Disclaimer: mostly not mine, so there.
A/N: just a few little things. number one: michelle is my new hero. just thought everyone should know. so if anyone has an extra million bucks lying around uselessly, rather than telling you that i would be more than willing to take it off your (obviously unconventional) hands, i would ask you to please send it to her (as she is great and worthy).
number two: for sent from heaven, the emotion rings don't work the same as mood rings. mood rings are whatever the hell kind of mineral they are (or whatever, screw my lack of scientific knowledge), and different temperatures cause a reaction making it change colors, blah blah blah. everyone knows this. but whoever sold them just threw out a few generalizations. if it's green, you're worried, and if it's blue, you're happy. so he's pretty much saying that if your body temperature is low, you're worried, and if it's high, you're happy. pretty broad, if you ask me. the emotion rings work on a level of consciousness. not that the rings are conscious, but you are. they only act to acknowledge the consciousness. everyone relates colors to actions and feelings and people, it's a weird brain thing. like red is usually associated with love, black with death, and so on. but it differs from person to person based on experiences and opinion and such. so what the ring does is displays the color that you subconsciously associate with the emotion you're experiencing. and only you can understand it because the odds of someone else knowing that (deep down) when you see seafoam green you think of being hungry and depressed are really really low. i wonder if that makes more sense now, or if i've only confused you more. anyway, point is, the ring magnifies and displays your emotions, so you look at the ring and you know what you're feeling. you can't hide your emotions from yourself. you can try to deceive yourself, but the ring makes it tangible for you. i just thought it would be interesting to give snape a gift that doesn't allow himself to lie about his feelings like he usually does. (of course, he doesn't know that the girls' rings have been charmed to tell them what he's feeling rather than what they're feeling...hee hee) ok, now i'm only confusing myself. that's all for that then.
and last, but not least, number three: i fixed last chapter. professor lupin was not at the meal, but i did still have him talk to the girls afterward. so he'll just have to cover for himself with that one. and now back to the juicy stuff!
The Winged Serpents
Chapter Twelve: An Invitation to Fate
***
The clumsy house-elf bobbled about uncertainly. She was getting older now, and being surrounded by such dark secrets did nothing for her nervous anxiety, but she was glad to be free of the dungeons. She still felt badly for poor little Dobby, of course, he was young for a house-elf and had much to learn. She was sorry to see him dismissed last year, but he didn't seem to mind and, as a result, she had been released to serve the Master.
She scrambled along up the stairs, flinching under the awkward stares of the great paintings on the walls. Long-dead ancestors sneered inhumanly, sending a chill down her lavender spine. The tray she was carrying remained perfectly level, however, even as she dipped and dodged the leering eyes, the mark of a good house-elf. Finally, she reached the long hallway that would lead her to the Master's library. She could easily have magicked herself into the large room from the kitchen, her age brought great powers, but the Master refused to allow it. He preferred to see her struggling up the numerous staircases under her heavy loads.
Stepping quickly and quietly, she approached the great heavy doors that opened into the library. But just as she reached for the doorknob, she heard the loud sharp bellow from within.
"WOWIE!"
She quailed at the sound emanating from within. She struggled to keep her calm, straightening her pillowcase-dress and flattening her large ears, and stepped inside. The room was remarkably warm considering the chilly state that the rest of the manor was kept in. A fire roared in the fireplace, lighting most of the room with its dark raking glow. The walls were expansive bookcases from floor to ceiling, filled with books and tomes on every imaginable subject. In the center of the room was a thick rug, very expensive, and two large overstuffed chairs. A desk and one high-backed hand-carved chair resided in the farthest corner of the room, and lounging easily upon the sole lounge was...her Master. Lucius Malfoy.
She shivered once again, and her large plum-colored eyes involuntarily swam with tears, but she held them back. Stepping lightly now, she rushed to her Master, setting the tray upon a low table that she immediately conjured. Pouring the steaming tea into a beautiful china cup, she added one sugar and stepped back.
