Author's Note:!!! That noise was my writer's block dieing. I apologize sincerely for the huge delay, but I've been working on a variety of different things(Assassins Creed II came out and I discovered Dan Brown, who is now my hero) including delving a little deeper into Maeve's life and finding a plethora of awesome plot devices whilst doing so. I have difficulty reigning in my tangents(i.e. last chapters fail. That might be rewritten because I didn't edited it properly and Caoinin got away from me a bit.) In any case, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I toyed with it A LOT because I couldn't get bits of it to fit into one chapter without short-circuiting your poor brains so I split it into two more manageable parts…
"'Whomever I touch, I send back to the earth from whence they came.' said the snake. 'But you are innocent and true, and come from a star…You move me to pity, you are so weak on this earth made of granite.'" ~Antoine De Exupery, The Little Prince
"There's something not right about it, I'm telling you."
"Orpheus, mate, your losing your marbles. We know you don't like the fact that you lost the girl to the Head Boy but that's life. Get on with your own and stop dwelling on it, for christ's sake!" Ralph Clearwater frowned at his essay and tapped a sentence with his wand, removing it from the parchment so he could rewrite it. Barnaby Barkridge lolled in a loveseat next to the fire, using his wand to rearrange the stars on the enchanted ceiling, clearly bored by the whole issue.
"But she was mine! I had it all planned out an everything…I mean, clearly, Riddle doesn't care about her, does he? Not really! I thought women wanted to be cared about." Orpheus was taking up the whole couch, a fevered look in his eyes as he appealed to the dark haired boy pouring a cup of tea in the corner. "Davies-"
"Don't be so melodramatic, Grisham. It's not like you give a dragons backside about Sinclaire either, you just want to get in her knickers." Triton Davies grumbled, swallowing the pitifully tiny cup of tea in one gulp and going back for another.
"Bite your tongue, Davies. Don't be jealous of me just because she never bothered to give a someone the time of day because both his parents were muggle-borns. As if you wanted more from her than I do." Orpheus snapped vengefully. The loud sound of the tea cup breaking as it hit the floor gave him perverse satisfaction.
"Yeah, I wanted more from her. The difference between you and me is that I had the decency not to expect it." Triton snapped bitterly, turning to head back to the dormitory.
"Oooh." Barnaby chuckled, yelping when his mouth suddenly transformed into a giant zipper.
"She isn't Riddle's and it's not fair. It make's me sick to my stomach when I have to watch that snake put his hands all over her." Barnaby and Ralph exchanged a brief glance. Riddle and Sinclaire's relationship so far really hadn't been that intimate, even via the grapevine there wasn't an indecent deed worth gossiping about. One could even go so far as to say that, apart from an occasional kiss, Tom and Maeve were boring.
"Grisham, listen to yourself." Ralph rolled up his parchment and unhexed Barnaby's mouth. "She's been dead to the entire house since before she even came to the school. Her crazed sister's rampantly pureblood attitude ensured that. You only see us talk to The Pureblood Princess when we have to and you don't see her complaining. Maeve stays out of our way and we stay out of hers. Face it, the only reason you kept her on the Quidditch team after Sean Quirke left to play for the Arrowheads was 'cause you fancied her, everyone knows that-"
"She's a damn good chaser, though, Ralph. You cant argue with beauty, brains and skill. Even if she's part-girl, part-basilisk." Barnaby interrupted, his eyes never leaving the rude constellation he was charming out of the ceiling. Ralph shot him an exasperated look.
"None of that matters, don't you understand? She shamed me in front of Dippet and Dumbledore! I wont tolerate that kind of treacherous behaviour…besides, I have her wand."
"You what?! Are you bloody mental, that's stealing!" Barnaby fell off his loveseat and the stars all whizzed back to their original positions as he righted himself, staring at his Quidditch captain in horror.
