Disclaimer: You know the drill. Only the stuff you don't recognize belongs to me. If you do recognize it, then it's someone else's.

Just a bit updated, in case anyone cares.

The Winged Serpents

Chapter Six: Feathered Dreams

***

Dove was shivering violently in her sleep. It took a rather forceful shove to finally wake her. She snapped up, grabbing at her side. The girls often had very different reactions to the dreams they shared, but Dove had never been so violent before. Raven was at her side as soon as she'd heard the first thrashes.

"Where is it?! We need it! WHERE IS IT?!" In her frustration, Dove began to cry uncontrollably. The sobs sagged out of her and her body shook with the effort. Raven tried desperately to hold her, to keep her still somehow, but she couldn't match Dove's sheer determination to cry it out. After a few unsuccessful attempts to wrap her arms around her frightened sister, she gave up. Resigning herself to her position, she crossed her legs and spoke.

"What's wrong, Dove?" The words spilled from her easily. She'd said them all too often over the past few years with Dove...and Her.

"The dream. It was the dream. I don't understand it."

"Can I fix it for you?"

"Yes. Please." The gratitude on her sister's face nearly wiped out her concentration. But she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Very quickly, and very deliberately, she began to pick and pull at the unseen Fabric surrounding Dove. Her fingers were nimble from experience, plucking and pressing, pinching and prodding. As she worked, the tension eased off of Dove's face until it was as bright as the early morning sun outside.

Finally, Raven dropped her hands to her sides. She gave a sigh and began rubbing her hands together softly. Dove noticed and looked at her sister expectantly, "They hurt." A statement, not a question. Her sister nodded, all too aware of the exchange that would once more take place. "Can I fix it?" Another nod, and Raven held her aching hands out to Dove. Dove took them into her own and just held onto them, concentrating. The pain smoothed out of Raven's overworked fingers and left no trace of itself. The two girls looked at each other. Thoughts ran back and forth between the two. They grabbed a few of Dove's leftover Chocolate Frogs to munch on and discussed their abilities and the responsibilities that accompanied, they discussed Draco and their plans to thwart his uncompromising ways, and then they discussed Snape.

Our first Potions is today, Dove thought softly.

I know.

Do you still think we should leave him alone? Let him come to us?

Yes.

Alright. Dove sighed one last time before pulling herself off the bed and rummaging through some clothes. As she pulled out a clean robe, her sister threw one last thought in her direction.

Heart, what did our dream mean? Dove looked up, startled at the question. She paused, a soft confusion glistening in her eyes before disappearing altogether.

Then, with a matter-of-factness that she rarely used, she answered aloud. "I don't know."

The girls dressed quickly and made their way down to the great hall. They settled down between two fifth year boys, sharing soft smiles and batting their eyelashes. The boys gave a quick glance and then set to making up plates for the girls. While the two boys worked, Dove and Raven turned to Drew, who was sitting across from them as usual. Waving a hand at him, they signaled for him to draw in closer. As he leaned in, they began to explain that they had seen Draco looking a bit down, and wondered if he knew anything.

Drew gave them curious looks and relayed the events of the night before. The girls looked at each other and thought quickly to one another, wondering whether it really had anything to do with Drew. But it didn't seem to fit, so they pushed him farther. After a few more minutes, they had gotten no farther, and finally decided just to recruit him.

"Drew, will you do us a favor and try to figure out what it is?" Raven spoke with a slurry whisper, trying to eat and speak at once. Drew gurgled at her in distaste and then nodded.

"Yeah, sure. I was planning on talking to him anyway. Although I don't know why you two care." He finished with a curious look in his eyes, but they made no attempt to fill him in. So he sighed as loudly as he could manage and muttered to himself, annoyed.

"Oh, come on, Drew. There isn't anything going on, we're just curious. Besides, if you like him so much, he must have some redeeming qualities. Just put in a good work for us, will you? We might want to talk to him later."

