Death Eater No More—Chapter Twenty-One (Halloween)
Defense Against the Dark Arts class had been moved to this evening, which alone was enough to pique the students' curiosity. Since everyone knew with unwavering certainty that Snape had no life outside of Hogwarts now that Lord Voldemort had been vanquished, it remained a mystery as to what he'd been doing during the normal class time.
Excited students still chattered over yesterday's lesson in Muggle Studies; a few adventurous pupils had even pledged to sneak out and find one of those Muggle mobile phones—until a Muggleborn drolly informed them that it wouldn't work unless it was paid for and signed up to a network, which went right over their heads. Yet another topic for Professor Granger to tackle.
Bayly arrived at the same time as Professor Snape outside the classroom, meaning in effect that he was late, as evidenced by the sour expression projected his way. Students were to be in their seats and ready to learn when the teacher made his appearance, that point had been stressed heavily first class of the year. He increased his pace to an all-out dash in a futile attempt to slip in ahead of Snape.
Severus deftly caught the arm of the boy, swung him around, and growled in his ear, "You missed my class yesterday, Mr. Young."
"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't feel well," answered Bayly, suddenly studying the floor as if he found it fascinating.
Snape's fingers grasped the boy's chin to lift it up, and if he were the type to react with outward signs he might have done more than blink at the sight of Bayly's puffed and semi-healed lips. In a heartbeat his wand was in his hand; when he lifted it, Bayly sucked in a frightened breath as he struggled to be free.
"I'm sorry, I won't be late again!"
"Quiet." Severus held the lad's chin in a firm grip as he ran the wand along each lip while muttering an incantation under his breath. The wounds sealed over, the swelling diminished rapidly, and the pain receded to nothing.
When he'd finished, Bayly reached up tentatively to touch his lips, then he broke into a smile that didn't hurt one bit. "Thank you, Professor! Do you think you could teach me that?"
"I could teach it, it would be up to you to learn it," replied Severus. A student asking to learn rather than being dragged kicking and screaming into a morsel of knowledge—when was the last time that had happened…excluding the know-it-all Granger, of course? His scrutinizing gaze hadn't left the boy's countenance. "Were you fighting again?"
Bayly shook his head as his face sought the floor again. "No, sir. I…fell."
"I've never known anyone to fall on their mouth," commented Severus. He didn't truly expect Bayly to admit if he was fighting, if for no other reason than fear of punishment. He'd not seen any other student with injuries, nor heard of any fight, but it was entirely possible the boy had been waylaid, or set upon by a group of students as Severus so often had been. Whatever the scenario, he obviously didn't wish to discuss it. "Be advised, Mr. Young, that bullying will not be tolerated while I am Headmaster."
"I didn't bully anyone!" Bayly protested.
"Did I accuse you?"
"No, sir."
"Let me rephrase my statement. If there is a person or persons bothering you, you needn't hesitate to approach me. That said, see me after class and I'll teach you this healing spell. Go take your seat."
Severus waited until Bayly was situated before he swept into the room in his typical grand entrance, his loose robes billowing just so. Pity the brats would never know the amount of practice it had taken him to perfect that walk!
He strode up to the front of the room and did a dramatic whirl. "Students, I've invited guest lecturers for today's lesson. You will behave as befits one of my pupils or suffer dire consequences." Not one pupil dared ask what those consequences might be, rightly determining it best never to find out.
A timid hand went up, waited to be acknowledged with a frustrated nod, then the girl ventured with just a hint too much hopeful expectation, "Is it Gilderoy Lockhart? Is he well now?"
"No," scowled Snape. "He's even more insane than he was when he affected the air of a teacher here at Hogwarts." Idiot Hufflepuff. "Before any more of you get it into your skulls to ask foolish questions, I shall introduce our guests, Mateo and Tonia."
From the shadows at the back of the room the two glided forward, their hands clasped together, their gait so smooth they appeared almost to be floating. Tonia's long brown curls and dark eyes made a beautiful contrast to Mateo's short blond locks and pale blue eyes. Even their mode of dress differed greatly: whereas Mateo favored Muggle jeans and a black T-shirt, Tonia looked like a throwback to the nineteenth century with her aristocratic riding breeches and ruffled white shirt.
All heads turned, mouths went slack as the teenagers fell prey to the vampires' natural powers of seduction working their wiles. Of course, it didn't hurt that both of the pair were undeniably attractive with or without seductive powers. They stopped at the front of the room to greet Severus, then turned to the students and smiled broadly.
