AN: Yay. More new characters for me to play with. No, Lorimer isn't cannon, but neither is Spelling. Or the whole premise of this story, so that's alright. I'm happy with the development of Nat. I can't wait to get to use him later. I am, however, worried that my Draco is getting a bit too far off the cannon Draco. I guess we'll see. Oh yes, and I just realized how fun writing Ron is. I'll have to use him more!
Warning: Ah yes, the slashy warning. Well not actually in this chapter, but yes there is slash in this story. Don't read it if you don't like it.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of J. K. Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands. And keep your paws off Nat. He's all mine!
Parlance of the Serpent
Chapter 9
Draco lay across a large green armchair in a corner of the Slytherin dormitory, one arm flung across his eyes, taking a few minutes respite before heading off to his Spelling class. Since the beginning of the year, Draco had been snubbed and rejected by his fellow Slytherins. He had taken to sitting in a particular corner by himself and unspoken law had been declared that no one could go into his part of the room while he was there. The only exception to that rule was rapidly making his way across the common room towards Draco.
"Draco, did you get it?"
"It?" Draco opened his eyes and squinted at Nat, not bothering to sit up. "What would this 'it' be?"
Nat rolled his eyes at Draco's so-called memory. "You said I could have your old book bag."
"I did? Oh I suppose so. Crabbe," Draco called across the room, still languidly reclining on the chair.
Crabbe looked up from where he and Goyle had been staring at the fireplace. Both of them stood up and stumped over to Draco and Nat. Draco saw a look of disdain cross Nat's face and frowned. He felt exactly the same way about Crabbe and Goyle, but he also knew that if Nat showed it too openly, the brutish pair would crush him.
"You know the dresser in my room?"
Crabbe grunted and Goyle stared blankly at Draco.
"Right, well on top of it there's an old book bag. Bring it down to me."
The two massive boys slouched off to Draco's room. The Slytherin class had been so depleted that all the older students had their own rooms, a change that Draco welcomed readily. He had never enjoyed living in the same space as the other boys. Terence Nott wasn't that bad, but he had left the school to join the Death Eaters, and Blaise Zabini's only form of annoyance was his constant stutter. Crabbe and Goyle, on the other hand, had living habits that were as tidy as the pair was brilliant. Yes, Draco was pleased that he had his privacy. He was able to think, to work, and to live with the rigid order he craved.
"Why do you put up with them?"
Draco looked back at Nat, surprised. No one had ever asked him that before. Most people assumed that they were his bodyguards. No one even considered the three of them being friends.
"Their fathers were companions of mine," Draco said the word with biting scorn. "By companion you understand I mean follower. When we came here, it was assumed that the three of us would have a similar relationship. It all worked out according to plan. Apparently that kind of dimness is hereditary."
Nat smothered a laugh as Crabbe and Goyle slouched back empty-handed. Draco heaved a sigh and sat up.
"Where is it Goyle?"
Goyle shrugged.
"Crabbe?"
"Whut?" Crabbe grunted, scratching the back of his neck.
"Oh never mind," Draco stood up exasperatedly. "I have to go to Spelling in a minute anyway. I'll just bring it down when I leave."
Draco strode up the stairs to his room. It was built for five boys to live in close proximity, so to Draco it was like being back in his luxurious bedroom at home. The room was circular with a large fireplace. Draco's clothes were meticulously folded in dressers or hung in closets. Draco sat on his huge bed and packed his book bag with Spelling materials. As usual, he planned to arrive early so as to get a good seat and perhaps make friends with the teacher. Draco stood up and pulled his old book bag off a dresser and, pausing in front of a mirror to smooth back his ponytail, went back downstairs to the common room.
Nat was talking to a few other first years when Draco approached him. The first years froze with looks of discomfort and perhaps a little fear on their childish faces. Draco was used to this treatment, and by now Nat knew that it meant he had showed up. Nat turned around, a smile on his face. Draco shoved the bag at him.
"Thank you Draco."
