A/N: Heheh, back again! It's time for chapter five!! Whoo-hoo!
Snape watched Demitrius with a careful gaze as the boy entered his classroom, looking as comfortable and at ease as any other fifth-year Slytherin. The boy was walking alongside Fitsgibbons, ignoring him again, as he took the seat next to his burly companion. Snape noticed with a certain amount of disdain that several of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin girls had a tendency to 'accidentally' drop their Potions books as they shuffled past Demitrius. He sneered, stalking down into the rows of seats, unwilling to tolerate this blatant display of flirtation. Hissing a few scathing comments about this being a classroom, not a singles' club, he soon had every single student waiting patiently in their chairs.
With a swirl of his robes he stalked back up to the front of the class. "Today we will be testing your knowledge of advanced poisons." He said darkly, letting his gaze roam over the collection of students. "Open your books to page three-hundred and ninety-eight. There, you will find a list of ingredients, with no instructions with regards to how they are to be handled or used in practice. These ingredients come together to form a very deadly poison if properly combined." Snape instructed, as students rustled open their books to the appropriate page. A few looked a bit pale; They'd had no idea Snape was going to spring anything on them.
Demitrius was leaned over, looking at Fitsgibbons' book, as he had yet to procure a new one of his own. The boy raised a single eyebrow, but said nothing. Snape smirked. "You will have the rest of today to concoct this potion. You may begin, now." He said. And after a few moments of silence as he swooped over to his desk and sat down, the room came alive again. Students pulled out their individual cauldrons, most looking at the page in utter bafflement or anguish. As Demitrius readied his cauldron, Snape eyed him carefully, watching as he moved to get the ingredients on the list. It was a test. If the boy could produce this potion, it would mean he'd had training in the Dark Arts. Snape didn't expect any other student to even have a hope of pulling it off. The listed ingredients were actually ones used for a typical Silencing potion, that muted whoever drank it. But they could also be used, if prepared differently, to make a potent poison. If Demitrius produced the poison, it would confirm Snape's suspicions. Or at least give them a more solid ground to stand on. If he made a disaster, then he was either even more intelligent than Professor Granger suspected, or his story was true. In which case that still left the question of why he had assumed a false identity.
Snape spent most of the class stalking through room, maintaining his usual intimidating air, as he inconspicuously glanced at Demitrius from the corner of his eye. The boy was working with a kind of quiet skill that was... Notable, if nothing else. Had he been an ordinary Slytherin Snape would have been ecstatic. His hands chopped, minced, mashed, and measured with a deft accuracy. Like an actor rehearsing a well-versed line from a play. The boy altered the heat in his cauldron, adding several cups of water mixed with chimera blood. As he did this he raised a hand to block what he was doing from Fitsgibbons, who was still having troubles getting his cauldron up to temperature.
A few of the Ravenclaws in the classroom were looking at Demitrius starry- eyed. Snape abruptly cursed at one as his hand went loose and he dropped his knife to the floor with a loud clatter. After that, most of the students managed to keep their eyes on their cauldrons, only occasionally glancing up to spy on young Demitrius. Snape was just passing by a struggling Slytherin girl, who seemed at a loss as to what to do with her Mermaid's scales, when he took another glance at Demitrius. And stopped dead. The boy's cauldron was filled with a vicious green fluid, cooling down off of the heat. Reaching over the boy placed a thin towel over the top to lesson the steam and sat back, a decidedly smug look on his face. Snape frowned. The poison was supposed to be a very dark mauve. Yet, the self-assured manner of Demitrius would have lead him to believe the boy was successful, especially considering his earlier conduct. Fitsgibbons was still measuring out his chimera blood, looking utterly and completely lost.
"Mr. Septimus? Is there a problem?" Snape asked, stalking over to the boy. Demitrius smiled charmingly up at him.
"Not at all sir. I must say, that was absolutely brilliant." He provided cheerily. A little too cheerily, in Snape's opinion. The mask he had been wearing since his arrival was just as genuine as ever.
"What, may I ask, was 'absolutely brilliant'?" Snape inquired, spitting out his student's words in as mocking a manner as he could manage, and was quite displeased to note the tiny smile that tugged the boy's lips. What was so bloody funny?!?
"Oh, well, I've just never seen such a clever test before. You gave us all the ingredients for a Silencing potion, and then completely mislead us, just to see how keen we were. Why, I'd bet you've taught everyone here all about Silencing potions, haven't you? It's just inspired!" Demitrius chirped. "Teaching us to use our eyes and our head instead of just blandly doing as you say. That's what's brilliant Professor." He finished, and looked at Snape, smug as he ever was. By now the entire class was fixed on them all again.
Before Snape could even get out a single word, the students immediately changed gears. Their minds began to race over their knowledge of Silencing potions, and several dashed up out of their seats, requiring replacement ingredients to re-do parts of their potion. Snape was not at all pleased. For a long moment he just stood there, matching his gaze with young Demitrius. The boy's expression simply screamed of skill, deception, confidence, wit, and... Happiness? How strange. Was he actually enjoying this?
"Very good, Mr. Septimus, ten points to Slytherin. Now, since you seem to have already completed your potion, I shall have to find something more productive for you to do." Snape said, and allowed himself a little smirk of his own. 'Got you now, boy.' He thought. Demitrius had side-stepped his little test, but he would be punished for it, scrubbing down the dungeon for the rest of class or something. To Snape's surprise Demitrius practically beamed up at him.
"Wonderful! I've got just the thing." The boy said, and reached into his robes to pull out a slip of parchment. "A few potions I've been meaning to work on. Dead useful, really, and the Silencing stuff will be done in just a few minutes I expect." He stated, and removed the cloth from the top of the cauldron.
"Actually, Mr. Septimus," Snape began, in his usual silky tones. "I was thinking of something along a less industrious line of thought." He said. Any other student would have stopped, gotten that crest-fallen look on their face, and let the professor continue. It seemed Demitrius was well equipped to defy the laws of normalcy.
