TrinityLost: Yay! I'm glad you liked it – it was the only way I could get some real action in since frankly I don't think the boys are ready just yet. Also, it's important for Draco to have both Pansy's calculated manipulation and the Dark Lord's threat of rape as a means of control to compare to the possibility of sex that's consensual, reciprocal, and meaningful. And the fact that when he slept with a girl he thought – hmm, something's missing. Pretty subtle, Draco. Also – please enjoy the beginning of how we are solving the cabinet problem.
NX-Loveless-XN: I think Pansy uses sex to get what she wants, and she obviously realized that offering Draco sex was not an effective way to manipulate him, whereas a veiled threat might be.
Chapter 27: Loon
Dawn was breaking when as Draco and Snape trudged through the cold, snow covered streets of Hogsmeade back toward the school. Only one week of classes left, Draco thought, and for a brief moment he actually looked forward to going home and having Christmas. Then a rush of icey cold wind blew across his face, sweeping up sharps little shards of ice and driving them into his eyes. He paused to brush of his face and then looked down at the black leather gloves his father had given him last year, and with a pang he remembered that his Father wouldn't be there this year. They had never spent Christmas apart. It would seem so… empty… without him there. A wave of bitterness swept over him and he realized he was utterly exhausted.
They'd been summoned in the middle of dinner last night, and thank gods they'd been able to leave right away. Actually, it had been a relatively dull night. Draco had been obliged to show up to watch a few public admonitions of other Death Eaters doing less than exemplary work, topped off by the torture of a Muggle who'd made the mistake of setting off one of the peripheral wards around the property and was being kept in the basement. All of that had been over by about one in the morning, though. Most of the others dispersed after that and Draco was sent into the hallway to wait for Snape, who was in conference with the Dark Lord and a couple other high-ranking followers. Draco reflected ruefully that his father would once have been in that room with them. Now Snape, Bella, Thicknesse and another man he didn't recognize were in there and his father's inadequate replacement was banished to the cold marble floor of the entrance hall to wait. And wait.
And wait.
Six hours later, Snape finally emerged, and silently tugged Draco to a standing position by his elbow and they disapparated on the spot.
And now they were walking in the bitter cold of the early morning, windswept streets still partially lit by street lanterns in the meagre morning light.
When they reached the gates, Snape stopped. Draco turned to ask him why, but Snape waved him off and turned back toward Hogsmeade without another word. Draco was too tired to worry about it, so he started trudging slowly along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, planning to cut across the grounds where it was a little less steep.
And that's when he heard them.
A thick, leathery sort of flapping and whooshing, with the high pitched whinny of a horse. Draco was suddenly wide awake, and began to slowly back away from the edge of the wood when he heard a light, airy female voice speaking in soft tones. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but she didn't sound alarmed. He looked around: the grounds were empty, no one was to be seen. The thin trail of smoke swirling out of the chimney of the half-breed's hovel was the only other sign of life.
Against his better judgement, Draco stepped a little closer into the forest. He could hear the voice now, and it sounded familiar, but he still couldn't place it. He followed it along a path a few more steps, looking back to ensure that he could the way back out, and then, around the edge of a massive tree trunk, he spotted her.
Loony Lovegood. Figures, he thought. Who else would be in the forbidden forest at the crack of dawn?
She was standing in a clearing just ahead, holding out what looked like a chunk of bloody steak. Draco stared, transfixed, as one of those black, leathery horse-like creatures he'd seen pulling the carriages in August slowly approached her and snatched the gruesome offering out of her hand, gobbling it up rather like a bird than a horse. It whinnied and sort of clicked at her, and then she reached out and…. gods… she actually touched it. He'd thought they were graceful when they'd pulled his carriage but having seen this one eat a raw hunk of flesh, he was starting to feel a bit queasy.
A twig cracked underfoot, and Loony turned around and met his eyes with a look of mild amusement and, oddly, not a hint of surprise.
"Hello, Draco," she said, smiling mildly. Draco merely stood, staring at her, and at the leathery bat-winged horse beside her. She tilted her head to the side for a moment, and then said, "so you can see them, too?"
"Of course I can," he said dismissively.
"I saw my mother die," she said, in a bizarre non sequitur that made Draco's eyebrows fly up.
"I'm sorry, what?" He asked, completely forgetting to throw in his usual sneer or to at least to feign indifference.
"Only people who have seen death can see thestrals," she explained conversationally, giving the creature another pat on the neck.
"Oh," he said. Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, Draco was sure he had known that, but he'd never seen them until this year because… well, because.
"You don't have to tell me about it," she said in lightly, "I find most people prefer not to talk about death."
What a strange, strange girl. Draco frowned at her and turned to leave, but she continued, "I think it's because you can't fix it."
"What?" Draco was too tired to be having this conversation with a crazy girl and bat-horse-of-death at seven in the fucking morning.
"You can't fix death. It makes them think about all the other things that simply can't be fixed. But sometimes, when something is broken, you have the chance to replace it with something even better."
Draco stared blankly at her for a few more minutes, unable to even summon the energy to roll his eyes, and then walked back out of the forest.
Ravenclaws are best avoided until after breakfast and a decent cup of tea.
Draco returned to Slytherin and hunted down Vaisey and bought a dose of pepperup potion from him, then tracked down Greg and Vincent. He was determined not to waste the day, despite his exhaustion.