"Well, Wowie. How nice of you to come. I certainly apologise if I was interrupting something." Her Master's eyes glittered with evil, and his tone bit at her with its harsh sarcastic tones. She apologized profusely, banging her head on the floor and stepping on her own foot heavily. She would have to punish herself more thoroughly when she was allowed to retreat to the kitchen.
She watched as her Master lifted himself from his place on the lounge and moved over to the desk. He moved fluidly, with almost no discernible sound, and paused at a stack of parchment. Flipping through pages of letters and notes, he removed one and read over it carefully. His mouth curled up at the end, and the sight caused poor Wowie's stomach to lurch. Such amusement could not be the result of anything pleasant. She went light-headed at the prospect of the many things that might put such a cruel smile on her Master's face. He sniffed quietly, the reached down to the desk for a quill. Dipping it softly into a bottle of thick red ink, he signed off at the bottom of the parchment and folded it into an envelope. Speaking a few soft words, he reached for the wax near his left hand.
As he moved, Wowie conjured a tray of biscuits and set them next to the tea tray. She checked to make sure that everything was in order, and finally picked up a small butter knife to inspect for cleanliness. But just as she reached over the table to lay it back down, she heard a sharp noise, a chuckle, coming from the desk. The sound startled her so greatly, that she dropped the knife! Immediately, her senses re-sharpened and she recovered the little knife, and with a quick pop, it was clean and returned to the tray. She sighed with relief as her Master turned to look at her, obviously oblivious of the action, and turned back to the parchment.
He finished sealing the parchment and stalked back over to the lounge. Setting it beside him as he sat, he reached for the tray of biscuits. He paused, however, as he examined the tray. Sneering, he grabbed at Wowie's tiny wrist, wrenching it towards him and nearly causing her to cry out in pain.
"Where's the jam, you stupid creature?!" Wowie's chin trembled, but she summoned the jam immediately, placing it carefully on the tray with her free hand. Her Master slackened his grip a bit before pointing at the butter knife and growling. For a moment, Wowie thought that he had indeed seen her clumsy error, but his next words surprised her with their pettiness. "You should know that I will not use the same knife for butter and jam! You imbecilic slob, fetch me another!"
He released her with a hard flick, and she stumbled away. Knowing better than to summon a knife from the kitchen (Dobby had feared for his life once when he made the grand mistake of summoning a knife, which flew all about the house trying to find him and nearly took off the head of one of the great-aunts whose picture resided in a hallway on the second floor), so she reached instead for the butter knife she had dropped only moments earlier. Concentrating, she pulled with both hands at the little knife, struggling only slightly at the resistance. As she pulled, the knife seemed to stretch like putty, pulling evenly into her hands until there were two identical knives in each palm. She placed them both on the tray before her Master and looked up with large pleading eyes.
He studied her pitiful face with wry amusement, but gave no response. Instead, he reached for the parchment still settled beside him. He thrust it into her hands and sat back.
"Have this delivered immediately. Use Draco's hawk, as I don't believe Samyra is back yet. Then check on my wife. Now go." He picked up a biscuit from the tray and turned away from her. She trembled involuntarily, but gripped the letter and backed out of the library as fast as she could.
Running down the hall, she tried to remember which of Draco's rooms his hawk was kept in. Down a set of stairs and across a hallway decorated entirely in midnight blue, she stopped in front of a door. She would send the letter, of course, but for some reason, she was overcome with curiosity as to the recipient. The sensation overwhelmed her, as she usually had no desire to know anything about her Master's actions or acquaintances. But it was overpowering. She could feel herself turning the letter over in her hands. Her eyes flicked up and down the hallway cautiously and, to her great surprise, she gave in. She lifted the parchment to her large eyes and read the address quietly in her own high-pitched tone.