"Damn. And here I thought you'd be interested in knowing how to convert a simple Skele-Gro potion into a cure for vampirism..." Demitrius said. Snape paused. Now, in all logical parts of his mind, he was warned that the boy was likely not from the future and probably just trying to distract him. However, one does not excel at Potions without possessing a certain flare for the art, and Severus Snape was no exception. His natural curiosity was almost as strong as his inborn wariness.
"I believe you are under rather firm regulations with regard to certain things, Mr. Septimus." Snape hissed. Demitrius smiled as charmingly as he could.
"Yes, but I was never told anything about not making potions." He offered up, with a fake innocence that even he could not quite manage right. The end result was rather creepy, and Demitrius seemed to notice, as he looked like a rather nasty bile had risen in his throat after he said it. Snape raised an eyebrow. To Demi's side, Fitsgibbons was now completely baffled, and had seemed to determine that the rest of the class would be better spent pretending he was chopping up cordle-root.
Snape weighed his options. Option one, drag Demitrius out forcefully, march him up to Dumbledore's and blurt out all his suspicions at once to the old man, who would probably do nothing but twinkle happily about it anyway. Option two, kill the boy here and now, and just end it all. Option three, pull up a seat, and see just what young Demitrius manages to produce. Option four, let it all go to hell and hand the brat a mop.
With a decidedly ugly sneer Snape grabbed a spare seat from a nearby desk and lowered himself next to his student. Triumph danced across the boy's eyes briefly, before it was forcefully removed, and with a snap the professor ordered Fitsgibbons to retrieve a Skele-Gro potion from the top shelf of the public stores.
~
Hermione smiled at Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout as she took her seat at the head table. Her day had been hectic and filled with papers, scared students, and loads of questions about the 'mystery boy'. It was starting to feel like being in The Boy Who Lived's inner circle had, back in the early days of their friendship. Not a feeling she enjoyed having very much in all honesty. Harry was great, but she could see why he avoided fame like the plague, and it was completely understandable.
"You were right about that boy." McGonagall said, and Hermione blinked. No need to ask who she was referring to. "He's absolutely brilliant." The older professor exclaimed, a look of deep thought and high excitement on her face.
"Really? He did well in class?" Hermione asked, nodding to Dumbledore as he took his seat. How odd, Professor Snape had yet to arrive, and she'd been running a bit late. McGonagall shook her head as she sipped her pumpkin juice.
"More than that, he's miles ahead of an average fifth year." McGonagall confessed. "Reminded me of you." She added, and Hermione couldn't suppress the pleased smile that spread across her face. Her joy came both from the compliment she received, and the knowledge that she'd pegged Demitrius right. There was a brain behind those very misleading eyes, McGonagall was a bit like Snape when it came to compliments, she only gave them when she meant it. The main difference was that when she did it, it sounded like less of a chore.
"So, tell me, what happened?" Hermione inquired, undeniably curious. She risked a glance to the Slytherin table to catch sight of Demitrius. Oddly enough, the boy didn't seem to be there, the seat next to Fitsgibbons completely empty. 'Maybe he skipped out? Can't really blame him.' She thought, as McGonagall began to recount the events of her Transfiguration class. Hermione blinked.
"You're kidding? Right like that, without any instructions?" She asked as her former professor recounted how Demi had turned the desk into a sheep. McGonagall nodded, and by now Flitwick was listening in with a keen interest as well.
"Yes, I must say, I was speechless at first. Mind you it was a completely disruptive thing to do, and he was going for a goat, but all the same he moved with hardly any effort at all." McGonagall said.
"Well, I can assure you the boy isn't brilliant in every subject." Flitwick chimed suddenly, and both women turned to look at him in surprise. He speared a roll on the edge of his fork, a thoughtful look to his eyes as he spoke. "Had him a little before lunch. I didn't see much that was remarkable about him, if anything he was a little behind." The tiny professor stated meaningfully. McGonagall nodded.
"He did say Transfiguration was something he had a natural flare for. I believe it, too, though there is definitely something odd about the way he behaves. A very serious boy." She mused. Hermione tilted her head to the side as she thought about this. It would be interesting to see how well he did in her class. She glanced at the table, where Snape usually sat. He still hadn't made his grand appearance yet. What was keeping him up? Was there an accident in Potions? Hermione frowned.
"Has anyone seen Professor Snape?" She asked, and raised a hand to indicate the empty seat. Dumbledore looked at her in a very odd way, as McGonagall shrugged an shook her head.
"Probably getting a head-start on that project of yours, dear. You know how Severus is." She reasoned. Hermione blinked. Of course! Their project! During the course of the day she had almost completely forgotten about it. Suddenly curiosity was replaced by annoyance. Getting a head- start on their project? The nerve! It would be just like him, too, to finish it all before she was even supposed to be there and then scold her for not showing up.
With a look of determination Hermione pushed back her seat and stood up. Well, he wasn't going to get away with it this time. "If you'll excuse me." She said, with a polite nod to her colleagues, and then left the dining hall. If she got to those dungeons to discover him working on the potion without her, she'd just give him a piece of her mind, and let's see him try to take house points away!
~
Draco Malfoy sat and waited patiently, his languid form folded within the confines of his favourite chair. He was in the largest sitting room of Malfoy Manor. A large fireplace was fixed to the wall in an elegant design, dwarfed from above by the large, detailed paintings of Malfoys gone by. The stared out at the world, noses high in the air. The entire room had a decidedly cold feel. Darkly coloured walls and furnishings, lit up by cold, sparse lamps around the room. A few tapered candles burned with a bright blue flame from the chandelier that hung above Draco's head. Patience. It was the virtue of only the most cunning Slytherins. Draco Malfoy had taken a while to appreciate it, to understand the power of waiting, of biding one's time. But such epiphanies rarely happen in one's youth.
Swirling the snifter of brandy he had clasped in one hand, he scowled. Still, he had never been very good at waiting, no matter how intelligent a thing to do it was. Like his father before him he was not above breaking out into bursts of rage. Draco took a sip from his beverage, enjoying the warm feeling of it as it burned it's way down his throat. Lucius Malfoy was as yet unaware of his son's information. There was a time when Draco would have gone to him immediately, but over time the Malfoys' heir had realised that his father was not always as tactful as he should be. Too angry, too obvious, too ready to rush to Voldemort and declare Severus Snape a spy. Such a statement would only earn pain without the proper evidence.
