Lilacs In November--Part Five
DISCLAIMER: *sings* But she caught me on the counter... (it wasn't me) *stops, blushes* Whoops. Well, um, yeah, that covers it, right? Heh heh. On with the story.
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Chapter Seventeen
Heart to Heart
"When I find myself fading, I close my eyes and realize my friends are my energy." Anonymous
"Miss Riddle?" With a mental squeak of terror, Delilah sped up and flew into the room, crash-landing on the bed.
"In a second, Professor Flitwick," she called frantically, forming vocal cords first as she changed back.
"Are you all right?"
"A... a little sleepy..." She looked around for her robes--they'd been moved. With a groan, she opened her trunk (which she hadn't unpacked yet) and dug out her pajamas.
"Were you in bed, then? Miss Brocklehurst was looking for you a few minutes ago--she said she couldn't find you. She's quite worried. May I come in?"
"Er... sure, professor, one second." Pulling on her T-shirt hurriedly, she dove into bed. She hadn't closed the curtains before she'd left... something she'd told herself she was going to do, to make people think she was asleep.
The short professor came in. "I see you're in bed already. Have you done your homework?"
Delilah gestured to her desk, where a stack of parchment awaited the next day. Flitwick beamed. "Excellent. Now, what was I going to ask you? ...Oh, yes, now I remember. Do you know anything of Dungbombs under the bed of one Draco Malfoy?"
So, Harry had used those for some good after all. She kept her face perfectly smooth. "No, sir--what happened?"
"Don't call me sir, Miss Riddle--I'm not Sir Cadogan. Yes. Well, apparently they just went off. He seemed to think you were involved."
"I've been in here, doing homework and sleeping," she said. "It's been a tiring day, Professor... I don't have the energy to use Dungbombs on anyone, least of all the energy needed to find the Slytherin dormitories." She let out a tiny yawn. "If you're done, Professor, could I get back to bed, please?" She snuggled into her blankets and promptly fell asleep.
Getting the distinct impression that he'd been dismissed, Flitwick opened his mouth to speak indignantly. A bird of some sort--with wicked talons, he noted with a shiver--chose that time to perch on the windowsill and eye him evilly. Go on, just try it, the bird seemed to say to him.
Closing his mouth and shaking his head, Flitwick said, "Very well, then... ah... right. Good night." The short-statured professor then proceeded to go down the stairs at the fastest pace dignity would allow.
"Psst! Lila!"
That was definitely not a female voice. With a gasp, Delilah sat up, to see Harry removing his invisibility cloak.
"What in the HELL are you doing here?!" she hissed, pulling her blankets up to her chin.
"Shh! Keep it down. I need your help."
"With what?!"
"You know that professor friend of yours? What's his name... Professor Levine?"
Delilah started to get a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Yeah... what about him?"
"I..." Harry bit his lip. "I want you to find out if he and Cho are... you know."
"I see. And why must I do your dirty work?"
Harry folded his arms across his chest. "You can't tell me you wouldn't care if he was with someone other than you."
"Oh, and you don't care that your girlfriend is possibly interested in someone else?"
"Of course I care--why do you think I'm asking you to do this?"
"I don't know all of the answers!" Delilah saw Harry's eyes narrow, but decided she didn't care. Not only was the remembrance of Cho's and Brett's looks in the Great Hall thoroughly depressing her, she was reminded about her brief and unrequitted crush on Harry last year.
"So you're not even going to put up a fight, then? Just going to let him... saunter away with another girl? I thought you had more fight than that."
"Well, maybe I'm tired of fighting," she shot back. "I've been fighting about all of my life--and where the hell has it brought me? My family hates me because I'm a witch... about half of the magical community is scared witless of me... and I don't even see why I bother to even get romantic notions about people, I mean, the last one went to hell, and this one's going down that path. I've been here a few days and already I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown."
There was silence; then Harry threw on the Invisibility Cloak and vanished. He'd left, she thought numbly, the feeling not quite registering... then an arm went around her shoulders and, half-covered by the cloak, she was pulled into a hug where she could finally cry, hot silent tears that soaked Harry's shirt.
