Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate my continued survival on this planet as well as my inability to abandon this fic despite being half dead. As it turns out, I am basically allergic to the United States, and should probably return to Scotland immediately. It has taken the better part of two months, but my body is no longer actively rebelling or trying to remedy its identity crisis by sending its immune system after its respiratory and digestive track. Whoo.
I hope you all enjoyed your time with LynEssency... Quiz answers have shown marked improvement... so clearly y'all were doing something correctly...
I love you all, but the correct answer was provided by SlytherinsFlower317: because such a lovely and accommodating Beta deserves extra acknowledgment for saving us from the dismal fate that is having to await ~A. Slytherin's return for more tales from our favorite duo.
Expressing love for my beta is always a correct answer. Shameless (though true) pandering never hurts either XD
So, much as you've missed MY lovely cybervoice, I know you've missed the twins more. Does it hurt my heart? meh. I sold that to pay for my useless degree.
Content: Implied arson, brief instance of implied, non-sexual nudity, endless sibling sass, swearing
Disclaimer: A day may come when I am sued for copyright infringement, BUT IT IS (hopefully) NOT THIS DAY. THEY MAY TAKE MY LIFE, BUT THEY WILL NEVER TAKE MY Freedom to write terrible and excessively (probably unrealistically) sassy repartee amid underage children and then make no money after spending more time on this than my real job(S)
Chapter 4: Counterproposal: No.
~*TNT*~
"I want to see the Cerberus again," Hermione said one afternoon in the library.
"The what?" Theo asked without looking up.
"Oh, don't be stupid. You remember the dog in the closet just as clearly as I do. I accept that we couldn't exactly feed it the son of a Sacred Twenty- Eight family, but-"
"No, I said we couldn't feed it another student because we would either be expelled when someone figured it out, or it would decide that three students are better than one. Of course, I don't know why I even bothered to point that part out given you went after a fully grown mountain troll the very same day..."
"We were fine." Hermione waved him off and leaned back in hre chair. "It's not like the professors even care if we live or die. And anyway, that was weeks ago."
"Oh I think they'd care rather acutely and for as long as Father could manage to keep them on the edge of death after they delivered our bloody robes and whatever mangled pieces they could recover from that dog… If any," said Theo.
"Fine." She shrugged and settled back to her books. "You can keep watch in the corridor."
"Why the sudden interest in things that want to kill us?" Theo asked. "We have seven perfectly good subjects-"
"Oh now you're interested in baby magic and being spoon fed idiocy?"
"Extracurricular research for recreational purposes is so much different than visiting dangerous magical creatures in forbidden areas of the school."
"I'm tired of reading about it," she whined. "We haven't found a text that provides any new information about them since September!"
"Which means we've learned it all and we can move on to-"
"The Hercule Zografos treatise-"
Theo's head snapped up, his eyes blazing with wary calculation. "Compares muggle and magical legends, Mine. You know we aren't-"
"Ok, but the Greek muggles have lore on it!"
"You read it!?" he demanded in an incredulous whisper.
"It fell open in front of me. Was I supposed to close my eyes and slam it shut?" She was far too self righteous and not nearly concerned enough.
"Hermione, Father said we-"
"Greek muggles believe their death god keeps a cerberus as a familiar."
He dug his fingers into his hair. "We are going to be in so much-"
"He has a brother, the strongest of three, who wields unbeatable lightning," Hermione said, clearly trying to tempt him.
"...Lightning."
She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "It's how muggles understand wands according to Zografos."
"Lightning?"
"Not the point," Hermione huffed. "When Beedle wrote "The Tale of the Three Brothers" everyone assumed he was talking about the Peverell brothers."
"That has never been conclusively-"
"Well, Cadmus Peverell had a three headed dog for a familiar, and a thing for death."
It was like talking to a wall. A wall that didn't have the decency to even pretend to consider his points. "Ok, but that doesn't make him the Greek muggle god of death…" Theo tried for soothing placation.
Hermione would not be placated. "Zografos says muggles used to regard wizards as gods."
Theo lost his patience. "And then they started hunting us down and burning and torturing us," he reminded his naive little sister through gritted teeth.
"Well, yeah, but-"
"Besides," he blazed on, "Cadmus' wife, daughters, and his familiar were murdered by his illegitimate half blooded son."
"Alkaios. I know, Theodore, but-"
Clearly she didn't, though. "Alkaios wasn't even supposed to exist. His mother seduced Cadmus. No one knew muggles can breed without binding, then the muggle woman's spawn returned, and it was too late. Cadmus died trying to-"
"I know the story, Theodore!" she snapped. "The Zografos treatise says the Greek muggles believe Alkaios didn't kill Cadmus' family or his familiar."
There was a beat of silence.
"Well of course they think that!" he said.
"What if they're right?"
"Hermione Caledonia Mel-"
"The proof could be sitting in a closet upstairs, Theodore Demetrius Creon."
She knew how he felt about Creon. Brattiness was the final refuge of the stubborn. The two eyed each other.
"Alright," he said, once he'd weighed the probability that she would let the issue go as basically zero. "Say it is Cadmus's familiar. How has it stayed alive for millenia?"
"What if it's slow aging like a basilisk? Or hibernates?" Her eyes lit with victory and she leaned forward.
He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Or what if Cadmus Peverell didn't have the only three headed dog ever in existence, and muggles are all liars?"
"I'm not saying they're not," she wheedled. "I'm saying we should check in person."
"There is no way we're wasting our study time on that thing." He set his jaw and raised his chin.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Oh, because writing essays on stuff we already know takes so much of our time."
"Do the words "bloody mangled pieces" and "low profile" mean nothing to you?" Theo demanded.
"What if I did your homework for you?"
He sniffed. "... Dead students don't do homework."
"Fine." She settled and patted her hair. "I can see you're determined. Maybe I'll just have to ask Draco."
He didn't do anything to control his glare. "Draco wouldn't do it."
"If I told him Harry Potter's seen and survived it, he will." She met his eyes and raised an eyebrow.
They glared. Each silently measuring the other's resolve.
"Fine," Theo snapped. "But we're easing into it slowly. If it is a familiar, we have to bond with it first."
"So you admit that it could be." Her eyes lit and she leaned forward as if she hadn't been threatening him mere heartbeats before. Psychotic baby sisters were like that.