"No, it isn't. I followed her that day she tried to get away from Yaxley, she left her route right here on the table and I wanted to talk to her where Riddle's lot wouldn't interfere-"
"You're telling me you stalked Maeve Sinclaire until she panicked and dropped her wand and then you stole it so she'd be weaponless just so you could talk to her? Do you know how creepy that sounds, mate?" Ralph stared at him aghast, frightened and a little disturbed by the depths of Orpheus's strange obsession.
"Don't make a mountain out of a niffler hole, Clearwater. I'm not the villain, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm going to give it back to her tomorrow night, anyway. After we talk…" Grisham muttered, scrubbing a hand through his dark curls and avoiding the other boys gazes.
"Sometimes you astound me, Orphy. Do you have any idea how hard it'll be to get that wand back to her with Lestrange, Dolohov, Rosier and Nott all breathing down your neck? Their wont be enough of you left to block a sink if, Merlin forbid, Mulciber shows up. They will beat the living daylights out of you if you even so much as look at her wrong, you know that? And not because he tells them to, either. Because they've been unleashed, unhinged upon an unsuspecting student body. Riddle's just taken fire and directed it, channeled it for his own purposes. The Fortunate are a force of nature unto themselves.
Just listen to the school motto: Nunquam tittilanus draco dormiens, mate. Never tickle a sleeping dragon. Live to fight another day and let little Sinclaire alone. At least 'til Riddle gets bored…are you listening?" Ralph reasoned, astonished by the single-minded stupidity of his friends plan of action.
"No." Orpheus muttered stubbornly, examining Maeve's delicate wand. "She's alone every night when she comes back to the common room."
"Don't go there, Orpheus. Just give me the wand and I'll give it back to her tomorrow, they aren't threatened by me-" Ralph pleaded desperately, holding out his hand. Orpheus snatched the wand back against his chest and gave him a black look.
"I took it, I'll give it back. She'll probably thank me for it, too."
"Well, I'll tell her that you found it tomorrow so she can ask you for it and-"
"Piss off, Ralph. I'll tell her myself. And if you want to continue to be a beater for Ravenclaw, you'll keep your mouth shut. The pair of you." There was something flat and angry about Orpheus's normally cherubic face that made him appear ghoulish in the eyes of his two suddenly terrified friends. "Got it?"
"Yeah, mate…I'm just going to go up to bed now. Are you coming?" Ralph edged crablike around the couch, casting Barnaby a pointed look. The other boy surged to his feet, looking relieved.
"G'night." He muttered, nodding to Grisham and rushing up the stairs after Ralph. As they hurried past Davies brushing his teeth in the stairwell, Barnaby leaned in to whisper in Ralph's ear:
"Mate, is it just me or has the Slytherin girl started to wear off on him?"
~*~
In the highest girl's dormitory in Ravenclaw tower, Maeve dreamed silently above them. Her eyes flickered behind their lids as she relived memories she'd worked so hard to forget. Her lips pulled in a tight line and she rolled over on her side, assailed by a vision of her childhood:
Brilliant sunlight trickled through the twisting rose vines as they wound themselves a decorous canopy over the young witch who sat beneath. Shadows dappled Maeve's face where she reclined on the cool marble bench, running her fingers over the gauzy white fabric of her dress and looking out at her Aunt's lush garden. She was much younger then, maybe six or seven.
She looked over her shoulder and through a rowan bush at her parents. They were watching Arria perform some small charm, regally detached from their surroundings and each other. It was the elder daughter that lived to please them, that longed for their love and approval. Maeve knew that it was pointless to expect parents who didn't love one another to be selfless enough to truly adore something that was half their loathed spouse. So, instead of vying for their sparse affection, she watched Cassandra Pythia Sinclaire expertly plant bouncing bulbs in the empty bed beside a flutter-by bush, straight dark hair tied back in an expert braid.
"You should go sit with your parents. Your mother thinks I'm mad and my brother doesn't trust me, you know that." Cassandra's voice was clear but gentle, pleasing both in tone and volume. Maeve hopped off the bench and went to sit closer to her, careful to keep the creamy white fabric of her robes free of soil.