"Yes," Draco did not respond well to thanks. "I will see you at dinner."
Draco walked out of the common room entrance and into a deserted hallway, his robes flowing behind him. Moodily, he stalked up the stairs from the dungeons. He wasn't sure why, but he was bothered by Nat's ability to mingle and talk to people with ease. Draco always took over the attention of a crowd, whether that was a bad or good thing, but he never connected.
As he walked up the stairs, he met Snape and Myrmidian talking on a landing. Snape's back was to him, but the professor raised his voice in greeting, making his favourite student jump.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy."
"Hello Professor Snape. Professor Myrmidian," Draco said as he drew level with the professors.
"And what class are we rushing off to now?"
"Spelling," Draco replied.
The two men looked down their large, aquiline noses at him. Draco noticed for the first time that his two teachers were actually very similar. Snape's magic eye and black robes gave a dark and sombre effect, while Myrmidian's blue eyes and robes cast a cold, if not quite as foreboding, air.
"Ah," said Myrmidian. "A complex art. Severus tells me that you are a conscientious and hard working student. With advanced classes in Potions, Spelling, and my own subject, I hope he is correct."
"Thank you sir," Draco said quietly, but distinctly. "If you will excuse me, I have to hurry in to class."
"By all means," Snape's eyes crinkled. "We mustn't keep the pupil from his studies."
Draco nodded and continued hurriedly up the stairs. He never blushed, but he felt very close to it at that moment. He was not used to receiving praise from men. His mother had praised, coddled, and spoiled him since he could remember, but his father had been a different story. Lucius Malfoy had shown love only for his master, allowing the rest of his family to tend to their own emotional needs. Draco bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself from dwelling on painful memories. His father was in Azkaban and nothing would change that.
Draco neared his Spelling classroom and found the door ajar. Curious, he glanced in. A woman stood at the teacher's desk poring over some papers. Her back was to the door and her face hidden by a mass of brown curls. Draco stayed in the hallway for a moment and pulled out his course schedule. It showed a Spelling class taught by Professor K. Lorimer. Draco put the list back in his bag, squared his shoulders, and entered the classroom. The woman seemed not to notice, so he cleared his throat. She spun around and Draco momentarily allowed surprise to show on his face. It was Hermione Granger. The two of them stood there silently for a moment, before Granger spoke up uncomfortably.
"I was just I was looking over Professor Lorimer's class notes."
Draco rose an eyebrow sceptically, enjoying her discomfort.
"I mean, he's not here and I didn't think it would do any harm."
Draco remained impassive.
"Oh fine," Granger threw up her arms in a wild gesture and walked over to a desk in the front row with all her materials on it. "Why should I even bother explaining to you?"
"I hope nothing of value was on the professor's desk," Draco said coldly. "It would be too bad to start the class with thievery."
Granger sat down roughly and pulled open a book. She opened it to a marker and clenched her teeth. After a moment's tense silence she spoke.
"Look Malfoy," her words came out harshly through clenched teeth. "I am going to do my best not to let you hurt me this year. I understand that since your precious Dark Lord has fallen you must be very upset and eager to take out your frustration on whoever shows up, but let me tell you something. You are not going to get a rise out of me, so you can say whatever you want, insult whatever part of me you choose. You are just an evil bigot who feels so badly about himself that he has to take it out on others. But I realise now that nothing you say matters. You are unimportant."
The girl looked up at him, her eyes full of fiery determination. Draco tossed his head in what he hoped would be an arrogant fashion. In reality, he was avoiding meeting those eyes. He had never thought of Granger as an aggressive person, but her resolute undermining of his very existence had hurt him in a way he didn't know was possible. Without a word, he swept past her desk and took a seat in the back row. Breathing shallowly, he watched the back of Granger's head. Had he said things like that to her? Had he ever created that dull pit in the bottom of her stomach that he now felt in the bottom of his? No wonder she had slapped him one year.