"Yeah, alright," and he readied himself to leave. "Well, I'm off to Herbology. Have fun in Potions," he snickered, and sauntered off. Raven threw a furtive glance at Dove and they both excused themselves from the clutches of the Fifth Years beside them. Steeling themselves for whatever lay ahead, they took their time getting down to the dungeons.

***

Snape sat at the large desk, his fingers plucking against one another, his eyes glazed. Deep in thought, he hadn't even noticed Dumbledore enter. He nearly started when the old man cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Well, Severus. Have you yet decided how you are going to deal with the two Thomases?" His eyes twinkled with something akin to delight, and Snape wondered why he was in such a good mood. "I believe you teach their class in just a few minutes."

Snape snapped back immediately. He's forgotten that today was his first lesson with the girls this term. He had no idea how he was going to handle them now. Surely he shouldn't handle them any differently, it would only arouse suspicion. He voiced his thoughts to Dumbledore and waited for a reply.

"Indeed. As I told them before, it would not do to put any unnecessary thoughts into the heads of their peers, but they will still need some guidance. While they are aware of their own capabilities, I do not think they understand just what may be in store for them. You shall need to clarify things with them, I imagine. But for now," he smiled and began to turn, continuing his last thoughts over his shoulder, "It might be best if you reassure them as to your own position on the subject."

Snape leaned back in his chair. Of course, he was right. The girls were aware that Dumbledore had enlightened him as to the situation, that much he knew. But it hadn't occurred to him that they might question his reaction to them in this new light. It was very possible that they thought he might be angry with them, or disappointed. Although he could not tell why they might decide on such a reaction from him. If they had been Gryffindors, or any other house for that matter, it was possible that he might not approve of such developments. But these were Slytherins. And not just any Slytherins, they weren't just two random girls full of malice and greed and corruption of the most foul sort. (Ugly visions of Pansy Parkinson drifted into his head and he choked on the thought.) These were two of his own. Cunning, ambitious, capable, calculating, aware, and more than worthy.  The malice and greed and corruption were still there, but to such a slight degree, and with such subtlety and analysis of forethought, as to actually become virtues.

As his mind wrapped around these thoughts, something new struck him. Racking his brain back as far as he could remember, he came to the realization that, while unhappy that the Fates should choose these two girls to bear such responsibilities, he could think of no others who would have been as capable. Perhaps the Fates do know what they're doing, after all, he mused. Picking himself up, he darkened his features and straightened his robes. Then he marched out of his office and stalked towards the classroom. He had his own responsibilities to attend to now.

***

Raven gave Dove the traditional coast-is-clear nod and moved smoothly into the common room. Classes had gone remarkably well during their first week, considering. They had each had a bit of trouble grasping the new techniques in Charms, but had finally picked it up with a bit of extra help from Alex. Transfiguration was as easy as they'd remembered, slipping into the theories and movements swiftly. Herbology and Defense Against Dark Arts were slow, but Runes was beginning to pick up some speed. Potions, to their surprise, was just as it had always been. Snape had appeared for all the world as if absolutely nothing had happened. They had, at first, questioned whether Dumbledore had actually filled him in on everything, but Raven was able to dispel that as wishful thinking. Her thoughts were confirmed in Dove's mind when they received a note from Snape saying that he wished to speak with them over the weekend.

Divination was a blurry memory of laughter and detentions. Raven had remembered the Tricky Tarot cards just before class and had slipped them to the Weasley twins with a quick explanation. The twins had made a few adjustments, tweaking the spells and perfecting a couple of their own ingenious little charms, before handing them back. Divination was, without a doubt, the worst class that Dove and Raven had ever forced themselves to sit through. But it had been such a great source of amusement to them that they had been unable to drop it. They were constantly contenting themselves with scrambled predictions and visions, making a complete mockery of every assignment. It wasn't often that Professor Trelawney caught on, but when she did, it was a spectacle unto itself. When she'd used the Tricky Tarot cards that Raven (just barely) managed to sneak onto her desk, she'd predicted all manner of amazing things, and it had earned the twins their first detentions, not to mention ten points from Slytherin. Each. But everyone in the class had agreed that it was well worth it.

