I know *exactly* how this story is going to end for I have written the final chapter.
I do not know what is going to happen between here and then.
I am beginning to wonder why I insist on drawing this story out so long when I could have ended it ages ago. I think it's a form of torture.
Chapter Six: First Flakes
Severus Snape regarded his image in the wall-hung mirror placed above his dresser. He had not done so since the day... But on this day of days he had decided to do so if only for comic relief. And he did laugh, bitterly. Life was an irony, a joke of fate spewn from the very bowels of the hate demons that seemed so intent on invading his mind.
In a foul mood that seemed to get fouler by the minute, Severus stormed out of his sleeping quarters and glared in the direction of Hermione's room. She was not in her quarters, of course; in recent weeks she had spent as little time there as she possibly could. It made his chore increasingly difficult for now he was forced to waste precious time tracking her down and making sure that she was relatively safe from danger. Hermione liked to believe that she was independent now; a good illusion, but in the end it was incorrect. She just hadn't realized it yet.
He left his living quarters all together and sat down at his podium-desk. There was a quill sitting on it, the very same one he had been glaring at moments ago before finally giving up in disgust and storming off to ponder dark things. Now he was back, presumably to continue what he had left off.
There was an eagle owl getting ready to fly away from the Owlry to deliver a message. He knew this because he had seen Draco finish writing it at the breakfast table this morning. The message assigned to that owl's charge contained vital information concerning Hermione's well-being. If he could intercept the owl and the message, he would have a better chance of preparing for the oncoming storm. If... If he could change to the form he had taken against the ravens and crows... But transfigurations had not been a specialty of his and as much as he was loathe to admit it, he was uncertain how he had transformed in the first place.
It was a Saturday; as such he had no reason to fear any unwanted pupil looking for his presence save for perhaps Hermione. She, fortunately or unfortunately however you may look at it, was loathe to be within any measurable distance of him. As Severus continued to glare balefully at the quill, he half expected it to change instead of him. Both his body and the feather, however, seemed quite adamant about not becoming a wyvern.
A snarl escaped his lips and he stalked over to where his potions were kept and pulled a cauldron out. He was a Potions Master, after all. He would find some way to change if it killed him.
From his warded shelves, he pulled a small phial of polyjuice potion and a small trace of a heretofore unnamed concoction he had been working on for some time. The very same one, in fact, that he had hoped--grimly--to be the downfall of the old Dark Lord. The principal behind it had been extraordinarily simple: to seek out the tainted reptilian cells and destroy them, thereby destroying the entire body. However, when tested on half transformed animal subjects, the potion had served to boost the alien cell production. Perhaps, Severus theorized, if a derivative of polyjuice potion was added, the body might make a complete transformation. If not, he'd look only half a wyvern until either Madam Pomfrey or McGonagall took pity on him.
The potion mixed nicely, creating an eerily orange glowing substance that looked rather dangerous. Normally, he would have tested it on a few test subjects before consuming it himself, but time was of the essence. If that owl wasn't intercepted, he was positive there wouldn't be enough time to prepare for what was to come. So, with a rather self-depreciatory smile that was more sneer than anything else, he drank a small portion of the potion down and waited.
Minutes went by, and no noticeable affect other than a slight burning sensation that seemed to soak slowly into his body. If anything, the air around him seemed slightly more chill than normal. A sick, sinking sensation that the potion was slowly strangling him set in. Not in particular desire to end his life quite yet, Severus made a step towards his desk and a neutralizing potion--only to fall clumsily towards the ground as if his feet had forgotten how to walk. Upon reaching out to catch himself, he was indeed surprised to find fingers grossly elongated and webbed. Bones grew in length and shortened in size in an agonizingly slow and painful way. And when the pain became too much, he merely gritted his teeth until everything became mercifully less.
When he looked up, he realized that his podium was far above him--something unexpected. So... something had changed in his form... He was no longer the wyvern he had been but instead a... bat. A very large bat, in fact. The nasty little remark about mistransformations came screaming back through his mind, and his little vulpine mouth sneered. Wyvern indeed. Flying fox, more likely, though he could not be sure until he either looked in a mirror or had somebody verify for him. But time once more pressured him forward, and he launched himself into the air.