Malfoy's waiting was thankfully halted as a jet of green flame burst forward from his fireplace, and a rather large man tumbled forward, onto the blood red carpet. Draco sneered at the ash that flecked onto the fine material of the floor. The man stood, brushing himself off. He was tall and beefy, with greying blonde hair, and a build like a dumpster's. His robes were... Nice, but not entirely tasteful, being that they were a deep purple in colour. Draco didn't move from his seat as the Death Eater cleared his throat. "Mr. Malfoy. You wanted to see me?" The man said. Draco nodded, and gestured for the man to take a seat nearby. His father would have never done such a thing, but under the circumstances, Draco himself could find no objection to giving the House Elves more cleaning work.
"Ah, Ethan, glad you could come." Draco said politely. Ethan Fitsgibbons looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Relax, I'm not going to have you killed." Draco told him, being sure to twist his tones just enough to leave the word 'yet' unnecessary. Fitsgibbons didn't seem able to comply with the younger man's suggestion. Draco sighed, and lowered his snifter to the small coffee table next to him. His sharp features looked dark and haunting in the candlelight. "Very well, I'll make this brief then." He offered. "I want you to bring me Demitrius Septimus." Draco said. Fitsgibbons started, clearly not expecting his words, and paled a little.
"From Hogwarts?" He croaked, a little taken off his guard. "B-but, that's impossible! You can't get at anyone once they're under Dumbledore's lock and key." Fitsgibbons argued. Draco scowled.
"Don't be an imbecile, I'm not asking you to shove him in a burlap sack and cart him off." He snapped with annoyance, and instantly Fitsgibbons' mouth swung shut. Draco relaxed, reducing the level of curtness to his tones. "All you have to do is get your son to go with him at the next Hogsmeade weekend. Once they're out of Hogwarts, the boy will use a Portkey to bring Demitrius Septimus to this manor." Draco explained.
"A Portkey? Are you sure that will work?" Fitsgibbons asked nervously.
"Well, it had better work, hadn't it?" Draco offered, with no small amount of amusement to his voice. "I expect you'll have to convert something innocuous into the Portkey, and make sure no one else touches it. Be sure you do it in Hogsmeade, though. It's been quite a few years since Portkeys worked within Howarts' grounds." He explained, and briefly memory turned back to that night all those years ago, when the Dark Lord had returned and the course of his life had changed. "Don't bungle this, Fitsgibbons. If you get it right I'll see to it your rewarded." Malfoy added, and the greed that flashed across Ethan's face was painfully obvious.
"Right. I'll owl my son to find out when their next weekend is." The older man said, then stood up, and marched his way back over to the fireplace. "Have a nice evening, Master Malfoy." He offered. At Draco's nod, he then took a pinch of floo powder, and zipped away.
Malfoy downed the last of his brandy and stood from his chair with a whirl. Professor Snape, a traitor... It would be so tragic when he died. "Shame. I always liked him." Draco mused briefly, before sweeping from the sitting room with a shrug.
~
What had started as the Nosferitia Banisher, had become a full-blown Potions lesson, but with Demitrius as the teacher this time. After spending the rest of Potions class showing his future father how to convert the Skele-Gro, Snape had insisted Demitrius return to the dungeons directly after his last class. It went without saying that neither would speak a word of this to Dumbledore.
Demitrius hadn't been certain what his father's intentions were with regards to the potion he told them to brew. It could, indeed, be made into a poison, but one which was definitely illegal to brew. Demitrius himself didn't know the exact procedures for brewing it. That was when he realise the look Professor Snape was giving him. He had barely been able to contain his amusement at the hilarity of it all. His own father suspected him of being a spy! It was simply too ironic.
Not wanting to look like a moron in his first Potions class with Snape, Demitrius had instead found away around either making the poison or failing miserably. Sadly, the act seemed to enrage Snape more than anything else, but the moment presented an undeniable opportunity. He had been wondering how to approach his father with regards to the potions he wanted to make. Fate, it seemed, had decided to cut Demitrius a break and practically flung the path to victory at his feet.
Ditching Fitsgibbons after Herbology (a subject Demitrius enjoyed, but wasn't particularly gifted at), Demi had returned down to the dungeons and the Potions classroom. If his father was still suspicious about his new student's motives, that suspicion had been overridden by curiosity. Snape had pulled out at least ten cauldrons, and the key to his private stores was in his hands as Demitrius entered the classroom.
"List." Snape demanded, and Demi handed over the sheet of parchment he had worked on only yesterday. Snape scanned over it, pausing not only at the potions, but at hexes, wards, curses, charms, and anything else that seemed to catch his interest. Of course, only the potions had detailed lists of ingredients beside them. Anything else could hardly be more than a name to Snape. Still, Demitrius waited patiently, until the parchment was thrust back into his grasp. "I'll go and get what we need from the private storeroom." Snape said, and stalked past the young wizard. "Don't touch anything until I get back." He added. Demitrius snorted but said nothing.
As soon as Snape was gone he stalked over to the public stores and began pulling down what was needed. He wouldn't stand there like an idiot until Snape got back, and if they were going to work together, Demitrius would have to be allowed to handle ingredients.
He moved around, placing different items next to different cauldrons. Judging by the large amount all set to go, Snape planned to have them brewing for quite some time. Demitrius took his seat once he had finished placing the ingredients at different stations. He wasn't sure where he learned his organisation skills from, his mother or father. Probably both. Everything was neatly placed in order of use, ingredients put next to cauldrons of the right size for making certain potions, so that movements could be made with speed and efficiency.
When Snape returned, levitating a pile of dangerous or expensive ingredients next to himself, he scowled at Demitrius. Not surprisingly, however, he kept quiet. Demi stalked over to him and began the process of sorting out the less mundane items. It wasn't long before the two men were peering over the rim of a cauldron, Demitrius turning up the heat as his father added a pinch of powdered dragon horn. "Not too much, or it'll loose it's potency." Demitrius heard himself say softly. It earned him a glare of indignation from Snape, who made a rather snide remark about knowing a thing or two to do with potions. After that Demitrius decided not to say anything unless it was entirely called for.
