Series: Minor Arcana. Sequel to "Declaro" (rating R). You really need to read that first. Find it through the author link @ ff.net or skyehawke.com.
Rating: This section – PG13 inclining to R
Pairings: This section – elements of HP/DM, SS/HP, SS/DM, DM/RL, RW/HG.
Notes: So we're nearly at the end. This is part A of the final chapter. Two more parts to come. It's possible this may be cut back a little in the final edit.
Spoilers: Various up to the end of Book IV. No OotP whatsoever.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling and various corporate tentacles.
Archiving: Only where I've agreed.
Feedback/Reviews: Please, it's just plain encouraging. I'm especially grateful to people who give me some direction as to what works and what doesn't.
Pervinco IX (a): Between the Acts
The final Defence tutorial before the Ministry's big Halloween event had been devoted to selecting students for the duelling trial, and the light-hearted internal competition suddenly became more serious. When Pavarti asked again how the wand grip was supposed to be changed after your first spell, Padma snapped at her to do her own work for once. Seamus kept Ron constantly in sight, cautiously copying his every move, until Ron asked what he thought he was doing. And Pansy tried to blackmail Draco into helping her because he hadn't been in his room before breakfast this morning – Draco just looked at her incredulously and walked away.
The tutorial was observed by second-assistant-to-the-Minister Henry Rookwood, who watched impassively and made notes about everything, including, apparently, the internal bickering and Professor Lupin's burst of frustration when Lavender insisted that girls shouldn't have to duel boys when she was paired with Ron in the first round.
"Do you think a male Death Eater would be too polite to curse you because you're a girl?"
"Well, I'm sure I don't know," Lavender said, clearly already on the verge of tears, and with some annoyance the Professor paired her with Padma instead, only to have Pansy insist that she certainly shouldn't have to duel with Draco if Lavender got to be resorted. Second-assistant-to-the-Minister Rookwood took diligent notes while Lupin and Draco reshuffled everyone so that only boys and girl were paired, meaning Draco had to duel against the Professor himself. When Lupin realised that most of the class had stopped their own bouts to watch him duel Draco, and he might not have noticed at all except for Rookwood's significant cough, it became the first class in which Professor Lupin ever gave multiple detentions.
In the end the duelling list included most students. This only made exclusion more obvious, although some, like Neville, didn't seem to care at all, or at least not as much as their friends cared for them, while others, like Lavender, certainly did. Lavender wasn't even interested in the resurrection of an old copy of the Rite supplement that night, or in the long discussion of where other competitors would come from and how many wizards and witches in Britain didn't come through Hogwarts. Hermione, of course, had looked it up, but for once everyone was enthusiastically interested in what she knew, and only Lavender and Harry slipped away before she was done explaining private colleges and the almost extinct tutoring system.
* * *
When Harry entered the upper West hall and saw the cluster of students waiting outside the staff common room, he wondered if there was any way to get out of it. He hesitated at the corner, fidgeting with the blue robe, which still felt awkward although it fit perfectly.
He hadn't seen Severus outside of class since that night. Severus – he was determined to call him 'Severus', at least in his head, because he'd never called him 'Professor Snape' there and 'Snape' seemed rude, under the circumstances. He must have thought about going to see him at least twenty times a day, but he also desperately wanted it to be Severus who contacted him. It had always been Harry, asking for the offer, knocking on his door, waiting on the next owl, except on Sunday and everything had seemed different then. Harry very much hoped it stayed that kind of different, although he wasn't sure exactly why it all suddenly seemed so important.
Every time he saw Draco, even passing in a hall, Harry wanted desperately to know he was in love with Snape – with Severus. Because if he wasn't, if he just wanted to see what it was like, or even if he only enjoyed it and wanted to enjoy it some more, then maybe he really shouldn't have. . . when he knew how Draco felt. However much Harry scolded himself to remember that Draco couldn't be believed about anything, he really was more certain of Draco's feelings for Snape than his own. All he could say for sure was how intensely he remembered every touch of Snape's hands, every instant they kissed, and how much he wanted to do it again. He tried to find some less clearly sexual feeling, but he wasn't sure he had anything to compare it to. And Snape, who surely understood what was going on more than Harry did himself, had said that time that the Slytherin boys were right to think this was all about sex. What if it was?
