The Winged Serpents

Chapter Fourteen: Strange Bedfellows

***

Anxiously, Severus Snape pulled at the cloak around his shoulders, unclasping it and throwing it over the girl before him. There was no answer, no response. She just lay there, broken and bloodied, flailed about in a most unseeming manner. Carefully tucking her arm so as not to disturb the splintered bone, he picked her up and began to walk quickly towards the castle. He scanned the corridors for any sign of latewalkers, but there was only silence. He began to make his way toward the infirmary, when he heard a slight gurgling.

"Whe-where...?" she managed thickly. She coughed and her body shifted, nearly throwing Snape off balance.

"I'm taking you to the infirmary, you insolent girl. That's where. What were you doing out there?!" he said it all in one breath, and quietly so as not to disturb anyone, or anything, that might be lurking about.

"No. Dove. Where...?" She strangled the words out of her throat, hacking halfway through. But she just managed to turn her head to look at her unlikely savior. She stared up at him, her eyes boring into his own, giving him endless bouts of self-consciousness. But there was no confusion, no anger, nothing else in those eyes. Her eyes gave the impression that all was as it should be, but Severus knew better. Nothing was ever as it should be.

Finally, he understood what she was asking. Dove. Where is Dove? "You want to know where Dove is?"

Her head shook silently and slowly. Yes. His heart dropped. He realized he'd been expecting her to know. But she seemed as clueless as he felt. "I don't know where she is. I assumed she was with you."

"She was." His ears perked up at this. Well, if Dove had been with Raven, then he only needed to know where Raven had been. But where Raven had been...this had happened to her. Was he going to run across Dove in the same hapless way?

"Where were you, Raven? I must know. In case this happens to your sister. We have to find Dove." His voice rose and sped up as his anxiety rose. Only a certain type of mage would do something like this, and he didn't want to think about those mages right now.

"No. Dove's...safer than I was. Different-" She paused to take a ragged breath. "Has to mend. I can't hear her. No, we must wait for her."

"Wait for her?" He blurted it out before thinking about it. That was a bad sign, Snape had to keep himself under control. A steadying breath before continuing, this time more forceful. "Why must we wait for her?"

"So that we can mend each other. Pomfrey can't help this. Only we can. Nobody else must know." He paused suddenly. They were just before the infirmary.

"Pomfrey can't help?" he questioned quietly.

"No. She can heal, but not help. Too many questions. Nobody else must know. Tell her she may." Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she passed out.

He stood in front of the door to Madame Pomfrey's office, trying to determine the best course of action. After a minute of thought, he decided she was right. Whatever they'd done, it wouldn't help to advertise it. It would be best for them to heal each other privately if they could. But in the mean time she would need rest, and he could brew a few potions that might help with the pain. Shifting the now-limp body in his arms, he turned immediately around and stalked quietly toward the dungeons.

***

Back at Malfoy Manor, Dove sat on the edge of the bed, quietly pulling her garments back on. As she dressed, she kept her eyes on the man sleeping beside her. She hated the thought, but he was positively angelic when he was asleep. Lucius turned slightly, and she leaned over, checking his pulse. It was considerably slower than it had been only a few minutes before. She cast a quick dream spell on him, ensuring herself a fair amount of time, then snuck out and across the hallway. Approaching the same empty wall and murmuring the same password as her sister, she stepped through the new non-existent barrier and entered Narcissa Malfoy's room. She walked quickly to the bed and sat. She had no time for pleasantries, Lucius would wake up eventually. So she nodded slightly at the woman in bed and immediately began her work.

Twenty minutes later, she had nearly finished. With a quick flick of her wrist over the woman's heart, she sped up the faint beat and the blood began to circulate at a normal rate once more. The woman's face was brilliant, almost glowing with enthusiasm for her newfound health. Her skin was soft, no longer mottled and clammy. Her hair was still a bit tangled and askew, but she was breathing strongly and moving with ease.

"Please, Mrs. Malfoy, remember to heal gradually. If they find out what we've done..." She left the statement unfinished, unwilling that Narcissa might mistake it as some sort of threat.