"I'm hoping there are ways to avoid getting ripped apart on sight by an ancient, possibly undead, dog, Hermione. There's a difference," Theo groused, shoving his things away.
~*TNT*~
"Why are we here?" Hermione grumbled into her purloined mug of tea from breakfast.
"Everyone's here," he informed her, shuffling knees, toes, and robes as the stands filled in with stragglers.
"Which means everyone isn't in the common room or the library or-"
"Around the third floor?" he asked into the cheers as the players took off.
"He felt her shrug on his right arm. "That's another idea, I suppose."
He scoffed.
She craned her neck back to grin up at him. He refused to turn his head, but he could still see her. She sat sideways on the bench, her feet up and knees bent. Steam rose from the gap in her fur-lined cloak folds where her cup rested on her stomach.
He flicked his eyes forward to Draco's blond head. The boy was gesticulating wildly despite Pansy's very determined seat at his side.
Ice shot through his cheek.
He stared, insulted, at his baby sister, her finger cocked to poke again. "This is a sporting event," she said. "You are far too grumpy."
He rotated his arm under his cloak so his elbow dug into her spine.
"No!" Draco's wail and the roar from the Grimson wall opposite derailed his witty rejoinder.
"Something happened," Hermione commented, sipping her tea like she'd never assaulted his face ever in her life.
"Draco seems upset. They probably scored. Logic, Tiny Mione." She shot him an upside down glare.
"He's just annoyed Potter's playing."
Theo squinted up at the red blob doing celebratory loop-de-loops. "If you can call it playing. He's just been hovering there."
"I wouldn't descend into that chaos either," she sniffed.
Their box exploded in displeasure once again. The shifted; his lip curled.
"You've never played Quidditch a day in your life."
"You haven't either," she pointed out.
"Which of us spent practically every waking moment of their childhood in Draco's backyard watching him fly drills and courses for his father?"
"It wasn't every waking moment. And I'll remind you which of us has actually read any reference material on the subject."
He waited to catch her eye. She ignored him, observing the waves of displeasure from their side.
"It's not the same thing, and you know it."
"Did Draco's form not improve when he was finally allowed unlimited access to the Malfoy library and his own subscription to Pitch?"
"Yeah, but that's also because perfection is the only acceptable option for a Malfoy," he said, trying to mimic Lucius' arrogant disapproval. "No nine year old should be unable to anticipate and dodge a simple block."
"Yet he's down here with us, and Potter's out there."
Theo shoved her off and sat straight, facing her on the bench. "Draco was forced to try out on the school's shitty brooms. Potter didn't even have to try out."
"Potter caught a clear glass ball in a dive on a shitty school broom."
"Why are you taking Potter's side!?" Theo demanded.
"Am not."
"Yes, you are." He scrutinized her defiant expression. "What did Draco do this time."
"I am not- that doesn't- Potter's just- Draco has nothing to do with objective facts, Theodore!"
"Alright. Pansy, then."
She flinched and looked away.
"Hermione…"
"Shit. Theo, look."
"Merciful Morgana, what is Potter-"
"Potter isn't. That has to be a jinx," Hermione grit out. "It's moving too evenly for a malfunction, and it's too new to be sentient."
"Mo chreach [dammit]. How are we going to find whoever's casting it?"
"We're going to find whoever's casting it!?"
"What. You-" The crowd gasped.
The twins glanced up to see Potter dangling by his hands.
"Well, it can't be a student," Hermione declared.
"We can't assume-"
"And we can't exactly tease out the logic, either," she snapped. "You wanted to save him. We're saving him."
"Teacher's box?" Theo offered in a daze.
"Assuming it isn't one of the parents," she muttered, shoving her mug at him and pushing past.
He caught her arm. "Where are you going?"
"Don't be stupid."
"You can't just-"
"It's not like I'm going to get caught," she retorted. She yanked her arm away and took off before he could object further.
He waited, clenching his hands in his cloak around her mug. His eyes scanned the stands restlessly as everyone else craned their necks at the sky.
It started as a ripple of movement, and a whisper of smoke.
Then came the screams.
He grinned.
McGonagall's voice echoed around the stadium in place of the commentating. "All students please evacuate quickly and quietly to the front lawn. All students, please-"
"Is that? Holy shit is that fire?" came a faint boy's voice amidst the echoes.
"Jordan…"
"HOLY SHIT THE STANDS ARE ON FIRE!"
Chaos reigned.
Theo fought his way down the benches to the set of stairs on the front left corner of their box.
He could hear Pansy in near hysterics, so he changed direction about halfway down to get to the rest of his year.
"Draco! Draco, please! We have to go!" Pansy cried.
"It'll be fine! They'll just freeze them. We're fine!" Draco shouted back, struggling to shake her off without tearing his eyes from the sky.
"I AM NOT DYING SO YOU CAN SEE THE END OF A STUPID QUIDDITCH MATCH!" she shrieked.
"You're not gonna die. Oh, hey, Theo. Tell Pansy we're not gonna die."
The tower to their immediate right spewed smoke as the coverings caught fire. Fortunately, it was one of the closed-off towers.
"Don't be ridiculous, Drake. We're all gonna die," Theo replied easily, grabbing his friend's unoccupied elbow. Blaise and the other girls had finally gotten to the stairs. Theo tugged on the blond. "I'd just prefer to not die today. Go," he added to Crabbe and Goyle.
Goyle wasted absolutely no time and yanked a seemingly transfixed Crabbe toward the stairs.
"He fell!" Draco's arm ripped through his grip, whacking a fifth year across the temple and knocking them off course before they could barrel into the hyperventilating Pansy.
Theo's eyes followed the flailing Gryffindor seeker. His heart clogged his frozen throat and heat billowed across his face.
He heard a whistle.
"He caught it?" Draco breathed, gripping the railing with both hands.
A Weasley beater had hauled Potter onto the back of his broom where the Boy Who Was Stupidly Lucky sat waving his fist around wildly.
"HE CAUGHT IT!?"
"Game's over, Drake. Time to go," said Theo, hauling Draco back with an arm around his waist.
Draco snagged Pansy's arm as he stumbled along backward with Theo.
"HE CAN'T HAVE CAUGHT IT!"
