Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?
French translations: ((example))
Side Note: I've gotten some comments on the boys not showing Gin enough affection, or that she doesn't mean as much to them as they do to each other. Just to clear it up a little, they do care for her. A lot. But they've only really had one another their entire lives, and this isn't going to be one of those 'over before they really begin' stories. The three stars of this little drama have only been together two months, so of course the two Slytherins aren't going to have exactly the same level of closeness with her yet, but the fact they're opening up to her at all, considering her House and family and the way that Slytherins rarely tend to trust outsiders (for good reasons) is major progress. But to quell any fears, I promise that completely equal intimacy won't be too far off in the future. But to sum it up: They care more about her than they do about anyone else in the world.
Important: I installed a bad Windows update onto my computer last Thursday, and I just got it back on Saturday night. Therefore, this chapter took a little longer to get out than usual, which I am very sorry about! But everything is up and running once more thanks to the wonderful computer geniuses at IDS. And a very sincere 'thank you' to everyone who has commented on this story so far. Please keep reviewing!
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Draco waved his hand, speaking a spell, and when Blaise's robe and shirt disappeared, Virginia sucked in a breath, suddenly nauseous, unbidden tears springing to her eyes. She wasn't the only one, either. Blaise was covered in cuts and already-forming bruises, but that wasn't by far the worst of it. He had at least four broken ribs, the worst of it on his right side where the bones seemed to be almost poking though his skin. It was swollen and discolored, the bruises surrounding it spreading to and connecting with the others that were beginning to cover his torso and shoulders, disappearing into his pants. The left side was bad, but not as horrible as the right. Only one rib seemed to be broken on that side and there was a nasty cut from his nipple to his hip.
His right arm looked as if it had been snapped in half at the elbow, hanging crookedly at his side on the cushions. The flesh there was swelling rapidly as the pulse of healing energy Draco had sent him wore off. Blaise's lips parted in a silent gasp when Draco ran knowing fingers over his side, and Virginia saw a flash of telltale fangs. Running her eyes over him again, she wondered what it was that had his body calling not only on the healing properties of his shapeshifter blood, but on the vampiric ones as well. She knew Draco had caught it too, as his eyes raced over Blaise's form, his nostrils flaring slightly. His gaze went almost immediately to the cushions on Blaise's right, mercury eyes narrowing as he paled. Virginia looked to what had caught his attention, and gasped when she saw a growing pool of blood.
"Foutre!" Draco hissed, and did a quick bone-knitting spell on Blaise's arm. Broken bones weren't the problem, as those were easy to fix. It was the possible internal damage and whatever was causing him to bleed like that that had her worried. Draco ran healing hands over Blaise's ribs and his broken left leg also, then over the long gash on his face, just as the Slytherins that Snape had sent to get potions returned. ((Fuck!))
"Here." Snape said, handing them a flask. Draco took it as if he knew exactly what it was, so Virginia said nothing, just made a mental note to ask about it later. Snape moved away to help the fifth years, while Blaise regarded them with glazed eyes, the normally dark blue nearly neon as his body drew on his power in order to help heal him. Draco held the flask to his lips, and Blaise drank it without complaint.
"Help me move him?" Draco asked her when Blaise had finished off the potion. "I need to see the wound on his back." She nodded, and they turned Blaise onto his stomach carefully, while he hissed weak threats at them. She saw him glance warily at Draco, and wondered at it until she looked down.
There was a huge puncture wound on his right side, the opening nearly as large as Draco's fist. It was also quite deep, and she wondered how whatever it was that had stabbed him hadn't gone all the way through. She was also vaguely aware that she was in shock, which was something she always thought that authors made up so their heroines seemed more dramatic. But she figured that's what it had to be, since she felt as if she were moving through an underwater dream. The nausea was still there, but it was like everything else was at the moment: Foggy and fake. The only thing that was clear was the need to help the young man on the couch in front of her, no matter what she had to do. Forcing herself to look again, she saw that the flesh surrounding the wound was as bruised and beaten as the front of his torso; nearly every inch of his back was purple, black and yellow.
"Blaise?" Draco asked suddenly, running a finger over livid red lines that were running from the wound, which she hadn't even noticed a moment ago. "Mon âme? S'il vous plait, tell me sap did not get in the wound." There was a note of fear in Draco's voice, the first she had ever heard from either of them. "Did sap get in the wound!?" He asked again, when Blaise said nothing. ((My soul? Please))
"Oui." Blaise breathed after another moment, and Virginia felt her heart sink to her feet when she saw a look much too close to panic flicker in Draco's silvery eyes. ((Yes))
"What does that mean?" She asked, and her voice sounded far away to her. Draco and Blaise looked over at her slowly, before Blaise's eyes fluttered shut and all traces of emotion seemed to leak out of Draco's expression, his eyes turning cold and distant, the silver melting away to be replaced with icy iron.
