Chapter Twenty-Five: Shock

"You're not dyin'," Narcissa retorted, sounding a little bit like a blond Hagrid. "At the worst you've got a few broken ribs. Hold on."

The Dusenberg landed on the lawn, completely wrecking quite a bit of turf and snapping the topmost branches of the Whomping Willow. Apparently Narcissa's driving was more artistic than functional. The car spun for a few seconds and came to an abrupt halt only inches from Hagrid's chicken coops.

"What the hell?" The gamekeeper, roused from a sound sleep by the screeching brakes and flashing headlights, stumbled out of his cabin toward the car, his turquoise plaid pajamas fluttering. "Wha's happenin' 'ere?"

"Hagrid!" Draco leapt out of the car and gestured frantically at the back seat. "Professor Tyler's hurt!"

"No shit, Sherlock." Narcissa was also out, except she had the presence of mind to open the door for Severus. "Hagrid, you help Severus carry her. Hermione, beat feet it to the Infirmary. Draco, fix me a martini. I hate driving after dark."

"Hermione?" Draco looked in astonishment as the short black 1920's hairdo lengthened and fluffed, and the green eyes shimmered back to brown. "Granger, that was you?"

"I said move it, pretty boy!" Narcissa quite informally shoved her son and helped Hagrid lift Cass off of Severus' legs. Hermione opened her own door and started to 'beat feet it.' Draco, however, instead of fixing his mother a martini, followed her.

"What's going on?"

"Sod off, Malfoy." Hermione ran faster up the stairs, but the blond boy only pursued faster. "Get out of my way!" she yelled as he tried to grab her arm.

"Not until you tell me what happened!" Draco pulled at Hermione's wrist just as she elbowed him in the nose and both teenagers went sprawling. Madam Pomfrey opened the door of the Hospital Wing and began to tut at them.

"Honestly! Sixth-years, fighting at all hours like little-"

"Ma'am! Professor Tyler needs your help. She got hurt somehow-" As Hagrid appeared with the injured female, Malfoy stopped trying to explain. "See?"

"Right. Just put her down over here, Hagrid. Merciful heavens, look at those ribs! Broken or I'm a monkey's aunt!" There was a flurry of activity as Professor Snape and Narcissa Malfoy, with Hagrid, tried to explain what had happened. Suddenly Hagrid looked at the sleeve of his pajamas.

"Where's she bleedin' from?" he asked innocently, looking a little ill. Madam Pomfrey glanced at the werewolf and her eyes went wide.

"All of you, out –now!" The mediwitch bundled out everyone but Narcissa, whom she caught by the arm and began barking orders to. Hermione was startled, but Draco told her to calm down.

"Mum specialized in mediwizardry. She's almost as good a nurse as Pomfrey is. Now would you tell me what's going on?"

"Professor Cass got hurt," Hermione said briefly, looking around for Snape, who seemed to have disappeared.

"I noticed that much. What was she doing there? And for that matter, what were you doing there?" Draco suddenly went ashen.

"None of your business," Hermione retorted, but Draco was not listening. He looked in the direction Professor Snape had gone, only to be nearly knocked over by a flying mass of robes and untidy reddish-brown hair.

"Cass!" John raced by heedlessly, heading for the Hospital Wing. Snape followed, only slowly and with more sternness than Hermione was sure she liked.

"Draco?" Snape looked at his student.

"Yes, sir?"

"What you saw tonight is a matter of absolute secrecy. I want your honor as a Slytherin and as a man that you will tell noone –especially not your father."

"I promise, sir." Draco glanced toward the Hospital Wing and then turned back to Snape, who was still solemn. "But sir, what happened?"

"Your father nearly had Cassandra killed," Snape replied coldly. "He's no better than Voldemort."

"My father?" Draco was shocked and obstinate. "He would do no such thing!"

"And yet your professor is bleeding to death up there," Snape answered in a diabolically soft whisper. "Your father used the Cruciatus Curse and then had Macnair beat her insensible. A fine way to treat a girl old enough to be your sister."

"But…my father would never do that!" Draco protested. "He didn't know!"

"All he knew was that she was American and Muggle-born. That was all he cared to know." Snape was absolutely furious and Hermione knew it. "He didn't know she was only twenty-two, or that she taught his son, or even that she was expecting her first child. All that mattered was exerting power on someone weaker than himself. I certainly hope you realize what your mother meant in helping us."

"Mum's a…" Draco gasped.

"A spy," Narcissa finished, sweeping in and taking her son by the arm. "You're the right blood type. Get up here."

"Right, Mum!" To Hermione's surprise, Draco ran up ahead of the blond woman, rolling up his sleeve as he went. Narcissa almost collapsed into Severus' arms.

"Alright, Cissy?" the professor asked.

"Just dizzy from the Exsanguinus." Wizarding blood transfusions were done by spell, and evidently quite a lot of Malfoy blood had become werewolf. "Oh, sweetheart, you've singed your ear!" Narcissa turned to Hermione and brushed her hair aside, pointing her wand where the curse had grazed her. She spoke a healing charm rapidly and Hermione felt the pain subside. "Much better. I'd best go help Poppy now. Would you mind getting something from my glove compartment?" The socialite handed Hermione a set of keys. "It's the gin bottle –you can't miss it. Got to calm down a bit when we're done." With that, Narcissa headed back up to be useful. Hermione looked at Snape questioningly and he smiled.

"She's joined AA six times. It never took."