"Miss Dove Thomas – Miss Raven Thomas." She paused at the names, disbelieving. "No. No, it cannot be!" The air left her lungs, and she found herself struggling to breathe. Memories and long-forsaken hope rushed into her head, crowding out all other sensibilities. "Is it true? Is my Mistress alive?!"
Numb from the thoughts running about in her head, she sent the hawk off with the note and flitted off to check on the Master's wife, her sickly Mistress, like a good house-elf. When the Master's orders had finally been carried out to specification, Wowie promptly fainted.
***
"I don't know how you can stand these things. They're positively uncivil," Drew drawled. He held the cordless phone two inches away from his head, distaste scrawled across his face.
"Oh, come on, Drew. It's just a phone. Get used to it. Look, the girls had me send them some old retro Muggle toys, I think they're for him. I was wondering if you knew anything about it." Alex spoke hurriedly, and Drew struggled to untangle the different levels of emotion from his friend's voice. Drew was usually very observant about these things, but Alex had him stumped.
"Ah, no. Sorry, but I haven't heard a thing about it. They haven't actually told me anything, you realize. It's all been my keen observation 'til now. Unlikely that they'll send me a note detailing their love lives now, isn't it? If they'd wanted me to know, they would have told me by now." Drew spoke with a touch of anger. Truth be known, he was rather put out that they hadn't said anything.
"Yeah, yeah. Alright. I just...I don't know. I feel like I'm out of the loop here. I don't understand. I mean, if they really like him, I'd prefer that they just told us. Why do they need to hide it? Yeah, it's weird. I certainly don't see the attraction, and Chris and Kello will not be happy about it...but they could at least have the decency to allow us to react. We'd all accept it eventually." Alex began to drift off more and more, emotion settling fully into his voice. On his own end of the line, Drew rolled his eyes.
"Oh. My. God. Gonna vom." Drew mimicked a slight vomiting gag, then chuckled softly. "Will you cut it out? Maybe that reaction is precisely what they're trying to avoid. I can't blame them myself."
"Don't be an asshole, Drew."
"Pardon me? I am not an asshole," Drew seethed.
"Yeah, you are," was Alex's weak reply. Drew immediately recovered at the lame response.
"Compelling argument." Alex snickered at the sarcasm and sighed. "Look, Alex. I don't even know how serious it is. It might be some little thing, it could blow over by the end of next week for all we know. So don't get so upset over it, alright?" Drew struggled to comfort his friend. Comfort was not his area. "Erm...I'll talk to them for you, okay? See what I can get out of them."
"No, you can't do that..." Alex mumbled.
"Of course I can. I'm a gay man, I can do anything," Drew said sharply.
"That's not what I meant. I know you can, but you shouldn't. Just leave them to it. I guess we'll just have to trust them to come around."
"Alright. Well, I'm getting off of this thing now. Holding this handset, well...I think I'm strangely aroused," Drew drawled with a verbal shrug.
"Erg!" And with that, Alex hung up. For a few long minutes afterward, Drew was left to contemplate his actions. I wonder if I made the right choice. Maybe I shouldn't have told him...But he shouldn't be left to find out with the rest of us either. Argh, I just don't know. I guess it's up to them now. And the subject was forgotten.
***
As the week wore on, the girls were careful to keep to themselves in their room. They managed to sneak in a few visits with the Headmaster, and one with Professor Lupin, but they made sure they did not harass Professor Snape. It had suddenly occurred to Dove, the day after Christmas, that he might think they were leaching onto him. And if there was any one kind of person that the sisters despised, it was a leach.
So they had their meals in their room, courtesy of a few overeager house-elves, and they spent a lot of time out in the forest soaring through the treetops. It had never occurred to them that their careful avoidance might give their Head of House the opposite idea. The day before term resumed, the girls found two letters waiting on their night table. One was written in metallic green ink, the other in a thicker red ink. They read the blood-inked parchment first, certain of its origin.