"It's not easy, is it?" whispered Harry quietly. "Being well-known for something you didn't even accomplish on your own... and thanks to Rita Skeeter announcing that I'm a Parselmouth and about my scar, I've got people thinking I'm turning Dark. But Lila--they don't matter. You believed it once... start believing it again, and that will of yours that I know is there will come back, I'm sure of it. You're one of the strongest people I know, and the strongest girl, emotionally anyway. You can come back."
Sitting up, Delilah took Harry's offered handkerchief and cleaned herself up. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'll... I'll try to ask Brett about Cho, OK?"
"Only if you want to. I won't hold you to it. Seems like you're busy enough." Because she was still slightly under the cloak, she could see Harry check his watch. "Got to go to a Quidditch meeting out on the pitch--it doesn't start officially for another two weeks, but the remaining members wanted to meet to decide on captains and such. You going to be all right?"
"I... yeah, I think so. Maybe I'll fly out to see you act all sporty." She winked at him.
With a smile, Harry stood, becoming totally invisible. "Er... Lila?"
"Yes?"
"It's probably none of my business anyway... but, er, that romantic interest that went to hell, as you put it... who was it?"
"You--but you already know that, I suspect."
"I... I had a notion."
"Ah. Well, you'd best get to your meeting then. And if you're not made captain, tell me who is, so I can drop a load on their head in bird form."
"Lila! That's disgusting!"
"I learned from the best."
The grumblings of Harry slowly faded as the door opened and shut quietly, and he crept out of the common room. Closing her eyes, Delilah slept easily, for the first time since she'd been here, really--a sleep not of exhaustion, but of peace.
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Chapter Eighteen
Translation
"Knowledge is of two kinds. We know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it." Samuel Johnson
At 7:00 sharp on Saturday night, Delilah headed for Professor Levine's office. Hidden in her bag, protected by cloth wrapping, was the diary. Stopping outside of his door, she knocked three times lightly, then sharply--the code they'd devised so that he'd know it was her.
A blond head peeked out of the door, along with brilliant blue-purple eyes. "Come on in," said Brett with a smile. She entered, and he shut the door, ushering her to a stool behind his desk next to his.
"All right... you've kept me in suspense all week. What is this fabulous thing you need me to help you with?"
"First, you have to promise you'll not tell a single soul. Not another teacher... any students... even Dumbledore. Don't tell anyone."
"All right, I promise." Sizing him up with her eyes, Delilah reached down into her bag and pulled out the book. Unwrapping it, she pushed it over to him.
"Oh my..." He looked up at her. "This is..."
"I need you to help me translate this," she stated. "It's in a strange code--about every page is in a different language, but once you speak it out loud, it becomes English. Go on... see what you can do."
He looked at her uncertainly; she gestured at the book. Finally, he turned to the first untranslated page, which looked like very crude childlike scratches. "This is troll--one I know the basics of, but probably not the more complex words. It's also a more dated form, which means that some definitions might have changed. But then again, it's troll... they're not the scholarly type, to go changing their language." Scanning one of the room's many bookshelves, his eyes fell on a certain book; picking up his wand from his desk, he said, "Accio Troll Dictionary!"
A leather-bound, grubby volume sailed over and into his hands. "You don't mind if I ask you to look up words, do you?" Brett asked her.
"Not at all."
"Excellent." Clearing his throat, he began a series of grunts that had to be the language, as the markings started to shift into Rowena's curling script. Every now and then Delilah flipped through the large tome in front of her to find the meaning of a certain symbol, along with the pronunciation.
The work went slowly. A lot of times, they came across symbols they couldn't find in the book; even the ones they could find took a long time to do so, due to the sheer number of symbols in the dictionary. The ones that they couldn't find, Delilah traced onto a piece of parchment; according to Brett, the Hogwarts library had older dictionaries that, due to the fact that they'd fall apart, couldn't be moved.
"Tell you what," said Brett finally, when it was near midnight and both of them were about dead with exhaustion. "You take this with you--after all, it's yours, and if it's in my room, some students might notice it. If you help me grade papers, we can work on this on the weekends, and for each week we can..."
"Each have a list of the older symbols to try and decipher, then figure it out next time?" suggested Delilah.
Brett snapped his fingers. "Excellent idea. Here--go ahead and rip the list you have in half. I'll take part, you take part, and we'll add whatever we work on tomorrow night. Then next Saturday, we'll compare notes. Sound good?"
"Peachy."
