Professor McGonagall sighed, "Professor Snape feels he failed her when she was a student here and is trying to make it up to her now, that is why he's defending her."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged quizzical looks. What?

"I certainly do not, Minerva, feel that I failed her. She failed out of Hogwarts on her own merits. It is true, being the head of Slytherin house I did try to help Miss Corgan, but it was to no avail."

"And you wouldn't be trying to make up for that now."

"Forgive me, I did not realize I had a reputation for being partial to charities~ of any kind."

Minerva bristled slightly at his tone.

"Certainly…" he forced his voice to sound calm, "certainly, it is apparent what a benefit Clothilde would make working for us~"

"Rather than against?" Black finished the thought.

Snape fixed him with a displeased look as Sirius interrupted and continued not caring that he'd just done so.

"Everyone knows Clothilde Corgan, she's a wand for hire. She can be hired as a bodyguard…" he glanced at Harry warily, unsure if he should completely unmask Clothilde in front of him. Obviously they were friends of a sort, but he blundered on anyway. "Or, to… eliminate other people."

The trio paled at this implication.

Mrs. Weasley put an instinctive hand on Ron's shoulder.

Snape was unsure how he was going to argue his way around this one, but help suddenly came from an unlikely source.

"We all have a past Sirius," Remus said quietly, stepping forward. "In times dire as these we need to put aside our pasts and trust that although we may not all be in complete understanding of one another, we know for certain. We are all here to defeat the one common enemy."

'Small miracles,' Snape thought to himself wary not to feel entirely relieved just yet.

Then Lupin shot a thoughtful look at the Headmaster, who was smiling warmly in response.

"What is your opinion of Clothilde, Professor Dumbledore?"

The room quieted.

He looked over his moon-shaped spectacles, a warm twinkle in his eyes, "very tricky isn't she? The way she's managed to outsmart the Ministry of Magic for the last ten years now."

"Practicing magic without a license indeed," McGonagall muttered, though privately she couldn't help but agree that Fudge was an utter idiot.

"She… she saved my life," said Harry.

'At last,' Snape sighed in relief, he hoped Potter would speak up. The little celebrity's voice alone could make his case.

"And mine," said Hermione.

Ron nodded agreeing that he had also benefited from her protection, violent as it may have been.

"I have always believed," Dumbledore smiled tenderly at Harry, "that it is the choices that make us who we are…."

Harry recognized the statement from something Professor Dumbledore had once said to him when he had wondered, in his second year, if he had been placed in the wrong house. What was the professor getting at? Clothilde was placed in the wrong house?… No, probably not that…. Perhaps he was saying, she had changed since then? Or, she was trying to change? Possibly both. Or maybe all he was getting at was, the fact that he wanted them to give her a second chance here at Hogwarts to redeem herself, for whatever reason.

Dumbledore nodded to Harry silently. A look of deep wisdom settled onto his face for a moment, then he lightened and offering everyone some sweets and tea, asked them to put the idea of reinstating her, and making her a member of The Order of The Phoenix, to a vote.

The nominations both passed.

* * * * *

Dark, shadowed eyes lifted to the sea of faces before her. She looked the part of a valkyrie, just as Hermione had once said. Tall, thin, blonde… her hair, a mane, a gladius hanging at her side. Her face was broken from the infamous fight hours ago. She was stoic about it.

"You haven't been to the hospital wing my dear?" Dumbledore said knowingly.

She considered the amount of alcohol she'd consumed not all that long ago, and surmised flatly, "I'm fine, although I am certain my liver will pay for it in the end."

Sirius snorted in understanding from somewhere within the crowd.

Somehow, she had been found not-guilty, and returned to her position… somehow she was now being accepted into The Order of The Phoenix, a situation only minutes ago made clear to her by Professor Dumbledore. Quite an honor. She would be there to help defeat Voldemort. Somehow…. Her eyes fell on Harry's and she smiled.

There was something very Malfoy in her countenance… the typical blonde, pale, gray eyes… and something at could pass for arrogance.

Harry had never noticed it until now, she did, in a way remind him of Lucius. The way she flicked her eyes up, confidently surveying the room as she sauntered in. As if she was supposed to be black and blue and it was exactly the look she was going for when she dressed. Then she searched the room looking for him, and when their eyes met her icy facade melted and she smiled, warmly, like a mother very happy to see him alive and safe. That was the non-Malfoy part of her, a protective knowing, open-minded part that accepted people for who they were.

All the terrible things he heard about her during the meeting, the… violent duel he had replayed in his mind a hundred times, although these did not vanish from his mind, he saw her in a clearer light now. There was more to her than dreadful rumors, or some unlikely last name. There was more than the fact that she had failed her NEWTs and that she had once been part of Slytherin.

He felt other eyes on him now and turned to find Dumbledore, a twinkle of knowing in his eyes.

Then Clothilde saw the head of the Slytherin house, swept up, nearly hidden, a shadow in an arm-chair behind the others. Their eyes met. He had resurrected her, fought on her behalf… she could see it in his eyes. Exhausted, slightly tense, trying to relax and be left alone. He was hiding in the crowd.

Two now. Two Slytherin among them… two, fighting the good fight. This seemed to be the thought that was resounding from both of them as their eyes met.

'I won't let you down,' is was she wanted to tell him but in the press of the crowd she couldn't. She could only mouth the words, "thank you."

Severus nodded hesitantly in acknowledgement.