For now though, all thoughts were subdued. Right now they were concentrating on the only other figure in the common room with them. Sitting quietly on a couch facing the ornate fireplace across from them, his eyes glossed over and blank, was Draco Malfoy. He seemed absolutely lost in himself. Raven approached cautiously, not wishing to catch him off-guard, thus putting him automatically into Defense mode. She walked around the couch, making her presence known through sheer force of will, rather than by any noise. She was only slightly surprised, then, to hear Draco address her without any seeming change to his demeanor.

"Raven," he nodded slightly. "I assume Dove is also here." Dove came from around the other side of the couch. She looked at Raven and, wordlessly, they both dropped to the couch, successfully sandwiching Draco between them.

"Draco, we want to talk to you," Dove began. She readied herself for some strange outburst, but no sneer came. After a few tense moments, she continued, making things up as she went along, "Drew is worried about you. He said you seem...different. He wondered if there was anything wrong, and we thought we'd find out. Perhaps we can help." Once again, she prepared herself for some form of harsh rebuke; a cruel inquiry as to their unfounded prying. But once again, nothing came. Then, after a few silent moments, he spoke.

Even Raven was taken aback by his response. Rather than yelling or grating his jaw with anger or softly offending their ancestry, he answered them. His eyes had never lost that glossy look, but now they seemed to well up with frustration. "Nobody can help. It's too late. And there's nothing anyone can do." His voice was neither malicious nor cruel, only empty. He sounded as if he'd lost all sense of any kind of hope. And, from Draco Malfoy, this was quite alarming.

Raven pushed a bit more. "Draco, tell us what it is. And I promise, if you want our help, it's yours. You'd be surprised at what we may be able to do for you." She spoke with such assurance that Draco was pulled out of his silent haze. He looked at her, wondering whether to believe this shred of possibility. Finally, as if unable to sustain such hopelessness, he gave in and told them.

"It's my mother. She's...sick."

No wonder he's giving in so easily, Raven thought to Dove. It's something to do with his mother. Dove nodded slightly in agreement and they both focused their attentions back on Draco.

"I'm sure you're aware of my father's...associates." He choked on the word, reviling it even as he spoke it. "My mother accidentally stumbled into a room where they were holding conference and my father, in his maliciously unthinking manner, punished her for her intrusion." The two girls gasped at the unspoken insinuation. "I don't know what hexes or curses he threw at her. And he doesn't seem to recall either, because he hasn't been able to remove them. He doesn't even really seem to care. But they're...they-" He broke off, his voice lost and broken with the effort of speaking. He took in a few ragged breaths and forced himself to finish. "She's dying," he said finally.

Dove's eyes were furiously beating back the onslaught of tears that threatened to peel out of her, but she refused them. Timidly at first, she reached to put her hand around Draco. She was surprised at how easily he sank into her. Raven merely sat back, taking everything in and swirling it around in her mind. If all of this was true, then it should be a fairly simple task to heal. Dove could work with the hexes and curses, fix her physically, then she would be able to mend her Fabric. And, hopefully, Draco's as well. But he had to accept, if not ask for, their help first.

Raven allowed Dove to ease Draco back into a state of semi-aware consciousness before moving on. "Draco. May we help you?" She paused, waiting for the affirmation she hoped would come.

"How can you help me?" His voice was so set, so bland and devoid of recognition, that she stuttered.

"H-how? Erm..." She was flustered now. She couldn't decide whether or not she should tell him. While it may help him make the decision to allow their aid, it could damage them in the long run. What if he tells? What if he uses it against us? She contemplated the various advantages and disadvantages, then decided that he would probably not go against them if they could manage to heal his mother. Hopefully, he would feel the debt between them and let it go. So, after a few confirming thoughts to Dove, she began.