At the sight of their fangs, a girl in the front row screamed; several others gasped and lurched back in their chairs. If Snape had harbored any doubt of waning interest, his fears were put to rest. He'd have to ask Mateo later if he had a secret for inspiring such panic, an admirable quality indeed.
In a dry tone Severus said, "As you may have noticed, Tonia and Mateo are vampires, hence the need to hold class at night. They have generously agreed to come speak with you and answer any questions you have. I advise you to pay close attention, as I'll require a two-foot parchment from each of you on tonight's lesson." Astoundingly, no one groaned at the assignment. He gestured for the couple to take over and he faded back to the wall.
"Hello," said Mateo. He cocked his head and glanced at the starkly white face of the girl in front of him. "Are you sure you aren't a vampire, missy? You look right bloodless." Many of the students snickered quietly, nervously. "Don't worry, we fed before we came."
Tonia elbowed him in the side. "Mateo means we are not going to bite you." Her English, learned from Mateo over the past eighteen years, held a light Spanish accent, though her speech flowed nicely.
"We won't bite you unless you get really irritating," Mateo clarified, grinning over at Tonia. "And then it would be purely from spite, since we need to feed only once a week. But we won't kill you." Tonia's twitching eyelid told him he'd best move on. "Anyhow, we belong to the largest cult in Spain, headed by Yadiro Buitrago." The name rolled off his tongue, pronounced the Spanish way. He may be speaking English, but Yadiro took great pride in his name.
A boy's hand shot up. "If you're Spanish, how come you don't have an accent?"
"My grandmother was British, so my mother spoke English and she taught it to me growing up," explained Mateo.
"How old are you?" asked the pallid girl in the front row.
"I was born in the year of our Lord 1654. You figure it out," he smirked.
Clive Fields, the Gryffindor who'd asked about the accent, now addressed Tonia with infatuated, adoring gazes. "How old are you?"
"One hundred thirty-nine," she replied pleasantly. "I was twenty-one when I was brought into the fold."
"Vampires retain whatever age they were when turned," added Mateo. "Thus, my wife will always be lovely and young." He smiled over at her, to the deflated looks of many of the boys who evidently thought they stood a chance with the sangrista.
A Slytherin boy who'd rapidly calculated that Mateo was at least two hundred years older than Tonia, and therefore must have been a vampire before she was even born, scoffed, "Vampires can't get married."
In the space of an instant Mateo had traversed the room and was upon him, eyes flashing malevolently. Normally easy going, he had one great weakness: Tonia. Tonia had been forced to play whore for five years for the vampire who kidnapped her as a human teenager, before he'd decided to turn her. She'd put that life and those terrible memories behind her, Mateo would have nobody insinuate she was Mateo's concubine! No one—no one—insulted his woman or hinted she might be less than his perfect wife! He didn't notice or care that all the humans were astounded at his speed and aghast at his vitriol.
"Tell that to the priest who witnessed our vows!" he hissed. One hand shot out, grabbed the shrieking boy by the front of his robes, and lifted him in the air as if he weighed no more than a baby.
Snape took a single step forward, his wand at ready. The dark lord had invented a spell to kill vampires, which he'd taught to Lucius many years ago, who in turn had showed Snape. While he'd likely try another spell first, if necessary he'd have to protect his charges, and he really didn't look forward to using it, particularly not on Lucius' relative! "Mateo, I must ask you to refrain from terrorizing the students, as much as I empathize with your desire to do so."
Mateo dropped the trembling boy into his chair with a dismissive flick of his wrist. He looked down at him with a meaningful glare, then casually walked back up to the front of the room. Tonia, her lips set in a slight pout that made her even more captivating to the young men, whispered something in Spanish that caused Mateo to look vaguely ashamed.
"My apologies, Professor Snape," Mateo uttered. Notably he did not offer any apology to the teen.
"Do you know Sanguini?" asked a Ravenclaw girl. "He's a vampire, he was here a couple years ago for Professor Slughorn's party."
Suppressing an amused smile, Mateo responded, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't know every other vampire in the world."
"Stupid question, Gloria!" laughed a Ravenclaw boy.
"Shut up, Warner!" she shot back at her housemate. To Tonia she asked, "Is it true vampires can fly?"