An hour passed, then two. Soon all ten cauldrons were in use. Demitrius worked a silver rod gently inside a matching cauldron, as Snape peered over his shoulder, observing the powder-blue potion inside. Tiny flecks of gold danced across the surface of the substance, with all the merriment of stars in an evening sky. "It'll have to simmer for at least an hour longer before we can add more reindeer hairs." Demi said. Snape nodded, and Demitrius looked up, directing his gaze towards a large black cauldron near the center of the room. "Has the Invincibility potion turned dark pink yet?" He asked.
Snape strode over, a whirl of dark robes, and peered into the cauldron as Demi removed the rod from his. "Not entirely, no, it would appear to be having difficulties breaking down the shrivelfigs." Snape said. Then with a flourish he stalked over to the stores and pulled down a bottle of a crystal-like white powder.
"What is that?" Demitrius asked, going over to inspect the potion for himself.
"Salt." Snape said simply. Demi blinked, looking at the Potions Master in surprise. Snape rolled his eyes and screwed the cap off the top of the bottle. "It will help the potion to break down the figs without reacting too powerfully with the other ingredients. I imagine it will also improve the flavour, too." He said, and Demitrius watched curiously as he added a pinch of the grainy substance.
"I wonder why I never knew that." Demitrius said aloud, and grabbing a large spoon from it's holder to his side, began to stir the thick liquid. Snape sneered.
"Obviously you never had me for a Potions Professor." He said, and Demitrius was a little surprised to hear the relief, just barely audible in the older man's voice. Didn't his father like teaching Potions? It was obvious that the man loved the subject, just from this evening's activities, and he was also extremely good at it. Was it the teaching he didn't like? In all honesty, today was the first day he had seen his father teach. He did seem a great deal more unpleasant than was usual, but Demitrius had assumed that it was because of him.
Both men grew silent as they watched the potion begin to darken at a greater speed. Once it was almost fuschia, Demitrius turned off the heat, and pointed his wand at the bubbling substance. "Virtuo Impro." Demitrius said. A grey mist spread out from his wand and settled onto the potion, weighing down like a shimmering cover, before quickly vanishing. Demitrius lifted up a silver ladle and one of the long line of bottles nearby. Both he and Snape began to spoon and seal the potion together in silence. "The words are important, if you don't put the right emphasis on 'impro' the whole thing turns green, and you have to start over again." Demitrius explained, and Snape nodded as he shoved a stopper into a slender bottle full of a nice, vibrant pink liquid.
A throat clearing at the doorway drew both their attentions, and Demitrius turned to see his mother, leaning against the door frame. She was looking at the brewing cauldrons with surprise and wonder. "What is going on here?" Hermione asked.
"Professor. I wasn't aware you frequented the dungeons during dinner time." Snape said darkly, and Demitrius could tell he was nervous. If Hermione ratted them out, it was all too likely Dumbledore would forbid them from brewing potions from the future, and then Demitrius' plan would be made more difficult. Still, it was Hermione...
"When you didn't show up I thought you might have started our project without me." She supplied, still looking at the potions with too much curiosity to care what she said, or how she said it. Demitrius watched as she leaned over the silver cauldron he had been at not moments before.
"Well, obviously we are not, so if you would kindly leave..." Snape began. Hermione frowned, folding her arms across her chest.
"Since I'm here, we might as well finish-" She began, but Snape cut her off with a wave. Demitrius noticed his father was looking only slightly uncomfortable. A shake to his hand, the way his eyes lingered on Hermione.
"That won't be necessary Professor, I believe I have found a more than adequate assistant for the final stages." Snape told her, with a meaningful look at Demitrius. It was then that realisation came to the young Slytherin. His mother was here. His father was here. And he was here, interfering.
'Oh, shit.'
A/N: Done! :D Special thanks to Helena for coming up with 'Virtuo Impro', which is latin for 'Greater Strength' in case anyone was wondering. Till next time folks!
Pigwidgeon37 - :D Glad you liked chapter four! Hmm, I wonder how Demitrius would take to being called 'adorable'? Lol, the chart was fun to write, and so was McGonagall, so it's great to know someone else enjoyed reading that part. Heheh, I have a certain fondness for spiders, but sorry that it's creepy. If it's any consolation he doesn't seem to transform all that often. 'Till next time! ^_^
Jessicat1982 - Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying the Slyhterin-ness of it all. ^_^ Romantic tension, evil geniuses, it's been a blast to write it all. Hope you liked chapter five! Now go, review again, hee hee hee!
skipstarseeker - Okay! Here it is! ^_^
Sonja S. - Thanks, glad you're enjoying it. Yeah, poor Demi needs a break, doesn't he? But we'll just have to wait and see what happens.
Beth Ann - Did you like it? Didja? ^_^ Glad you enjoyed Demi's animagus form, it took me a while to think it up. And, you know, I've always wanted to see someone turn into a duck. ^_~
Aemos - Thanks! Yay, I don't think I've ever had this been called 'fantastic' before! :D
Isa - Glad you like the chapter. As for Demi and Marcus, well, that's a bit of a mystery isn't it? But I don't think I'll be attempting to write and slash my first foray into the HP fanworld. :D
Nicolette - You're welcome, thanks for reviewing. Glad you enjoyed the tarantula thing! We'll just have to wait and see how Demitrius and Hermione get along, but I can guarantee I'm going to try and keep things as interesting as possible. ^_^
Christine - Ah, someone caught it! *Hands cookie* Yes, I love to play with names. Thanks for the review!
jade_dagger - Thanks, you got it! :D
Destiny's Fate - Ah, wonderful, it's good to know people are thinking when they're reading this. Demitrius' animagus form is a tarantula because I thought a spider suited his physical appearance, and I didn't have any problems with it because in book four there is an animagus who turns into a beetle. Hope that explains it, and I'm glad you liked the prank. ^_^
Tracy - Okay, I won't! :D
Jordan - Yup, Malfoy's a sneaky bastard, aint he? Thanks for the review!