"Of course, dear girl. Don't worry, I was a Slytherin as well. Thank you. And thank your sister for me when you see her. I will never forget this." With that, the woman closed her eyes and fell asleep. The first peaceful slumber she'd enjoyed in months. Dove immediately relaxed at the sight. They'd done it. Everything would be alright now. She stumbled out of the room and back to Lucius, who was still sleeping happily. Crawling beneath the covers, she whispered "Enervate" and pretended to be disturbed awake by his movements.

He yawned and looked over at her. He nodded at her thickly and then turned over, falling right back to sleep. For a moment, Dove was lost. Then she realized what had happened. He'd dismissed her. Unbeknownst to her, and himself actually, he'd also dismissed poor little Wowie from her cell. This was how it came that Dove Thomas ran right into Wowie on her way downstairs.

They both stared for an undetermined amount of time. The strange waves of familiarity crashed over both of them and neither spoke. Then, a tiny lavender hand reached out to touch Dove's own, and when their fingers met, the little thing squeaked.

"Mistress Daven! You is here!"

***

Severus walked smoothly through the darkness in his rooms, collecting ingredients and mixing them appropriately. Raven was still unconscious, asleep on his bed. It would be considerably easier to make an excuse for her being in the dungeons than it would be for him being in her room. So he had gently laid her out on the large soft bed, covering her with blankets and soft pillows, and starting a light blaze in the fireplace beside. She had stirred only momentarily once after he'd brought her here, and he would have to rouse her to take the potion he was making. But otherwise, all was still.

He stirred in the last of the chopped fumblebud weeds and let it simmer slightly. When it reached a brilliant orange-y hue, he poured it easily into a glass and took it to the sleeping girl. Gently nudging her, he whispered soft energy charms until her eyes opened. Carefully, he held the glass to his lips.

"Here, drink this. It won't-" She held her lips to the glass and leaned her head back, successfully downing it all in one gulp. "-hurt you," he finished lamely. He was unused to such simple faith. She hadn't even asked him what was in it. It was as if she just...trusted him.

Before he could continue this interesting train of thought, Raven bolted upright. "She's here!"

He was momentarily caught by surprise. But he dismissed the feeling and spoke urgently. "Who's here, Raven?"

"Dove. You have to go get her. I told her I was here, but she doesn't believe me."

"What do you mean you told her? How could you tell her?" Hmm...perhaps this potion has side effects I was unaware of...

"Our thoughts. I thought to her. But she doesn't believe me. She's standing outside the classroom wondering where I am." He started at this information, but didn't have time to process it before Raven passed out again. He sighed, but decided to check anyway. It couldn't hurt.

He was very surprised then, when he found Dove right outside the classroom as Raven had said. She looked at him with understandable trepidation, but he nodded at her and turned. For a moment, a glimmer of understanding sparked in Snape's eyes. "I thought to her" she'd said. But it was forgotten in the sight of Dove's unprovoked worry. She followed after him without question and neither spoke until they were safely in his warded chambers. As soon as she saw Raven, she ran to her. She knelt beside the bed and her eyes filled up, but Snape was surprised to see that she did not cry, didn't even sniffle. She simply stared at her sister's broken body.

"May I?" she whispered towards her sister's bruised face. She closed her eyes when no answer came forth.

Severus suddenly realized what Dove was asking her sister, and spoke quickly. "She said you may. When I brought her here, she said 'Tell her she may.'"

Dove chuckled lightly at Raven's foresight and nodded. Then she reached out both hands and began to heal her sister. As she did, she spoke.

"What happened to her?" Severus was surprised at the question. Once again, he'd assumed that she would know.

"I'm not sure. I found her like this outside." Dove's head drooped for a moment.

"I never should have let her go to him. Damn him! And she should have known better. She should have seen it in his Fabric. What was she thinking?" Now Snape could tell that she was only muttering to herself. She'd blocked him out and was mumbling nothings. "Fucking Avery. I'll kill him."

Snape's heart went cold. "What did you just say?" She looked up at him, surprised that she had been talking, surprised that he had been listening.