Out of the room he flew, and through the basements. Darkness was his friend and he embraced its cloaking goodness. Through the maze of ever-changing passageways, and up the stairs that led towards the entrance. The solid doors that made up the entrance to Hogwarts were both open as children of all ages clambered in and out, playing slush-fights in the vestibule and then being chased back outside at the sound of Filch cursing and coming down the hallway after them.
He knew he had made it unseen when a great burst of coldness permeated his entire being and the fact became evident that bats were not made to endure the harshness of February unaided by hybernation. But then again, Severus had never been one to let such things laugh at him without scowling back. It was too late to turn back--not when he had already failed the cursed girl once.
A quick look in the Owlry told him that Malfoy's owl had already gone; Severus cursed his luck and himself, his keen eyes seeing the creature far in the distance. He had missed it, then.
She had promised him that she wouldn't go anywhere without his permission. She had told him that she would always let him know where she was to be whenever she was not in his presence. But those words seemed very distant from where she was now, like the fairy dust on butterfly wings.
The lake was calm now; frozen over and sleeping peacefully even though the watery winter sun pierced vainly through the gray clouds. All things considered, neither the lake nor the sun was much marred by the turmoil of the mortals they watched--thump!
Wet snow lodged itself in her hair and clothing as a Harry-launched snowball hit her square in the back of the head. Hermione let out an exasperated scream, dropped her books, and chased after her grinning friend with cheerful determination and a handful of slush of her own. Exuberated laughing to her right told her that Ron was following close enough next to her turn and release her frozen projectile. It hit with a satisfying sloshing sound. Ron stopped with a cheerful "Oy!" for only long enough to create another snowball before he launched himself into a trot after Hermione and Harry.
Laughing like she had not laughed in a long, long time, Hermione dodged and repelled snowballs thrown by her two best friends. Her books and things lay forgotten in the snow by the lake as the three frittered away the day in a careless, timeless fashion. In fact, it seemed that for once things were fine.
She dodged another snowball and charmed one after Harry. He bounced it back towards her with a poorly chanted spell that bounced off of her own charm and sent it careening into the side of one Draco Malfoy's face.
Silence. The world stood still in shock.
It seemed that everybody around who had been close enough to have seen what had happened all held their breath and watched with morbid fascination to see what was going to happen between Hogwarts two most famous--and infamous groups now that the insult had been issued forth from Harry's hand and Hermione's magic. Draco, the coolly outraged, and Harry with his senseless bravado faced off in an unspoken battle of wills. Both felt justified, but both could not be equally innocent; an accident was an accident, but pride did demand justice--even if the offense be a mere bit of snow in the eyes.
There was a collective pausing of breath for nobody wanted to miss what could undoubtedly lead to a duel or worse. They watched without envy but with the kind of dark curiosity that people do when they see a horrific vehicle accident or environmental disaster unfold before their eyes. Like ravens searching for carrion, like sharks circling blood. Like shadows of Luna upon the dragon sun, and death upon the innocent flame.
But Harry and Draco kept their cold glares, neither heeding the silent messages of the crowd or of their peers.
Indeed, Draco turned away from the Gryffindor Qudditch seeker and focused his attention instead on Hermione. The thin, watery sun shined off his alabaster face and accentuated the cruel smile that formed slowly upon recognition of some dark-hatched thoughts that her visage called forth in his mind. "Ah yes, the mudblood." His sarcastic humor served only to amuse himself.
Ron, Hermione's self-proclaimed defender, grew red in the face at this old insult and stepped forward, much to the delight of the crowd. "You should keep your mouth shut, Malfoy!" he all but shouted with the passion of an angered red-head.
"Why, Weasley," came Draco's drawl as he pulled himself upright as a snake would and rose to the full extent of his height, which was considerably taller than even Ron's. After all, why force one's self to always look up at inferiors? "I was referring to Granger... Although I suppose your lot's such a disgrace to the Wizarding name that your blood probably is as filthy as dirt..." He smiled somewhat cruelly as Ron opened his mouth and clenched his fists with the intention of strangling the Slytherin; a well timed petrificus totalus served to be the ironic end of the Weasley threat. "It wouldn't do to embarrass ourselves anymore than we already have, Weasel--" he laughed, "--after all, reputations are at stake."
