Disclaimer: look, if you don't recognize the names, they probably belong to me. otherwise, they belong to her Greatness, J.K. Rowling. if a line is funny, then i either copied it down after one of my funny friends said it, jotted it down while watching some tv show or movie, or wrote it down off the top of my own head in the hopes that you might giggle. i hope i haven't stolen ideas from any other fics, but if i have, you have my express permission to inform me of it and then stone me.

The Winged Serpents

Chapter Five: Secrets for Supper

***

The two girls sat across from Drew, quietly speculating as to the sexual preference and House possibilities of the new First Years. It had not escaped Raven's amused notice that Drew was eagerly declaring all the better-looking boys as being incredibly gay and obvious choices for Slytherin. Dove's attention, however, was being torn away bit by bit. Her eyes were caught at the High Table by Professor Snape. He seemed to be looking back at her with an expression she couldn't remember ever seeing on his face before. A strange mixture vaguely reminiscent of...worry? She shook it off and turned back to her friends. Surely, she was seeing things. And even if he was looking at them, it was probably with nothing more than curiosity. After all, hadn't Headmaster Dumbledore let him in on their little secrets?

Suddenly, Dove's head exploded with fear. Our secrets! He knows everything! She'd nearly forgotten exactly what his "debriefing" would consist of. Suddenly her thoughts turned to frantic anticipation. How will he treat us now that he knows? He'd been nearly kind to them before, especially after they started putting such efforts into Potions. He knew it wasn't their specialty, far from it, but Dove could read the frustration in his eyes whenever some careless student added a wrong ingredient or miswrote directions.

Raven had asked her one day during their Second Year why she thought he got so upset. And it had hit Dove like a sack of Strengthened Bricks. He felt unappreciated, and he probably was (judging from the looks and mumbled phrases that were usually directed towards him). When Dove had explained her theory to Raven, she could feel the sympathy that had instantly begun to well up within her sister. And Raven's emotions had a tendency to reach such intensity that Dove couldn't help but adopt them as her own.

They had immediately thrown themselves into their self-ordered mission. They had begun to sneak into the cold Potions classroom after curfew. They had studied and practiced and experimented into the latest hours of the night, most often to disastrous results, but they had always made sure that he knew it was them. They cleaned up after themselves, but left tiny hints; a scrap of paper with a name on it or a favorite quill. Just so he would know that they were making an effort. And he had known. He'd never said anything as it wasn't his way, but they'd never really expected him to either. They'd noticed it though, in how he had always softened his glares for them, always lowered the venom in his icy tones. And while he must have known about their late-night escapades, he'd never said anything about their use of the classroom. After that second year, they'd never feared him. The large black and silvery-white eyes that greeted him whenever he walked into a room were full of admiration and understanding, not anger or loathing like so many other students.

But now, Dove was afraid that she might once again feel that long-forgotten fear when they returned to his class. Knowing what he does, how will he treat us? Will he ask us impossible questions and sneer at the unfavorable results? He knows that despite our constant efforts we are quite unable to do any more than follow instructions. There is just no understanding at all. Will he use that against us? Dove began to shake at the thought that Professor Snape knew more about Raven and herself than any other person alive, save Dumbledore himself. When it came to ingredients and results, there was none better than Snape. But when it came to such sensitive and personal issues...she just couldn't be sure.

Would you cut that out! Dove's head was split in two by Raven's hurried thoughts. You're making me nervous now! She hadn't thought Raven was paying attention.

Sorry, she thought back sulkily, I just can't help it. I'm worried.

Obviously.

Dove threw an exasperated look in Raven's direction. Well, I can't really help it, can I?

Don't be so uptight about it. No point in getting us both all worked up over nothing. We'll see what's what at Potions. Until then, leave it be. Alright?

Yes, alright. She turned back to the table and realized with a start that she had completely zoned out for the whole of the Sorting, and the tables were already covered in platters of food and jugs of pumpkin juice. With a sigh, she started pulling things onto her plate and forced herself to pay attention to the rumors, schemes, and threats that made up most Slytherin conversation.