Draco also pulled out his Spelling book. He had already read through the whole thing and memorised a few of the chapters, but it would never hurt to continue. As the two of them read, other students began to enter the small classroom. Only four other people showed up. Draco assumed this was the smallest class in the school, but only because it was one of the hardest. Creating new spells was a very dangerous and highly exact magic that not many people could fathom.
Finally, Professor Lorimer swept into the room. He was a short jovial man with a friendly smile on his round face. Bushy red whiskers gave him the impression of an orange coloured Kris Kringle. He placed his armful of dusty tomes on his desk and swept off his dark green hat. Folding his hands across his ample stomach, he stood and surveyed the silent class.
"Well," he said in a voice as bubbly as his appearance suggested. "You're a cheerful lot."
The class stirred in surprise to be addressed this way by a professor.
"Not a smile among you," Lorimer continued. "Are you all sure you wanted to take Spelling? Yes? Well, that's good at any rate. As I'm sure you have surmised, I am Professor Karsen Lorimer. Now since there are only nine of us I'd like you all to sit up front. Go on. There's plenty of room."
Students got up and moved to the front of the class. By the time Draco had gathered his books and walked to the front of the room, the only seat left was at the end of the row and next to Granger. The two of them shared a withering glare for a fraction of a second before Draco sat down. Lorimer beamed down on the small class.
"That's much better. I like to have everyone up close so that I can get to know you better. Actually it's just because my height prevents me from gazing down on anyone except Filius Flitwick, and this gives me a nice opportunity."
A few of the students chuckled and even Draco grinned. Something about this little man's attitude inspired jollity in everyone.
"Let me see. Locke and Jennings. Abbot and Nettles. Granger and Malfoy. Just so. Now I hope you like the person you're sitting next to because you will be partners for the rest of the year."
Draco turned to Granger, horrified. She was not looking at him, but at Lorimer. Her cheeks were white and her mouth open, in mute horror. Draco scowled, ready to dislike this class already. Having to spend the whole year in a partnership, any kind of partnership, with this know-it-all sounded like the most perfect form of torture. In the back of his head he knew that one of the reasons for his dislike of Granger is that she had just seen him in a moment of weakness. He, Draco Malfoy, had been unable to hurt her and she had cut him down. He would never be able to live with that.
"Well now," Lorimer continued. "As a start of term activity I am going to have you tell me why you chose to take this class. For this activity, you will all be put under a harmless little spell called Veritilium. It is very similar to the Veritaserum elixir, but not as potent. I will demonstrate by casting it on myself and telling you why I teach this class."
With that, Lorimer took out his wand and placed the tip of it on his throat. He whispered a word and a pearly white mist appeared around his throat.
"As you can see, this white mist is here when I tell the truth. If I were to lie, the mist would appear green. Let me show you. My name is Albus Dumbledore."
As Lorimer spoke the mist around his neck turned a bright shade of green. Lorimer continued, scratching his neck as he spoke.
"Now the mist has turned green, so I was telling a lie. An unpleasant side effect of telling a lie is that the mist creates a very annoying itch around my neck. No matter how much truth I tell it will not go away until I correct my previous falsehood. My name is Karsen Lorimer. Ah, much better."
Professor Lorimer sat down on the edge of his desk, his short legs dangling. The white fog had returned and the professor sat very comfortably.
"I have always been interested," he began, "in how these spells I was learning in school came into being. When I was little I believed that they were born, like a griffin or a dragon. In my younger years I worked at the Ministry of Magic as an assistant secretary of the head of the Floo Regulation panel. It wasn't glamorous, but while I was there I found out about the Committee for Experimental Charms. This interested me, so I hung around the offices in my free time, learning what I could from conversations. Eventually I became a junior member of the committee and worked in it for many years. Eight years ago I was approached by Albus Dumbledore and asked to work here as a teacher. He felt, and I agreed, that this subject, though highly specialised, was underrepresented in the education system for young wizards. I have been teaching small classes here ever since. That's me taken care of. Now it's your turn."