Crabbe and Goyle were laughing, and so was all too many of the surrounding on-watchers. Harry gritted his teeth and clenched his wand so tight that he could feel his fingers spasm painfully and his groomed nails digging into the flesh of his palm. "As if you had a reputation worth being careful of," he growled, far too uncomfortably aware of the throbbing in his forehead that he had not felt since Voldemort's fall.
"Oh, but I do... After all, my mother was never Voldemort's whor--"
That served to be the straw that broke the camel's back. All of Harry's carefully cultivated self control evaporated in a blaze of blindingly white rage. "MY MUM WAS NOT A WHORE!" he shouted and raised his wand. "SILENC--"
But it seemed that not even sheer hulking fury was no match for the reflexes of the coldly collected; Draco responded with "Serpensortia!" It worked just as well as it had in the second year; an enormous, rather poisonous looking snake came flying from Harry's wand and landed with an enraged hiss in the snow. Harry's attention momentarily diverted as he tried to calm the murderous snake left him completely open to Draco's sense of humor. "Sorry, Parseltounge, you're frightening the children," Malfoy mocked and completed his duel with the Silence charm. Harry tried to cast some sort of undoubtedly nasty hex on Malfoy, but was rendered all but ineffective as no words came to reinforce the will, and he was no expert of voiceless magic.
It was now just Hermione and Draco. As she sized up her odds, Hermione shrewdly calculated that while she could most likely take out Draco, she was probably not fast enough to also stop Crabbe and Goyle from hexing her in the process. Had Harry or even Ron kept their cool--but that was a mute point now. A cold-stiffened snake served to emphasize the quiet desperation of the situation. And as there was no teacher in sight (she cursed the faculty for their habit of appearing only when it was not convenient to the Griffindor trio) she realized that she was rather stuck with suffering the abuses of Draco... Not that she particularly feared him in a crowd this large, but still, it was not going to be pleasant by any means.
"What do you want?" she sighed.
Draco's smile grew darker. "An apology. I believe you owe me one."
Indeed, Hermione had cast the offending magic that had sent Harry's snowball onto a collision course with the side of Draco's face. However, the oddity of such a simple request sent her mind reeling in a vain search for answers. Why was Draco being so reasonable? "I'm sorry," she said, sounding sincere and yet, without remorse at the same time.
"You know," he began casually, "there was a time when such insolence would not have been tolerated by one of such clearly lower rank," he said in his honey-thick voice. "However, I made a promise. You should consider yourself lucky, Granger."
"Luck has nothing to do with it, Malfoy. Now, if you'll excuse me?" Hermione raised her wand to help Harry and Ron only to be interrupted by Draco once more. The crowd around was beginning to disperse, feeling that there was nothing interesting remaining.
"You know," he said in a voice so mockingly sweet as to drown flies, "Father is getting a new pet for the family. A snow leopard. I thought you'd be interested, as you seem to have a considerable amount of experience with the creatures..."
Her insides froze instantly and became as cold as the outside air. How could he possibly know--
But of course, she was registered, and registration was free knowledge to anybody who would be interested. And Lucius Malfoy would certainly be one to be most interested in the affairs of the girl who had put an end to his former master.
In an instant all the words of sneering caution Snape had given her about her precarious safety came flying back to mock her. Draco's words were clearly a threat, a warning: I know your weakness and your every guise, mudblood. Somehow she managed to compose herself enough to respond coldly, "Clearly I'm not interested, Draco."
"What do you think we should call her? Some Muggle name, perhaps? Elaine, maybe," he mocked, striking a cord deep within her and drawing up heretofore unknown homicidal urges. Oh, how easy it would be to wring his neck for mocking her so! Pansy Parkinson and the few others remaining laughed until their spasming lungs would not allow them to laugh anymore, and then sauntered off with Draco in search of new, more fascinating prey.
Relief poured through her every fiber and she sank to her knees in exhaustion. For many minutes did she kneel still with her forehead to the cool snow before she felt collected enough to revive her two friends. Out of the corner of her eye she vaguely noted an overly large bat flittering in the drunken dance of flying mammalia towards some unknown objective. If she had held any sense at all, she would have hunted down Snape with her pride in her mouth seeking safety, but all she wanted to do at that moment was cry to the snow white moon in the safety of her room.
