A/N: I have a week-long internship next week, so this is to placate you in advance. Have a good weekend! This story is steadily moving along. It's not at the homestretch just yet, but it's beating down the track, so to speak.
Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own.
Please review!
The day after they returned to school, classes resumed. Draco had spent most of break combing the library, to no avail. There were dark circles under his eyes when he walked into Defence, and he slumped down into his seat to wait for class to begin. Professor Granger was sitting at her desk, leaning back in her chair with both feet propped up and a book. She was finishing up a bite of toast with her tea. As always, the vase had a fresh rose in it. Draco's head sank down onto his desk with a sigh; he knew there could be only one person who would send her a rose, much less live to tell the tale, and he was still hard-pressed to believe it was his Head of House.
But he had confronted Selenius about it months ago, and knew it to be true. He forced his head back up as other students walked in, and through bleary eyes, tried to focus on the title of the Professor's book. He eventually gave up and let his head drop back down on the desk with an undignified thump.
The other students finished filing in, and Professor Granger stood up.
Draco's eyes snapped open as soon as Granger said, "We'll be doing some dueling today."
He was scrambling out of his chair as quickly as he could out of pure instinct, as were the rest of his classmates, because they had long since learned that when Granger said this, she meant we're starting right now. The sound of chairs scraping as they were hastily pushed back was interrupted by a loud bang, and Terry Boot hastily ducked behind a desk, peering over the top to aim his wand in retaliation.
The classroom erupted into predictable chaos. Chairs were knocked over, a desk was overturned. The portraits in the room rattled in place on the wall, and some painted occupants even ducked out of their frames in the interest of self-preservation. Spells crisscrossed, turning the room into a bit of a light show as they all vied to be the first to take down Granger. Thus far, they'd never succeeded.
A Stunner was aimed at Draco, and he quickly ducked behind Granger's desk for cover, falling to his knees and pointing under the desk to aim for her feet. He hastily backed away a moment later when he realized Granger would not hesitate to destroy her own desk, and narrowly avoided getting caught up in her Blasting Hex. He threw up a Shield Charm, protecting himself from the force of the spell, and found himself gazing up at Professor Granger from where he lay on all fours on the floor, trapped against the wall.
The things on her desk were still flying, but they had slowed; she had halted their fall, and they now floated in the air around them, as though caught in a moment. The vase, still intact with the rose. Her cup of tea and unfinished toast. Her book. As she wheeled around to defend herself from the students at her back, Malfoy's eyes locked onto the book floating just a few feet away.
The title caught his attention. He stopped breathing.
Convulsions… of… Nature…
There was a glow of red between his eyes, and he quickly rolled out of the way in time to avoid another Stunner. Panting, he scrambled to his feet, wand raised, and retaliated with a silently-cast Stunner of his own.
She dodged.
"Good! Ten points to Slytherin for casting silently!"
At this point, Draco didn't care about points. His eyes snapped back to the book, already scheming how he was going to steal it.
It floated in the air above him, so close, yet just out of his grasp.
~o~O~o~
"You found the book?" Selenius asked excitedly, when he and Draco crossed paths on the way to their next class.
"Yes," Draco said, frowning.
"If you found it, what's the problem?"
Draco quickly looked both ways to check for eavesdroppers before answering.
"Your mum's got it."
Selenius's eyes went blank. "What's she got it for?"
"I don't know. She probably checked it out." Draco rubbed his tired eyes, and sighed. "If I hadn't seen it, I never would have guessed."
"Are you sure it's not her copy?"
Draco gave him a look, as though to ask if Selenius was really that naïve. Selenius threw up his hands.
"I mean, I've seen my parents' libraries. Both of them. I wouldn't be surprised if they had a copy of their own." Selenius shrugged. "But then again—what are the odds?"
"There's only seven copies in the world," Draco said testily, as they descended the stairs. "Less, probably. What are the odds that two of them would be in Hogwarts?" He took another stab. "How would your parents even afford their own copy?"
Selenius bristled. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Draco said heatedly, "that a book like that would cost thousands of Galleons. My parents would have that kind of money lying around, but yours?"