If Snape came to him now and said 'Harry, I'm in love with you', how would it feel? Harry couldn't entirely suppress an hysterical laugh at the thought and several heads turned towards him. Hermione came to draw him into the group just as the doors opened.
* * *
Severus watched Dante Sangermano move through the awkward atmosphere of the Hogwarts staff common room surrounded by a bubble of social ease. The students, however enthusiastic they had been before, were embarrassed or self-conscious now, awkwardly silent or nervously whispering whenever Sangermano was not nearby to encourage them in light conversation. With some satisfaction, Severus thought this was less anxiety over whether their professors would like them than embarrassment at realising their professors were people with little concern for the social graces they had been diligently schooled in this last week or, in some cases, their whole lives. While it was nonsensical to have presumed the Hogwarts staff would teach them anything about the traditional formulae for polite society it was probably a highly desirable corrective at this point. Parkinson was so discomfited by Hagrid's happy conversation on disposing of hippogriff afterbirth, his own chipped beaker in one hand because the glasses were too "fiddly" and five or six canapés in the other, to have actually grabbed Bulstrode's hand. Finnegan had not at all recovered from the way Flitwick burst into giggles when Finnegan bowed to him, and was generally hiding behind Thomas and Brown in a corner, drinking more wine than he should.
Although there had been a general round of acknowledgements when Severus arrived, slightly after the students, Harry still hadn't spoken to him directly. At present he was unsure whether or not to be relieved. The boy stood to one side with Granger and Weasley, and declined drinks and the passing food despite the very unsubtle urging of the big-eared house-elf. Harry had been remarkably cautious this week, although Severus could feel his attention at times, mostly when his back was turned and everyone else was occupied. He had even considered inviting Harry to his rooms, although he quickly shook that off. He could hardly proposition the boy so bluntly, and he wanted to avoid discussing the obvious rift with Draco at this point. That situation must be handled delicately, and he'd never exactly noticed Harry Potter for his social subtlety. Still, he wondered if the boy's silence indicated second thoughts. Harry had evidently enjoyed their last encounter, but his concern about whether he should enjoy it might have begun to seem more important. He cut off Sprout's rambling about Sinistra's lovely visit to her new greenhouse abruptly and began to make his way around the room.
Slytherins understood expected formalities with no content in a situation like this, so he greeted his senior students as he went until he came upon Draco, just entering with Lupin and both blatantly late. Although an acknowledgement was appropriate, Severus couldn't quite bring himself to move on. Draco's look made his stomach clench, grey eyes just sliding across his face. He was almost surprised to find he knew this was actual hurt rather than mere frustration.
Zabini and Parkinson came up exclaiming their relief. " Draco," Parkinson said enthusiastically, slipping a hand around his arm as if to draw him away, "you look incredible."
Yes he did. Composed, but without his usual hauteur, and Severus found himself wishing the boy would look at him. Draco turned to Lupin instead and excused himself to go with his friends, nodding to Severus without meeting his eyes or saying a word.
"Severus," Lupin said, as he would have moved quickly away, "if you have a moment."
Very reluctantly Severus stopped. Draco's alliance with Lupin had generated a little extra common room gossip this week as they had taken to eating all their meals together. Severus was all too sure why Draco was avoiding the Hall, but he probably needed to know what Lupin had been told. He hesitated long enough to take a glass from a passing tray juggled by an elf who tried to bow to him at the same time as serve.
"Very well – what is it?"
"I know the invitations for the Malfoy party on Sunday allow a guest," he said quietly, turning a trifle obviously so his conversation wouldn't be seen, "and I hoped you might take me along." Severus was surprised enough to not immediately answer and Lupin added, just as quietly, "Draco has been instructed to escort Miss Parkinson and it's important that I be there. Harry will have his own invitation, of course."
Severus was now sufficiently composed to say, in a warning tone, "I think not."
"Perhaps we can talk about it later," Lupin said affably enough, but as he stepped away he hesitated near Severus's shoulder. "You offered assistance, Severus, don't disappoint him again."