Wings beating rapidly through the air, Severus chased the owl that Draco had sent through the woods. He was almost on it now, grimly noting the size difference between the two. Eagle owls were renowned hunters, taking on mammals and birds of comparable sizes without a second thought. A bat--however large he was--would not pose much of a challenge to as well trained an owl as Draco's inevitably was. Still... if this was the only way he could correct the damage he had done then he would risk his own hide and soul to see that Hermione was safe. She was, after all, his ward. Try as he might, he could not deny what he had begun those short months ago.
The eagle owl, aptly named Dark Claw, gave a warning hoot as Snape flew closer, and dived down into the icy grasp of the forest below. He followed with a sneer, weaving through tree and branch and always keeping Dark Claw in his sights. Faster, cutting through the scything fingers of trees more closely he thought once and apparated forward. Blink. The searing cold of the interdimensions one traveled through when apparating lacerated delicate wings before he was once more back in the freezing winds that were only just warmer in comparison. Closer now, he could smell the stench of the owlry and see a glimmer of brilliant orange eyes. But not close enough.
Dark Claw cried defiantly and steeply turned skyward in a tricky aerial path that caused Snape to be momentarily bound by the branches. He would have cursed if he could; instead he apparated once more into the direct path of the owl determined to take the message it held. The bird screamed in rage and loosened one taloned foot to swipe at the overlarge and certainly not native bat in its path.
White hot sparks flashed before his eyes as the claws hit their target and slashed across his body. Snape screamed in rage and dived for the letter that was just out of his grasp. Dark Claw took this opportunity to climb higher in the sky, skreeing and hooting in avian disgust. Then, turning on his huge wings, the bird plunged back towards Severus, who had just enough of a warning to barely avoid being pinioned on sharp claws.
Seeing his opportunity, he immediately joined Dark Claw in the dive. Faster and faster, beating with gravity, he dived with the vague wish he had been something more aerodynamic than a bat. A kestrel, anything-- The impact with Dark Claw's back caused them both to tumble to the ground gracelessly. The impact stunned the owl, and it lay sprawled upon the ground giving Snape easy access to the message he had so desperately desired to see.
Time, time was escaping too quickly. The stunned bird would awaken with a bloodlust for flying foxes in a short amount of time. Severus, with awkward movements as his feet were not made for walking at all, nor were his hands created for grasping, tore the letter from Dark Claw's talons and opened the magically sealed letter. Lucius would know that somebody had read it, but would hardly assume it had been Severus--for now, at least. The contents were spelled forth in Draco's overly messy-but elegant writing:
Dear father,
School is as boring as it ever was. I am hoping you're coming to take me away from this wretched place soon? The only thing that makes it worth it is knowing that Potter is going to pay dearly for his crimes. That, and your new pet. Training is coming along rather well, I hope. Tell mum I love her.
Draco.
A growl escaped his vulpine throat. Wasted effort; this owl had been merely a diversion! In his state of fuming fury and rage, he was half tempted to take out his wand and blast the owl like the pathetic creature it was--only he couldn't. He had no wand for technically it was, as with his clothing, now a part of him. The logic behind clothing and wand transforming to become living tissue was only slightly absurd, but this revelation brought with it new problems: he was uncertain now how to change back without McGonagall's help.
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Ok, my computer exploded... (It was pretty impressive, to say the least)
Thank you for taking the time to review--it gives me an idea of what I'm doing well and what I'm failing at. Regardless of what any writer says, we do write to entertain you--else we wouldn't post. Your reviews mean a lot to me.
-Ibex
Autumnmist- Ah, where would I be without you? Even if you are an evil, demonic creature whose sole goal is to torment me? I'm just kidding, of course. :)
Ezmerelda- Severus suffers from... a complete inability to express himself, and a greater inability to chose the easiest paths.
Tegan- You're great! I don't know where I'd be without you, either! Your reviews have kept me writing when I wanted to, oh, say, kick my machine out my window and scream in frustration at my writing abilities, and for that I say thanks.
Mertle- Thank you for sticking with the story. I have no idea how I came up with such a complex plot--I began writing one day, and a story began to appear. Now I am stuck knee deep in a seemingly endless story. It is a mixed blessing, I guess.
Flax, Black Orchid- I write when I can, but the powers that be do not always let me. It's horrible to keep you guys waiting for so long, I know, but I seriously do try. (yeah, yeah, I know you all don't believe me)