"Draco, I'm going to tell you a few things that nobody else really knows." She spoke evenly, surprising herself with her own ready tone. She paused to ensure that she had his attention before going on. "Slytherin House has a bit of a reputation for its myths, legends, and prophecies. Most of which actually turn out to be true. Have you ever heard of the Winged Serpents?" Draco nodded slightly, question marks rising behind his eyes. She debated with herself over how to tell him. Finally, she decided just to tell him straight out. "Well, we're them."

The question marks behind Draco's eye multiplied and then turned into exclamation marks. "Is this some kind of a joke?!" he snarled. Lurching away from Dove, he stood up and glared at the two. Dove looked worried, Raven merely looked prepared. Raven flickered a thought to Dove without taking her eyes off of Draco. They couldn't risk losing him now. Dove glanced quickly at Raven, then back at Draco. With little debate, she gave in to Raven's plan and they each stood up and shed their robes. Standing side by side in their school uniforms, Raven addressed him once more.

"Stand back, Draco. If you want proof, we will supply it. But keep your eyes on us and remember what I've just told you." He watched them dubiously as they distanced themselves a bit from each other. They spread their legs a couple of feet apart and held their arms a few inches away from their sides. He watched, astonished at their reaction to his accusations, as their jaws clenched with concentration and their forearms flexed with amazing force. Muscles that couldn't have developed just from beating Bludgers during season unearthed and pronounced themselves. And, to his amazement, the girls began to Transfigure.

***

Snape was settled in his office, deliberately avoiding the essays his new First Years had turned in. Parchment after parchment of pure drivel, he thought in disgust. He dropped the parchment of one Steven Sappins and rubbed at his temples in an effort to purge the stress from his mind. As he did so, he felt the familiar pull in the back of his head. Sighing, he extracted himself from his chair and headed for the Headmaster's office. He pause only once along the way to deduct points from a couple of suspicious-looking Gryffindors.

Stepping in front of the familiar gargoyle, he whispered the password, "Fluffy Poppers," unwilling that any stray student should hear him utter the cursed words. He wandered onto the moving staircase and stepped inside when the door flung itself open before him.

"Ah, Severus. Good of you to come. I thought this might be of some interest to you." Dumbledore grinned broadly and motioned towards a round green mirror that lay on his desk, on of the House mirrors. They could show anyone or anything from a House at anytime. They were quite useful in putting a stop to unseemly House conduct. However, it had always seemed to Snape that Dumbledore used them more for entertainment purposes. If Snape had owned a set, he would be after those pesky Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs every waking moment of the day. However, the mirror which Dumbledore seemed to be observing with so much amusement did not belong to one of those inferior Houses. It was the Slytherin glass. He wondered, absently, what it was that his students were doing now.

Trudging over to the desk, Snape pulled a chair up opposite the Headmaster and leaned over to see the reflection. Noting the large bookcases full of the familiar House texts, the overstuffed furniture and oak tables, and the enormous carved fireplace, he realized that he was looking into the common room. But nothing was capable of holding the attention away from the three figures who occupied the center of the room. He recognized them as Dove and Raven Thomas and Draco Malfoy, but not before he recognized the new appendages which stretched from between the shoulder blades of each of the girls.

Each of the two girls had a pair of wings extending from their backs. The wing spans were amazing, nearly fourteen feet across, judging from the size of the room in comparison. Not surprisingly, Dove's wings were silvery white with bluish tinges near the ends, and Raven's were pitch black with just the lightest hint of purple. It made sense as the wings were, technically, more an extension of their personalities than their bodies. But Snape still gasped in surprise. He had no idea that the poem was being literal about their having wings. He looked up to Dumbledore's beaming face. "But how-"

"It is difficult to say. They have had their share of troubles, Severus, and it is quite possible that they attempted to achieve status as Animagi in order to escape their troubles, whether mentally or physically. But how they managed to attain Animergence is knowledge I do not presently possess. Perhaps you'd do well to ask them." Dumbledore turned back down to the glass on the desk, his eyes afire with delight. Snape noticed a particular emotion behind Dumbledore's eyes and grumbled.

