A/N: A chapter which gives more insight on another Slytherin (another one of my favourites), and we see the interactions of Slytherins amongst each other. Dust and shadows and complexity and facades indeed... also, ominous hints of upcoming turmoil. *evil grin*
Disclaimer: I don't own any Slytherins. They own me. Sneaky, snarky buggers...
~*~
Overhead on the Quidditch pitch, a young witch was flying, her long brown hair in a ponytail, whipping through the air. Emma Dobbs, Slytherin Chaser, hummed a little tune to herself as she did a few laps alone.
Or perhaps not quite alone. Noticing a figure sprawled on his back in the Gryffindor stands, gazing upwards at the sky, she slowly flew over.
"Well then," the 5th year smirked down at Seamus Finnigan's face, "Here to spy, perhaps?"
Seamus turned his head and gave her a slight smirk in return. "Hardly."
"I didn't think so," Emma dismounted and landed, sitting down next to his head and giving the sandy locks a light pat, "Gryffindors don't use such dishonourable tactics."
"We don't need to," he retorted impertinently, and she glared down at his grinning face.
"You lot just prefer to do things the hard way," she said dismissively, but her eyes were glinting, "So... how are things going, then? Studying for the NEWTs?"
Seamus plopped his head into his friend's lap and gave an exaggerated pout, "You're sounding like Hermione. Or my mother."
"I'm neither," Emma poked him in the arm, "You might notice my distinct lack of flying into tizzies at rambunctious redheads... or the lack of an Irish accent."
"Making fun of me accent, are ye now, you saucy English lass?!" the boy's eyes widened even as he deliberately exaggerated the accent in question.
"No, you silly Irishman," she rolled her eyes, "But really... how are your studies going?"
Seamus sighed, "All right. Hate Potions with the fire of ten thousand dragons, but that's to be expected. At least Transfiguration has become easier." Idly plucking a quill out of his pocket, he changed it into a small white lily, and handed it to Emma.
"Thanks," the girl took the flower from his fingers, idly fingering the petals for a few moments, "Anything else new, then? Blackmail-worthy scandals of Gryffindor House? Swooning fangirls wanting to become part of your harem?" The last was spoken lightly, though her eyes widened just a bit.
He snorted. "What harem? My so-called harem, at present, consists only of... well, no one. You're probably the only female friend I have who isn't currently seeing someone, and you're not exactly the fangirl type."
She smirked, "Would you like it if I were?"
"I'd run screaming and demand to know who you were and what you did with the real Emma Dobbs," he replied immediately, "And besides, you gave me a run-down YEARS ago of things that Slytherins do and don't do."
"And 'Slytherins don't fangirl' was amongst them," she concluded. But then, 'Slytherins don't fall helplessly in love, especially not with Gryffindors' was also on that list.
And it HAD been constructed years ago.
~*~
As a rule, Draco always went on his Prefect rounds with one of the other Slytherin Prefects, just as Ginny always went with Hermione. Pansy, pleading procrastination on a rather lengthy Herbology essay (leading Draco to believe that she hadn't been utilizing Longbottom to full potential), was tucked away in her personal quarters, and after a covert shared glance with Ginny over Granger's shoulder, he went off in the direction of the Charms corridor with Emma Dobbs.
He'd met her parents before. Millium and Eyonia Dobbs weren't as high-ranking as his father in the circle, but still part of the inner elite. She was, at least as far as he knew, the perfect little daughter. Mostly quiet, kept to her own house, Quidditch, Prefect...
She wasn't yet of age to receive the Mark, or even to make such a decision.
Not that most children HAD a decision.
Emma glanced at the uncommunicative Head Boy out of the corner of her eye as they made their way together down the hallways. Safe topics... even amongst their own kind, Slytherins mostly kept to safe topics. She politely inquired if he'd done anything about bringing their Keeper, who had a habit of tardiness, up to scratch.