***

Unconscious of the activity and gossip the other professors were throwing around him, Severus Snape was trying desperately to focus on something other than the two girls across from the Maxim boy. For the last few days he had been mulling over everything he could recall about the myth of the Winged Serpents. Searching desperately for any sign of a loophole, he was disgusted with himself at his prominent failure. There was no potion, no charm, no incantation that would be able to change the fates of these two unfortunate girls. And it angered him to no end. The fact that he couldn't seem to account for this uncharacteristic compassion of mind didn't seem to be helping.

Blinking miserably, unwilling to allow himself the luxury of letting his emotions escape, he tried to focus once more on his surrounding environment. To his great distress, he realized he'd been staring vacantly towards the seat which Dove Thomas had been occupying. He nearly started again when it occurred to him that all of the new students had been Sorted without his knowledge. How long have I been staring at her? he wondered. His heart skipped a third time when he noticed that she had been staring back. She obviously thought that he'd been looking at her, rather than towards her.

However, fascinatingly enough, she didn't seem to mind his attention. Although she appeared to be trying to read his face, no doubt searching for his motivation to stare. He momentarily entertained the idea of speaking to her after the meal, but decided against it immediately after running a few possible outcomes through his head. Only one was even remotely positive, and the possibility itself was as remote as his optimism.

He shrugged himself back to the table and growled lightly. No sense forgetting my place here. Cold-hearted, unsympathetic, soulless bastard of a Potions Master. Remember that. And he tore himself away from Dove's soft wondering gaze.

***

The Slytherin common room was bustling with activity. Trunks were being emptied, beds fought over, new roommates decided, allies forged and enemies encountered. Drew sighed heavily as he headed towards his own dormitory. Mumbling to himself, he plopped down on the bed he had occupied for the past four years. He buried himself in the heavy blankets, burrowing down into the warmth. Turning his head slightly to the left, he prepared to start some random rumors with his mate, Devon Ryle. Devon was an acquaintance of his, and had occupied the bed immediately to the left of his own since their first year. Drew was therefore very surprised to find a slim figure with white-blonde hair relaxing there instead of Devon's muscular bulk.

"Draco? What are you doing here?" Drew asked. He was dreadfully curious and wanted to know immediately whether Draco would be staying. However, fearing that Draco would only sputter out some useless wit in response, he kept his curiosity buried. If Draco knew how curious Drew was, he would swallow his enthusiasm to speak and say nothing. Draco's annoying tendency to annoy without provocation or obvious motivation was the one thing that had always bothered Drew. As long as there would be some favorable result, he could easily understand the need to pester and bully, but Draco seemed to do so merely for the attention it brought him. And Drew had never been one for spectator sports.

Malfoy looked up slowly, as if only just realizing that he was being spoken to. "Oh, well, I thought I'd ask you a question," he stuttered. His eyes became suddenly alert and began to dart around the otherwise empty room. His cheeks began to brighten and he sat up roughly. "I just wanted to know...I mean, because you...erm, that is to say that I..." He stumbled over the words a bit, before straightening his shirt and sitting up with a look of utter decisiveness. "I wanted to know if you-"

But he had no chance to finish as Devon Ryle sauntered into the room loudly, barking back the tail-end of a joke and waiting for the laughter he was sure he had planned on receiving from the common room. He forgot all about the laughter, however, when he turned towards his bed and noticed Malfoy looking rather ruffled about the unexpected intrusion. He grinned and immediately threw himself into the fray. "What's wrong, lover-boy? Didn't get enough of Drew over hols? Come on now, you know this room is Fourth Years only, get up and get out. Come on, boy, on with it then. Silly little Third Year." He spoke good-naturedly, but the hidden threat beneath wasn't hard to locate.

Draco looked quickly over to Drew, who was masking his annoyance masterfully, and then jumped off the bed and rushed past Ryle. Ryle watched him go, waiting for the door to click before turning back to Drew. "Drew, honestly. The little bugger isn't worth your time. He's a pesky little thing who doesn't understand his place here. He still thinks his daddy will take care of everything for him. Besides, there's no telling why he's warmed up to you so suddenly. You've got to watch out for that one, he'd screw himself to get ahead."