"If they really cared, they'd come make me sit with them." The inquisitive little green eyes rolled in their sockets, the tiny pink lips parting in an exasperated sigh.
"Aldebaran, how did you get to be so much smarter than your sister?" Cassandra laughed, brushing soil off her hands.
"Why do you always call me by my middle name, Cass?"
"Because that's what I named you, Little Follower." Cassandra set aside her trowel and beamed, reaching out to brush a forefinger across the bridge of her favourite niece's nose. "Legilmency isn't a difficult skill to learn for a Sinclaire woman, my dear. Your Malfoy mother didn't have the Occlumency to block me then, and she doesn't have it now. So, I got to name my favourite niece. Because one day, you will follow someone great into a new age of knowledge."
"How do you know?"
" I have my tricks." Cassandra laughed and touched a plant gently with her wand. "I always told my brother he would marry a witch who he hated and a witch who hated him, that they would have a daughter with extraordinary talent who would-"
"Arria." Maeve pointed out, tracing shapes on the small granite outcropping she perched on. Cassandra stood so they were on the same level and smiled coyly, placing a small, pink tea rose behind Maeve's delicate ear.
"That they would have a daughter with extraordinary talent and intelligence who would enchant without a spell or potion the most gifted wizard of the age. She would become his most trusted and loyal follower…" Her face fell suddenly and she broke the focused gaze, leaning forward and brushing her lips against Maeve's forehead in a way that was nervously fervent. The little girl smiled and sighed into her aunts throat, leaning back to grin into the woman's worried hazel eyes.
"Arria will be a queen then, wont she? Because she's much more talented then I am already…did you see my future, auntie Cass? Will I be happy?"
"I hope so, Aldebaran, Whatever you decide, I hope you are happy." Her aunt murmured evasively, her tone sounding slightly choked. Maeve seemed not to notice the distinction, looking in the direction of her parents.
"Will I love the man I marry?"
"No, but you will love the man who does marry you." Cassandra murmured, trimming a flutterby bush, a wry smile spreading across her lips.
"That doesn't make any sense." Maeve murmured, fingering the blossom at her ear. Cassandra knocked her hand away and readjusted the bloom, shaking her hear.
"No, it doesn't make sense yet. But it will, don't worry about it…yet." The two laughed together as they strode from the garden, hand in hand.
Maeve jerked awake, panting and horrified. She hated dreaming of her aunt, the aunt that had been driven mad by visions of an uncertain future. She sat up so quickly she bashed her head on the corner of the coffee table. Hissing in pain, she reached up and tentatively poked the budding bruise and winced. She rose shakily to her feet and dressed, padding down stairs to the common room and lying down on the couch. The terror was much less prevalent in the morning light. Maeve sighed and leaned back, just for a moment-
"Hello." Two large, protuberant blue eyes blinked down at her hopefully.
"AHH!" Maeve screamed and fell backwards over the couch, landing with a thud on the sapphire carpet. She blinked dazedly up at the figure before her, clutching her now thoroughly aching skull.
"Good morning, Maeve. Would you like a cup of tea?" Hattie Lovegood stood there innocently, proffering the tea tray.
"Merlin, Lovegood! You cant keep creeping up on me like that, it's terrifying." Maeve gasped, rising unsteadily and taking the teacup. Half of the liquid ended up in the saucer and she clinked the gilded edge of the cup on her teeth before she could get the soothing mixture of rosehip and chamomile down. She needed to focus and get a grip, she couldn't just go off into a fantasy this early in the morning. Maybe it would help if she told Hattie about it, just to get the ridiculousness out of her system…and look like a weak little idiot by doing so. No, she wouldn't mention it.
"I just-" Maeve hesitated and smiled at Hattie plaintively. "Wanted to ask you if my hair looked alright this morning?"