"Bloody Greengrass has potential," he muttered darkly, "If only she weren't mooning over a bloke who's already left the school, she'd do much better." It was a widely acknowledged fact that Daphne Greengrass, one of Pansy's roommates, had been infatuated with former Seeker Terence Higgs for several years now. Unfortunately for her, Higgs either never noticed, or didn't give a damn, and the bloke wasn't in school any more. Greengrass never went to practice without performing several self-renewing hair-detangling charms and dousing herself in rosewater first, on the off chance that Higgs might randomly show up to watch.
Emma smirked, "At least she knows how to look ladylike under pressure. It's too bad that she takes so long doing it. Besides..." she gave him a probing look, "The results ARE rather worth it. Don't YOU find her attractive?"
What sort of question was THAT? "I don't go for brunettes," he answered curtly. Was Dobbs trying to... get information for the darling cause of her parents? "And a Malfoy has higher standards than whorish gold-diggers." Not that Ginny Weasley was the precise girl that he'd bring back to home to Lucius Malfoy and expect pats on the back for his marvelous choice.
Right... Emma nodded slowly. Malfoys probably didn't think much of halfblood Irish Gryffindors, either. Not that Seamus thought of her as anything but an unusual friend... perhaps a kid sister. She turned an internal sigh into a shrug. "Could be worse," she mused in a bland, schooled tone of voice, "At least Greengrass isn't a Mudblood. Now, if you'd been shagging GRANGER..."
"You have a very sick, twisted mind," Draco told her bluntly, "And I just said that I don't go for brunettes."
Emma shrugged again. "I'm just saying..."
"Let's not speculate such things as Slytherins with mudbloods," Draco cut her off. Or any speculations of himself with Gryffindors, for that matter...
"... Right," Emma's voice was soft and cool, and she studied her clipped nails closely, "You'd probably be glad to know that the Dark Lord's army is nearly finished preparing. It'll not be longer than a month before the battle for purity breaks out here."
Draco's face was stony and emotionless, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything more on the matter. Both Slytherin Prefects gave the Charms corridor a perfunctory check, before excusing themselves, Emma for her dormitory, Draco for Professor Snape's office.
Disclaimer: I don't own any Slytherins. They own me. Sneaky, snarky buggers...
~*~
Overhead on the Quidditch pitch, a young witch was flying, her long brown hair in a ponytail, whipping through the air. Emma Dobbs, Slytherin Chaser, hummed a little tune to herself as she did a few laps alone.
Or perhaps not quite alone. Noticing a figure sprawled on his back in the Gryffindor stands, gazing upwards at the sky, she slowly flew over.
"Well then," the 5th year smirked down at Seamus Finnigan's face, "Here to spy, perhaps?"
Seamus turned his head and gave her a slight smirk in return. "Hardly."
"I didn't think so," Emma dismounted and landed, sitting down next to his head and giving the sandy locks a light pat, "Gryffindors don't use such dishonourable tactics."
"We don't need to," he retorted impertinently, and she glared down at his grinning face.
"You lot just prefer to do things the hard way," she said dismissively, but her eyes were glinting, "So... how are things going, then? Studying for the NEWTs?"
Seamus plopped his head into his friend's lap and gave an exaggerated pout, "You're sounding like Hermione. Or my mother."
"I'm neither," Emma poked him in the arm, "You might notice my distinct lack of flying into tizzies at rambunctious redheads... or the lack of an Irish accent."
"Making fun of me accent, are ye now, you saucy English lass?!" the boy's eyes widened even as he deliberately exaggerated the accent in question.
"No, you silly Irishman," she rolled her eyes, "But really... how are your studies going?"
Seamus sighed, "All right. Hate Potions with the fire of ten thousand dragons, but that's to be expected. At least Transfiguration has become easier." Idly plucking a quill out of his pocket, he changed it into a small white lily, and handed it to Emma.
"Thanks," the girl took the flower from his fingers, idly fingering the petals for a few moments, "Anything else new, then? Blackmail-worthy scandals of Gryffindor House? Swooning fangirls wanting to become part of your harem?" The last was spoken lightly, though her eyes widened just a bit.