Misses Thomas,
I have received some interesting information regarding you both. As an objective party, I find myself quite curious as to the extent of your unusual proficiencies. Ingrained skills such as yours are rare to come by and highly prized among wizards of superior status. I entreat you both to join me two weeks from now at my home to discuss these remarkable abilities. If I am pleased, you may find yourselves in possession of a strong benefactor willing to keep your place in the wizarding community secure. Await my summons.
Lucius Malfoy
That was it. No explanation for the sudden communication frenzy, even thought they had never even met the man before. No questions of health or family. It wasn't even really an invitation, it was a command. But the girls hadn't really expected anything else. His wording seemed peculiar, and they made themselves a mental note to ask Draco about it. They both sighed in unison, it seemed the deal was done now. There could be no turning back. Dove sniffled softly, prompting a short-lived hug from her sister. But that was all. There was not even a need for any reply to this. Dove shoved it into the inside pocket of her cloak, thrown across the back of a chair, and proceeded to unroll the second parchment.
As soon as they opened it, they were surprised. It was from Professor Snape. Or at least, they assumed it was, there was no signature at the bottom. But the subject made it clear to them.
Misses Thomas,
My deepest apologies if I have somehow offended you. I can find no reason for your abrupt avoidance except that I have somehow wronged you both. I am unused to either giving or receiving gifts, and therefore must assume that I have made some error therein. To be sure, I am very grateful for your gift. It has been most effective in its purpose, and I have found it a great comfort. But perhaps it is not my inability to convey my appreciation, rather my lack of compensation. My only proof of remorse is the gift you so obligingly bestowed upon me. It crackles at me in disagreeable shades of gray and red. Please accept my apologies.
The girls darted a look at their rings. They had been very particular about not looking at the rings, afraid that they might see some proof of his aversion to them. But they could not hide their vivid curiosity now, and they stared lamely at the rings. Both girls slumped immediately.
He thinks we're mad at him! How can that be? Dove thought incredulously.
I don't know. This is so weird. And this letter...
I know. It's amazing. I never would have thought he could write like that. Oh, gods. What do you think he means by compensation?
No, no, no. Don't worry, I don't think that's what he meant. I think he meant something more along the lines of...well, of getting us gifts. I think he feels bad because we got him something and he didn't get us anything. It must be strange for him, not knowing how to react and all.
Yeah. What do you think we should do?
Well...console him, I guess. He really thinks we're mad at him, we need to let him know that we're not.
Alright, grab a pierce of parchment.
Raven snatched a piece of parchment and tossed it to her sister, then summoned a quill and ink from her trunk. Dove wrote quickly and mercilessly, while Raven got hold of an owl. Dove blew on the parchment to dry the ink, sending the note off before the wax had even finished drying. They waited, afraid to speak, for the reply. It wouldn't take long for him to receive the note, as they were all in such close proximity. But they had no idea how long it might take for an answer.
"Wow, that was quick," said Raven as the owl came swooping back less that ten minutes later. She reached for the reply and pulled it open quickly. Dove scrambled over to her and perched her chin on Raven's shoulder. Neither took the time to breathe as they read.
Misses Thomas,
I am relieved to hear that I have not upset you. Although I find it curious that you would be so clumsy in your deduction of my assumptions. The fault must lay with me. Perhaps I should secure myself in your good favor with a peace offering.
Dove laughed out loud. Raven smiled brightly and rolled her eyes.
"Unbelievable. He is just a surprise a minute, isn't he?" Dove stammered through her giggles, unable to keep the relief from pouring out of her.
"Yeah, he is. Although, I have to admit. I'm glad for the sarcasm. I was getting kind of worried with that first letter, didn't seem like him at all."
"I know what you mean, but this...this is him. Hey, you think we should send something back?"