Severus walked towards the Headmaster, calmly closing down his anger. Dumbledore proceeded to ramble on in a distracting manner, as he so often did, and especially when Severus needed him to. After several minutes, excused himself politely.
Crossing the room to where Harry stood with his friends, Severus carefully did not look at the way Draco occasionally brushed Lupin's arm, shoulder or back as he shifted to welcome someone, take a glass, or illustrate his point with a gesture. But like everyone else, he noticed.
"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Ms Granger, good evening."
"Oh," Harry said, as if he hadn't seen Severus coming, "Good evening, Professor Snape."
After a small strained silence, Weasley said, "Can I get you another drink, Professor?" When Severus nodded, he took Granger's arm and guided her over to the drinks table where they promptly started talking to Hagrid.
Parkinson skittered past in a rapid escape, a chorus of Ravenclaw laughter drew attention briefly to Sinistra and her enclave settled in the armchairs near the large fireplace. Harry glanced nervously around the room.
"I appear to have frightened away your friends," Severus said.
"No, I mean, they were humouring me – they'd rather talk to someone who wants to be here."
"You don't find it amusing?" He discreetly directed Harry's attention to Finnegan and Thomas staring openmouthed at Professor Trelawney's flirtatious laughter, and to Professor Vector blocking the escape of several students trying to abandon her to Professor Binns' long explanation of something or other.
"Maybe. But I'd still. . ." They exchanged a look which was suddenly loaded with other places to be and other things to do, and Harry glanced away again. Severus watched him slightly shuffle his feet, shift his hips, and manage not to blush.
On the other side of the room Draco laughed. It was eerily reminiscent of Narcissa and Severus turned to see him put a hand rather intimately on Lupin's arm. Zabini stifled a cough and drained his glass, Crabbe and Goyle stared at them open-mouthed and Draco turned over Lupin's shoulder to catch Severus's eye.
At his side, Severus heard Harry say, "Oh my God."
* * *
By eight o'clock the seventh year were assembling in the west foyer just as most of the school were coming down to breakfast. McGonagall sorted them into groups of six, with a staff member to which each group would report until they assembled promptly at midnight to return. She tapped her quill firmly on her ledger as she repeated, "Promptly," with some emphasis.
There was a small upheaval as Millicent was found to have gone back to the dormitory for something and a rearrangement of Sinistra's group of girls was required. The Ravenclaw Head insisted the substitute be Hermione, because she really deserved to be with her friends after everything that had gone on this term. McGonagall eventually agreed, pursing her lips crossly when Sinistra insisted that Hermione spent all her spare time in Ravenclaw Tower anyway. Not in her best mood after that, McGonagall was annoyed at Snape insisting Ron Weasley must be included with his group, thus breaking up the group of Gryffindor boys, and she snapped at Ron's request that Harry come along with them.
"Entirely inappropriate," she said down her nose, although both Ron and Professor Snape were rather taller than her, "under the circumstances."
When Snape stiffly ignored her as he led the boys to the Floo she muttered that she certainly hadn't meant to imply. . . but he gave her a curt nod and turned away before she finished.
"Really," McGonagall huffed, looking back at the frankly curious and more surreptitiously entertained mix of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor girls remaining with her. "Go on then," she said, "don't stand there dithering girls, get your things."
* * *
As the Hogwarts students stepped and stumbled into the Centre for Wizarding Culture atrium they were met by a line of wizards, armed with questionnaires, calling each of them by name. Harry was pushed forward as another group came through the oversized fireplace behind him.
"Harry Potter!" one of them called. When Harry couldn't identify the wizard asking for him, Professor Flitwick put a hand under his elbow and guided him to a young blond wizard with a moustache. "Mr Harry Potter?" he said again. "Of Hogwarts and Privet Drive, Surrey?"
"Ah, yes." Flitwick moved off into the gathering crowd.
"Your number for the duelling competition will be twenty-nine."
"Twenty-nine?"
"Twenty-nine. Is that your duelling costume?"
Harry looked down at the blue robe. "I don't have a specific. . ."