"Great!" He grinned at her, then confessed, "I don't think I've been this excited since... scratch that, I've never been this excited."
"Try not to wet yourself," she said with a sweet smile, rewrapping the book and nestling it inside of her bag. "Tomorrow night, same time?"
"We'll have to end a bit earlier--we've got school tomorrow," he said with a wink. "But yes, seven sounds good."
"All right then. G'night."
"Good night." Thanking the pure luck that Brett's classroom was so close to the Ravenclaw entrance, she crept up to it, whispered, "Eagle feather," and went to bed.
The next night was a page of French--which was so easy for Brett, they got started on the next page, which was Mermish. As she looked up a bubble-and-seaweed-shaped symbol in a green book that smelled like the ocean, Delilah remembered Harry and her's conversation. "Er, Brett--"
"Maybe when she graduates and breaks up with her boyfriend. I don't rob cradles, or other guys. But yes, I do think she's hot." A knowing smile crossed his lips at her open-mouthed expression. "You were going to ask about Cho Chang, right?"
"How..?"
I told you--ESP. I see you've found that symbol..." And he continued as if nothing had happened.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Delilah inked up her quill. Under the guise of writing down another unidentified symbol, she scribbled at the bottom of her parchment roll, Check Magicmakers Other Than Wizards--mind-reading? telepathic?, then once it was dry, rolled the parchment back up.
"It's almost ten--we should close up shop," said Brett, closing the dictionary. "You have those symbols, correct?"
She handed him his list. "I just added them on to the bottom," she explained.
Brett sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I wish we could use a Translator spell on this," he sighed.
Delilah looked at him with interest. She had no idea spells like that even existed. "A Translator spell?"
"Forget it. Rowena Ravenclaw was an intellectual. She'd not make it that easy for someone to translate her diary--she'd make them work for it, or already have the knowledge."
"Well, it was a nice idea."
"That it was." He set the book on the cloth and let her wrap it up. "Next Saturday, then?"
"Sounds good." And she headed back to Ravenclaw tower, narrowly dodging Peeves as he swooped above her, cackling to himself.
When she entered the dorm, she found Padma waiting for her. "Where've you been?" she asked.
As much as she wanted to, Delilah couldn't tell Padma. She'd already told too many people as it was. "Levine's helping me translate these old books I found in Sirius's library," she lied, the story suddenly popping into her head. "They're in Mermish and troll... some history, some weird spells."
"Excuse to hang out with him?"
"Right in one."
Padma grinned. "I love it when you're devious."
"Isn't it grand?" said Delilah with a grin, thinking, You have no idea.
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Chapter Nineteen
Things Falling Apart... And Into Perspective
"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all." Sam Ewig
In the weeks that followed, Delilah literally didn't have the chance to look into the whole telepathic-wizard thing. She barely had time to breathe, really.
First were her classes. As it got closer to the holidays--where students would be leaving the safety of the school, and thus susceptible to the attacks of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, who were still at large but not mentioned at the school--the teachers all felt it necessary to (a) up the work load, and (b) teach the students defense charms. Figg had them creating magic shields to deflect minor spells and debris--and learning about how to destroy or defend against every manner of Dark creature, Flitwick was helping them on the path to Invisibility charms, and Snape, when he was in class and not off doing work for Dumbledore that Delilah didn't care to dwell on, helped them make Obscuring Tonics, which were quite handy. You poured them into a small ball, and when being attacked, threw the ball onto the ground. A thick, black, fog-like smoke filled the air, enabling you to find safety or help. Of course, these precautions probably wouldn't work too well against trained Dark wizards... but one never knew.
And the extra training didn't stop at the obvious. Trelawney set the students to work looking for who might be attacked soon, in order to prevent the attack from happening; nobody saw too much. Professor Binns had them research old uprisings and battles, and how they were resolved. Sprout taught them herbs that they could carry on themselves and mix with water and each other to help heal wounds. The only teachers who really couldn't do too much were Hagrid, the astrology professor Sinistra, and McGonagall. However, those teachers still kept them quite busy; McGonagall being the worst, venting her frustration at not being able to do anything in the way of defense to train them for graduation and the aftermath. This included learning spells so complicated that a flick to the left instead of the right would result in the desk becoming a large garden slug instead of the piglet it should have been. Delilah had done that three times before finally getting it--and only then when she realized that McGonagall was taking ten points off of Ravenclaw every time she screwed up. She was more careful after that.