Theo took one glance over his shoulder before he shoved the Malfoy heir and the shellshocked Parkinson down the wooden stairs.
Sure enough, the Gryffindor team was in some sort of slowly descending mass.
A meek Nimbus 2000 trailed after them.
~*TNT*~
"Are we going to talk about it?" she murmured, shattering his concentration and sending his quill skittering across their Transfiguration essay.
He inhaled and exhaled as slowly as he could.
"Are you going to make me ask to what 'it' you're referring?" She handed him the quill cleaner in wordless apology.
"I set the pitch on fire today. That doesn't strike you as something worth discussing!?"
He balanced the pheasant quill on the crystal cleaner and watched the black ink drain into the sparkling white potion. "Not particularly, no."
He held up his hand before she could launch her counterargument. "Because we're in the common room. Because someone had the unmitigated gall to attack the Saviour of the Wizarding World in the middle of the Hogwarts quidditch pitch. Because someone decided the best way to kill said Saviour was to jinx a brand-new Nimbus 2000. Because said broom wasn't released until almost a quarter of the stands were in flames. Because we still don't have any proof indicating who the caster might be." He folded his hands on his essay and concluded, "Because our most likely culprits are either the parents present at today's match or the bloody faculty."
He picked up his quill, rapped it twice on the rim of the cleaner, and dipped it back into his inkwell. "So, to answer your question, Mine, no. I don't want to talk about it."
"Not even to Papa?" she challenged, crossing her arms.
He paused.
"I'm not sure that admitting to the intentional and malicious destruction of school property is a move Father would applaud."
He pretended to focus on turning 'transformed''s ruined 'd' into some sort of flourish.
"I wouldn't admit to anything," she snapped. "I'd mention someone jinxing Potter's broom. He's more likely to have answers than we are."
"Why are you asking my opinion if you're so certain?"
"Theo!"
He didn't acknowledge her.
"Why are you being such a troglodyte about this?"
He glared at her from under the curtain of his hair.
"If we tell Father, what do you honestly think is going to happen? Do you think we'll have a letter by Monday? Maybe a neat list of suspects ranked by likelihood enclosed with a short note of praise? Or, what? A copy of the Prophet opened to an interesting article on page nine about an alleged saboteur's arrest?
"Don't be stupid. He'll tell us to keep our heads down; to not draw attention to ourselves; to not set school property on fire; and if the Chosen One dies, then he wasn't the Chosen One." He threw down his quill in disgust and began furiously rubbing at the ink smudges on his left hand and wrist.
Hermione tucked herself onto the bench next to him, resting her chin on his shoulder and running her left hand through the curls on his nape. "Harry Potter got jinxed. What if he reads it in the paper tonight or tomorrow and demands to know why we didn't say anything?"
His shoulders eased incrementally and he laced his right hand through her icy fingers. "If it's in the paper, we'll say we had nothing to add and we assumed it would be moot. If it's not, well, we'll cross that bridge then, OK?"
"You spelled 'substance' correctly in line seven. I've been spelling it with two 'e's."
"Nimue's nuts I hate being normal. Do your own damn homework."
~*TNT*~
They'd moved to simple ingredient interactions in Potions, which meant more ingredient preparation than any sane person should be able to tolerate. Fortunately, it seemed very few in the class were insane (besides their dementor of a professor) and things progressed rather slowly.
"Powdered, crushed, pulverized, ugh!" Hermione muttered, throwing down her mortar to blow into her fists. "Why can't you just buy the proper ingredients from the apothecary!?"
Theo didn't reply.
"It does seem to be a rather lot of guesswork and grey area…" Tracey offered hesitantly from the other station at their work table.
The twins exchanged a glance. Hermione tucked her fists into her armpits and glared at Theo's loosened collar.
"The preparation triggers the innate magic necessary for the resulting layering, Tracey," Daphne corrected from the girl's left. "We've only been talking about it for weeks." She eyed the lionfish vertebra on her slab of marble.
"Right," Tracey muttered. She might have blushed. It was difficult to tell in the freezing dungeons.
Snape swept past them, casting a cursory glance at their crystal jars of prepared ingredients.
"Powder, Miss Nott," he drawled. "As in Floo Powder. You have achieved gravel." He tsked. "If you require further reference, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson's powder is both sufficiently fine and evenly ground."
"Yes, Professor," Hermione demurred. She growled under her breath as she returned to her mortar and pestle.
"We'll be home in two days," Theo reminded her in Nott Gaelic.
"Are you certain you don't want to ask Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson how they managed to attain such exemplary lionfish spine?" Daphne asked, her face the picture of innocence, but her tone blatantly disdainful.
Draco had grabbed Pansy when she'd tripped during the mad scramble to escape the stadium fire a few weeks previously. Even Millie was thoroughly fed up with Pansy's determined adoration at this point.
"I'm sure I'll manage," Hermione replied.
"Well, manage in the next five minutes because we still have to clean up and label all our samples," Theo declared, wiping his hands on a rag before giving the lionfish essence he'd been working on one last decisive stir.
Sure enough, Snape swept to the front, flicked his wand at the board, and said, "Label all preparations you managed to finish and place the vial tray on the first-year shelf. I expect no less than 36 inches on the gradations of solid ingredients to be handed in before the first class of the New Year. Be advised, I will grade all preparation samples as if complete."
The room filled with the clatter of disassembly. Hermione kept doggedly powdering, ignoring everyone.
"How many did you get?" Millie asked, leaning a hip against their table, her back to the Notts.
"Six," Daphne replied. "But we didn't try to make essence."
Millie rolled her eyes. "Blaise wanted to try that one. I managed to talk him down to marrow, chopped re-hydrated cartilage, powdered, cleaned whole, and heat treated."
Daphne raised an eyebrow and pushed her slab toward Tracey. "You didn't try for slivered or cracked?"
Millie snorted. "Given the slivers have to be perfectly equal and the cracks have to be inked in with the correct constellations? Not a chance."
Daphne smiled and unobtrusively readjusted her perfect jar of bone slivers. "I had only thought the extra credit might appeal to you."
Millie's smile stiffened. Hermione refocused on her powdering. Petty politics were not supposed to interest her. Notts. Anyone with greater than Troll level intellect.
"Do you think anyone would notice if I permanently borrowed some lionfish venom?" Blaise asked, slipping up to their table and leaning an elbow on Millie's shoulder.