"Oh, yes I suppose it does, maybe a little brushing would help-" Hathor Lovegood mumbled, applying her wand tip to a few snaggles. As she was hovering, Ralph Clearwater trudged down the steps of the boys dormitory in pinstriped blue pjamas. He glanced at them with a sightless and bleary indifference.
"Good morning, Ralph!" Hattie declared brightly without turning around, a smile appearing on her face. Maeve struggled to present the same sparklingly optimistic façade in an atmosphere where the only reason for the lack of social tension was the fact that Clearwater was hardly conscious enough to let the antipathy shine through.
"Grggh? Wherza tea?" Maeve flicked her borrowed wand at the tea tray where it was perched precariously on the edge of the coffee table. It whizzed onto the cart he was standing in front of and he smiled sleepily.
"Thanks, Queen Slyth-Sinclaire." He corrected himself quickly, shaking his head at the drowsy lapse.
"I know you call me Queen Slytherin, Ralph. I've known it for weeks and for your information, I think it's ridiculously unimaginative-" There was a loud, angry pounding sound on the other side of the door to Ravenclaw common room and the sounds of raised voices.
"And yet, somehow it's extremely appropriate. I do believe your handmaidens and your honour guard are going to huff and puff and blow the bloody door down. Stupid gits couldn't answer a riddle to save their lives." Ralph snorted into his tea and gestured towards the exit, rolling his eyes.
"But they all answer to a Riddle, don't they?" Katelyn Boot trotted down the steps in her satin robe like she was a debutante instead of merely an annoying roommate. "They'd as soon help you down the steps as chop you into little pieces, Mae. But run along, go live on the edge of respectable socie-"
"Be quiet, you dirty little muggleborn." Maeve snapped turning on her heel and marching towards the door.
"See you in History of Magic?" Called Hattie as Maeve reached the door and threw it open.
"Good morning, beautiful." Maeve's heart sank as she saw who'd come to escort her this morning. Adonis Rosier beamed down at her with a persistently hungry expression, his hands in the pocket of his robes. He leaned around the corner and smiled at Hattie. "Morning to you, too, Lovegood."
"Oh, for the love of Merlin we're already late to breakfast!" Gloria Dolohov pushed past him and snatched Maeve's elbow, dragging her over the threshold. Maeve waved hastily in Hattie's direction, smacking her elbow on a marble column in her haste and snatching her arm back in pain.
"Oi, I was busy making a pureblood alliance!" Adonis complained loudly as they took off towards the great hall, Maeve struggling to keep up with Gloria's furious pace.
"Pureblood alliance my arse, must you attempt to sleep with everything that breathes? Couldn't you at least wait until we don't have work to do? Not that your any trouble, Sinclaire-" Gloria gave her a wary look that had nothing to do with her charge's feelings and everything to do with what Tom would say if he knew she thought that his most important conquest was a bother.
"Please, I don't see why you cant just call me Maeve." Maeve muttered, jerking her arm out of Gloria's grasp and rubbing her wrist.
"Don't take it personally, she's not even on a first name basis with me." Adonis chuckled, wrapping a muscular arm around Maeve's birdlike shoulders. Gloria made a face and smacked his wrist with her wand.
"AH! DOLOHOV!! Ouch, what the hell was that for?!" The horny Slytherin gasped, clutching his injured arm and hissing in pain.
"You keep chatting her up and Tom'll make sure that it falls off. And I'm not talking about your arm, you oversexed git." Gloria rolled her eyes and snatched Maeve's wrist again, pulling her along and exasperatedly glancing heavenward. "And don't kid yourself Sinclaire, we cant be friends."
Maeve sighed miserably and followed the pair of Slytherin's down to the great hall. As usual these days, she tried to ignore the glances she kept getting from people who'd never noticed her before. Some of them were wary, some nasty and most envious. Though I don't see why they envy me, it's not like my life is suddenly made. It just looks like it is. She thought uncomfortably, waving at a little Gryffindor first year who shied away as Adonis stalked past, shooting the tiny nemesis a vicious smile. Lionel Weasley snatched the little boy back and sneered at the Slytherin in response, giving Maeve a blank look as she shouldered past him.