"Yeah, sure. Why not? Here, my turn." Raven snatched the parchment from her sister and scribbled a quick blurb, pausing only momentarily to remember a bit of the quote. Then, sealing it, she sent it off and sat back. Smiling, she kept her eyes on her ring, impatiently awaiting his reaction.
***
Sitting in his study, Severus tapped his finger impatiently on his leg. Nearly a week had gone by without another word from either of the girls, and he was getting edgy. He'd tried to track them down a few times, but it had seemed almost as if they were avoiding him. After hours of careful contemplation, he had finally come to the unpleasant conclusion that he had somehow offended them. His heart sank, but for reasons he was clearly unable to identify. Nor would he have been willing to. Frustration and anger welled up within him until he could no longer take it. Fumbling for his wand, he muttered the words and greeted the parchment and quill with a glare.
Seating himself near a heavy table, he scratched away quickly, the words flowing from his fingers. His mind had no opportunity to think through what he wrote, merely allowed the feelings to dictate themselves. He sealed the note and sent it off.
He immediately regretted it.
What have I done? What did I write? He thought hard, tension building, but his mind was blank. He had no idea what he had written. Confusion tore through his mind, this wasn't him. This wasn't how he acted. He had barriers and boundaries, he had walls up all around. How could he have spilled himself so easily? What will the consequences be?
He sighed heavily and slumped down. Something strange is happening. For the past few days he had felt increasingly stronger emotions welling inside of him. The smallest things, usually forgotten within moments, were dwelling in his mind for hours, keeping him awake at night. He'd even caught himself smiling earlier at one of the Headmaster's jokes. Luckily, nobody else had observed it, or they might have died from the shock of it.
He berated himself, growling and thumping his fist on the table. He looked down at the ring, the gift. A strange, subdued sort of joy flickered in a burst of silvery-purple clouds, but were slowly pushed away by dark shards of red and bronze. He snarled and pulled the ring off of his finger. He turned it over in his hand, observing it from every angle. It had a stark beauty to it that he admired. Dove and Raven didn't seem the type for elaborately gratuitous jewelry, and he was suddenly glad for their intuitive fashion sense. He chuckled silently at his own meanderings, and his thoughts jumped suddenly to the day in Hogsmeade...Gladrags...I wonder what they were purchasing? Entertaining pictures scattered his mind momentarily, but he pushed the thoughts away quickly. Absurd, he thought angrily. They're students.
But his thoughts were scattered further when the owl he had sent off returned. His eyes darted to the note it dropped on the table, curiosity warring with a number of less enthusiastic emotions, but he found himself able to sort through them. Ah, much better. Yes, I can control myself. Go about this in a dignified manner. He discarded the more frivolous feelings, and settled on curiosity. After all, there's no reason not to open it, he chided himself. It's only a letter. He opened it and read. The script was round and curvy, very distracting but very pretty.
Professor Snape,
Our own apologies are in order if you thought, for even one moment, that we were dissatisfied with you in some way. It is true that we have been making a conscious effort to keep our distance, but for a very different reason. We were afraid that you might be unhappy with us. It had suddenly occurred to us that our actions could, within reason, be construed as flippant or even childish, and we did not want to bother you with our immaturity. We gave you the gift because we hoped you might find it useful, not because we expected something in return. Our satisfaction depends solely upon your own. We apologize for the misunderstanding, the fault is ours. Please forgive us.
Dove and Raven
Severus was suddenly aware that he had been holding his breath, and exhaled gently. Relief washed over him, but he was still unsatisfied. Pulling at another sheet of parchment, he began to write, but with a greater sense of conscious thought this time. He read over what he'd written, making sure it was appropriate. No point in sending it if they can't read the sarcasm, he thought darkly. But inwardly, he was sure they would appreciate the words as he intended them. He folded it precisely and sent the owl off once more.