"Yes," said Tonia simply. With a light push she soared into the air and circled the tables below. Snape thought wryly how fortunate it was she wore breeches with those little perverts below watching.
"Did you know your instructor, Professor Snape, can also fly?" inquired Mateo, to the Headmaster's great discomfiture. "Our leader—"
"That will do," Severus interrupted. He sincerely did not want the students to find out Lord Voldemort, who'd taught him to fly, had learned it from Mateo's cult leader! "This lesson is not about me. Mr. Harper has observed your strength first hand, we've all seen how quickly you can move. Perhaps you could demonstrate your agility or your hypnotic ability."
"You mean like this?" Like a flash he was gone, then his voice rang out from above, "I'm up here!"
Everyone's attention turned to the dreadfully high ceiling to search for where Mateo was clutching onto a thick wooden beam. All at once he let go and came hurtling head first toward the floor, only to flip over at the last possible second to land gently on his feet with a tiny click of his boots. The students burst into spontaneous applause and he bowed, grinning. Tonia drifted down from the ceiling smiling proudly at her husband; rather than walk she hovered mere inches above the stones and floated up to him, palms outstretched to meet his, and kissed him on the lips.
"Please note my talented wife," Mateo crooned, his light blue eyes fixed on her brown orbs. "To float along like that is much harder than it looks, way harder than flying, and takes years to perfect. Till that time, you fall on your face a lot."
The students laughed along with him. Vampires weren't nearly as scary as they'd been led to believe! Even the Slytherin boy, Harper, showed no signs of fear now.
Luna raised her hand. "I'll volunteer to be hypnotized."
Mateo shrugged. "Alright, come up here."
Several other hands went up waving frantically, so the sangristas invited the lot of them to the front. Tonia stared into Clive's eyes for a few seconds, then she whispered something to him. Clive straightened up, ran a hand over his smooth locks repeatedly as if trying to force unruly hair into submission, then trotted up the aisle to plunk himself down next to Ginny.
He snuggled up to her, seemingly indifferent to the fact that she was shoving very hard against him. "What is it, Ginny? Are you still mad that I defeated Voldemort without you?"
"What?" exclaimed Ginny, too flabbergasted to continue struggling.
"You don't have to envy me just because I'm a hero," blabbed Clive. He made a motion with his finger at the bridge of his nose like pushing back non-existent glasses. "And because I'm really exceptional at Quidditch."
"Oh, Lord!" moaned Snape. The dimwit thought he was Harry freaking Potter! "Tonia, I think we already see enough of the Boy Wonder. If you don't mind…"
Tonia nodded and glided over to Clive. "You are not Harry Potter," she said.
Clive looked around, suddenly unsure how he got where he was or why everyone was laughing. He scurried back to his own table.
Mateo chose Luna, whom he stared at with such intensity it caused Tonia to inquire teasingly, "Me quieres hacer celosa, mi amor?" (Do you want to make me jealous, love?)
"No mas un poquito," (Just a little) cooed Mateo. "Te hace mas sensual." (It makes you more sensual).
A Slytherin girl, Saturnina Reynoso, tittered at the exchange. Tonia looked at her and asked, "Hablas espanol?" (Do you speak Spanish?)
"Claro que si," (Of course) returned Saturnina, smirking.
To Snape's discomfort, he noted Mateo paying him a bit too much attention and grinning like the cat who ate the canary. That couldn't be good; he'd seen enough and heard enough from Lucius about this vampire's proclivity for embarrassing mischief.
"You are the teacher in this class," Mateo declared to Luna. "Take charge."
Luna shook her hair back from her face the way she'd seen Snape do a hundred times, then she pulled her robe tight around her as she crossed her arms over her chest and glowered very convincingly at the students who were out of their seats. Even her tone changed to a snide drawl, oddly tempered by her natural sweet disposition. "Did I give permission for you dunderheads to wander around the room like grazing gazelles? One hundred points from each of your Houses—and a pox of nargles on you, as well."
The students to whom she was speaking merely gaped in fascination at the blending of Luna's personality with Snape's.
"Did I stutter?" demanded Luna. "To your seats!" She took out her wand and pointed it menacingly, and the pupils bolted for their seats. Smiling a pleasant, dreamy, Luna-type smile, she said, "I'm glad I didn't have to transfigure you into squid bait. That wouldn't have been very nice at all." She paused thoughtfully. "Although I will reduce to compost anyone who so much as utters a phrase involving greasy, bat, or git."