"Then you won't need the rules about duelling armour. Do you wish to enter any of the following demonstrations: Divination, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, or Combined Magics?" he rattled off quickly, glancing up at the end with his quill poised.
"Um, we weren't exactly told. . . what do I have to do?"
"Please read this explanatory leaflet and sign up on that wall before you leave the atrium. The welcome begins through that arch in seventeen minutes," he said briskly, passing Harry a leaflet and moving away, calling, "Pavarti Patil!"
The leaflet listed the initial tests and subsequent structure for the exhibitions. Harry skipped Divination, the qualifying test for which required divining what was behind a veil (he wondered if Professor Trelawney could be asked to take that). He was trying to remember the colour-change spells that might qualify him for Transfiguration when Hermione was suddenly at his side, bouncing enthusiastically.
"Oh, did you see? That rain shield charm we practiced last week is the qualifier for Charms. What luck!"
"Yeah, amazingly lucky," Ron said coming up beside her, focussed on his leaflet, "considering the grading test if you qualify is to animate a chess piece."
"Which we did the week before," Hermione said. "That is odd. Oh, but perhaps everyone's been practicing the set Charms," she said, looking around at the students who clearly weren't from Hogwarts. "Do you think we should ask?"
"Not now, Hermione; it can't be a bad thing. Which ones are you signing up for?"
And they walked off, happily bickering about whether Ron could qualify in Potions, which required identifying four separate potions by scent, taste, and observation. Hermione said Ron hadn't paid attention in Potions for six years and Ron claimed he'd learned more in Snape-servitude than anyone had in those six years. They were laughing and Ron put his arm around her back – Harry didn't know if he felt more pleased or more excluded.
Not Divination and not Herbology, but as he was here he might as well try the others, although he was glad not to feel at all anxious about the results. The understanding between he and Snape might be vague, and a bit fraught and confusing, but it did make things easier. At that thought, he looked around for Draco one more time. He was signing up below the large animated sign for Charms – the letters jigged, spangled, and the S did a neat pirouette – and Harry took a step that way before hesitating. At worst he would just walk away, Draco never satyed for a scene he didn't initiate. He took another more decided step before Ron caught his arm, telling them all about Percy's terribly boring excitement over the Centre, and he was dragged along before he could say anything.
* * *
". . . and the Ministry is pleased to welcome students from houses and schools scattered all over Wizarding Britain and Ireland."
Hermione shifted on her feet, nervously glancing about, catching Ron's bright smile and looking away. He'd dared her to take on every challenge and he'd signed up for them all too, even Divination at which they'd both laughed. He touched her hand and she smiled, curling her fingers briefly around his then letting go.
"We especially welcome our judging panel – Montrose Vermeel, Chair of the Wizarding Revival, the Lady Allen of the New Avalon School for Young Witches. . ."
Hermione craned to see Mr Vermeel, a very small man with a deep red embroidered robe; she had to peer around and between bodies in the bustling crowd to get a look at him. A very nice robe indeed, and he looked rather genial, like a small beardless Dumbledore. He smiled and shook the hand of several other judges.
"Huh." Ron gave her a curious look. "I guess I'm surprised he looks so ordinary," she said. "You know, I think I'd begun to think he was just made up by the Minister."
"Nah, Percy thinks he's terrific." Ron rolled his eyes and grinned. "Of course Percy would."
". . . and lastly, Doctor Daffyd Hawkes of the Pwyll College of Merlin." There was a loud round of applause as the last name was announced and a bulky and surprisingly young man with red-brown hair stood to receive it. He shook Dumbledore's hand, then Vermeel's. . .
"College of Merlin?" Ron said in Hermione's ear.
"Loonies, really," she said. "Boys only and really opposed to all modern schooling for wizards."
She felt Ron's smile and turned to breathe it in. "Is there ever anything you don't want to know, Hermione?"
"No," she laughed, "not really." Ron shifted and blushed, as if he'd been about to say or do something bold and inappropriate. She almost wished he had.
"Come on, Mione," he said taking her hand, "Qualifying for the duels. I bet Dean a galleon he can't remember how to hold the wand right."