"Probably…" Tracey said, sliding Daphne's fresh cleaned slab back.
Blaise pondered that for a few heartbeats before tsking. "Pity. I think certain blonde parties would really benefit from temporary paralysis." He beamed and scooped the vials from Millie's arms before flouncing off to the first-year grading shelf.
Daphne pursed her lips and tucked a blonde curl behind her ear.
She shot a glance toward Draco by the sinks. "Be a dear and turn in our vials, won't you, Trace?" She headed toward the sinks without a backward glance. Millie smirked and returned to her own table.
~*TNT*~
"Hermione. It's the last day of term. Can we please not spend it blatantly disobeying Father?"
"We haven't proven that it's not a familiar yet."
"We've been feeding it and spending time with it practically every day for almost a month, and we still haven't managed to be in the same room with it for more than a couple seconds. If we just turn around we-"
"None of that means it's not a familiar. I cannot believe you'd rather spend time in the common roo-"
"What can we possibly do today that we haven't been doing for weeks, and we can't do after Yule? You already got us lectured by Snape for your obsessive powdering-"
"I spent like fifteen minutes on those vertebrae! Of course, I was going to turn them in! Besides, if it is Cadmus Peverell's familiar, and the muggle temptress's half-blood spawn didn't manage to completely kill it, then it's plausible that it couldn't have bonded with us."
"Um, no it's not, because then it would be even more impossible for it to be alive. Familiars don't outlive their wizards, Hermione."
"Then maybe Cadmus Peverell isn't dead." She flounced off, leaving her brother at the base of the stairs gaping.
He charged after her. "Do you even HEAR your-"
She whirled and slapped her hand over his mouth, dragging him into a shadowed alcove near the doors to the Great Hall.
"I've told yeh. Drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'." The booming voice of the Gamekeeper kept him from biting or licking his sister's hand.
He shot her a look, though, so she'd release his face.
"We just want to know who Nicholas Flamel is."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Potter," she mouthed.
"Yeah. It's just harmless research, Hagrid. Give us a hint!" Weasley wheedled.
"I'm sayin' nothin'."
"Then we'll just be off to the library! C'mon, Nev!"
The two edged away as the three Gryffindors emerged and trotted up the staircase.
"At least we know why we can't get it to bond with us," Hermione breathed; her eyes locked on the place where the trio had disappeared.
"Great. Problem solved. Now can we please go back to the Common Room?"
"A cerberus can't form a familiar bond if it's standing guard."
"Yeah. It's one of the many reasons your "the muggles might not be lying" theory is nonsense. Can we go?"
"No," She spun to face him. A stray curl whipped across his eyes. She ignored his furious rubbing and staggering. "What's one thing Nicholas Flamel might value so highly he'd hide it on another continent? Behind a cerberus no less?"
"If you try to tell me there is a Philosopher's Stone in the basement somewhere…" Theo grumbled, dabbing at his still streaming eyes.
"That's exactly what I'm telling you. Are you going to tell me you don't want the chance to study one of those?"
"I swear you're going to get us killed."
"Don't be so dramatic." She waved him off, heading for the stairs. "The school can't let us die. Not with what Father would do to them."
"I meant Father."
"What?" She glanced over her shoulder.
"When he finds out how not low profile we've been and intend to continue being…"
A grin split her face. "So you are coming then?"
~*TNT*~
Draco stood a few feet back from the balcony railing. All the cooling charms in the world couldn't compete with the mass of humanity cavorting in the ballroom below. He shoved his silver mask farther back from his forehead and fiddled with his cravat. He'd finally cut his losses and escaped his classmates. There was no way he'd waste all that effort by returning, so it wasn't like he needed to care about proper attire… and he'd already abandoned his heavily embroidered frock coat… however, removing the annoying bit of linen doing its level best to smother him somehow seemed like one rebellion too many.
He cast his eyes over the party once more and tried to convince himself that he cared about any of this. Any of them.
Pansy's elaborate burgundy dress robes were readily identifiable on the dance floor. She had some sort of charm on her hair to make it look like snowflakes clung to the artful curls. In this light, it mostly looked like an unfortunate case of flaking scalp.
"The Notts bes arriving, Master Draco," Dobby's squeak returned him to a muggy sort of reality that smelled like sweat and clashing perfume.
"Finally." He waved Dobby away and trotted off to the secret passage that cut around the second-floor offices to the Grand Staircases.
He took a moment to adjust his cuffs and waistcoat when he popped out. A quick scan of the entry hall showed the two stalling off by the doors to the ballrooms and receiving rooms.
"Took you long enough," he declared, bracing his feet and perching his hands on his hips. Mother constantly checked the lighting on the right-hand staircase, so anyone with light hair appeared to literally shine on the second and fifth steps.
"Awww. Did you miss us, Drake?" Theo called.
"Not at all," he replied. He descended as gracefully as he could while rote pleasantries flowed from his lips. His mind, however, kept up a mantra of ball, bounce, heel. Chin high; back straight. I'm lighter than a phoenix in flight. I am born of kings…
Hermione applauded when he alighted on the marble flagstones.
"Beloved," he mocked. He made sure his bow over her hand was as flamboyant as possible. He wished he hadn't left his frock coat on the balcony. Flicking out the tails added such gravitas to a bow.
"Betrothed," she corrected. He caught the glint in her eye when she curtsies. He'd have to check his present for jinxes and he laughed at the thought.
"Mate." He offered Theo his hand and a grin.
"I don't get to be your beloved?" Theo gripped his forearm. His fingers were ridiculously warm as always, but Draco was just excited Theo was doing the handshake.
They flicked their hands as if they were wet. "I only have room for one person in my frozen heart," he declared.
Hermione snorted.
"You have a heart?" Theo grinned. They ran their hands once through their hair: temple to nape.
"Well, technically Mother has it." They slapped each other's shoulders then stood there for a moment, grinning.
"Does she know you're wandering around in just your shirtsleeves?" Hermione snarked.
"You know, I think someone's jealous," he said.
She rolled her eyes, but let it go with the tiniest smile. "Do we have to go in there?" A black velvet domino mask with constellations embroidered in silver swung from her gloved fingers.
"My sentiments exactly, Beloved." He lowered his voice a bit to cut off her no doubt biting retort. "Let's head upstairs before anyone finds us."