In spite of himself Severus began to snicker quietly, the laughter bubbling up from his chest so forcefully he had to turn to the wall lest the group of nincompoops witness him enjoying this debacle. After all, it wasn't as if Lovegood was portraying him accurately; Merlin's beard, the poor girl couldn't pull off a decent sneer to save her life! And her ruthless qualities were sorely lacking. He had to admit her threats were rather creative, albeit in a far different league from his own.
The Gryffindor named Clive, smiling smugly, braved a question. "Um, Professor Snape—Lovegood, we were studying vampires. How do you kill a vampire?"
Luna stared him down with a deadpan face. "If I told you, you might take it upon yourself to utilize your uniquely Gryffindor blend of stupidity and bravado to attempt to murder our guests."
Clive flushed and threw himself back in his seat while the rest of the class burst into appreciative cackles. Severus stepped forward to catch Mateo's eye, and the latter said to Luna, "You are no longer the teacher. Go sit down. And as for how to kill a vampire, it would be very foolhardy of me to answer that, wouldn't it?"
XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO
October 31, 1998: Halloween Ball at Malfoy Manor
As much as Lucius detested parties, had hated them from childhood because of the need to curry favor incessantly and watch his manners more so than the usual strict code of behavior, he'd agreed with Narcissa that this charity ball on Halloween could prove useful. Besides, forty years of pretending to like people and make them feel at ease shouldn't be wasted on mere personal sentiment, not when the resurgence of the Malfoy dignity was at stake.
Hence, his new policy of covertly buying off everyone under the guise of benevolence in order to push the Malfoy name into the ring of acceptance where it belonged had superseded his old policy of donating to hospitals, charities, and worthy causes to simply further the Malfoy name and keep it in the spotlight. Negligible difference, one might say—unless one were fighting not only for oneself but for wife and son and unborn child to bring back a modicum of the respect they'd once enjoyed. To wage war against the stigma of being a Death Eater was no small undertaking, but Lucius had set his mind to the task and he would succeed…his family needed for him to succeed, and above all he couldn't let them down again.
With the weight of this responsibility draped firmly across his shoulders, he led Narcissa up the wide staircase of the ballroom, looking absolutely dapper and sophisticated in black silk trousers and a high-collared shirt trimmed in gold leaf filigree with a hint of orange to match Narcissa's stunning black gown with just a shimmer of orange, cinched under the breast to drape flatteringly over her baby bulge.
They surveyed the crowd milling below. For the most part they were purebloods, naturally, and Slytherins as well: these were old friends and acquaintances who nearly all had ties to Death Eaters in one way or another and who also sought ways to redeem their honor. There were, however, those who required pandering to—the St. Mungo's Hospital Board members. Lucius intended this ball not only to elicit donations for the hospital, but to bring esteem to the Malfoys, who made it all possible, and as such he'd spent the past hour sucking up to this set.
Lucius placed his wand to his throat. "May I have your attention." His voice boomed out through the room and heads turned to look up at the couple. "Thank you all for coming tonight; thank you even more for your generous contributions to a most deserving cause. I won't bore you with a long speech, I only wish to announce that your total benefaction amounts to 125,000 galleons!"
On the floor below, hundreds of people began to cheer wildly. The four Board members who'd followed the Malfoys up onto the balcony clapped as loudly as anyone, their faces beaming. So far, so good, Lucius smiled to himself. His enormous donation to Hogwarts a few months back and now this; one step at a time he'd reclaim his rightful place as a pillar of society.
Lucius held up his hand for silence, then turned focus over to Narcissa, who placed her wand delicately to her throat. "In accordance with the agreement my husband and I made between ourselves to match your gift, we Malfoys will donate an equivalent amount, raising the total to 250,000 galleons!"
Again the multitude went crazy. Everyone had naturally assumed the first number included the Malfoy pledge, too—although in truth few were surprised at the generosity, for Malfoys throughout the ages had been great benefactors. The Board members approached the Malfoys to shake their hands vehemently, and one asked to address the audience.
"My fellow witches and wizards, words cannot express the gratitude we from St. Mungo's feel right now. Thank you is wholly inadequate but all we have, so—thank you! Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, your generosity is beyond all expectations. We offer our sincerest appreciation."