Lorimer took the spell off himself and turned to the class, waiting for a volunteer. Draco thought about what he would say. He wanted to take this class ever since his mother had told him about it, but that wasn't the only reason. The other reason he wasn't sure he wanted to share. To his right, Granger timidly raised her hand. Lorimer beamed at her and hopped off his desk. He walked up to her and wrung her hand.
"Very good Miss Granger, very good. Now I want to tell you before you begin that everything we say will remain in this room. Our lives are private things and so much of us goes into the creation of these spells that it would be unfair to ask any of you to share without complete comfort. Now, Miss Granger, if I may"
Lorimer placed the tip of his wand on Granger's throat. For a moment her face was completely white, worried about allowing someone to place this kind of spell on her. Lorimer whispered the word, the mist appeared, and Granger's face cleared.
"I read about this subject a few years ago in my copy of Hogwarts a History," Granger began, sounding very pleased with herself. "I thought it sounded fascinating and I've actually had an opportunity to work with Spelling in the past. I worked in the Spelling branch of the Ministry of Magic war effort for a year and I found all my work very interesting. The history of Spelling is fascinating, too. While I was part of the war effort I read a few books on the subject and I realised how helpful Spellers are. I read about this spell actually. The circumstances of its creation are amazing"
"Thank you Miss Granger," Lorimer said, and took the spell off.
Draco was glad that Lorimer had cut Granger off when he had, because she would surely have continued for the rest of the class. The other students began volunteering as well, and soon Draco was the only one left. He gulped as the cool wood of Lorimer's wand touched his throat. In a moment, the mist surrounded his neck, with the calming feeling of a soft silk scarf.
"My mother told me about this a few years ago," Draco began. "That was the first time I became interested in the class. But then, what with the war, I got a different perspective. Because of my During the war, I was able to see some of Voldemort's destruction first hand. I thought that if there was at least one person creating protective and healing spells for every Death Eater creating harmful spells, that sort of destruction could be avoided. Spelling, creating helpful spells, might allow me to allow me to sort of make up for some of the damage that my that the Death Eaters caused."
Draco stared at his desk the whole time he spoke. When he was finished he looked up. No one in the room met his eyes. He squared his jaw and sat, resolutely watching them. Lorimer took the spell off and coughed, slightly uncomfortable. He walked around to behind his desk and cleared his throat again.
"Thank you everyone. I am glad you could all be so open with each other. For the rest of the class you will work with your partners to answer these questions. Why is Spelling important? What sort of spells would you like to create? Go to work."
Draco turned to Granger and was not surprised to see her still blushing down at her desk. He smiled grimly to himself, pleased at her discomfiture. No doubt she was now feeling guilty about what she had said to him earlier.
"Alright Granger," he said. "I won't pretend to be pleased with this arrangement, but I want to learn so let's deal with it."
"Yes," Granger looked up at him with a decided expression on her face. Draco was suddenly reminded of McGonagall. "Before we start working, I'd like to make an agreement with you. I don't really care about outside of class, but when we are working together I feel that I would like to arrange a sort of truce, if only because I don't want to jeopardise my studies. Are we agreed?"
"Yes," Draco said wryly. "Should we shake on it now or sign a document in blood."
Granger smiled and pulled out a sheet of parchment.
"I was joking Granger."
"I know that," she said, pulling out a quill and ink. "Honestly Malfoy, I have a bit more sense than you give me credit for. We have to write down the types of spells we want to write."
"A spell for um, walking on air."
"Nice, but I think it's been done."
"What's that saying about great minds?"
"Ha ha. How about one for playing people's memories for everyone to see?"
"Good. One for being able to see from a different perspective."
"Literally or do you mean another mental perspective?"
"Both."
"One for automatic visual memorisation."
"Says Granger the top student at school."
"Well it would be useful"
"Right, right. What next?"
By the time Professor Lorimer called for the class to turn in their lists, Draco and Granger had a substantial one with over ten spell ideas. Lorimer, jovial as ever, seemed particularly pleased with their efforts.