"I'm going to kill him." She said it with such ease and assurance that Snape felt a chill run down his spine. But it was not what had disturbed him.

"No, the first part."

"Fucking Avery. He did this to her."

"Avery? Patrick Avery?"

"Yes." She didn't ask how he knew of the man, or wonder why he spoke so sharply, she just answered his questions and healed her sister.

"Dove, where were you?"

This time, she paused. Her hands stopped moving, her eyes stopped blinking, Snape even thought for a moment that she had stopped breathing. "I'm not sure I should tell you."

"I don't care whether or not you should tell me. You will tell me."

She hesitated, but gave in. She was far too concentrated on Raven to care what she said now.

"We were at Malfoy Manor."

Severus could feel the air leave his lungs, but he somehow managed to speak anyway. "And what were you doing at Malfoy Manor?"

"Draco's mother was ill. We healed her."

"Is that all?"

Again, the momentary hesitation, but this time he wasn't sure she would answer. So he asked again.

"Is that all?"

"No."

"What did you do there, Dove?"

"We..." But she could not finish the sentence. For the first time in years, she was humiliated. She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want him to know. She didn't want to see the disappointment that always came with the admittance.

He understood. It made sense. They were the young vik'sen, the potential assassins. Two girls, he'd said. Two girls. But he'd also said that Snape could have one. Severus' mind reeled with thoughts as he struggled to find a way...any way...but there was nothing. Lucius wanted the knife, that damn futile knife. And nothing else would satisfy him. Quietly, Severus walked over to a chest at the foot of his bed. Extracting a key from his robes, he placed it in a hidden lock near the bottom of the chest and turned. A small drawer sprang out softly and he pulled the contents from within. Wrapped within layers and layers of silk, there lay a knife.

***

Wowie staggered up the stairs to check on her Master. He was sleeping peacefully. Not unusual for him, he always slept well after sex. He would sleep late the next morning, and Wowie was grateful for the temporary release. The silencing spells on his room would allow her free reign of the kitchens without fear of his intrusion. The Avery man had already left a long time ago. Ages ago. There had been a loud ruckus, and Wowie had heard a great deal of shouting, but when she had emerged a short while ago, there was nobody to be seen. The room he had occupied had been torn to shreds somehow, chairs overturned, books on the floor, paintings haphazard on the wall, and one window was smashed. The remaining glass was scattered just inside on the carpet. But with a few flicks of her wrist and some light pops, the room was back in order.

Her last thought was to check on the Mistress. If she was awake, Wowie might be able to feed her some light broth. Wowie liked the Mistress, and had been doing everything within her power to help her. If the Master hadn't forbidden her, in a moment of rage, from healing the Mistress, such unpleasantries would be unnecessary. Sometimes, Wowie thought angry things about her Master. But she punished herself afterwards, and all was forgotten.

As she made her way to the Mistress' rooms, she thought back on the night. So many confusing aspects...the letter two weeks ago, the strange visits from the young Master, the evil Avery man...and then her Mistress. Right here in this very manor, alive and well, albeit slightly different from how Wowie remembered her. Her hair was different, and her eyes, and she was considerably older...but it had been her. For a moment, Wowie entertained the idea of visiting her former Mistress, but the girl had not seemed to remember her loyal house-elf, there was only the sharpest spark of familiarity. And if it was so, then Wowie's reappearance could only cause more confusion. Sighing heavily, Wowie entered the darkened rooms and was astonished at what she found.

***

Dove refused to answer Snape. She would not speak another word until she had finished healing Raven. There were only a few minor wounds left and the broken arm to set, but it required the very last of her concentration. Any attempts at conversation, no matter how severely important, would be useless. It had been two hours since she had arrived, and her mind was full to flowing with questions. What happened back there? Why didn't I hear it? Why didn't she think to me? How did she get back here? What will we do? Tears threatened to burst forth, but she was simply too busy to bother with crying.