"Bold of you to defy the wrath of the Duchess." Theo eyes his shirt sleeves and pushed back mask. Draco suddenly wanted his cravat gone again.
Instead, he scoffed and headed for the stairs.
"Especially given she alone apparently holds his heart."
"You'd sacrifice your beloved sibling to the ravages of the swarm of societal and ministry harpies in there? Theodore, I'm shocked."
"Hermione'd be fine. You're avoiding someone."
"I am not!"
"Anyone in particular?" Hermione asked. He shot her a warning glance over his shoulder, but her eyes were fixed demurely on the skirts she held just above her slippered toes.
"I saved you from social vultures."
"Anyone we know?" Her eyes met his and sparkled.
"You owe me and you're taking his side!?"
"You sound surprised, Drake," Theo taunted on his left.
"You sound like you're forgetting a lifetime of friendship," He retorted.
"Says the boy who spent the last two months giggling with Pansy."
He hated it when she got smug.
No one got smug quite like Hermione Nott.
"I was not giggling. Malfoys do not giggle." He spun on his heel and stomped up more steps. "And you two should not be allowed to double team a bloke. Bleeding terrors, you are."
The twins didn't seem to have heard the second bit.
"You know, Theo, someone really ought to break this to Pansy. If Malfoys do not, in fact, giggle-"
"I do not sound like that!" Draco interjected.
"- then I really don't know if the marriage bonding would take for her."
"Well I doubt that would be possible, carina, but we should try all the same I suppose."
Draco huffed and marched off towards the library. "It's not like you two have been especially available," he snapped. "I can't hang out with Greg and Vince all the time."
Neither twin replied.
"And she's not all bad!" He could feel their arched eyebrows. "She knows, like, everything that happens in the castle. Did you know Quirrell has been avoiding Professor Snape for weeks now?"
Neither twin replied.
"Well, he has. Which isn't really all that surprising, I guess, but you two didn't notice!" They arrived outside the elaborately carved library doors.
"Draco," Theo warned.
"I'm just saying it isn't my fault. You two abandoned me. You can't just come back, do the handshake and -" He pulled his mask off and ran a hand through his hair. "Look. I just… With these past couple months…"
The library doors swung open. An imposing figure swathed entirely in black stood framed in candlelight and the light from the fireplace. The shifting sheen from the velvet and brocade he wore was the only hint of shape. His mask, plain black, had been charmed to confund recognition.
What is it with libraries? Draco thought. "Oh, excuse us, my Lord."
Masked eyes locked on him.
He pulled his silver mask back on suddenly chilled in just his shirtsleeves.
"We apologize for the disruption. We'll just-" He glanced at the twins. Their eyes were narrowed identically over lips thinned to practically nothing. "C'mon."
The Nott Family didn't hold with extramarital information exchange.
"The small parlor. I'll meet you there," he hissed, trying to urge them down the hall. They kept stealing glances over their shoulders, and it was making things worse. He needed to get out before whoever this man was dealing with came to see what was taking so long. Though he was still fully clothed, maybe his partner hadn't arrived.
"We haven't seen anyone else…"
The man cocked his head. Draco tried not to wring his hands or touch his mask.
"As you know, the elves can assist you…" Why was he still talking? He backed away. "...with anything you may… uhm, require."
The man inclined his head but otherwise stood frozen.
"Right."
Draco spun and fled.
"I'll never understand what the draw is for libraries," he declared, breathless, once safely ensconced in his private sitting room. The twins sat with identical displeasure on the couch facing him. He flopped onto the fainting couch on the right. "Did I tell you about that one time I nearly ran into Father and Lady Greengrass?"
Theo hummed noncommittally.
"Well they were coming out of the Southeast drawing room, so I guess it technically doesn't count, but still!" He pulled the mask off and threw it somewhere. "And they weren't even fully dressed! Like… Father… I mean, his shirt…"
"We got you a book," Hermione blurted.
Something solid collided with his stomach. "A book?" he half gasped, coughing. It had been wrapped in paper patterned with galaxies. Gemini floated unnaturally closely to his constellation.
"It's about quidditch strategy."
"Well, thank you." He took his sweet time with the paper. He could see her leg bouncing from the corner of his eye, and he smirked when Theo laid a restraining hand on it.
"You do know we will probably have to leave in the next half hour, right?" Theo drawled. "Father was adamant."
Draco ripped the rest of the paper off with a snicker. "Your creepy Yule traditions, yeah." The book had an aerial view of a pitch etched in the warm brown leather. The gilt reflecting the candles almost seemed to make the little X's and O's move. He grinned up at them. "Are you two old enough to help carve out the muggle's heart yet?"
The twins stilled and flicked another glance at each other.
"We turn thirteen next year," Theo said.
Draco's stomach clenched.
"Right. Dobby!" The elf popped in. "Their presents." The elf disappeared. Draco tugged a hand through his hair. It caught on a patch of gel. The elf reappeared with the two hastily wrapped packages. "Right."
"Dobby?" Hermione's voice gave everyone pause. "Has Papa found the Duke and Duchess yet?"
Dobby tugged his ears and beamed at her. Tears brimmed in his unnaturally large eyes. "No, Missy Mione. Master Nott bes trying to find them in the ballroom, Missy Mione. Dobby knows Missy Mione could-"
"Yes, Dobby. That's enough." The elf bobbed a bow in his general direction, adoring eyes still on his betrothed, and vanished. "He'll probably be raving over your grace and charm for weeks now, so thanks for that," he grumbled.
"He's moved past her wit and beauty, then?" Teho snarked, accepting his gift.
"Only took twelve years, yeah."
"Oh shut up, you two. He's a sweet little thing. And house elves hear everything. I don't know why you don't respect that."
"Oh wicked!" Theo held the new book to his nose.
"You don't even want to know how many times I had to send Dobby to your house to make sure you didn't already have something." He grinned as Theo tenderly fingered the cover and binding to one of the Malfoy accounts of settling Wiltshire. "That's like my eighth choice book."
"It's in archaic French, though," said Hermione. Her jeweled hair combs lay despondent on the velvet pouch. "We don't speak archaic French."
"I'll learn," Theo replied. He held the book at eye level, inspecting the vellum and the calligraphic style. The ink was faded, despite years of stasis charms.
