Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Warnings: Draco gets huffy, but I think its funny.
Authors note: So I won't lie to you, my children, I haven't slept at all in the past 24 hours, it's been really crazy here! But anyhow, I may not have edited as extensively as I should've. So if you notice any edits feel free to help me out! Thank you, and Enjoy!
Adrian Pucey - Phobos
Liam Baddock - Deimos
Theodor Nott – Oberon
Draco Malfoy – Chaos
Vincent Crabbe - Moros
Gregory Goyle - Pallas
Blaise Zabini – Pan
Pansy Parkinson - Nyx
Daphne Greengrass - Hebe
Morag Macdougal – Nike
Millicent Bulstrode - Cerberus
Elijah Harper - Cratos
Anthony Vaisey - Tyche
Malcolm Baddock – Hecate
Astoria Greengrass - Eris
Flora Carrow - Nemisis
Hestia Carrow – Hypnos
Ginny Weasley – Tartarus
Seamus Finnegan – Hyperion
Neville Longbottom - Chiron
Dean Thomas – Prometheus
Demelza something or other - Selene
Anthony Goldstien - Styx
Terry Boot - Perses
Zacharias Smith - Chronos
Kevin Entwhistle - Pontus
Jack Sloper – Morpheus
Ritchie Coote - Erebos
Colin Creevey - Metis
Dennis Creevey - Eos
Mandy Brocklehurst – Leto
Michael Corner – Charon
Stephen Cornfoot - Atlas
Orla Quirke - Lamia
Ernie Macmillan –Minos
Sally-Anne Perks – Aether
Draco was laying on his stomach, watching Tartarus and Charon sat side by side on the floor of the library. They were both trying to focus, trying to conjure a mental, calm image of themselves, keeping their brain, no matter what happened. The idea here, was that they would maintain a calm, clear thought, no matter what spell Draco demanded they do.
Becoming an animagus was not nearly as tricky as everyone made it out to be, it used to be more common than dirt, but these days, what with the laziness leading to people gone forever, stuck as non-magical animals, which was the consequence of people who weren't ready for it, weren't gifted enough, or practiced enough, at mapping their own minds. Just like occlumency it had this nasty connotation because of what could go wrong, and it was a bit tricky to control, but it wasn't awfully hard like McGonagall had always made it out to be in school.
Of course, it wasn't exactly easy either, and if these two kept opening their eyes slightly to glare at one another competitively, then they weren't going to get there easily. Pan was sitting in front of them, beside Draco, trying to get them to focus on the feeling of an animal, and separating themselves from their bodies, but maintaining their thoughts.
Nemisis was sitting on Draco's other side snickering at them. She wanted to be an animagus, like all little kids, but she hated focusing, and sitting still, and though some of the students that had ended up here tried to keep learning at least something, Nemisis seemed happy to lounge and watch other learn.
Granger stormed into the library, Weasley and Potter flanking her, though they didn't have the glaring, weird, maternal rage of Granger (though to be fair, it would be odd if they did).
"Seamus says that you guys are learning to be animagi!" Her outraged squawk was directed at Draco, but he just looked up lazily at her. He had almost no desire to respond to her, he was tired, and he was in a good mood, and why ruin that by getting screeched at by a teachers pet.
He met her gaze, but didn't respond, but before things could escalate, Pan intervened. "Yes, we already have actually, just spreading the love." His tone was cool, and the enraged Gryffindor turned her rage to Pan, waving her hands around, launching into a tiresome tirade about focusing on the possible consequences of their actions as opposed to the initial glamor of something or a benefit or a something, who knows.
Draco met Tartarus' eyes then turned his gaze to the sidekicks. Weasley didn't actually look annoyed, he mostly looked bored actually, and was grinning a little apologetically at his sister. And Potter, odd specimen that he was, was looking like a deer in the head lights, eyes wide, frantically looking everywhere but Draco.
When he did glance at Draco, and saw that he was giving him a measured glance, one eyebrow cocked, he blushed, and almost edged a bit behind Granger, like a child behinds its mother.
Draco rolled his eyes at Nemisis who was snorting, clearly having seen the whole exchanged. He turned his attention back to Granger, whose arms were practically flailing, as she wailed about rules, and registries, and probably about how there were whole rule books that she had memorized devoted to exactly how and when to act on the subject of a revolt against a set of clashing tyrants.
Pan was responding along the lines of, risks are rare, there are risks to everything, desperate times and desperate measures, and all that. And the whole while, Potter was acting like an absurd, frightened, angry garden gnome. Granger and Pan were yammering away, bickering, and Draco caught Charon's eye and made a fist, moving his thumb across his jaw line, their universal sign for escape, or retreat. Draco shifted casually, rolling in a casual stretching motion, moving to Grangers peripheral vision. There, he was able to casually lounge for a moment before he stood up smoothly, Charon and Nemisis managing their own retreats, casually. Tartarus shot him a dark, betrayed look. Granger had stepped forwards to put a protective hand on the girls arm.
In his exit, he almost bumped into Potter, who leaped away, a panicked look in his eye, sort of like a panicked rabbit. Draco raised his eyebrow at the dramatic hero, didn't he know that being a Slytherin was not actually contagious, what a titchy little weirdo. "Hero worship finally making you insane?" He quipped casually on his way out, knocking his shoulder hard into the other boys, to make sure that he relayed that he would not back down just because Potter was having some sort of 16th century damsel style in distress panic disorder.
Draco was still savoring his escape, he, Charon, and Nem had snuck around the mansion back to the supper level of the library, well the top of the stairs where they were observing the heated discussion below, appreciating some requisitioned biscuits.
Prometheus came up the stairs, waving at Potter and Weasley who were still trapped in Grangers aura of rage, and the usually easy going 6th year looked grim. He tossed a rolled up paper at Draco and sat down, reaching for a cracker. Draco unrolled the Prophet, glancing at the clipping.
'UNREGISTERED CENTAUR FOALS MADE EXAMPLES OF.'
Draco felt a little sick. The paper had actually printed a photo of two of the foals, a wizard placing a purple sheet over their human halves. Who printed pictures of someone's dead child?
"That's sick," whispered Nem, looking over Draco's shoulder. Prometheus nodded grimly, his jaw line set stubbornly.
"We should go to the centaurs. The ministry is putting absurd restrictions on them, and they aren't happy. Tyche says he got a response on the wireless that centaur uprisings are not long off."
Prometheus' voice was quiet, low and hard, his usually warm eyes cold. Draco nodded slowly, thinking it over. Centaurs were proud, they weren't likely to come help just because. They would have to offer something, and be respectful, it would not be an easy task. But all the same, as the war escalated to murdering children, just because they were born nonhuman, then their own efforts would have to escalate in order to last.
He was lost in his thoughts, and didn't notice Potter's green eye's trained on their group, thoughtful and slightly appalled, and he didn't notice Pan's narrowing eyes either, his thoughts on how to approach centaurs.