"Sinclaire." He said with a nod. Maeve stopped, shocked that he was speaking to her. Gloria gave an extra yank and pulled her past him into the great hall. She heard Adonis accost him as he followed them in("Piss off, Ginger."), and tried to glance back, confused.
Those blood traitors never had two nice words to say to her, so why was Lionel bothering to greet her? Granted, it wasn't like he was Septimus, the muggle-lover who'd publicly denounced her by saying he'd never marry a silly, foolish little pureblood zealot. That he wouldn't marry her just because they'd been betrothed since she her birth. Septimus claimed that he'd rather die…Fury rose in her chest and she dismissed her curiosity over Lionel's unorthodox behaviour quickly, before it could manifest itself into a foul mood.
"Ah, Sinclaire. Good morning." Still stuck on the last names. She hadn't exactly expected him to suddenly start calling her Maeve, had she? Appropriate, since they'd been 'dating' for three weeks and still, she knew nothing about him. She took a seat beside Tom Riddle, as much because it was expected as because she felt press-ganged into it.
"Good morning, Tom." She murmured, looking up into the intense gray eyes that were riveted on her face. This was routine: She would glance up at him and he would peck her on the lips. She would spend a brief moment reveling in the fact that she was being kissed by the handsome, popular Head boy. Maeve would reflect upon how flawless this looked to the rest of the world and realize that just because a quick kiss looked sincere, didn't mean that it felt that way. What did you expect, stupid? A profession of undying devotion? Maeve shook her head and poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice.
Rafe watched the customary exchange, as he'd been watching it for two weeks; feeling disheartened. Tom went back to emotionlessly picking at his food, Maeve stared tiredly into her golden goblet in a way that most sad drunks looked at the bottom of their empty tankard. Frustration and confusion emanated off the pair in waves. He knew it was stupid, but Rafe desperately wanted Tom to be happy. Maybe if Riddle was happier, it might leak out into other things. Like it might rub off on…Rafe glanced over at Grendel and Kayne where they were busy burning a tiny Dippet effigy in one of the golden fruit bowls. It writhed around realistically trying to put itself out before finally going still and burning to a cinder. Well, Riddle's happiness might not perform miracles, but maybe it would make everyone's lives a little easier.
"Are you going to eat that, mate?" Everett croaked and made him jump, gesturing to the remaining bacon on his plate. Rafe shook his head and his hand shot out to grab Yaxley's crutches as they slid towards the floor. Everett struggled to move the pieces of meat onto his plate with his heavily plastered right hand, wincing.
"When does Madam Yarrow say you can be off the crutches, Everett?" Maeve asked in a small voice, taking a sip from her goblet. Yaxley dragged his gaze up to look at her with what was almost a glare.
"Another week." He grunted, shoveling bacon into his mouth so he wouldn't be available for conversation.
"Oh." Maeve looked guiltily at the surface of the table and Rafe felt almost sorry for her. Sitting next to Tom as he tried for indifference with not a single female friend to speak to, she looked incredibly lonely. All of the Slytherin girls were down at the other end of the table, chattering like a coop full of chickens. None of them spared the little Ravenclaw usurper a second glance as they planned get-togethers in Hogsmeade and 'study' sessions and obsessively discussed their love lives.
They were the girls who had learned long ago not to make friends with any of Tom's prey because the relationship never lasted long enough for them to form a bond with the girl in question. They all referred to her as 'Sinclaire' or 'The Ravenclaw' and scarcely spoke of her in Caoinin's fragile presence, let along their own insular social circles. Yet none of them dared show outward aggression, their self-preservation instinct was too strong. But there they sat, just as indifferent as Tom.