"You knew about this." He spoke evenly and without malice. It was a question, but without the indignity of showing ignorance. "You knew any you didn't tell me. Or even McGonagall. A field of study she's been pursuing for years, and my students, and you said nothing. Headmaster-"

But Albus interrupted him quietly. "Yes, I knew. As a matter of fact, they flew up here last week to discuss the letter."

"They can use them?!" Snape couldn't believe his ears. But neither could he believe his own outburst when he realized he'd spoken out loud.

Albus smiled and nodded before continuing. "It was not something that needed to be shared. It seems, however, that this new excitement has the possibility of being spread if young Malfoy decides to speak. So I thought it best to inform you, just in case. I have already Summoned Minerva, and she will join us momentarily, whereupon I will be happy to answer any questions you two may still possess."

Snape also looked back at the glass, thoughts flooding his brain. Yes, he had many questions.

***

Draco had finally recovered from the shock and was now attacking the two girls with questions. They were tempted to giggle at his sudden outburst of childish curiosity, but instead chose to answer him as truthfully as possible. Finally, to their chagrin, he stepped into the one arena they had been trying to avoid.

"How did it happen? I mean, doesn't it take years to do that? And why don't you change all the way?" he blurted out.

Dove spoke first. "Well, we're not sure why we don't change all they way. I guess we never completed the Transfiguration to Animagus and just sort of got stuck. We've never been able to do more than this." She paused and waited to see if Draco would notice that she hadn't answered the other questions. Unfortunately, he had.

"And?"

"And...I'm not sure you want to hear this." Raven interrupted. She wasn't embarrassed, really. Just unwilling to divulge information that he might not be able to fully understand. But as she thought about it, an idea occurred to her. "Wait, hold on. Change of subject. Draco, you're mother is really sick, right? So there's no way she could come to us...we're going to have to go to her. And I assume she's at your home, yes?"

Draco nodded in reply. "Yeah, she's settled upstairs on the third floor. He has her in a set of rooms across from his own. But you can't get up there. My father doesn't let anybody near his rooms except house-elves and whores." He tried to smile at what he seemed to find a very witty remark, but no smile came.

Raven narrowed her eyes. "Well, maybe this could be helpful then." She explained her idea to Dove quickly over a few brainwaves and then began to sort it through to Draco, with only a few interruptions from Dove.

"OK, here goes. Erm, Draco, for the last two years, we've been with our Mother." She paused at the look of confusion on his face and allowed him to ask.

Draco noted the almost palpable capital letter in reference to their mother, the revulsion was evident. But he couldn't grasp what Raven was saying. "Wait...you've been here at school. How could you have been with your mum?"

"We haven't been here for the last two years. I'll explain. We had just turned fifteen years old, when our Mother collected us after the end of our fourth year. She had apparently gotten into some trouble with a few Muggles. You see, our Mother had chosen to forsake all forms of magick after our father died. She snapped her wand in two and moved to a small Muggle community. When we were of age, She left us at Hogwarts and forced us to fend for ourselves during summer hols. Sometime during those first four years She got into some financial trouble and made a few really bad decisions. She ended up living in a tiny flat with some junkies She'd met around town." She paused briefly to ensure that Draco had understood everything, making sure she explained the term "junkie" to him before going on. "She got hooked on a few Muggle narcotics and discovered that She had no real way of paying for them. So She started selling Herself for drugs."

She gave Draco a few minutes to process this new information. There were very few instances of witches becoming prostitutes. Witches were held in higher regard in the wizarding community that in the Muggle circle. They saw themselves in a different, more respectable light, and were almost never subjected to such feelings of worthlessness as Muggle women were prone to. They therefore never allowed themselves to sink into such low situations as to auction themselves off as such. This would probably be a hard concept for Draco to grasp, and Raven tried to recognize that. He did not, however, seem to muddle through it in the least. He was obviously embarrassed about the earlier remark of "house-elves and whores", but to Raven's relief, he made no move to apologize. He merely sat, understanding and unhappy anticipation drawing across his face.