He snapped his fingers, suddenly more at ease. He could feel himself in control once more for the first time in days, and the sensation suited him. A tray of tea appeared on the table with a light pop, and he relaxed himself with a cup while he awaited their response. Mere minutes had passed before it arrived. He finished his tea before opening it, testing his control. Finally satisfied, he reached for the note and read, this time in Raven's sharper script. He flinched with amusement at the opening address. I really should speak to them about their informal manner, he thought. But he knew he wouldn't. He found it rather charming, to his own disdain.
'Fess –
No need for peace pipes here, we're okay if you're okay. Have you ever read Nikki Giovanni? Great Muggle poetess, although I have a sneaking suspicion you two would be at each other's throats if you ever met. She once wrote:
...ultimately there is the understanding
that even nothing is something
as long as you are there
to give the nothing personally
Smart girl. No need to buy us off, 'Fess. We already put up with you most of the time anyway. Why raise the stakes now?
Raven and Dove
He looked down once more at the ring. Reaching for it, he plucked it off the table and placed it back on his finger. Instantly, a strange warm feeling of...comfort? spread out within him, and he smiled.
***
First day of term rolled around, and the girls sat through classes with an empty look. When they'd finally been dismissed from Runes, they scampered off to track down Draco. They finally cornered him just after another of his petty squabbles with Potter. Dragging him inside an empty room, they sat him down and glared.
"What did you say to your father, Draco?" came Dove's lilting voice. "He kept mentioning 'ingrained skills and 'proficiencies'. We want to know why." The intentional gentility sent shivers down Draco's spine and he struggled to hold his tongue. But it wasn't easy under the double impact.
"Spill.," commanded Raven, and Draco began to talk.
"I...erm. Well, I had to tell him something. So I just said the first thing that came to mind. I told him you were...ehh..." He hesitated spectacularly, and Raven pounced. She grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and yanked his body backwards. Glaring down at him hard, she whispered once more.
"Spill."
"Itoldhimyouwereviksen!" He cried out as she released him, trembling at the blows that were sure to follow. When none came, he glanced up quickly, and his eyes widened in surprise. They didn't seem particularly angry. Matter of fact...they didn't even seem to comprehend what he'd said.
"Vixens? Oh." Dove shrugged. "Okay. Weird." The two girls gave each other soft shrugs and walked out. Draco gasped as they shut the door behind them. He was almost relieved, when a nagging thought abruptly forced its way into his head and he groaned. They're going to kill me when they find out...
***
Walking down the hallway, the two girls giggled quietly.
I can't believe he was so freaked out. I realize most chicks wouldn't be too happy about being called vixens, but really. I mean, with what he knows about us, you'd think he could come up with something a bit stronger, huh? Raven snorted abruptly and Dove gave her a sharp look before responding.
Yeah, I guess you're right. Calling us vixens, ha...that's like a Gryffindor saying Snape is inconsiderate. They both laughed heartily as they walked, finally stopping in front of the library. They peered in for a moment, and Dove's eyes caught on a familiar face. She rushed in, dragging Raven behind her.
"Alex! Oi, Alex! We haven't seen you in..." She stopped a moment in mock-thought. "Hours! It's been absolute hours! Where haaaaave you beeeen?" She dragged out the words as annoyingly as possible and grinned at her friend. He only glanced at them and went back to his book. But neither girl was about to be shrugged off. They sat down huffily across from him and slammed their palms on the table. Madame Pince shot daggers at the intruders with her eyes, but gave up when she saw the culprits. After four years with the twins, she knew it would be futile.
"What do you want?" whined Alex, trying to focus.
"Just the pleasure of your company, mate." Dove grinned ferally, never taking her eyes off of him. Finally, he looked up. Sighing loudly, he closed the book and glared.
"Fine. The pleasure's all yours. Now what?"
"Hey, Malfoy just called us a couple of foxy ladies, we want to celebrate."
"Malfoy?" Alex scowled at the name. "Called you two foxy ladies? Where'd he even hear the term. Even Muggles don't say that anymore." Raven chuckled at his indignant manner and waved it off.