"I'm…er…going to talk to Hattie, if you don't mind." Maeve mumbled, looking blatantly miserable. Rafe sat up in alarm as Tom's expression went from mild to ugly in a split second and his lip curled. His eyes flashed dangerously as he glared at his breakfast, the vicious look hidden from Maeve as she twitched uncomfortably beside him. To Rafe's utter relief, the look passed and Tom's features reassembled themselves into something like tolerance.
"Very well." He said stiffly, nodding. "I will see you in Herbology."
Maeve stood up and attempted to walk away, only to have Tom capture her wrist and pull her back. For a moment, she looked confused but sat back down beside him. He gave her a kiss that was much more then a goodbye peck and Lupus made a snorkeling sound into his cereal and looked away in embarrassment. Rosier watched with a fascinated look, cocking his head to the side so he could see from a better angle and only coming to his senses when Malcolm smacked him in the chest in disgust. Maeve's hands fluttered half-heartedly to Riddle's shoulders, obviously fearful that she might fall off the bench. With a wet suctioning sound, Tom released her and she stared at him in a kind of shocked horror.
"Herbology?" She muttered breathlessly, straightening her tie.
"Herbology." He answered, raising an eyebrow with blasé expression and returning to his scrambled eggs. Maeve nodded and staggered off towards Ravenclaw table, tottering drunkenly. Tom set down his fork sharply and pushed his plate to the middle of the table, folding his hands and glaring mutely at nothing.
"Abraxas?"
"Yes?" Malfoy perked up, jerking his blonde head off the table and snapping to attention.
"Does Sinclaire look happy to you?" Tom asked carefully, spinning the butter knife in a menacing circle with his forefinger. Abraxas gulped and ignored Rafe's elbow to the ribs, wetting his lips and speaking hurriedly:
"She seems very happy to me, Tom. She's obviously overjoyed to be-"
"Don't lie and simper, Malfoy. You know that I find it vile." Tom spat venomously, knocking aside his goblet in disgust.
"I'm sure its not you, my lord." Malcolm interjected quietly, righting the goblet and mopping at the spilled liquid like a doting parent. Riddle cast him a withering look that could have rivaled the killing gaze of a basilisk and he hurried to continue. "Of course it isn't! She may even just be playing hard to-"
"Be silent, Nott. Has it not occurred to you that I have already analyzed every possible reason for Sinclaire's indifference and found each one lacking?" Rafe shifted uncomfortably, he'd never seen Tom this troubled by anything(or anyone) before. It would be better for both of them if Maeve could just pretend that she thought Tom cared. Ugh, it's all too complicated. Who am I to be pointing the finger at them when I'm nearly as dysfunctional as Tom…I like O'Brien, for Merlin's sake. Rafe winced and shook his head, despairing.
"Tom, she's indifferent because you are." He blurted into his pancakes, terrified by the abrupt silence that followed his words, interrupted only by the sound of Kayne choking and Everett's hissing intake of breath.
"Explain, Lestrange." Tom stared emotionlessly at the table, his wand swinging like a pendulum from his clasped hands, trailing orange sparks.
"Sinclaire's not like…the rest of them. As she's already proven, she's much smarter-"
"Smarter than Yax, at least." Vance chuckled blackly, nudging Grendel and jerking back when Everett made a growling sound under his breath.
"-And so she cant just be fooled by snogging and longing looks. She needs something deeper-" Rafe tried doggedly to continue over the rude comments but Tom held up a hand, shaking his head.
"Physical intimacy is the quickest way to ruin a relationship, Rafe. I refuse to believe that you are ignorant enough to suggest-"
"I'm not talking about sex! I'm talking about affection! Failing that, the convincing illusion that it exists. She needs to trust you completely."
There's was a strangely shocked silence following his words in which his fellow Deatheaters shifted uncomfortably. Tom blinked in surprise, but nonetheless considered this option. The relationship did not lack on his end, he certainly showed her affection. But for some reason, she simply did not return it…
"I'll speak to her."