Selenius's lips pressed into a thin line, but then he raised an eyebrow. "You may be right. Let's assume for a moment that you're right, and it's the library's copy. How are you going to get hold of it?"
Draco's face turned thoughtful. "I'm not going to wait for her to return it. It'd mean we'd have to hunt it down again and then strip it and sneak it out. It'd be easier to just take it now."
"Good luck with that," Selenius said dryly.
"Look, I'll think of a way," Draco said, grabbing both of Selenius's shoulders and halting him so that they were facing each other. "At the very least, the fact that I've found it means I'm done with the Dark Lord."
"He said that as long as you bring him the book, he won't stop you from doing your apprenticeship, right?"
"That's the price," Draco said shortly. Selenius watched his eyes flicker away, and he understood; Draco was doing this for his own survival, his own ticket out of Voldemort's clutches, but he was feeling at least a bit guilty about what he had to do to accomplish it. Professor Granger—Selenius's mother—would take a bit of heat for losing a terribly expensive, rare book. But the price of a book for the price of his life was an easy choice to make, and Selenius agreed with him.
"Look, we'll duplicate it," Draco said reasonably. "We just need to get hold of it long enough to spell a copy. We'll take the duplicate to the Dark Lord, he won't know the difference."
Selenius nodded. That sounded reasonable to him.
"So you're still in?" Draco asked, looking oddly worried yet hopeful.
Selenius smiled. "Of course."
~o~O~o~
Hermione leaned back in her chair, tapping her book, thinking. Harry had five more sessions with her over the past month and a half, having just left his most recent one, and the Dark Lord's mind was a veritable goldmine of information. The issue was that she was logging this as information Severus had gotten from the Dark Lord, and it meant that Dumbledore was reluctant to act upon some of it, which made their game rather frustrating and unproductive.
She was stumped as to how to go around doing this. In a world that catered to her convenience, Dumbledore would hand the reins over to her. But she had to hide where she was really getting information from.
The Ministry was an alternate consideration. Hermione had Scrimgeour under her thumb. Getting him to act upon this information might be better than dumping it all in Dumbledore's lap. She appreciated that Dumbledore was trying to avoid getting Severus killed by playing their hand, but the caution was working against them now. Scrimgeour had taken every scrap of information she had given him and milked it for all it was worth. Perhaps it was time to turn to him.
She glanced at the vase absently. The rose he normally gave her was put up in her hair today, as she always did every Valentine's Day. As usual, he had stolen it from Pomona's stores. The Herbology Professor still wasn't quite on speaking terms with him anymore, ever since he had begun daily theft. Albus refused to discourage him. Hermione couldn't stop herself from grinning. Her husband enjoyed giving people grief, however minor, in highly amusing ways.
They had dinner plans tonight—in an hour, in fact. Grading could wait, and they were generously relieved of patrol duties for the evening. Hermione stood and began tidying up. Books and papers were pushed into the desk, and with a flick of her wand, all the other desks in the room vanished as well except for one, which Hermione transfigured into a small iron-wrought table with a clear glass top.
She conjured two chairs and, snatching the vase from her desk, she set it in the center and plucked the rose from her hair. She dropped it in, tapped it once to fill it with water, and dropped into one of the chairs.
Almost five minutes later, the door opened, and her husband slipped inside. He shut the door with the heel of his boot, took five steps across the room, and set down the bottle of Rosmerta's champagne and the plates he had been carrying. They were laden with food, a simple meal that made Hermione's mouth water on sight: strawberries and crème with steak that had been cooked to perfection.
"The house elves," Severus began, taking his seat and letting out a rather put-upon sigh, "are surprisingly territorial about the use of the kitchens."
"Poor dear," Hermione teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Did you have to argue with them?"
"No, I threatened them," Severus said, smirking as Hermione began cutting apart their shared steak. He pointed his wand at the door, warding it firmly shut against eavesdropping and entering. "But enough about bloody house-elves." He picked up a strawberry, swirling into the gelatinous crème and offering it to Hermione, who took it into her mouth. "How's the selection?"