"He'll learn," Draco said with a shrug. "It mentions encounters with Druidry, I think."
"No way!"
Hermione sniffed and tucked the hair combs into her wristlet.
Draco frowned and tugged a cuff. "Mother said emeralds would be too obvious…" Hermione hummed. "And you already have jet and onyx.."
"I'm hardly one to complain about diamonds, Draco," she replied, folding her hands and straightening her spine.
This seemed odd, given that was precisely what she seemed to be doing.
"Hermione…" Theo tried.
"No, no. It's not like we'd need two copies and you don't have enough hair for combs anyway."
Oh. Bollocks.
"I mean… I can have Dobby bring him the cufflinks Mother picked out…"
"I hardly think-"
"Drake it's-"
"Missy Mione?"
They turned on Dobby. He swept a bow. "Dobby bes so sorry for interrupting. Dobby will throws himself down the stairs if-"
"Yes, yes. What is it, Dobby?" Draco snapped.
"Master Lord Nott bes finding Master and Mistress. Missy Mione, Young Master Nott, and Master Draco bes required in the Southeast drawing room."
Great. Now I get to confront my parents and future Father in law with visions of a partially clothed Lady Greengrass in my head.
"The Duchess will want to see your combs," Theo's voice cut in, causing him to glance up. Hermione grunted her disapproval, but she shoved the velvet bag at him and turned.
"Dobby," Draco said, watching Theo work some sort of dark magic on Hermione's mane. "Find my jacket, would you? And take this to my room." He handed off his book distractedly as he went hunting for his mask.
~*TNT*~
No sooner had his boots hit hearth than his mind spun into frenzied action. He needed to be in the sacred glen nearly an hour ago, and she could be incredibly vindictive with this sort of thing. Not to mention that he still had to change into ceremonials, make sure the twins had their offerings properly arranged, and enter the evening's catastrophe of reconnaissance.
"What were you doing in the Malfoy library?"
Dirby, Hissy, and Rawlly stood at attention on the left. The room was lit by a few candles which probably meant they had already begun delumination. Good. "I want the two of you changed and ready to go in twenty minutes." He was halfway across the carpet, and he could hear Hissy's tut about his no doubt sooty footprints. That could wait. The holly and evergreen branches above the door were crooked. "Rawlly, where are the headdresses?" He spun and glanced around in case he'd overlooked them somehow.
"What were you-"
"In the young Master and Missy's chambers, sir," the little elf squeaked. She could barely hold eye contact. Each elf wore a sprig of holly on their uniform. Dirby had an entire band of it around his head. "With the rest of the garbs, sir."
"Good." He turned for the door. "Tell Tibby I want the offering doubled. Dirby." He heard Rawlly disappear as he reached the threshold.
"Father-"
Right. The twins.
"Hissy, you have the twins," he called over his shoulder. "Don't worry about full braids on Hermione."
"Aye, ma laird. Come awa' ma bairns."
"Father!we need to know-"
"Wheesht!" He remembered to breathe and keep his voice down. "Theodore, ho daes e muine muve?" He could hear his impatience, and on some level he regretted it, but they were late enough as it stood.
"En hits ain tid, faither," the lad mumbled, falling back a step.
"Dirby." His heir fell back another step. He swept out of the receiving room, yanking off the thrice-damned cravat as he went. The sound of the house jumping to his orders was some little comfort, but with every second, the moon edged closer to zenith.
"Master's trip bes successful?" the elf asked in Nott Gaelic, neatly dodging his over-robe, jacket, and waistcoat without surrendering his ironclad disinterest.
"More or less," he replied. To his immense shame, his Nott Gaelic was threaded with his usual posh Southern English. Dirby never gave any indication that he noticed, much less disapproved, but Thoros knew the old elf did anyway.
He had his shirt off before he threw open the study doors. "Pull archive, cross reference 'Malfoy', cross reference 'property', sub reference 'ill-gotten'." He threw himself into his great chair to yank off his boots and socks before starting on his breeches.
"Ceremonials, ma Laird?"
"In a moment." The ties and buttons defied him.
"Dictation, ma Laird?"
He temporarily abandoned the fastenings to grab the rough linen Dirby had left folded on his desk. "December 23rd, nearing eight o' whatever time it is. You can fill that bit in later." He finally got his trousers off. "Malfoy estate, Wiltshire, library. Ledger in question gone. No sign of magical or manual ward tampering." He wrapped the strip of cloth around his waist before pulling off his underpants. "Witnessed, unidentified, by Malfoy heir whilst departing. He seemed to assume I was there for an assignation of sorts, possibly sexual. No signs of suspicion while paying respects to the Duke and Duchess. End entry." He tucked in the corner of the linen and began working off his rings.
"Have someone liaise with the Malfoy elves. I want to know why that peacock moved his ledgers."
"Very good, ma Laird." Dirby dismissed the massive book and began mixing and grinding things he pulled from thin air.
"I'll need an excuse to be in his study now, Mother help me."
Dirby didn't look up from the wooden bowls he studiously arranged and rearranged. "Shall I-"
"No, no. Just the paint will be sufficient for now." He waved off the suggestion and sank to one knee on the thick carpet. The linen felt something like an aggravated gag reflex, but the patriarch of the greatest druidic power in the world did not scratch himself in mixed company.
Soon, the millions of thoughts and concerns faded to silence as calloused fingers traced swirls, invocations, and oghams onto his back, chest, and arms. His skin heated wherever the purplish- red mixture settled. He was fairly certain it contained either holly berries or mistletoe, but it wasn't his place to ask.
The elf bowed and set aside the carved paint bowl. Thoros refused to even twitch while the designs dried. He forced himself to focus on even breaths while Dirby took the folded tartan off the desk and spread it out for pleating.
"How is she?" He heard himself ask.
There was a pause.
"Well, ma Laird." The elf sounded cautious. "Only the usual winter settling. She should be quite docile for the offerings."
Thoros grunted.
Silence fell.
His knees ached.
"Your kilt, my Lord."
He rose in a symphony of popping joints and pulled off the strip of maddening linen, tossing the wadded mass on the desk.
The clock struck nine.
"Torcs," he barked. He practically vaulted into the middle of the pleated black, white, purple, and deep green fabric.