"You know the effect Whomping Willows have on our kind." He said, his words bland. She nodded, confused at his sudden change in attitude. "Their sap is also a poison to us. If not treated properly, it's lethal within two hours. And even if treatment is available, the shifter still has only a fifty percent chance of survival and a forty percent chance of a full recovery." He said bluntly. Virginia looked at her other lover, who lay bleeding on the couch, and felt a furious fire begin to burn deep inside of her. Recognizing it for the rage it was, she pushed it down. There would be time for revenge later.
"What can we do?" She asked, shoving the fear away, too. Blaise needed her strength, not tears and hysterics. And it would take every ounce of willpower and control she had to keep Draco from following him should this all go wrong, let alone herself…But she couldn't, mustn't, think about that now.
"You wish to help?" Draco asked, cocking his head to the side and looking at her strangely.
"Of course I do!" She said immediately, glaring at him. Why would he ask her something like that? And why was he being so…indifferent towards her suddenly? The loving spark that was usually in his eyes when he looked at her was gone. Everything inside those eyes was gone. Snape appeared next to them and when his gaze fell on the wound on Blaise's back, his eyes widened impossibly.
"No." He said, once again kneeling next to them, shaking his head in denial. He looked the area over thoroughly, before his eyes became shuttered and he turned to Draco. "You know what to do?" He questioned, but it sounded more like a statement.
"I'll probably be able to manage something." Draco said, a bored expression on his face. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to slap Draco Malfoy. She wanted to scream 'That's our love dying on the couch! Don't you care!?', but she held her tongue. She couldn't believe he was so…unaffected. He'd seemed worried at first, but it seemed to have bled away into nothing, not even the tiniest bit of remorse or concern. Snape looked at Draco for a long moment, before putting a hand on his shoulder.
"He will live, Draco." Snape said, his voice as hard as steel. But there was also understanding in his eyes. "He will not die." Draco said nothing, only turned blank eyes away from them, but it clicked in Virginia's mind and she felt instantly guilty. Draco wasn't unaffected at all. Far from it. He was just protecting himself the only way he knew how to in these circumstances, drawing so far into himself that he was barely there and letting his birthright coat his heart in a frozen shield of temporary numbness. In other words, this was Draco's way of panicking. How very...Malfoy of him, she thought to herself.
"It will take all night, at least." Draco said, after having stayed silent nearly an entire minute, his hand on Blaise's forehead. "And it will take most of my energy and the energy of whoever seconds me in the trance. It will not be easy." He said, turning diamond-hard eyes on her. "You have yet to even walk among the visions, let alone a healing road. The path we must follow for poison is treacherous and deadly. You could easily lose yourself and break your mind. Do you still wish to help?" Draco asked her, his voice very serious even as his face betrayed nothing, not even a twinge of the pain and grief that she knew was eating at him inside.
A hush seemed to have fallen over the room, and she found it oddly funny that she had barely even noticed the other Slytherins still around her until they'd become silent. She did not answer immediately this time, since she knew he would refuse her help if he believed her to have answered rashly and without thinking. So she did think about it. Yes, she knew it would be dangerous. Any healer who walks a poison path is in danger, especially when fighting the deadlier poisons; and for Blaise, that's exactly what the sap was. And while Draco was nearly done with the training and would be taking the exam to certify him as a full-fledged Black Healer within the next year, she hadn't even really begun. But could she not help? Could she stand by and do nothing while the only two people in the world that she really, truly loved (besides her family, of course) fought for their lives? The answer was almost blinding in its honesty and simplicity. No. Not a fucking chance.
"Yes. I still want to help." She said, lifting her eyes to his and letting him see that she knew exactly what she was agreeing to. He seemed to falter, a tiny crack forming in his icy wall, but he glanced back at Blaise and nodded all the same.
"Then come." He said, holding his hand out to her.
She searched his face, looking for any flicker of remaining warmth, but found none. She almost hesitated, before images assaulted her brain. Silver eyes thawed and burning, burning with her heat; raven hair trailing over her skin like the richest silk, driving her senses insane; two sets of smooth, elegant hands running over every inch of her, practically pouring affection and devotion straight through pale flesh and into her very soul. Then the images started coming faster, brief flashes of love and lust, passion and laughter, before they changed abruptly. The next were full of blood and screaming, rage and death. Darkness was creeping in, filling her, and she couldn't see past the twisting, swirling, sweet-cold fury that was freezing the blood in her veins. There was nothing but the sensations, nothing but…It stopped suddenly and Virginia was once more looking through her own eyes, feeling her own thoughts and emotions. She glanced hurriedly up at Draco.