Lucius applauded along with the rest, then he motioned to the band in a corner downstairs and they began to play a lively, creepy tune in keeping with the date. He and Narcissa excused themselves to go down and mingle with the crowd. They were met at the bottom of the stairs by Severus—dressed to the nines in his finest black robes, coincidentally given to him as a Christmas present from the Malfoys—and his daughter Jacinta, his sister Justina, and brother Julius.
Lucius and Narcissa greeted him, then Narcissa smiled as she stepped in to hug the twins in a crushing embrace. "Goodness, how long has it been? Why are you two still living in Wales?"
Both of them grinned, but Justina said, "It's been too long, Narcissa. Miles—" She dragged her husband closer to them. "—and I are talking of moving back to England. Now that Voldemort is dead and most of his followers in jail, it's safe for us to return."
"That's wonderful, Tina!" sighed Narcissa. "We don't visit often enough. I've so missed seeing your children."
"Not for long," interjected Julius drolly, gesturing at her belly. "Once you have that baby, you won't have time for our kids."
"I always will!" Narcissa insisted. "Julius, are you moving back, too?"
The young man shrugged. "My wife is from Wales, she doesn't really want to leave."
"That means 'no'," said Severus dryly. His brother sneered back.
Narcissa bent in to embrace Jacinta, sighing again. "Now that you're all grown up you don't come by often anymore. Have you got a beau now?"
Jacinta rolled her eyes in the direction of Severus. "Daddy runs off any young men I bring home, and Papa encourages him! I'm going to be an old hag spinster."
"If you brought home a fellow worthy of consideration, I might approve of him," retorted Severus.
Lucius intervened before a full-fledged family argument could develop. "Severus, why don't you come with me, I had something I wanted to discuss with you. Let's leave Narcissa to sort out this motley crew." He winked at his wife and squeezed her hand before leading Severus to a secluded corner.
"Something on your mind, Lucius?"
"Actually, yes. Draco tells me you've made Muggle Studies mandatory for all students." Although Lucius waited politely for the confirmation, it was entirely unnecessary, for several couples had already lamented to him the fact that their children were being indoctrinated with toxic ideas at Hogwarts.
"Yes, I did," Severus affirmed, not backing down. "I fail to see why it interests you as you currently have no children at Hogwarts."
"It's a societal concern," answered Lucius. "Many purebloods have no desire to be contaminated with Muggle ideas or customs. If their children come to see Muggles as—God forbid—equals, what's to prevent them from marrying the beasts?"
The cold expression hardening into flint on Snape's face gave Lucius pause, and with a mortified intake of breath he remembered Severus' father was a Muggle. It was something he'd basically blocked out of his mind many years ago, something so easy to forget what with it being so shameful and with Severus being such an able, powerful wizard from the fine, pure Prince line.
"I'm sorry, I meant no offense," he apologized.
Snape glared at him with more than venom in his eyes…there was a tinge of hurt. After all these years Lucius couldn't get past that, could he? "Calling my father a beast shouldn't offend me? There is no way to circumvent the implication that I am also a beast by association. Pray tell, what do you consider offensive?"
"Severus, I—damn it, you know how I feel! You've been my best friend for twenty-odd years, I don't even think of you as a halfblood. To me you're a pureblood…I forget." He raised his light eyebrows and shrugged one shoulder, his bearing radiating true regret.
Severus wanted to be angry, he wanted to rail at the man for his insensitivity…yet he couldn't. This was Lucius Malfoy; if he didn't act like a prejudiced ass every once in a while, Snape would think someone had used Polyjuice potion to take over his estate. But yet, his irrational opinions needed to be addressed. "This illustrates brilliantly my whole point with Muggle Studies. There are a plethora of false impressions floating around the pureblood community, impressions that need to be squelched. Pureblood mania in large part was responsible for the war that damaged your family and your reputation, yet you cling to it like a gem."
"What would you have us do? Dilute our magic with Muggles until no purebloods are left alive?" exclaimed Lucius in disgust. "Eventually magic would die out when no true wizards existed anymore, only occasional Muggleborns who'd have no clue what to do with their magic because the keepers of the spells and customs are gone!"
Severus snorted. "That's an extreme case scenario, hardly probable. Even so, I'm not suggesting there is anything wrong with purebloods sticking together, I'm only saying respect should run both ways. There are plenty of Muggle inventions that dwarf magic—like airplanes and television! What is so wrong with acknowledging that Muggles are not animals? They're as intelligent as wizards, and at the risk of seriously pissing you off, maybe you ought to reconsider what you taught Draco! The ramifications of those ideals nearly got him killed!"