Snape watched Demitrius with a careful gaze as the boy entered his classroom, looking as comfortable and at ease as any other fifth-year Slytherin. The boy was walking alongside Fitsgibbons, ignoring him again, as he took the seat next to his burly companion. Snape noticed with a certain amount of disdain that several of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin girls had a tendency to 'accidentally' drop their Potions books as they shuffled past Demitrius. He sneered, stalking down into the rows of seats, unwilling to tolerate this blatant display of flirtation. Hissing a few scathing comments about this being a classroom, not a singles' club, he soon had every single student waiting patiently in their chairs.
With a swirl of his robes he stalked back up to the front of the class. "Today we will be testing your knowledge of advanced poisons." He said darkly, letting his gaze roam over the collection of students. "Open your books to page three-hundred and ninety-eight. There, you will find a list of ingredients, with no instructions with regards to how they are to be handled or used in practice. These ingredients come together to form a very deadly poison if properly combined." Snape instructed, as students rustled open their books to the appropriate page. A few looked a bit pale; They'd had no idea Snape was going to spring anything on them.
Demitrius was leaned over, looking at Fitsgibbons' book, as he had yet to procure a new one of his own. The boy raised a single eyebrow, but said nothing. Snape smirked. "You will have the rest of today to concoct this potion. You may begin, now." He said. And after a few moments of silence as he swooped over to his desk and sat down, the room came alive again. Students pulled out their individual cauldrons, most looking at the page in utter bafflement or anguish. As Demitrius readied his cauldron, Snape eyed him carefully, watching as he moved to get the ingredients on the list. It was a test. If the boy could produce this potion, it would mean he'd had training in the Dark Arts. Snape didn't expect any other student to even have a hope of pulling it off. The listed ingredients were actually ones used for a typical Silencing potion, that muted whoever drank it. But they could also be used, if prepared differently, to make a potent poison. If Demitrius produced the poison, it would confirm Snape's suspicions. Or at least give them a more solid ground to stand on. If he made a disaster, then he was either even more intelligent than Professor Granger suspected, or his story was true. In which case that still left the question of why he had assumed a false identity.
Snape spent most of the class stalking through room, maintaining his usual intimidating air, as he inconspicuously glanced at Demitrius from the corner of his eye. The boy was working with a kind of quiet skill that was... Notable, if nothing else. Had he been an ordinary Slytherin Snape would have been ecstatic. His hands chopped, minced, mashed, and measured with a deft accuracy. Like an actor rehearsing a well-versed line from a play. The boy altered the heat in his cauldron, adding several cups of water mixed with chimera blood. As he did this he raised a hand to block what he was doing from Fitsgibbons, who was still having troubles getting his cauldron up to temperature.
A few of the Ravenclaws in the classroom were looking at Demitrius starry- eyed. Snape abruptly cursed at one as his hand went loose and he dropped his knife to the floor with a loud clatter. After that, most of the students managed to keep their eyes on their cauldrons, only occasionally glancing up to spy on young Demitrius. Snape was just passing by a struggling Slytherin girl, who seemed at a loss as to what to do with her Mermaid's scales, when he took another glance at Demitrius. And stopped dead. The boy's cauldron was filled with a vicious green fluid, cooling down off of the heat. Reaching over the boy placed a thin towel over the top to lesson the steam and sat back, a decidedly smug look on his face. Snape frowned. The poison was supposed to be a very dark mauve. Yet, the self-assured manner of Demitrius would have lead him to believe the boy was successful, especially considering his earlier conduct. Fitsgibbons was still measuring out his chimera blood, looking utterly and completely lost.
"Mr. Septimus? Is there a problem?" Snape asked, stalking over to the boy. Demitrius smiled charmingly up at him.
"Not at all sir. I must say, that was absolutely brilliant." He provided cheerily. A little too cheerily, in Snape's opinion. The mask he had been wearing since his arrival was just as genuine as ever.
"What, may I ask, was 'absolutely brilliant'?" Snape inquired, spitting out his student's words in as mocking a manner as he could manage, and was quite displeased to note the tiny smile that tugged the boy's lips. What was so bloody funny?!?
"Oh, well, I've just never seen such a clever test before. You gave us all the ingredients for a Silencing potion, and then completely mislead us, just to see how keen we were. Why, I'd bet you've taught everyone here all about Silencing potions, haven't you? It's just inspired!" Demitrius chirped. "Teaching us to use our eyes and our head instead of just blandly doing as you say. That's what's brilliant Professor." He finished, and looked at Snape, smug as he ever was. By now the entire class was fixed on them all again.
Before Snape could even get out a single word, the students immediately changed gears. Their minds began to race over their knowledge of Silencing potions, and several dashed up out of their seats, requiring replacement ingredients to re-do parts of their potion. Snape was not at all pleased. For a long moment he just stood there, matching his gaze with young Demitrius. The boy's expression simply screamed of skill, deception, confidence, wit, and... Happiness? How strange. Was he actually enjoying this?
"Very good, Mr. Septimus, ten points to Slytherin. Now, since you seem to have already completed your potion, I shall have to find something more productive for you to do." Snape said, and allowed himself a little smirk of his own. 'Got you now, boy.' He thought. Demitrius had side-stepped his little test, but he would be punished for it, scrubbing down the dungeon for the rest of class or something. To Snape's surprise Demitrius practically beamed up at him.
"Wonderful! I've got just the thing." The boy said, and reached into his robes to pull out a slip of parchment. "A few potions I've been meaning to work on. Dead useful, really, and the Silencing stuff will be done in just a few minutes I expect." He stated, and removed the cloth from the top of the cauldron.
"Actually, Mr. Septimus," Snape began, in his usual silky tones. "I was thinking of something along a less industrious line of thought." He said. Any other student would have stopped, gotten that crest-fallen look on their face, and let the professor continue. It seemed Demitrius was well equipped to defy the laws of normalcy.