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There's never very much one can do to comfort a couple who have lost a child to miscarriage. Molly Weasley sent a heartfelt letter of sympathy and some cookies, while Harry offered to take care of the Tylers' owls while Cass recovered. Bill Weasley took over some of her classes, as did Snape, who prevented Sybil Trelawney by suggesting she could try to See something optimistic (and get the hell away from his friends with her doomwailing!)  Ginny and Ron took turns tutoring the first-years Cass took pride in watching out for, and Draco Malfoy helped by donating a pint of blood and waiting on John Tyler hand and foot. It was very strange.

"I bet she got beat up in a bar somewhere," Pansy Parkinson proclaimed at lunch the following day. "Likely cheating on that werewolf husband of hers, too, the sl-"

"Shut your dirty mouth."

Pansy looked sharply to her left to see who would dare contradict her, only to face a very calm-looking Blaise Zabini, who had the class gossip at wandpoint. At her side was Maria Catesby, who looked plainly murderous.

"How dare you-"

"What do you think, Maria?" Blaise asked almost lazily, with deliberate calm and a Malfoyish drawl. "Shall I curse her or do you want to, first?"

"You wouldn't-"

"Oh, but we would," Maria contradicted sharply. "One more word about Professor Tyler or her husband or the Gryffindors and you will find yourself receiving flowers for an occasion that warrants wearing black."

"I wouldn't mess with her, Pansy," Blaise added. "Or me. Professor Snape's so busy he might not notice a student missing for some days…though Professor Hagrid might notice when the animals aren't hungry."

"Is that a threat?" Pansy asked, looking about for some sign of support. None came, even from the other Slytherins.

"A threat? Merciful heavens, no." Blaise smiled darkly. "It was a promise."

As Pansy cowered and eventually fled the Great Hall, Ginny Weasley watched with growing astonishment. Harry felt his hand released and Hermione noticed Ginny getting up. With a solemnness and sense of occasion beyond her years, Ginny strode across the Hall toward Maria and Blaise. Hermione and Ron rose to follow, more to protect their friend, just in case, than to extend a hand of peace, and Harry was instantly at Ginny's side.

"A word, Miss Weasley?" Blaise asked politely, tucking her wand away before a teacher saw. Ginny smiled graciously and offered the Slytherin her hand.

"Call me Ginny."

"I'm Blaise –this is Maria."

"I know. Have you met Hermione and Ron? –oh, and Harry, too."

"We know you all by reputation at least."

"Come sit with us," the redhead invited.

"Thank you, I think we will."

And as Crabbe and Goyle gawked and Millicent Bulstrode watched in confusion, Blaise Zabini and Maria Catesby, Slytherins, had lunch with the Gryffindor sixth-year class.

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"Bring me another, Ros'."

"Cass, I don't really think you should…" Madam Rosmerta looked at the gaunt face and coldly staring eyes of her customer. "Alright."

"Thanks awfully." Cass tossed the Firewhiskey back like water. "To life –let's get it over with."

"Merlin's beard," Mad-Eye Moody observed, wandering into the Three Broomsticks and noticing the drunken werewolf. "Cassandra, have you lost your mind?"

"Yeah. Look in the road outside."

"I'm taking you back to Hogwarts right now, whether you like it or not-"

A mumbled, slurred curse, and the Auror was quite suddenly out cold. Cass slipped her wand back into her pocket absently.

"Constant vigilance."

After three more Firewhiskeys, the pain was at last starting to fade into the dull throbbing of a broken heart. Cass knew full well she had a right to grieve and drowning one's sorrow in liquor was the last thing anyone should have tried. But hey, it was better to be falling-down drunk than wondering what could have been.

"Rosmerta? I want a double Scotch and a Firewhiskey for my son."

Cass knew that voice.

"To your best grades yet, Draco! Well done, my boy."

A father-son drink. How prosaic and mawkishly sentimental. Cass was just about to order a seventh double shot when something occurred to her through the whiskey-induced haze. John would never do such a thing, and not because he wasn't sentimental.

She stood up. Draco realized who she was and went fairly ashen.

"Professor Tyler! What are you doing-?"

THWACK!

When cartilaginous tissue, blood, mucous membranes and bone are forced by impact into an area one-fifth the usual space they occupy in nature, a sound akin to that of a cantaloupe hitting concrete pavement is produced.

This sound was followed by a very nasty curse word as Lucius Malfoy realized the werewolf had broken his nose.

Draco was horrified to see the admittedly pissed-off and very drunk professor light into his father like Muhammad Ali in the seventies. A chair got smashed over Lucius' head, a cane-mounted wand was snapped like a twig, and Cass's knuckles eventually split open as she repeatedly hit the aristocrat. Lucius finally pulled his hand back to strike a returning blow, but he stopped when he realized the fierce assailant was female. Draco succeeded in catching his professor's arm, and quite abruptly she stopped.

"Draco?"

"Professor?" Draco was really quite shaken. "Are you –alright?"

"What is the meaning of this?" Lucius managed to gasp.

"You sonofabitch," Cass insulted breathily, panting hard. "You just don't get it. I'm going to see you dead before a year is out -but not for this. This is just petty personal revenge."

"Are you insane?"

"Quite possibly. Hey, Draco." Cass looked at her student and smiled wryly. "Good grades, eh?"

"What have I ever done to you?"

"Nothing much, moldblood." Lucius recoiled in horror, realizing what had happened and who this female was. "But I'm sort of hard to hurt."

"You're a spy?" Cass didn't answer, except with a contemptuous smile and an arrogant toss of the head, revealing the grayish-white roots of the hair at her temples.

Draco suddenly rose and offered the professor his arm.

"Shall I escort you back to the castle?"

"I think that would be nice."

And Lucius was left to wonder, his nose bleeding.

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