Drew smiled reluctantly. He knew that what Ryle said was true. But he also knew that Devon's jealous tendencies would mar any possibility of adulation. Ryle still had a crush on Drew and he just didn't want the competition. Especially not from a wealthy, handsome git like Draco, whose father probably could take care of everything for him. If Draco kept this up, Ryle would be forced to call him out, and Drew knew it. So, in an attempt to save the blonde-headed boy a bit of time, he changed the subject.

"So, I hear you're finally going out for Beater against the twins. You think you'll get it?"

Ryle's eyes flickered with hunger. "I'd damn well better. I've been practicing all summer. I'm sick of those two girls snagging both positions. I ought to at least be able to bum Dovey out of a spot. Everyone knows she can't aim worth her life. She's just as likely to hit one of our Slyths as some pathetic Hufflefluff. She's a liability, she is."

"That's true enough. But she doesn't really have to aim, does she? She never tries to hit anyone else anyway, she just keeps the Bludgers off her own. Raven does all the aiming for her; she could probably bang the snitch from halfway across the field if she tried. Everyone knows that Dove goes defense while Raven goes offense. There hasn't been anything like it before, not here at Hogwarts," Drew settled into Cold-Blooded Sympathy mode easily. "They're a force to reckon with and Captain knows it. I doubt he'll let one of them go to let you on just because you've been practicing, it'd mess up the whole strategy of it. And he's even less likely to drop them both. If you plan on beating them out for a spot, you'd better start practicing harder." He spit the words out as if they were acid on his tongue, then turned to watch Devon's reaction.

Devon blinked in surprise. He was always thrown off when Drew went into Cold-Blooded Sympathy mode. He could probably make a grown man break down and cry with his "compliments". But Devon just dismissed it as he always did, snapped back into reality, and began unpacking the rest of his things. Drew sighed, wondering why he even bothered with the thick-headed loaf, and turned over onto his side, away from the hulk across from him. Afterwards, when Devon tried to resume his earlier rant about Malfoy, he was disappointed to find that Drew was already asleep.

***

Meanwhile, in another dorm, the Thomas girls were having a discussion of their own. Dove was relaxing on her own bed in the far left corner of the room, while Raven was sitting in a large over-stuffed chair in front of the fire. To any other individual who might walk into the room, it would appear as if they took no notice of one another. But their minds were practically reeling from the fast-paced thoughts that burbled to and fro in their heads.

It was so strange though, I've never seen such a gash on him before, Raven mused. I mean, he's usually got small tears and worn spots, but never anything like this. Whatever it is, it's positively ripping him apart.

Are you sure about this? Dove prodded softly. Because if it's really as bad as you say, you know that we'll have to-

Yes, I know, Raven cut her off abruptly. It's not like I'm making it up just to maneuver myself into a position to get closer to him. I don't like him any more than you do. But nobody deserves that sort of pain, not even Malfoy.

I know. But there's no way for us to help him, is there? He has to tell us what it was that did it, and he has to ask for our help. There's no other way, and you know it. He isn't just going to randomly volunteer his deepest wounds to us, and he certainly won't ask for our help.

Maybe...

What?

Well, he and Drew seem to be getting on. Maybe Drew can smuggle something out of him and sort of put in a good word for us.

But why would he do that? Even Drew doesn't know what we can do. You don't think we should tell him, do you?

Well, no. But still... Raven looked at her sister hopefully. Please, heart. It's going to hurt me until he's fixed. You know how it works. I just want to get it over with. She began to pick at something that Dove couldn't see. But even without the sight that Raven possessed, Dove knew and understood.

Dove looked at her sister. The immensity of her sister's heartache and sacrifice hit her full-force. The curse was part of the gift. If they didn't heal him soon, Raven would begin to feel the effects of it. Dove nodded mutely and lay back into her pillow. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Raven slump, exhausted, onto her own bed. Clearing their minds for each other, they both slept.

***