In an effort to regain points and socialize with her friends, who were also busy, she attended every Ravenclaw Quidditch game. After learning from a blushing Harry that he was Quidditch captain, she also attended all of his games, too. It was a time-consumer that she didn't really mind--after all, the games were suspenseful, and fun, and helped her relax after long days of poring over old books and deciphering symbols until her head ached.
Every weekend night she worked with Brett on the book, comparing notes over symbols, writing more down, and also helping him grade language papers with a key he gave her. Taking pity on her, he also helped her out with Transfiguration, letting her practice in his room and checking her homework with her. They had an easy, comfortable routine... one that made her teeny, tiny crush on him just that more difficult to bear. But she managed it... by some miracle, at least. But she'd always been good at hiding her emotions.
Really, Delilah thought as she ground brimstone and mixed it with cream, the only time-consumer she felt no gratitude from was the baby dragon she'd taken on in Hagrid's class. She'd had him for a month now, and he was every bit as grumpy and snide as she'd expected. She couldn't cajole him, or reason with him, or even yell at him; he just... stayed the same, no matter what. She'd tried about everything but using magical force on him, which was something she'd sworn she'd never do unless totally necessary, but nothing else had worked...
No. Never, she told herself as she placed the small iron bowl into the cage of the rapidly-growing beast, who dug into it greedily despite the complaints he always had afterwards. I'm doing this the real way, like everyone else... even if it kills me trying.
Oh, I assure you, it'd kill you to try that force thing. I'd make sure... you don't piss a dragon off, came the dragon's voice from the cage.
Who asked you? she retorted, pulling out a book and flipping to a bookmarked page. If you've got dinner complaints, go ahead and voice them to me while I read. I assure you, I'm listening with the utmost regard to your blathering.
A pause, then, All right, fine. The brimstone was of less quality than usual, the cream was a little sour, the sulfur was the only passable thing, and you are far too hard on Draco.
She lifted her head. "What?"
Oh, shut up. You've got the link; use it. Anyway... he told me not to tell you or anything, but I figure it's for his own safety. Might make people other than Slytherins accept him, anyway.
"Yeah, well, whose fault is that? Not mine... I didn't make him into a bleedin' traitor."
Shut up. Humans... thinking you're the only ones with something to say. The dragon sniffed, and scooted closer to her, red eyes blazing. And maybe you didn't make him... but somebody else did, someone a lot more powerful than him, somebody he's never been able to stand up to in his whole life... and when he did, he got hit right back down. Think about it, bird-girl... then maybe you'll see. He turned and laid down, his backside facing her, signifying with body language that the conversation was over.
There was silence... then it clicked. Delilah almost dropped her book. "Draco's father?" she whispered tremulously.
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Chapter Twenty
Confession
"You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad." Aldous Huxley
The day started out quite normally for Draco Malfoy. He woke up in the Slytherin dungeons... gave an obligatory hello to Pansy, and a kiss on the cheek... met Crabbe and Goyle in the common rooms to crack a few Mudblood jokes... and headed to the Great Hall to have breakfast, then he was on his way to Care of Magical Creatures.
Then, Delilah Riddle came down to talk to Hagrid; both looked his way, and Hagrid motioned Draco over from his creature. "'Lila here says that Flitwick wants ter see yeh. An' since yeh seem ter be gettin' along well... go on an' go with 'er."
"Let me just climb down the beanstalk..." he said loudly as he packed, getting titters from the girls and some grunts from the boys. Glancing sideways at Delilah, he checked her reaction; instead of the annoyance he expected, she just looked... calm, really, with her two blue strands hanging down on her face and her aqua eyes focused on him. It was too bad... she was cute when she was mad.
"So, Riddle... what does the midget want me for?" asked Draco carelessly as they went down the hall, her leading the way.
"Oh, that... I'm not sure," she replied, looking back at him. "He... didn't really say."
Draco stood still in the hallway. "Total bollocks," he stated. "You're lying to me... I can tell. So cut the bullshit, Riddle."
"My name is Delilah. Now come on." When he stayed there, she arched her eyebrow and said, "If you don't come with me, I'll make sure the entire school finds out about your New Kids on the Block knickers."
"I don't own New Kids knickers!"