"Damn. And here I thought you'd be interested in knowing how to convert a simple Skele-Gro potion into a cure for vampirism..." Demitrius said. Snape paused. Now, in all logical parts of his mind, he was warned that the boy was likely not from the future and probably just trying to distract him. However, one does not excel at Potions without possessing a certain flare for the art, and Severus Snape was no exception. His natural curiosity was almost as strong as his inborn wariness.
"I believe you are under rather firm regulations with regard to certain things, Mr. Septimus." Snape hissed. Demitrius smiled as charmingly as he could.
"Yes, but I was never told anything about not making potions." He offered up, with a fake innocence that even he could not quite manage right. The end result was rather creepy, and Demitrius seemed to notice, as he looked like a rather nasty bile had risen in his throat after he said it. Snape raised an eyebrow. To Demi's side, Fitsgibbons was now completely baffled, and had seemed to determine that the rest of the class would be better spent pretending he was chopping up cordle-root.
Snape weighed his options. Option one, drag Demitrius out forcefully, march him up to Dumbledore's and blurt out all his suspicions at once to the old man, who would probably do nothing but twinkle happily about it anyway. Option two, kill the boy here and now, and just end it all. Option three, pull up a seat, and see just what young Demitrius manages to produce. Option four, let it all go to hell and hand the brat a mop.
With a decidedly ugly sneer Snape grabbed a spare seat from a nearby desk and lowered himself next to his student. Triumph danced across the boy's eyes briefly, before it was forcefully removed, and with a snap the professor ordered Fitsgibbons to retrieve a Skele-Gro potion from the top shelf of the public stores.
~
Hermione smiled at Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout as she took her seat at the head table. Her day had been hectic and filled with papers, scared students, and loads of questions about the 'mystery boy'. It was starting to feel like being in The Boy Who Lived's inner circle had, back in the early days of their friendship. Not a feeling she enjoyed having very much in all honesty. Harry was great, but she could see why he avoided fame like the plague, and it was completely understandable.
"You were right about that boy." McGonagall said, and Hermione blinked. No need to ask who she was referring to. "He's absolutely brilliant." The older professor exclaimed, a look of deep thought and high excitement on her face.
"Really? He did well in class?" Hermione asked, nodding to Dumbledore as he took his seat. How odd, Professor Snape had yet to arrive, and she'd been running a bit late. McGonagall shook her head as she sipped her pumpkin juice.
"More than that, he's miles ahead of an average fifth year." McGonagall confessed. "Reminded me of you." She added, and Hermione couldn't suppress the pleased smile that spread across her face. Her joy came both from the compliment she received, and the knowledge that she'd pegged Demitrius right. There was a brain behind those very misleading eyes, McGonagall was a bit like Snape when it came to compliments, she only gave them when she meant it. The main difference was that when she did it, it sounded like less of a chore.
"So, tell me, what happened?" Hermione inquired, undeniably curious. She risked a glance to the Slytherin table to catch sight of Demitrius. Oddly enough, the boy didn't seem to be there, the seat next to Fitsgibbons completely empty. 'Maybe he skipped out? Can't really blame him.' She thought, as McGonagall began to recount the events of her Transfiguration class. Hermione blinked.
"You're kidding? Right like that, without any instructions?" She asked as her former professor recounted how Demi had turned the desk into a sheep. McGonagall nodded, and by now Flitwick was listening in with a keen interest as well.
"Yes, I must say, I was speechless at first. Mind you it was a completely disruptive thing to do, and he was going for a goat, but all the same he moved with hardly any effort at all." McGonagall said.
"Well, I can assure you the boy isn't brilliant in every subject." Flitwick chimed suddenly, and both women turned to look at him in surprise. He speared a roll on the edge of his fork, a thoughtful look to his eyes as he spoke. "Had him a little before lunch. I didn't see much that was remarkable about him, if anything he was a little behind." The tiny professor stated meaningfully. McGonagall nodded.
"He did say Transfiguration was something he had a natural flare for. I believe it, too, though there is definitely something odd about the way he behaves. A very serious boy." She mused. Hermione tilted her head to the side as she thought about this. It would be interesting to see how well he did in her class. She glanced at the table, where Snape usually sat. He still hadn't made his grand appearance yet. What was keeping him up? Was there an accident in Potions? Hermione frowned.
"Has anyone seen Professor Snape?" She asked, and raised a hand to indicate the empty seat. Dumbledore looked at her in a very odd way, as McGonagall shrugged an shook her head.
"Probably getting a head-start on that project of yours, dear. You know how Severus is." She reasoned. Hermione blinked. Of course! Their project! During the course of the day she had almost completely forgotten about it. Suddenly curiosity was replaced by annoyance. Getting a head- start on their project? The nerve! It would be just like him, too, to finish it all before she was even supposed to be there and then scold her for not showing up.
With a look of determination Hermione pushed back her seat and stood up. Well, he wasn't going to get away with it this time. "If you'll excuse me." She said, with a polite nod to her colleagues, and then left the dining hall. If she got to those dungeons to discover him working on the potion without her, she'd just give him a piece of her mind, and let's see him try to take house points away!
~
Draco Malfoy sat and waited patiently, his languid form folded within the confines of his favourite chair. He was in the largest sitting room of Malfoy Manor. A large fireplace was fixed to the wall in an elegant design, dwarfed from above by the large, detailed paintings of Malfoys gone by. The stared out at the world, noses high in the air. The entire room had a decidedly cold feel. Darkly coloured walls and furnishings, lit up by cold, sparse lamps around the room. A few tapered candles burned with a bright blue flame from the chandelier that hung above Draco's head. Patience. It was the virtue of only the most cunning Slytherins. Draco Malfoy had taken a while to appreciate it, to understand the power of waiting, of biding one's time. But such epiphanies rarely happen in one's youth.
Swirling the snifter of brandy he had clasped in one hand, he scowled. Still, he had never been very good at waiting, no matter how intelligent a thing to do it was. Like his father before him he was not above breaking out into bursts of rage. Draco took a sip from his beverage, enjoying the warm feeling of it as it burned it's way down his throat. Lucius Malfoy was as yet unaware of his son's information. There was a time when Draco would have gone to him immediately, but over time the Malfoys' heir had realised that his father was not always as tactful as he should be. Too angry, too obvious, too ready to rush to Voldemort and declare Severus Snape a spy. Such a statement would only earn pain without the proper evidence.