He snorted. "What harem? My so-called harem, at present, consists only of... well, no one. You're probably the only female friend I have who isn't currently seeing someone, and you're not exactly the fangirl type."
She smirked, "Would you like it if I were?"
"I'd run screaming and demand to know who you were and what you did with the real Emma Dobbs," he replied immediately, "And besides, you gave me a run-down YEARS ago of things that Slytherins do and don't do."
"And 'Slytherins don't fangirl' was amongst them," she concluded. But then, 'Slytherins don't fall helplessly in love, especially not with Gryffindors' was also on that list.
And it HAD been constructed years ago.
~*~
As a rule, Draco always went on his Prefect rounds with one of the other Slytherin Prefects, just as Ginny always went with Hermione. Pansy, pleading procrastination on a rather lengthy Herbology essay (leading Draco to believe that she hadn't been utilizing Longbottom to full potential), was tucked away in her personal quarters, and after a covert shared glance with Ginny over Granger's shoulder, he went off in the direction of the Charms corridor with Emma Dobbs.
He'd met her parents before. Millium and Eyonia Dobbs weren't as high-ranking as his father in the circle, but still part of the inner elite. She was, at least as far as he knew, the perfect little daughter. Mostly quiet, kept to her own house, Quidditch, Prefect...
She wasn't yet of age to receive the Mark, or even to make such a decision.
Not that most children HAD a decision.
Emma glanced at the uncommunicative Head Boy out of the corner of her eye as they made their way together down the hallways. Safe topics... even amongst their own kind, Slytherins mostly kept to safe topics. She politely inquired if he'd done anything about bringing their Keeper, who had a habit of tardiness, up to scratch.
"Bloody Greengrass has potential," he muttered darkly, "If only she weren't mooning over a bloke who's already left the school, she'd do much better." It was a widely acknowledged fact that Daphne Greengrass, one of Pansy's roommates, had been infatuated with former Seeker Terence Higgs for several years now. Unfortunately for her, Higgs either never noticed, or didn't give a damn, and the bloke wasn't in school any more. Greengrass never went to practice without performing several self-renewing hair-detangling charms and dousing herself in rosewater first, on the off chance that Higgs might randomly show up to watch.
Emma smirked, "At least she knows how to look ladylike under pressure. It's too bad that she takes so long doing it. Besides..." she gave him a probing look, "The results ARE rather worth it. Don't YOU find her attractive?"
What sort of question was THAT? "I don't go for brunettes," he answered curtly. Was Dobbs trying to... get information for the darling cause of her parents? "And a Malfoy has higher standards than whorish gold-diggers." Not that Ginny Weasley was the precise girl that he'd bring back to home to Lucius Malfoy and expect pats on the back for his marvelous choice.
Right... Emma nodded slowly. Malfoys probably didn't think much of halfblood Irish Gryffindors, either. Not that Seamus thought of her as anything but an unusual friend... perhaps a kid sister. She turned an internal sigh into a shrug. "Could be worse," she mused in a bland, schooled tone of voice, "At least Greengrass isn't a Mudblood. Now, if you'd been shagging GRANGER..."
"You have a very sick, twisted mind," Draco told her bluntly, "And I just said that I don't go for brunettes."
Emma shrugged again. "I'm just saying..."
"Let's not speculate such things as Slytherins with mudbloods," Draco cut her off. Or any speculations of himself with Gryffindors, for that matter...
"... Right," Emma's voice was soft and cool, and she studied her clipped nails closely, "You'd probably be glad to know that the Dark Lord's army is nearly finished preparing. It'll not be longer than a month before the battle for purity breaks out here."
Draco's face was stony and emotionless, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything more on the matter. Both Slytherin Prefects gave the Charms corridor a perfunctory check, before excusing themselves, Emma for her dormitory, Draco for Professor Snape's office.