Hermione made a low sound of appreciation as she bit into the fruit, and Severus gave her a smug smile. And then chuckled, dark and low.
"It's difficult to believe we've been married for nearly seventeen years now." He pressed a finger against her lips, tracing it and then kissed her. And then his expression grew somber. "About how old we were when we got tangled up in this…"
"It's been a long time," Hermione agreed softly.
"Too long," he said quietly.
Hermione leaned her head forward, and he did the same, pressing it against hers. "It'll be over soon."
He closed his eyes. "I believe you."
They shared several bites of steak before Hermione finally got around to opening the bottle, flicking the top with her finger and causing the cork to pop out with a silent spell. Severus caught it, setting it aside as his wife poured both of their glasses.
"Happy Valentine's, love."
They clinked glasses.
~o~O~o~
"So when are you planning to get the book?"
"Soon. Bishop to G-3. What about that book you stole from the library?" Draco asked casually, changing the subject. "Returned it yet?"
Selenius shook his head. "Not even an eighth of the way through," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "But I'm making progress."
"You've had it for two months," Draco said. "Would have thought you'd be done reading it by now."
"Oh, I finished reading it," Selenius said, leaning back in his chair. He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the kinks in his neck. "I'm practicing the spells, they're right useful. Not returning the book until I've got them all. Pawn to B-8—queen me."
"You're mad. That book was from the restricted section—"
"So?" Selenius prompted.
"You're just a second-year—"
"My mum brewed Polyjuice Potion when she was in second-year, how is this any different?"
Draco visibly paused. "You're kidding."
"No, I'm not." Selenius shifted in his seat.
"Rook to D-6. So tell me," Draco said with a tone of light curiosity, "why are you so desperate to learn those spells? It's obvious that they're out of your league—"
"They're not," Selenius retorted hotly. "I can do them!"
"Yes, but you haven't told me why you're so desperate to do this." Draco gestured at him. "It's almost as though you're trying to… compensate for something."
Selenius stewed there in silence for a moment, and then he said sharply, "Bishop to D-6."
Draco blinked, and then his jaw fell open of its own accord as he realized what Selenius had done. Then he clenched it shut. He had ambushed his king while simultaneously taking out his Rook. There was no way out. The younger boy stood up.
"Check. Next move is checkmate." He picked up his bag and hefted it over his shoulder. "And to answer your question, no, I'm not compensating for anything. I just like to have a well-stocked arsenal."
He left, leaving Draco with the finished chess game. The Slytherin sat there for several minutes, torn between muffled amusement and consternation, before he leaned back in his chair with a sigh.
Selenius was a smart and talented individual, but there was no doubt that he was tainted by the fault of all Gryffindors: they were terribly transparent, and it was quite clear that Draco had stumbled upon a sore spot. He chewed on the discovery for a few moments, and finally came to a tentative conclusion: it was age. Selenius was trying to make up for his age and inexperience by learning the most advanced spells he could get his hands on.
It made sense, in a way. He hardly spent time with students in his year. The youngest person he had in close acquaintance was probably one of the Gryffindor Beaters, and he was a good three years older than Selenius. The other students Selenius had shanghaied into playing chess with him were at least four years older. And Potter, his god-brother—the very thought made Draco feel slightly ill—was six years older.
There were other things, of course. Selenius didn't talk about it very much, if at all, but Draco could tell that he was struggling to keep pace with them. He said more about his childhood now that Draco knew who his parents really were, but the impression Draco got was that he had never been around anyone his age until Hogwarts. It made sense, then, that he was more comfortable being around older people, but when they were leaving him behind in the dust—academically and socially—it was a battle for him to keep up.
Draco half-wondered if Selenius was planning on whipping them all in a duel to earn his place in their ranks, and then reminded himself that the younger boy was not in Slytherin. Gryffindors were too bleeding-hearted to consider duels an appropriate way to settle status disputes.
He picked up his bag, and after taking a moment to put away the chess set, left as well. He still had a Duplication Spell to research.