"How…What was that? It was you, wasn't it?" She asked, ignoring Snape's questioning look.
"Yes." Draco said, his hand still held out to her. She took it, and his skin felt like ice. "I'll explain how later, and no, I don't know why you got those last few images. There's no time now, we have to hurry." He said, his voice still emotionless. But the first of the visions had done what she supposed he had intended for them to do, reassuring her that it was still him no matter how far inside himself he had retreated, no matter how cold he had to be in order not to break down before they even begun. And the last of it…Well, she knew by now that they each held darkness in their souls. If it were going to scare her off, it would have done so a long time ago. Like, say, that first night when she'd been introduced to blood-play. Yep, she thought, that would almost assuredly have been it for most normal people. Thank the gods for my abnormalities.
"What do you want me to do?" She asked, her fingers tightening around his.
He waved his free hand over their joined ones, speaking a spell in what sounded like Russian. A small ball of purple light appeared in the air, and then began elongating until it looked like a glowworm. It hovered down until it lay over their skin, then began winding around their wrists, pushing in between them so it could wrap each one individually. It grew longer and longer as it worked, until they each had a glowing cuff of light encircling one of their wrists. The cuffs were attached to each other by more of the purple light, about a foot's worth of slack between them. She pulled at it experimentally, and it stretched easily, no matter how far she pulled her hand away. She looked up at Draco, an inquiry in her charcoal eyes.
"When we go into the trance, this will keep you with me." He explained swiftly. "I can get us easily enough to the right path, but this isn't invincible. There are plenty of things where we're going that could cut the cord and separate us. Be on guard constantly. As soon as we enter the trance, Blaise will go into a suspended state. He will live and breathe until we either fail or beat the poison. But you must promise me something." He said, pulling her closer to him, his glacial eyes meeting hers.
"What?" She asked, confused, as his voice sounded almost pleading.
"No matter what happens, there will be no sacrifices from you, do you understand? The land we go to is tricky and deceptive. I cannot lose you, ma chéri." He said with all seriousness, his eyes boring into hers. She gave a weak nod, trying to push her renewed fear away as easily as she had earlier. "Are you ready?" He asked, running his thumb along her jaw line. ((my darling))
"Yes," she said, taking a deep breath, "I'm ready."
"Alright. Give me your hand." Draco said, but his tone wasn't quite as hard as it had been earlier, and she knew that he was fighting his instinctive reaction to block out everything and everyone, so as not to hurt her again. She held her cuffed hand out to him without the slightest bit of hesitation this time, berating herself for her earlier lack of understanding since he'd obviously caught on to it, and watched as he did a quick shift, his index nail becoming razor sharp.
He sliced her palm quickly before doing his own, and as she watched the ruby fluid dripping from their identical cuts and splattering on the rug, she remembered an old story her mother had told her when she was a child. It was about a Prince of their people who had lost his Lady and who later took a blood oath that he would never love another besides the earth itself. When his blood had hit the grass, full of soul energy, the land had listened and flowers had grown where the crimson liquid had been spilt. It was said that ever since, whenever a witch or wizard of pure blood bled upon the living ground, flowers still sprung from the earth in honor of that oath.
She had tested it, of course, and been amazed two days later when wild, red roses were winding up the base of her favorite tree. Snapping out of her thoughts, she saw a whispered conference between Snape and Draco come to an end. Draco reached out once more, and Blaise, who had not moved or spoken since his eyes had fallen shut earlier, didn't so much as flinch when Draco sliced his hand open. A muffled curse had her looking over at Draco, and she was slightly amazed when she saw that his blood had frozen and the wound had frosted over. She couldn't help cocking an eyebrow at him. For a split second, it almost looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes, but his attention quickly returned to the other as a light moan escaped Blaise's lips.
She leaned over slightly and touched the frozen wound on Draco's hand, letting just enough heat escape her skin to melt the slight coating of frost. The blood began running once more and she looked up to find iron-gray eyes on her. Something flickered in them, and lips so cold they almost burned pressed against her forehead a moment later. She returned the kiss, her lips meeting the chilled flesh of his throat. It was brief, over almost as soon as it had begun, but she was more grateful for it than she had been for anything in a long time. It meant more to her than she could say that he would still try to comfort her even when he had a beloved's possible death hanging over his head.
"Your other hand, now." He said, and she extended her free hand. It was done quickly, as were his and Blaise's. They carefully rolled Blaise back over, as Snape had bandaged the wound while she and Draco had been momentarily distracted. Draco took her hand, their blood mingling between them, before they each took one of Blaise's bleeding hands in their free ones. They made an awkward triangle, with the two of them kneeling on the rug and Blaise lying comatose on the couch.