If it weren't for the band blaring in the background, there would be a stony silence between the men. This was not the first time they'd argued over pureblood notions, but each time they wrangled the tempers flared a bit hotter. Now they sliced dangerously close to home.
Despite the fact that he abhorred losing an argument, Lucius knew when to quit. Malfoy pride or no, he preferred a quiet withdrawal to irreparably damaging the only true, strong friendship he'd ever had (Narcissa aside, of course). He gave one of his feigned smiles that touched only his lips, and inclined his head slightly. "Out of consideration for our friendship, I suggest that we agree to disagree. I will never believe that Muggles are equal to wizards, or that they ought to mix, but I will concede that they are not animals."
"How very big of you," drawled Severus. "That must have been painful."
"Extremely," rejoined Lucius.
He glanced across the floor where Draco stood with a gaggle of his old school chums, all of them pureblood. What could possibly be wrong with the way he'd trained his son to honor his heritage? It wasn't as if he'd taught him to murder Muggles like some Death Eaters did with their children! Draco was perhaps a bit too arrogant at times but he was a Malfoy, for crying out loud, he had a right to be! Disdain versus murder—completely different! Weren't purebloods allowed to be proud of their heritage like everyone else?
And yet, Draco was reviled by the 'good people' of society just as Lucius was because of their Death Eater past. They needed to distance themselves from the images in people's minds, and foremost among those images was a strong belief in pureblood supremacy. If he raised his second child with these same concepts, would he (or she) find it hard to make his way in this new social order, being held back by contempt for their lessers? Would it be traitorous to his roots to teach the child tolerance for others along with their obvious superiority? Was it even possible for the views to co-exist?"
"Will you excuse me, Severus? I must see to my guests," murmured Lucius finally.
"Of course." Snape watched him walk off to greet another guest with a genial smile and a handshake. Strangely enough, unless he was deluding himself, Lucius was coming around slowly—ever so slowly. Ordinarily he didn't give up so easily, and certainly wouldn't have called for a truce. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age!
He pursed his lips and gazed out over the partygoers, pausing on Draco. The boy hadn't spoken two words to him except under duress since finding out he'd been a spy against Voldemort. They desperately needed to clear the air, but now wasn't the time, not when he had his friends around him—and was that Mateo? Damnation, yes it was! Draco was introducing the vampire to his enthusiastic gang! Severus smirked. He hoped Pansy didn't wet herself from excitement. Blaise Zabini, the boy who looked perpetually bored, had a reversal of expression tonight. Theodore Nott wore a goofy look reminiscent of his father, though he was substantially more intelligent. Gregory Goyle seemed impressed…and sulking; he kept glaring over at Draco as if the boy were still interested in Pansy, and Severus didn't really blame him. Draco was the type girls generally went for, not dull, unattractive men like Goyle. However, with how close Draco was standing to Daphne Greengrass, leaning in toward her, it should be evident even to Goyle that Draco had another girl on his mind.
Severus shook his head. If he ever got his godson alone to talk, maybe the kid would open up about his life like he used to do when they were dear to each other. He missed that.
The girl with brown hair cut bluntly across the back and banged in front took Draco's hand as she squealed to the group still reveling in meeting the vampire who'd already gone off seeking more mature company.
"Guess what? I was going to tell you before Mateo came over: I was walking past Professor Snape and I heard Jacinta Mulciber call him Papa!"
"Don't make things up, Daphne," answered Theodore.
"Really?" exclaimed Pansy at the same time, her exhilaration seemingly unbounded. "But she's a Mulciber…isn't she?"
"No," said Draco. Instantly all eyes were riveted on him. "She's Snape's kid, but Jack Mulciber raised her as his to protect her from the dark lord, evidently since Snape was afraid he might get caught spying."
"Yeah, right," muttered Blaise, crossing his arms. "Snape doesn't act like he's got a kid."
"Well he does," insisted Malfoy. "I grew up with her, Snape brought her here all the time."
Pansy and Daphne looked at each other, smiling conspiratorially. First finding out Draco was related to a real live vampire, and now this juicy morsel about Professor Snape! Christmas had come early for the Slytherin girls, and come tomorrow the rumor mill would begin to turn with scalding hot gossip.