"Actually, he called us a couple of vixens. We could assume that he meant we were shrewish wenches, but we prefer the second definition. 'Vixen – noun – female fox'," she recited happily. "So, technically, you could say he called us a couple of foxy ladies. See? It's always nice to look on the bright side. Isn't it, Dovey-baby?" Dove smiled and nodded, but stopped abruptly when she saw the pained look on Alex's face.
"He. Called. You. WHAT?!" Alex hissed the words as harshly as he could without raising his voice. Even in his anger, he kept a Ravenclaw's respect for the library.
"Vixens..." Dove spoke hesitantly, unsure of this newfound anger. "Why? What's wrong, Lexy?"
"Do you know what a vixen really is? And I don't mean the stupid slang Muggles use it for. I mean the magical creatures, the vik'sen, that Malfoy was referring to. Do you know they are?" The derision in his voice caused both girls to shake their heads in the negative, and he proceeded to explain.
***
The girls strapped on their thick leather padding, retying the draw on their quidditch robes. Side-by-side, in absolute silence, they braided their long hair and picked up their Firebolts. Stomping out onto the field, they refused even to look at Draco Malfoy. The boy sighed. This was not going to be easy.
When the whistle shrilled, the players rose into the air. Ravenclaw was good this year, but they were no competition for the skilled Seeker, quick Chasers, and merciless Beaters. Slytherin's poor Keeper was a sad case, but they paid no general mind. Usually, the game would have been over as soon as the Snitch appeared, but Draco wasn't that lucky.
Randomly, a Bludger would find its way in his direction, with no apparent Ravenclaw Beaters in sight. A smirk would then be caught glowing on Dove's or Raven's face. Once and again a fairly easy block was forgotten, or a simple shot went untaken, and Draco seemed to be suffering for it. And Ravenclaw was gaining on Slytherin.
The score was close, but Draco's Beaters were closer. They kept to either side of him, silently plotting his demise no doubt. Twice Raven "accidentally" missed a Bludger and smashed Draco's arm instead. Three times the Snitch came into view. The girls made sure to keep the Ravenclaw Seeker out of sight, but neither did they allow Draco the opportunity to catch it. Draco tried as hard as he could, but they would not let up. And he was getting more tired by the minute.
Finally, just as the Raves were threatening to win, the Snitch popped into view just in front of Draco. The girls had no chance of stopping him. Draco merely reached out and grabbed it. Scowling considerably, Dove pulled back her right arm, clenching her white knuckles around the base of her bat, and swung. The bat connected angrily with the side of Draco's head, just above his ear, and would have knocked him clean off his broomstick if Raven hadn't been on the other side of him. As it were, he just tumbled into her, causing her to growl at him in response. The girls each took hold of his broom with one hand and steered him down towards the ground. When they were within ten feet of it, they swiftly let go.
Unbalanced by the sudden loss of direction, Draco stumbled to grab hold of his broomstick, but to no avail. He was bucked off headfirst and fell to the ground in a heap. The girls landed easily on either side of him, brooms in hand, and stalked off. Before any authority had a chance to address the strange issue of fouls against teammates, the girls were out of sight, and Draco was being scanned by Madame Pomfrey. When the check came off clean (save a few bruises which could not be helped), he was sent off to shower and celebrate. But their would be no celebration tonight...not for Draco.
***
"Sex demons?! You told your father we were sex demons?!" Dove's face had gone red with fury, her arms clenched sharply at her sides. "What were you thinking?!"
Draco cowered beneath her. She and Dove had jumped him on his way to the common room, binding and gagging him with a few simple spells before dragging him into the nearest deserted classroom. They'd removed the gag after placing a well-thought-out Silencing Spell on the room and warding the door. To his surprise, and uncalculated worry, Raven was entirely silent and calm. She didn't even have her wand drawn. She had the same serene look on her face that she'd worn before plastering Goyle earlier that year. He hated that look. Dove, on the other hand, was spitting fury. In his head, Draco tried to determine whether he was more afraid of Dove's wand, or Raven's lack of one.