He could hear the elf unwrapping the furs around the thick silver pieces. Each was incredibly heavy and made of smaller silver rods braided and twisted together. He buckled his belt and pulled the ends up over his right shoulder.
"Brooch."
"Here, ma Laird."
Thoros nearly stabbed himself as he shoved the pin through the elaborate crescent moon. Swearing under his breath, (he was careful to use English rather than Nott so Dirby wouldn't understand) he allowed the elf to push the ornaments into place around both his wrists and his neck.
"Your wreath is in the entry," Dirby said before he could ask. "Hissy will have the chlann there by now." Thoros nodded and swept out.
The Manor's cool dry air felt amazing against his chest and legs.
"Is it a good time yet?" Hermione asked artlessly the moment he arrived. He sighed and adjusted the brooch holding her arisaid on her shoulder before straightening her wreath and brushing a hand over her curls.
She huffed and stepped out from under his hand. "You're evading."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and fought off flashes of Calladora. "Once you come of age, you will, of course, be privy to all the secrets of the Notts. Until that time, you and your brother-" he shot a glance at his heir. Theodore looked away and shuffled his feet. "-are simply too young to understand. I know you are both gifted magic users, but trust me when I say you are not yet ready. You won't be until you are capable of understanding how the real world works."
He turned away to accept the satchel of offerings from Hissy.
"I will see you both at dawn."
He apparated to the Mother's Glen.
~*TNT*~
"Alright," Theo declared, arching his back over his chair. "I've finished Potions so that just leaves-"
"You've finished Potions already!?" Hermione demanded. Theo paused in his parchment shuffling.
"Yeah…" he replied, looking for the trap. "I just said-"
"What did you write the second essay on!?" She had faint ink smears along her hairline from tucking curls back.
His eyebrows furrowed and he rocked slightly away from their table. "Well, it was sort of a mishmash, really, of-"
"You made mine a mishmash!?" She seemed to lunge at him over the books and papers without actually leaving her seat. "No wonder Snape hates me!"
He rolled his eyes. "Snape doesn't-"
"Oh really?" She brandished her quill. "What did you write yours on, then? Discovery? Applications?" It was either hysteria or malevolence threading her tone.
"Theoretical alterations," Theo muttered, watching her every twitch.
"And you made mine a mishmash." Malevolence. Definitely Malevolence.
Fortunately, malevolence could be forced to see reason. "C'mon. You hate that class! It wouldn't make sense if you hated the class and were brilliant on the essays!"
"Are you pulling an E in Potions?" Her eyes flashed and her voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
"You're getting one in Charms!"
She threw down her quill and lurched upright. "Only because Flitwick won't give me anything else! I turn in shite? E! I turn in eloquent analyses? E! I turn in something only vaguely related to the material that deals with an idiotic potential application for the bubble head charm? He gives me an O! An O, Theodore! For basically saying if we apparated to the surface of the moon we could use it to breathe."
"Then why don't I have an E in Charms? We agreed, Hermione! Try for Acceptables on everything, but equal effort either way!"
"Well then maybe you should do your own Charms essays! While you're at it you can also take back Defense and Astronomy." She crossed her arms and huffed. It sent several more curls tumbling from her high twist.
"You are not dumping those back on me. We agreed. Back on Ostara morning, we agreed that it was stupid for us both to do cursory research for stuff we already know!"
"Well, maybe this isn't working anymore." She tilted her chin higher and huffed more aggressively.
He scrutinized her.
"This isn't about the homework, is it." She tensed and he felt his eyes blow wide. "You're still mad about the Yule thing, aren't you!"
"I just don't get why we can't just do a teeny bit more-"
He jumped to his feet as well. "Because Father said not to! Everything in its own time, Hermione! That's what he said!"
"No, that's what you said! He didn't say anything to me!"
"Hermi'neeeee-" His hair refused to be pulled out by the roots.
"Don't you dare. It has been four. Months."
He tried again. Harder. "Technically, it's been-"
"Shut up. Are we supposed to wait until Beltane? No! We are not children to be sent off to school while the adults shape the-"
"We're twelve!" he hissed.
"And he's denying us! Exactly! We're too young to understand!? He's not letting us understand!" Her gestures were steadily expanding; though mercifully, she kept her voice at a reasonable decibel.
"When the time is right, I'm sure he'll-"
"And what time is that exactly, brother dearest?" Her eyes glowed at the smell of victory as she leaned toward him. "September?" Closer. Eyes wider. "We shouldn't have to wait-"
"Yes, we-"
"So let's take it!" She grinned, snapping upright. "We'll prove we're ready! Father can't say we're too young or we don't understand how the world works if we show him-"
"A dead three-headed dog!?" he retorted, collapsing back into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "That's supposed to impress him!? What are you, a cat!?"
"Don't be stupid." she shot him a disapproving frown. "We'd take it, not kill it. It's not going to be a rug, you monster."
"They die if they fail to guard whatever they're posted to guard," he said, in an attempt to derail her.
"So we'll take the stone too." She batted off his concerns like hair from her eyes. "It's not like it will be difficult."
"Difficult? Transporting a several ton dog a couple hundred miles through untold layers of warding without being seen isn't something you'd consider difficult!?"
She didn't even break stride. "The elves will help. If anything it'll prove that we understand how everything works and we're ready for more! Papa will be so impressed!"
"Father will be impressed that we've been reduced to dognapping?"
"Dog-rescuing. Remember, we're taking the stone so it doesn't die. Everyone wins."
"Won't us taking the stone out of the bloody castle sort of defeat that, though? Would you please sit back down?"
"Of course not. It'll still be protecting the stone, just in a different place." She shrugged.
"... You're mad. There's no way in magic that could work. This is just exam stress. Now, why don't you sit-"
"Look." She slapped her hands on the table and leaned into him. "You want to impress Papa. I want to impress Papa. Getting the actual Philosopher's Stone will impress Papa." He caught a flash of crimson, black, and brunet behind her. "We are not killing that dog, so we are taking it with us." No. Bad. "This is just how it has to work." Very bad.
"Detrás de ti [behind you]…" He managed to squeak.
She spun to face the gaping Gryffindor. "Oh. Hello, Longbottom. This is the Creation of Spells and Creature Care section. Herbs and Herding Impulsive Idiots is over there." She jerked her chin and put a fist on her cocked hip. Theo casually adjusted his wand on the table.