"Very well done," he exulted as class ended. "I believe we can expect great work from this pairing."
Granger smiled and blushed at the praise, while Draco simply nodded and gathered up his books to leave. As he left the classroom Lorimer stopped him.
"Mr. Malfoy," he said seriously. "I wanted to thank you for being so frank with us today. I understand the importance of your willingness to bring up such a subject."
"It was nothing, Sir," Draco responded coolly. "I was just being honest."
"Yes well, thank you all the same."
Draco left the room, wondering about his new professor. In the hall, he was surprised to see Granger conversing happily with none other than Nat. Unnoticed, Draco watched the two of them. Nat said something and Granger laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Then Nat pulled his robe open slightly to reveal a large pin next to the Slytherin coat of arms on his jumper. Draco winced to recognise the letters S.P.E.W. He hurried over, anxious to find out what could have caused Nat to buy a membership to Granger's useless organisation.
"Nat," he said sternly as he approached. "What is that on your jumper?"
"Oh this," Nat said, his teeth showing through his irrepressible grin. "I've joined the Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare. Hermione was telling me about it and I think it's a very important idea."
"Nat really has taken to the cause," Granger beamed down at the little redhead. "It's so nice to have a member from another house. I think it gives the group much more validity."
"Ah yes," Draco managed to muster a small smile. "Well, I am glad to see Nat finding something to do with his time."
Granger looked as if she was about to reply, but stopped herself abruptly, gazing over Draco's shoulder. Draco turned to see what had caught her eye and grimaced. Weasley, a scowl on his face, was striding towards them. Draco sighed, not desiring a confrontation. Weasley walked to Granger and put his arm around her shoulders.
"Are you bothering Hermione, Malfoy?"
Draco raised his eyebrow slightly as Weasley spat his name. "I don't believe so Weasley. We were just discussing her society what was it?"
"Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," she said quietly, not meeting Weasley's eyes.
"Exactly. She was giving me a few of the particulars."
"Yes," Granger continued, clearly trying to calm down her beau. "Remember I was telling you that Nathair oh I'm sorry, Nat, bought a membership?"
"Really," Weasley said through clenched teeth.
"Oh yes," said Nat, cheerfully ignoring Weasley's demeanour. "I think it's a really great cause. The treatment of elves and pixies and that sort isn't very good and Hermione was saying that once we have more members she's going to petition the Ministry of Magic to start a branch for the protection of underprivileged magical communities."
Draco suppressed a smirk as Weasley withdrew his arm from Granger's shoulders.
"Well," said the fiery redhead stiffly. "Since you three are getting along so well, I'll just be heading back. I suppose I'll see you in the common room Hermione, if you have the time."
With that, he turned and stalked off. Granger closed her eyes and took a deep breath, clearly counting inside her head. Draco watched silently, but Nat, unused to Weasley's temper, looked extremely worried.
"Oh dear," his voice quavered slightly. "Hermione, did I upset him?"
"No," she said patiently, avoiding Draco's eyes. "It's not you. Ron's just like that sometimes. Don't worry, I'll go after him and calm him down. I'll see you later Nat, Draco."
She turned and walked quickly after Weasley. Nat and Draco watched the pair of Gryffindors for a moment, before turning towards their own common room. They walked silently, but Draco could tell that Nat wanted to say something by the way he fidgeted with his bag. Finally he burst out.
"You and Ron really hate each other, don't you?"
"Yes," Draco replied smoothly. "Yes, I'm afraid we do."
"Why?"
"Because he's an insufferable," Draco paused, reconsidering his response. "Because we have no respect for each other. Our fathers both worked in the Ministry and they never got along. I was taught to show disdain for Weasleys, he was taught to despise Malfoys. And his temper is too fun to play with for me to resist goading him. Quintaped." He added, giving the Slytherin password.
"Could you ever reconcile yourselves?"
"Perhaps," Draco said as they went into their common room. "But don't hold your breath."