~o~O~o~
Easter Break was fast approaching, and Draco knew he would have to make his move quickly. It was now or never. Filch didn't check the luggage leaving the castle, which was his only chance before term ended. He had considered owling his parents with the news that he had found the book, but he had thought better of it: if he failed to retrieve it, retribution for failure would be that much worse.
It was why he snuck into the classroom the day before break. Everyone was at the Great Hall for lunch except for him. The book was in her desk, though it was lightly warded, requiring Draco to waste precious time carefully unraveling them before he could open the drawer and pull it out.
It was a very well-worn book, and sat heavily in his hands. It was bound with blood-red dragonhide, and the pages were gold-tipped. Draco glanced around the room quickly before opening the book.
Pain exploded behind his eyes, as though someone had thrown hot pepper into his eyes. The fell to the floor with an audible thump, and he let out a cry and covered his face, trying to blink away the burn. He hadn't expected to be attacked by the book, and he was paying for his carelessness. He doubled-over, burying his face in his hands, waiting for the pain to recede. When it did, he chanced a glance back at the book.
The pages were flipping of their own accord, and finally came to a stop at the flyleaf. Ink was spilling out onto the page, forming the stylized depiction of an angry dragon, with its maw agape and ready to snap. Draco squinted at it, his eyes still stinging a bit, and tried to confirm whether it was just his imagination or not that he thought there was a spark of flame in the detailed mouth.
Draco stared at it in awe. He was stumped. He had never come across a book such as this before, and if he ever had, his parents had always forbidden him to touch it. He wasn't prepared to deal with this sort of book, and he feared that if he tried to approach it, it would launch itself at him. He slowly got to his feet, wand out, in case it tried to attack him.
The book let out a rumbling growl, and Draco watched as a scaly tail begain to slither out from the space between the bindings, twitching like an angry cat.
"Deditionem libris!"
The jet of white light struck the posturing book. It immediately retreated like a turtle, the tail withdrawing and the covers snapping shut. It let out another soft growl, but then fell silent, as though sulking.
Draco knew it was now or never, and scrambled over to tap the book with his wand. "Gemino!"
The book let out strangled shriek that Draco was sure would send people barging into the classroom to see who was being murdered. It flapped its covers and lunged at him, and Draco quickly skittered backwards before it could reach him, and then threw himself forward and slammed down on it with his knees, holding it shut. It did not duplicate. Panicking, and feeling the book struggling to throw him off with increasingly violent attempts, he threw himself off and scrabbled on hands and knees to get away. He made it to the door, slamming it shut behind him just in time to hear a thump as the book smacked into it.
The tip of a scaly red tail slipped under the door and then flickered out of view. Heart racing, knowing that whatever was behind the door was beyond his ability to handle, Draco did what any self-respecting Slytheirn would do: he turned tail and fled the scene before the noise drew attention. He rounded the corner just in time to hear footsteps, and pressed himself against the wall as he heard Professor Granger returning to her classroom from the other directoin.
He heard the sound of the door opening. He heard his professor let out a sound of surprise that resembled exasperation more than fright, and he peered around the corner in time to see her pinning the book to the ground—tail and claws vanished—with both hands.
"How did you get out?" she asked.
The book let out a soft but audible snarl. Professor Granger lifted up her foot and picked it up, stroking the cover. The book let out a resigned sort of sigh in response, and then became quiescent. Draco had the distinct impression that it was pouting mutinously.
"You are the most difficult book I've ever owned. It's a wonder I keep you around."
Draco was not at first aware that he had stopped breathing until he heard the door to her classroom shut, and he let out a strangled gasp for air. So it was Professor Granger's book! How she had gotten hold of it without a family fortune to rival the Malfoys' behind her was beyond his ability to guess, but that was beside the point now. Firstly, as things stood, he wasn't even capable of subduing the book long enough to kidnap it. Secondly, it refused to duplicate. And thirdly… he had a difficult time resigning himself to stealing something so valuable from his godfather's wife and the same woman who had helped him secure his ticket out of the Dark Lord's service.
He felt himself slowly slide down to the cold stone floor in despair.
What am I going to do?
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-Anubis Ankh