Her smile was smug and a little unnerving. "Are you certain about that?"
"Fine, I'll go... but only because I'm curious as to why you lied to Hagrid and skipped class to talk to me in private. Wait..." He looked at her suspiciously. "You're not going to try and snog me, are you? Oh, that's right... you and Potter."
Delilah snorted. "Harry and I are not an item... and were I going to snog you, I'd do it with a paper bag and in a better location than an abandoned classroom."
"Pity--for a Mudblood, you're not too horrid-looking."
"Make that two bags." She opened the door. "C'mon in."
He hung back. "How do I know you're not going to ambush me or something?"
"You don't. You'll just have to trust me."
Snorting, Draco sauntered into the room. Delilah shut the door behind them, muttered, "Lumos totalus!", and the room filled with light. She gestured to a chair. "Go on, sit down."
Sweeping back his robes, Draco sat and assumed a lounging position. "All right, Riddle... you got me here, shut the door, there's no hope of me escaping... what do you want?"
Sitting on a desk, she looked down, a blue and a black curl falling across her cheek to twine around each other. "Once, when I was five, I was playing out in the yard--you know, common things, except minus the wand and all. Having fun and making mud pies while Mum and Dad watched the telly. And I got thirsty... but I waited, because I didn't want to be underfoot. They'd already made it apparent they... weren't quite fond of me. My little brother, Jason, was about one... and he was walking around in this Muggle contraption with wheels and a seat and such--you know the kind? Probably not--anyway--I finally got so thirsty that I couldn't stand it, so I rinsed myself off and ran inside for some juice... and I went so fast that I knocked over Jason in his little wheelie-thing. As I recall, he got a bump on his head."
She pulled up the sleeve on her robe to reveal a series of scars. "I got the first one of these," she said softly. "Dad was smoking a cigar when it happened... he turned purple, pulled my arm to him, yelled, and took it out of his mouth, and he put it in his hand, and while my mum comforted Jason..." A tear slipped from her eye and down her cheek. "Burnt me like a chip in hot grease. I damn near passed out... probably did, come to think of it. That was also when I first realized that they treated Jason... a bit differently, to put it mildly."
"Why are you telling me this?" asked Draco. Sure, that was a rotten thing to do, but what...
She looked up at him, eyes bright. "I'm not going to tell, or judge, but I've been there... and if you need empathy..."
"Are you implying something?" His voice was notably colder.
"No. I'm saying it flat-out. I think that... that last Halloween, he--and you know the he I'm talking about--used the Imperius Curse on you. Or someone else did, they controlled you like a puppet... and he didn't do anything to stop it."
Throughout her speech, Draco grew sheet white, then two spots of color appeared on his cheeks. She knew dully that he was embarrassed, and in denial, and furious... but she had to get it out, had had to since yesterday. And when she was done, she just looked at him, letting the pain show in her eyes, letting him rise and stand above her, fist raised, letting him punch her if need be. She healed well.
"Who in the fuck asked you to meddle in my life?" he hissed. "You're nothing but a sad little busybody, imagining ghosts at every end, thinking you're so special because of your powers."
"You can think what you will. But if you'd really like to know... touch me. You've got, let's see, a gouge on your leg, a scab on your arm, and a few bruises here and there from Quidditch... that should take enough time for you to see." She laughed softly at his expression. "I don't suppose you'd know--when I heal someone with my power, we do a memory switcharoo. I've got a few snatches of Harry left, along with some Voldemort... nutter that he is. And I know they've got pieces of me, memories we now share... lovely thought, eh? But go ahead... I'm getting slowly used to it."
"You're absolutely insane, Mudblood."
"Probably. Take my hand and you'll know for sure. Unless you're afraid?" she replied mildly.
He took it as the challenge it was meant to be. A determined look set on his face, he reached out and clasped her pale hand in his own. And the world went white.
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OK, so Draco probably would've pulled a Cartman just then and said "Screw you, I'm going home"... but damn it, it has to go with my plot! Everything must! *eye twitches* Wow. I've been on the computer too long. Yeah. Next part should be out soon, with luck...~Phoenix Starfire
P.S. Don't thank me for getting this part done. Thank jen and Ameera Bulenin (*hopes she got the spelling right*) for getting on my ass about it. A big thanks-for-whipping-my-ass-in-gear to you both.