When he got to the stretch of wall, he considered asking for the Room of Lost Things, but ultimately decided to ask for the little study. The little birch door appeared and he entered the study, carrying the copy of Peabody's Repository.
He sat at the desk and stared at the doll furniture. Maybe the Room was onto something. Maybe he could use them to simulate what was wrong with the cabinet. Unfortunately, he'd found a zillion ways to make a connection, but almost nothing about fixing a connection. So even if he could create a link using a portus charm, he had no idea how to break it so resemble what was wrong with the Vanishing Cabinets, but less how to fix it again.
He pulled a pair of the miniature wardrobes toward him. They looked Chinese – the wood had been painted red and the tiny brass handles formed a circle where they met in the front.
He sighed, and flipped the page of the book and stared at the chapter entitled "Elementary Portus Charms."
Well he might as well see if he can even cast one of these.
After some experimentation (the Chinese cabinets had briefly turned green and sprouted daisies) he thought he might have figured it out.
Charms are a type of magic that travels like light, he reasoned. So he placed the two cabinets at an angle so that, if there were a third, they would form an equilateral triangle. He held his wand precisely where the third wall would be, and cast the charm, "portus aperio" and a little yellow light burst from his wand and travelled out first to the middle of the back surface of one cabinet, where it bounced directly to the other cabinet, and then back to his want, forming a perfect triangle. The yellow threads glowed for a few moments, then faded.
He took a deep breath, then set the pair on the desk back to back. Next he scooted them to be about two inches part. A reasonable distance for a first try, he thought.
He opened both of the little cabinets and wished he had something with which to test the connection. Instantly, a bright green apple appeared in front of him, and he chuckled. He picked it up and, holding it in his left hand, placed it in the little red cabinet, then scooted it back against the wall… except that there was no wall. He just kept scooting it further and further and suddenly… thump!... it rolled out of the little cabinet on the right.
Whoa.
Then his wand started vibrating. He dashed out of the room, dismissed the girl/boys, and fairly ran to the library, grabbing a copy of his fifth year charms theory text book from a shelf before settling in at his little desk in the back stacks.
He made a list of all the pertinent Charms theory he could remember.
Charms work on inanimate objects
To charm more than one object, all the objects have to be in close proximity and need to be charms at the same time.
You cannot add an object to charmed group, once the charm is cast.
He started flipping through the book, pausing to rub the headache that was emerging at his temples. He closed his eyes. Images of Pansy and Potter floating past him... and the nagging pull of his imperius on Rosmerta dulling his senses… that little bit of theory was barely on the surface… the overwhelming frustration of being unable to think, just think clearly was driving him insane. And since the non-break-up of the non-thing between him and Potter there could be no chance for relief. It was enough to drive him over the edge. There was no way… absolutely no way… he'd be able to muster the mental energy he needed to make any commands of Rosmerta and he really needed her help with his next gesture for the Dark Lord. But, gods, he could barely manage just having the drain of her mind and will on his own, even without telling her t do anything for him at all. It was too much. There had to be a better way.
He threw open his eyes when he heard a rustling nearby. The Mudblood. Whose else?
He turned back to his book as she shuffled off. Draco stared at the page in front of him. "Protean charms: a charm performed on more than one object, such that any changes made to one object will be reflected in the other charmed object."
He closed his eyes again and tried to think. Think. Think. He shrugged off his robes and absently began rubbing his left wrist with his thumb.
And then it hit him like a flash of lighting. Like a brick wall falling down around him. Like a bright, white flame in front of his eyes.
How could he have been so stupid?
He pulled out a handful of galleons out of his pocket, selected two, and set to work.
About an hour later, Draco stood alone in the freezing cold owlery, letter and money pouch in one hand, wand in the other. His letter, written specifically for the eyes of the aurors who had been detailed to read all the incoming and outgoing mail and scan for dark magic, read:
My Dear Madame Rosmerta,
Kindly receive the attached payment of three galleons, fourteen sickles, and two knuts for a gift-wrapped bottle of your excellent house mead to be sent by return mail immediately. Please accept an additional galleon for your troubles.
Many thanks,
P. Parkinson, Slytherin House
He'd considered using his own name, but he figured Pansy owed him one. The practice of bribing outside vendors to provide alcohol to underage students was well-known and generally overlooked by everyone except, of course, McGonagall and Snape, and he was sure this letter would be no exception.
The charmed galleon, the one he'd be using, was in the purse with the others, completely inconspicuous to anyone other than Rosmerta, to whom it would respond.
He attached the pouch and the sealed letter to Vulcan, his Eagle Owl. He stood peering out of the closed window. His wand outstretched, he reached his mind and his will out, out, out over the frozen, snow-covered grounds, over the white-tipped trees, through the streets of Hogsmeade, into the Three Broomstick. He closed his eyes and envisioned himself standing in front of her, looking into her glassy eyes, and instructing her exactly what to do. Keep the coin. Trust the coin. Keep it with you always. Draw upon the coin and do what it tells you to, because you love, you trust it, it is yours.
Then he pulled out his own coin, and inscribed the following directions:
Poison the bottle and send it to me.
Then he bolted down to Slytherin to grab his potions supplies, and started climbing up to the sixth-floor bathroom. That Lovegood Loon isn't a Ravenclaw for nothing, reflected as he climbed. If he couldn't fix the old connection, he'd just have to build a new one. He started warding the bathroom and setting up his cauldron and supplies case. Time to start brewing the potion that would enable him to work on both cabinets simultaneously without having them in the same place to cast the charm.