As she pinched together the last stray cut, Dove let out a long sigh. Dismissing Snape's presence as an illusion created by her tired mind, pushing all thoughts of the last twenty-four hours down, she climbed up onto the bed and curled up next to her sister. Within seconds, she was asleep, snoring lightly into her sister's shoulder. Severus looked on, curious. Two girls were in his rooms after curfew, curled up in each other's arms on his bed. On any other night, concerning any other two girls, he might have thought it was weird, impossible. But tonight he merely accepted it at face value.

Picking up the silk-shrouded knife in his slender hands, he sat down in a chair by the fire and looked it over. It was a rather plain knife, really. It was a slight silver metal with a scarred wooden handle. Threads of some silvery substance weaved in and out on the handle forming various pictures. On one side was an angel with wings wide open, on the other was an angel with wings closed. The images suddenly struck him with a bit more significance as he looked on at the two girls. But the edges of the blade were what made it so...special. They tapered off to a point where the eye could not follow.

Three such knives had been made. One subtle, one futile, one humble. Each had the same engraved handles, each had the same impossibly sharp edges, and each cut into something that should never be cut into. One, the humble knife, the divider of time-space, had been melted down eventually. It had been too dangerous. Any strange movement threw the bearer into another time-plane of existence. The threats and possibilities were too many. So the knife had been broken and separated, melted into molten time, and had been used to make the first time-turners. The second, the subtle knife, the separator of worlds, had been lost for years. Brandished by stupid men, it had also been a cause for much controversy, shifting the other dimensions and creating havoc. But eventually one boy had managed to tame and destroy the knife and its terrors.

The last and only remaining blade, the futile knife, had been passed from wizarding family to wizarding family for years. The truth and nature of its powers were myth to those who heard of it, a source of potentially unlimited power to those who held it. It had literally fallen into Snape's hands eight years before. The futile knife...the breaker of souls. Snape himself had never mustered the courage to touch it with his bare hands.

If Malfoy was only looking for another trophy, Snape could give it to him under false pretenses, help discourage him from the girls, and eventually get it back. But if Malfoy knew what he was asking for...then why was he asking? Why not simply take it and be done?

He heard the bed creaking across from him and looked up to see Raven stirring. She sat up slowly, testing her body for weaknesses, then bolted upright when she felt her renewed strength. She looked at Dove for a moment, checking her breathing, feeling her pulse. After some slight prodding, she decided that Dove's Fabric had survived admirably, with hardly a misplaced thread. A sign that she had grown used to such unbecoming activity, no doubt. When her prodding and eyeing was done, she finally took sight of her surroundings. She gasped as she caught Snape's eye and looked down abruptly.

Silently, Snape berated himself for any actions or words that might ever cause her to avoid his eye. In the next moment, he berated himself for such trivial thoughts. In order to keep himself from any further thoughts, he spoke.

"You seem better."

"Yes, thank you." No hesitation or stuttering, only straightforwardness. He applauded inwardly at her caution. It could save her life one day...if only she had employed it tonight.

"I know where you were." A slight tremor in her lips, but nothing more. "And I know why you were there." Another, stronger tremor, but nothing else. "Now I want to know the rest."

Raven nodded after only a moment's hesitation.

"We had to do it. For Draco, and for his mother. We only meant it to be tonight, but Draco accidentally...well, we can't stop now. He thinks he owns us, Lucius does. And if he ever thinks otherwise, he'll kill us or Draco or Draco's mother...perhaps all of us." She was quiet then, as if gathering her thoughts. But her next words were spoken with such speed and force that Snape barely had time to make sense of them. "We tried to change, honest. But I guess we'll always be whores."

The self-deprecation and –loathing stunned him, but it was the last line that caught him by surprise. "What do you mean, you'll 'always be whores'?"

Raven looked confused for a moment, but her attention was claimed soon afterward by a soft knock. The confusion doubled, for both Raven and Snape, when Albus Dumbledore popped in, his trademark twinkle only slightly dimmed.

The Headmaster conjured a large comfortable chair, sat down with a sigh, and called for a house-elf. "I believe I'm just in time. Perhaps some tea before we start?"

***