* * *
In the large open hall lit by sunlight through French windows between white colonnades – architectural overkill, Remus thought – the competitors were positioned in evenly space rows and asked en masse to take a duelling stance. Rather militaristic, even for a much more rigid boarding school than Hogwarts. He remembered meeting a boy from a Scottish Wizard's academy once, rather dim but very pretty in strong-jawed way, who'd told half-drunken stories about morning drills, but he couldn't remember the name now. If you went to Hogwarts you rarely knew other schools existed, except for those safely on the continent. It was something of a feat, having them all – or at least most of them – drawn together like this. But a hard kind of power to harness and not for the first time Remus wondered how on earth Voldemort or his followers thought this was going to work.
There were probably more than fifty competitors, rather more boys than girls, most in the highly inappropriate blue silk robes but some in duelling robes with trousers, popular when he was young for just about everything – more flattering than floor length robes and allowing more movement. He'd seen Draco's last night, although he wasn't wearing them now. Saving them for when the impact would be greatest, of course, like last night.
He'd been angry to the point of slamming his own door and leaving Draco in the corridor when they came in. Even Dumbledore had given them a concerned look the boy had been so blatant. It wasn't that it could ever be kept a secret, or that secrecy was necessarily their best path anyway, but there were protocols, he was still a student, and. . . he'd known that wasn't it. He was furious because it had all been about Severus, not about him at all. He was jealous, and he couldn't even blame the phase of the moon for how much he wanted to shake the boy till he. . .something, probably begged for forgiveness.
Draco had come in dressed in sleek charcoal-coloured hide overlaid with silvery grey scales at the wrists and shoulders, moving like he knew how he looked, turning to let the short robe flare out over the trousers as he drew his wand.
"I thought you might like to hex me," he'd said, with a faint smile.
"Hex you?"
"Mm hm. First one naked loses."
It was an insultingly blatant kind of manipulation, which of course meant that wasn't Draco's aim at all. He'd peeled away the dragonhide and fucked him over the window seat under the thickening moon, his white skin chilled by the glass. At the last Draco had leant back to kiss him, his tongue dragging across Remus's teeth and his apology humming against his lips.
As students with poor form were dismissed the others were paired up and instructed to cast and deflect Stupefy. It seemed harsh to Remus, walking behind the rows and trying not to look at Draco, but at least those who couldn't deflect were very clearly out. Close by him an annoyed Dean Thomas was dismissed for incorrect wand position after casting, and others were also selected out for formal reasons – he saw Mandy Brocklehurst furiously stride away further up the line, a natural dueller, but he'd told her about the stance more than a dozen times.
They were re-paired and moved on to the sleep spell he had expected for the first round. All the remaining Hogwarts students should go through on that. It was nevertheless a tense two hours before the final sixteen were left, and only when they were congratulated, instructed to return to the main hall at 3pm, awarded their medallions of merit, and sent away to lunch did he finally let himself look. Draco smiled and came towards him, spinning the shiny bronze disc in one hand.
* * *
In the hustle of the lush buffet even the losers were happy, and every Hogwarts student seemed to have qualified for at least one demonstration this evening. Ron was looking for Harry in the crowd – Flitwick had steered his boys to the other end of the pavillion right after qualifications – but Hermione was listening to the other Gryffindor girls discover they absolutely hated the New Avalon girls.
"And of course we both qualified for Divination within seconds. It was obviously a rosebush, completely obvious as soon as I closed my eyes, but you know the New Avalon girls are famous for Divination and every single one of them is through even though it's such a small school."
"Really?"
"True. And for Hogwarts it's only us and Morag and Ernie Macmillan, although I don't see how he can be competing when he's not participating in the Rite. Shouldn't there be a rule?"
Her mouth half full of scone, Pavarti turned back to her friend's question. "I think there's a rule."
Hermione smiled goodbye as Ron dragged her off, muttering, "They hadn't even heard of New Avalon last night, and now they know all about their special training."
"You didn't want to qualify for Divination anyway, at least we're both in Transfiguration."
"Colour change," Ron said with some disgust. "It was a bit second year, wasn't it?"
"Oh look, there's Harry!"