"Well, the habits that She got into started to outweigh the money She was making. She ended up in the debt of a man that nobody should ever be in debt to. So She recruited us as a sort of side business. We were very young, and youth is prized even over ability to Muggle men." The self-deprecation made no effort to veil itself now. " Our Mother sold us to Muggle men to pay for her disgusting drug addictions. So, in our desperation, we attempted to find a way to escape, any way. We tried to focus on keeping in shape for Quidditch, knocking about anything we could find around the house with a couple of makeshift bats. We tried to keep our minds off of the men on top of us at night and, sometimes, even during the day, by thinking to each other through it. We tried everything we could come up with, Draco. But in the end, the only real possibility was to Transfigure ourselves and, hopefully, sneak out."

"Why didn't you just use a few spells to get out of there? You were Fourth Years and Slytherins, surely you knew something that could help you out of there. And you said she broke her own wand, so she couldn't have been much opposition." Draco pointed this out without any hint of assumption. He figured they had a good reason, but he wanted to know what it was.

"She took our wands."

Draco's eyes went wide, but he didn't speak. Only waited patiently for her to continue.

"The only Transfiguration we could think of that can be achieved wandlessly was Animagism. To become an Animagus, while it is useful and much easier to have a wand, it is not required. It is a will of the Fabric, of the Soul, to extend oneself into another form. So we began our attempts. Midway through that first year we began to get results. The wings came in, smaller at first, frail and weak. But they were there. After that, it was only a matter of time before we could do this." She gestured absently at her own set of wings. "But that's as far as it went. We could never do any more. I still don't know why. And since we never completely Transfigured ourselves into what I assume would have been a Dove and a Raven Animagus, respectively, we never had the opportunity to escape. It wasn't until this last summer that our Mother died. She got totally trashed on something or other and, in Her hideous state, attempted to use our wands. For what, I'm not sure. But She must have mispronounced something serious because, next thing we know, She's lying dead on the floor with our wands in Her hands. We didn't even check Her pulse, we just grabbed the wands and fled. Dumbledore, in his infinite wisdom, tracked us down and pried the story from us with a few hugs." Dove heard the dissatisfied amusement in Raven's voice. Until Dumbledore had shown up, they had declared that they would never speak of the events to anyone again. But at the first hint of sympathy from their beloved Headmaster, they'd cracked.

Raven was sucked into oblivion for a few minutes before Draco cleared his throat and jolted her back. "So...how is it that you're here...if you're not here?" He stumbled over the idea, but finished the question.

"Well, Dumbledore offered us a place to stay and the opportunity to complete our education. He lent us a Time-Turner. We came back to about middle of this summer. Just before term started, we got a letter which, for all purposes, seems to have been written by our father before he died. It was the poem about the Winged Serpents. We talked to Dumbledore about it and found out what we told you." She let out a huge sigh, glad to have finally gotten it all out of her system. "So that's it. We're seventeen-year-old ex-prostitutes from the future who have fifteen-year-old counterparts in some other part of the country right now and have weird magical abilities that make us the figures of a prophetic poem that appears to have been Seen over a hundred years ago. Aren't you just sick of that cliché?"

Draco smiled weakly at the two girls in front of him. They smiled back before re-Transfiguring the wings away and sitting down.

"So anyway," Dove said. "We figured that you could...erm...put in a good word for us with your father. Tell him about our "experience" with men, see if he isn't interested. Hopefully, sort of, he'll take us back to your house and up to his rooms. House-elves and whores...we should fit in." Draco looked down but said nothing. "Once there, we should be able to sneak away to your mother and heal her for you. It's sort of a slap-dash plan, but it's all we've really got to go on right now."

Draco stared at her, disbelieving. "After all of that, you're going to subject yourself to my father just to heal my mother for me? But why?"

"Because, Draco, I think that's why we're here."

***