Malfoy's waiting was thankfully halted as a jet of green flame burst forward from his fireplace, and a rather large man tumbled forward, onto the blood red carpet. Draco sneered at the ash that flecked onto the fine material of the floor. The man stood, brushing himself off. He was tall and beefy, with greying blonde hair, and a build like a dumpster's. His robes were... Nice, but not entirely tasteful, being that they were a deep purple in colour. Draco didn't move from his seat as the Death Eater cleared his throat. "Mr. Malfoy. You wanted to see me?" The man said. Draco nodded, and gestured for the man to take a seat nearby. His father would have never done such a thing, but under the circumstances, Draco himself could find no objection to giving the House Elves more cleaning work.
"Ah, Ethan, glad you could come." Draco said politely. Ethan Fitsgibbons looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Relax, I'm not going to have you killed." Draco told him, being sure to twist his tones just enough to leave the word 'yet' unnecessary. Fitsgibbons didn't seem able to comply with the younger man's suggestion. Draco sighed, and lowered his snifter to the small coffee table next to him. His sharp features looked dark and haunting in the candlelight. "Very well, I'll make this brief then." He offered. "I want you to bring me Demitrius Septimus." Draco said. Fitsgibbons started, clearly not expecting his words, and paled a little.
"From Hogwarts?" He croaked, a little taken off his guard. "B-but, that's impossible! You can't get at anyone once they're under Dumbledore's lock and key." Fitsgibbons argued. Draco scowled.
"Don't be an imbecile, I'm not asking you to shove him in a burlap sack and cart him off." He snapped with annoyance, and instantly Fitsgibbons' mouth swung shut. Draco relaxed, reducing the level of curtness to his tones. "All you have to do is get your son to go with him at the next Hogsmeade weekend. Once they're out of Hogwarts, the boy will use a Portkey to bring Demitrius Septimus to this manor." Draco explained.
"A Portkey? Are you sure that will work?" Fitsgibbons asked nervously.
"Well, it had better work, hadn't it?" Draco offered, with no small amount of amusement to his voice. "I expect you'll have to convert something innocuous into the Portkey, and make sure no one else touches it. Be sure you do it in Hogsmeade, though. It's been quite a few years since Portkeys worked within Howarts' grounds." He explained, and briefly memory turned back to that night all those years ago, when the Dark Lord had returned and the course of his life had changed. "Don't bungle this, Fitsgibbons. If you get it right I'll see to it your rewarded." Malfoy added, and the greed that flashed across Ethan's face was painfully obvious.
"Right. I'll owl my son to find out when their next weekend is." The older man said, then stood up, and marched his way back over to the fireplace. "Have a nice evening, Master Malfoy." He offered. At Draco's nod, he then took a pinch of floo powder, and zipped away.
Malfoy downed the last of his brandy and stood from his chair with a whirl. Professor Snape, a traitor... It would be so tragic when he died. "Shame. I always liked him." Draco mused briefly, before sweeping from the sitting room with a shrug.
~
What had started as the Nosferitia Banisher, had become a full-blown Potions lesson, but with Demitrius as the teacher this time. After spending the rest of Potions class showing his future father how to convert the Skele-Gro, Snape had insisted Demitrius return to the dungeons directly after his last class. It went without saying that neither would speak a word of this to Dumbledore.
Demitrius hadn't been certain what his father's intentions were with regards to the potion he told them to brew. It could, indeed, be made into a poison, but one which was definitely illegal to brew. Demitrius himself didn't know the exact procedures for brewing it. That was when he realise the look Professor Snape was giving him. He had barely been able to contain his amusement at the hilarity of it all. His own father suspected him of being a spy! It was simply too ironic.
Not wanting to look like a moron in his first Potions class with Snape, Demitrius had instead found away around either making the poison or failing miserably. Sadly, the act seemed to enrage Snape more than anything else, but the moment presented an undeniable opportunity. He had been wondering how to approach his father with regards to the potions he wanted to make. Fate, it seemed, had decided to cut Demitrius a break and practically flung the path to victory at his feet.
Ditching Fitsgibbons after Herbology (a subject Demitrius enjoyed, but wasn't particularly gifted at), Demi had returned down to the dungeons and the Potions classroom. If his father was still suspicious about his new student's motives, that suspicion had been overridden by curiosity. Snape had pulled out at least ten cauldrons, and the key to his private stores was in his hands as Demitrius entered the classroom.
"List." Snape demanded, and Demi handed over the sheet of parchment he had worked on only yesterday. Snape scanned over it, pausing not only at the potions, but at hexes, wards, curses, charms, and anything else that seemed to catch his interest. Of course, only the potions had detailed lists of ingredients beside them. Anything else could hardly be more than a name to Snape. Still, Demitrius waited patiently, until the parchment was thrust back into his grasp. "I'll go and get what we need from the private storeroom." Snape said, and stalked past the young wizard. "Don't touch anything until I get back." He added. Demitrius snorted but said nothing.
As soon as Snape was gone he stalked over to the public stores and began pulling down what was needed. He wouldn't stand there like an idiot until Snape got back, and if they were going to work together, Demitrius would have to be allowed to handle ingredients.
He moved around, placing different items next to different cauldrons. Judging by the large amount all set to go, Snape planned to have them brewing for quite some time. Demitrius took his seat once he had finished placing the ingredients at different stations. He wasn't sure where he learned his organisation skills from, his mother or father. Probably both. Everything was neatly placed in order of use, ingredients put next to cauldrons of the right size for making certain potions, so that movements could be made with speed and efficiency.
When Snape returned, levitating a pile of dangerous or expensive ingredients next to himself, he scowled at Demitrius. Not surprisingly, however, he kept quiet. Demi stalked over to him and began the process of sorting out the less mundane items. It wasn't long before the two men were peering over the rim of a cauldron, Demitrius turning up the heat as his father added a pinch of powdered dragon horn. "Not too much, or it'll loose it's potency." Demitrius heard himself say softly. It earned him a glare of indignation from Snape, who made a rather snide remark about knowing a thing or two to do with potions. After that Demitrius decided not to say anything unless it was entirely called for.