The boy gave a jerky nod and a sort of assenting squeak before scrambling off.
"We may have to lay low for a while," she declared, settling daintily into her chair and opening a book.
"Oh. Perhaps a bit. Yeah," Theo sputtered.
Hermione hummed and began flipping pages.
Theo huffed a disbelieving breath from his nose. He couldn't decide whether he'd scoffed or suppressed a pointed and sardonic sort of laugh, but such noises were fairly universal, and their interpretation was largely subjective anyway.
"Hissy did not raise a dragon, Theodore Demetrius."
"She didn't raise an Azkaban inmate either, Hermione Caledonia," he snapped.
"Pardon?" She blinked at him in polite confusion.
Time to be direct, then. "Mordred only knows what he overheard. How do we know he's not scurrying off to McGonagall as we speak?"
"Because it's our word against his; we're model students; he knows how society works; and we stuck his friend to a toilet for several hours," she replied, ticking them off her fingers.
"You can't be serious."
"He's a Gryffindor, cariño. If he does seek justice, he'll either seek it himself or try to ensure our plan fails."
Theo gaped at his sister. Hermione flipped idly through the Astronomy book.
"You know what? I think I'm done for the day. Dinner?" she asked.
"We can't just-"
"Well, it's not like it's going anywhere. Our only competition is a trio of morons." She shrugged with a Narcissa laugh and assembled the books and parchments scattered over their table.
"I meant-"
"And anyway, if we take it just before summer hols, then we'll have time to personally see to its adjustments and comfort all while well away from professors' prying eyes… and jurisdiction. Dinner?"
"You're the worst," he told her. He fought a smirk even as he shook his head.
She glanced up, her eyes glittering.
"No, I'm a Nott."
~*TNT*~
Potter has a dragon.
"Don't you think, Draco?"
"I mean…" He allowed his voice to trail off leadingly.
Ok, technically, Potter's pet oaf has a dragon.
"Of course, I can hardly-"
And the Notts didn't even react! Potter and his sidekicks nearly skived Herbology, but mention it to my best friends and it's like I've got a babbling curse!
"Pansy, Darling, you've never-"
An actual. Hatching. Dragon. And not a single comment, batted eyelash- It's in a wooden hovel for Merlin's sake!
"Draco? Draco, did you hear-"
He locked eyes with Pansy then darted a glance at Daphne across the way. Pansy annoyed; Daphne pleased. Right.
"I don't think I could phrase it much better, actually…" he said, reading their expressions for all he was worth. "I was just thinking about what it would do to everyone's plans…"
Daphne's eyes narrowed, and Pansy scooted closer. Good enough, apparently.
I wouldn't be so stupid if I was lucky enough to have a dragon egg.
"So I said-"
I'd be the first Malfoy to even ride a dragon! The first dragon- riding professional Quidditch playing Malfoy.
"But you know she secretly has-"
Oh, man, how wicked would that be? Flying onto a pitch- the cheers, the lights, the wind and all- and then my freaking dragon cresting over the stadium walls?
"Yes, but I'm saying-"
Come to think of it… No Malfoy has ever owned a Quidditch team, either…
"And I hear you, Sweetie, but-"
The Wiltshire Dragons… The Wiltshire Greens… Can you have a Welsh dragon mascot for a not Welsh team?
"The Duchess couldn't possibly agree to such a thing, though."
Well, they're not technically exclusive to Wales, I guess…
"It's Draco's birthday; ask him."
The two girls turned and stared at him.
Bugger.
"Mother is usually very accommodating about my birthday." Full nose wrinkle from Daphne. Shit. "But she does tend to limit my more… er…" Word. Word. Word. "Surprising ideas." That's neutral enough, right?
They went back at each other.
He relaxed.
Red or Green would be too obvious for a dragon team, though… Silver maybe… But not for the full uniform…
"Tracey! There you are." He glanced up, then straightened his back and nodded casually to the newcomer of inferior breeding.
"We were just discussing what we're planning to wear to Draco's birthday…" Pansy said. Ohhh… huh. Would not have guessed that... "You did get your invitation, right…?" Neither Pansy nor Daphne was looking at him. He settled back into the leather.
I guess it would sort of depend on my dragon… Can't have a Common Welsh Green… You can have a Hebridean for a familiar, surely? That would be badass… A black dragon emerging on silent wings, blocking out the stars?
"I could have sworn I heard Harry Potter-"
Potter would crap his pants.
"Potter?" He glanced up to match Pansy's sneer. "What's he got to do with anything?"
"I didn't see him… I just... thought I heard him," Tracey replied, blushing.
Potter doesn't need a dragon. He couldn't even handle one. I'm named for dragons.
"What did he say?" Daphne asked, leaning forward.
How perfect would it be if his dragon got confiscated, and then I happened to acquire one, and familiar bond with it, like a couple days later?
"He sounded like he was waiting for the Notts with someone."
He snapped to full attention. If his best friends were helping Harry Bloody Potter get his hands on a dragon…
Over my dead body!
"Excuse me, ladies." He rose and bowed. "There's something that requires my immediate attention."
*POSES FOR EFFECT IN THE LIGHT OF MY OWN BRILLIANCE* I updated.
It is possible I am only allergic to the United States when I am not properly medicated with reviews. FOR THE SAKE OF SCIENCE, I MUST ASK YOU TO HIT THE REVIEW BUTTON. I DARE YOU TO TYPE GIBBERISH (I'LL BE DELIGHTED IF YOU DO, ACTUALLY) BUT WE CANNOT RISK ANOTHER 2 MONTHS OF WHATEVER THE HELL HAPPENED TO ME.
QUIZ TIME:
I, the reviewer, for the sake of science and ~ review because
73) ;Ficne;ianceivnaeprg;uiba;fnda;jgbsrb #Science
***) Perhaps real words are necessary to fend off multiple infections and organ mutinies? Here are some real words: (insert your content here)
C) I would sell my soul for the Hufflepuff Centric World Building Fic I know you have lurking in your computer somewhere. Or maybe just more Hufflepuff stuff next chapter...?
4) Does it annoy anyone else that there are usually only four options in multiple choice? Am I the only one who hates the number 4?
Excellence) It's what's for breakfast.