Still slumped beneath the obscenity-laced rambling of the white-haired girl before him, he managed to keep his face straight. It would not do to show them his fear. They might find a way to exploit it. He choked slightly at the thought, then realized that Dove had gone silent, obviously expecting an answer.
"I...erm..." he stumbled out. "I'm sorry. But it was the only logical explanation. I couldn't very well tell him everything about you. And, knowing my father, he wouldn't have listened to anything else. He doesn't bother with...girls...unless they're worth bothering with. I had to give a reason for your...erm...experience." He flinched at his own explanation. While it was true that his father would have written off anything else he might have said, he wasn't sure if these girls would understand that.
"What do you mean?" Raven was obviously trying to recover the situation, attempting to get some semblance of reason from the boy.
"I mean...well, my father's had plenty of experience with women. He wouldn't waste his time on some stupid girls if they didn't have something to recommend them. Just telling him that you two have had plenty of sex wouldn't have done it." By now, the blunt egotism was slipping back into his voice. "So I had to give you some skills. And not only that, but it had to be something that he couldn't find anywhere else. He's always wanted vik'sen, and I figured you two could pull it off. I know it isn't the most...flattering...idea, but it does have its advantages." He paused slightly, changing a look at Dove again to see if she was having any of it. He relaxed slightly when he saw that she was definitely beginning to settle down. She'd even relented on the death grip her wand was entrenched in.
"Keep going. We need to know everything. First off, do you even know precisely what vik'sen are?" Raven's voice jumped slightly with an angry inflection.
"Well, yes. Vik'sen are the second generation offspring of a succubus. One quarter sex demon. The blood of the succubus only affects the second generation, no others, so they're very rare. And they retain the sexual abilities associated with the blood, without the danger of hidden agendas like the full-bloods. They're usually employed as assassins, if I remember my father correctly." He spoke with a deceptive smoothness, although a note of hesitance had crept in. He suddenly realized that there could be a bit more to this. Quite a bit more.
"Close, Draco," came the heated retort. "The vik'sen are rare, but even more so than you think. Because vik'sen not only have to have the blood of a succubus, but the blood of a siren as well. Otherwise, there is no effect on the lineage whatsoever. But when a girl has one succubus grandmother and one siren grandmother...the effect is quite remarkable. The gift of enchanting song, without the threat of death...the gift of sexual prowess, without the danger of stealing souls. Vik'sen are the ultimate seductresses. However, they must be kept alive. Emphasis on the word "kept", Draco. As soon as vik'sen hit puberty, their will to live wanes. It is in their blood to take lives, but the means to effectively do so is too watered down, no longer in their nature. They become weak and docile. They must therefore be taken in by some benefactor, someone to give them purpose and thereby supply them with the will and strength to live. That is why they are always employed as assassins. And now your father thinks he could be our benefactor. No doubt a dizzyingly euphoric possibility for him. Servants, skilled lovers, and unmatchable killers under his command. And you gave us to him. This was going to be a one-time thing, Draco, to save your mother. Now, if it is to work, we are going to have to stay in his service to survive." The emotion had leaked out by now. Raven spoke hollowly, the words mechanic and empty.
Draco took in all that he had just heard, forgetting to breathe in the confusion of it. Without his noticing, Raven rid him of his bonds and pulled him to his feet.
"Do you understand what I have told you, Draco? Do you understand what you have done?" Dove asked quietly.
"I'm...sorry," he managed. His throat tightened and he could utter no more. The girls nodded to him and left. No hexes, no fists, nothing else. They just walked out, leaving Draco feeling utterly drained and out of control. He stumbled to his dorm, collapsing onto the bed without changing his clothes. What have I done? he thought helplessly, before drifting into a dreamless sleep.
***