An hour passed, then two. Soon all ten cauldrons were in use. Demitrius worked a silver rod gently inside a matching cauldron, as Snape peered over his shoulder, observing the powder-blue potion inside. Tiny flecks of gold danced across the surface of the substance, with all the merriment of stars in an evening sky. "It'll have to simmer for at least an hour longer before we can add more reindeer hairs." Demi said. Snape nodded, and Demitrius looked up, directing his gaze towards a large black cauldron near the center of the room. "Has the Invincibility potion turned dark pink yet?" He asked.
Snape strode over, a whirl of dark robes, and peered into the cauldron as Demi removed the rod from his. "Not entirely, no, it would appear to be having difficulties breaking down the shrivelfigs." Snape said. Then with a flourish he stalked over to the stores and pulled down a bottle of a crystal-like white powder.
"What is that?" Demitrius asked, going over to inspect the potion for himself.
"Salt." Snape said simply. Demi blinked, looking at the Potions Master in surprise. Snape rolled his eyes and screwed the cap off the top of the bottle. "It will help the potion to break down the figs without reacting too powerfully with the other ingredients. I imagine it will also improve the flavour, too." He said, and Demitrius watched curiously as he added a pinch of the grainy substance.
"I wonder why I never knew that." Demitrius said aloud, and grabbing a large spoon from it's holder to his side, began to stir the thick liquid. Snape sneered.
"Obviously you never had me for a Potions Professor." He said, and Demitrius was a little surprised to hear the relief, just barely audible in the older man's voice. Didn't his father like teaching Potions? It was obvious that the man loved the subject, just from this evening's activities, and he was also extremely good at it. Was it the teaching he didn't like? In all honesty, today was the first day he had seen his father teach. He did seem a great deal more unpleasant than was usual, but Demitrius had assumed that it was because of him.
Both men grew silent as they watched the potion begin to darken at a greater speed. Once it was almost fuschia, Demitrius turned off the heat, and pointed his wand at the bubbling substance. "Virtuo Impro." Demitrius said. A grey mist spread out from his wand and settled onto the potion, weighing down like a shimmering cover, before quickly vanishing. Demitrius lifted up a silver ladle and one of the long line of bottles nearby. Both he and Snape began to spoon and seal the potion together in silence. "The words are important, if you don't put the right emphasis on 'impro' the whole thing turns green, and you have to start over again." Demitrius explained, and Snape nodded as he shoved a stopper into a slender bottle full of a nice, vibrant pink liquid.
A throat clearing at the doorway drew both their attentions, and Demitrius turned to see his mother, leaning against the door frame. She was looking at the brewing cauldrons with surprise and wonder. "What is going on here?" Hermione asked.
"Professor. I wasn't aware you frequented the dungeons during dinner time." Snape said darkly, and Demitrius could tell he was nervous. If Hermione ratted them out, it was all too likely Dumbledore would forbid them from brewing potions from the future, and then Demitrius' plan would be made more difficult. Still, it was Hermione...
"When you didn't show up I thought you might have started our project without me." She supplied, still looking at the potions with too much curiosity to care what she said, or how she said it. Demitrius watched as she leaned over the silver cauldron he had been at not moments before.
"Well, obviously we are not, so if you would kindly leave..." Snape began. Hermione frowned, folding her arms across her chest.
"Since I'm here, we might as well finish-" She began, but Snape cut her off with a wave. Demitrius noticed his father was looking only slightly uncomfortable. A shake to his hand, the way his eyes lingered on Hermione.
"That won't be necessary Professor, I believe I have found a more than adequate assistant for the final stages." Snape told her, with a meaningful look at Demitrius. It was then that realisation came to the young Slytherin. His mother was here. His father was here. And he was here, interfering.
'Oh, shit.'
A/N: Done! :D Special thanks to Helena for coming up with 'Virtuo Impro', which is latin for 'Greater Strength' in case anyone was wondering. Till next time folks!
Pigwidgeon37 - :D Glad you liked chapter four! Hmm, I wonder how Demitrius would take to being called 'adorable'? Lol, the chart was fun to write, and so was McGonagall, so it's great to know someone else enjoyed reading that part. Heheh, I have a certain fondness for spiders, but sorry that it's creepy. If it's any consolation he doesn't seem to transform all that often. 'Till next time! ^_^
Jessicat1982 - Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying the Slyhterin-ness of it all. ^_^ Romantic tension, evil geniuses, it's been a blast to write it all. Hope you liked chapter five! Now go, review again, hee hee hee!
skipstarseeker - Okay! Here it is! ^_^
Sonja S. - Thanks, glad you're enjoying it. Yeah, poor Demi needs a break, doesn't he? But we'll just have to wait and see what happens.
Beth Ann - Did you like it? Didja? ^_^ Glad you enjoyed Demi's animagus form, it took me a while to think it up. And, you know, I've always wanted to see someone turn into a duck. ^_~
Aemos - Thanks! Yay, I don't think I've ever had this been called 'fantastic' before! :D
Isa - Glad you like the chapter. As for Demi and Marcus, well, that's a bit of a mystery isn't it? But I don't think I'll be attempting to write and slash my first foray into the HP fanworld. :D
Nicolette - You're welcome, thanks for reviewing. Glad you enjoyed the tarantula thing! We'll just have to wait and see how Demitrius and Hermione get along, but I can guarantee I'm going to try and keep things as interesting as possible. ^_^
Christine - Ah, someone caught it! *Hands cookie* Yes, I love to play with names. Thanks for the review!
jade_dagger - Thanks, you got it! :D
Destiny's Fate - Ah, wonderful, it's good to know people are thinking when they're reading this. Demitrius' animagus form is a tarantula because I thought a spider suited his physical appearance, and I didn't have any problems with it because in book four there is an animagus who turns into a beetle. Hope that explains it, and I'm glad you liked the prank. ^_^
Tracy - Okay, I won't! :D
Jordan - Yup, Malfoy's a sneaky bastard, aint he? Thanks for the review!