"We go now. Prepare yourself." Draco warned her, and she began the rhythmic breathing that she'd been taught to do when attempting to enter any sort of trance. A minute passed, and she was completely unaware of Snape ushering out the other Slytherins except for Pansy, Melody and Anton. Another minute passed, and Draco began a slow chant in the Old Tongue, one which opened the way for them and connected the three of them together through the blood they all now shared. She was vaguely aware through their new link that Blaise's infected blood was burning Draco worse than any flame could, before the world flipped and spun, everything going black.
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They knew immediately when Draco and Virginia had slipped into the healing trance because their eyes glazed over, unseeing gazes locked on Blaise's still form. When Severus nodded at her, Pansy began the circle of protection, a shield which would ensure that nothing could follow them back whenever they returned to their bodies. If they return, a cynical little voice in the back of her mind intoned, but she shut it out quickly. It would do no good to think such things. The three of them were strong. If anyone could do it, they could. Draco would guide Virginia and they would bring Blaise back. She repeated that to herself over and over as she cast the ring of protection. When it was done, she looked to Snape, who nodded his approval. The four of them sat down on the couch across from the still forms of their friends (or, in Severus's case, two godsons and a favored student who happened to be a Gryffindor) to wait.
"I'm scared." Melody admitted after a few minutes, her eyes darting back to the three figures inside the circle.
"They'll be fine, darling." Anton reassured her, sliding an arm across her shoulders and drawing her close to him.
"No, you don't understand." She argued, but didn't move out of his comforting embrace. "Ever since we heard Draco mention the sap I've felt horrible. I can't really explain it. We've known Draco and Blaise since we were children. What if something awful happens to them?" She asked miserably. Pansy knew exactly how she felt. Sliding closer to the other girl, she let their fingers intertwine, lending her silent support. Melody gave her a weak smile and kissed her cheek. They sat in silence for a while longer, before a strange banging noise could be heard from outside the entrance to the common room.
"What on earth is that?" Anton asked.
"I'll check." Pansy said, moving towards the entrance.
"And I'll be coming with you." Anton said, his tone allowing no disagreements. She refrained from rolling her eyes and nodded.
"Fine. But it better not be because I'm female." She said, and he did roll his eyes.
"Darling, I come from a long line of purebloods. If there's one thing my ancestors have graced me with, it's a strong survival instinct. I would never be so stupid as to assume that a witch as capable as you are wouldn't be able to do just fine on her own."
"Flattery, my dear Anton," Pansy said with a smirk as they walked for the entrance, "will get you everywhere."
"Yes, I know." He replied with a cheeky grin. "Part of that survival instinct." She slapped his arm and spoke the exiting spell, which opened the wall. Thanks to Draco and Blaise's morbid little senses of humor, the wall bled on the inside as well as the outside. That thought brought on the worry and fear that were waiting to break free, but the sight that greeted her on the other side of the wall shocked those feelings into the background once more.
"Where's my sister?" Ron Weasley demanded, while Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and that Gryffindor girl Virginia was friends with were flanking him. Pansy, for once in her life, seemed unable to form words. Thank the gods for Anton.
"What in the fuck are you doing here?" Anton asked incredulously. "This is the Slytherin dormitory, in case you've forgotten, and you are all most certainly not welcome here. Go back to your tower."
"The fuck I will!" Ron exclaimed. "I want to see my sister! Or I'll go and get the Headmaster!" He threatened, but before Pansy could spit out a retort, her shock at seeing Gryffindors on their doorstep gone as quickly as it had come, Severus appeared behind them with Melody at his side.
"May I inquire as to what, exactly, has brought four little Gryffindors down to the snake's den? And on such a day as this one." Severus said dryly. Ron seemed to quail before puffing himself up and reminding Pansy strongly of that other Weasley who'd been Head Boy a few years back.
"Lions aren't afraid of snakes." Ron spat, and Pansy saw Granger elbow him in the back.
"The lion may be king of the jungle," Pansy said acidly, "but drop him into Antarctica, and he's just a penguin's bitch." Anton and Melody both started laughing, while Severus snorted and smirked. The Gryffindors gaped at her and at each other for nearly a full minute before Potter stepped forward.
"Look, can we just see Ginny?" He asked, but he wouldn't meet any of the Slytherins' eyes. Pansy sneered.
"Are you sure it's not Draco that you'd like to see?" She asked mockingly, unable and unwilling to keep the gleeful note of remembrance out of her voice, and the Slytherins watched with immense satisfaction as he turned beet red. The mudblood seemed to feel it was time to step in.
"Please," she started, "we're all just worried about Ginny. She never came back to the tower and-"
"You really expected her to?" Anton asked viciously. "Your loyal lot was glaring and jeering at her as much as the other two Houses. It must hurt to see your own turn against you." The Gryffindors looked taken aback, and then the other girl who'd come with them scooted around Weasley.
"This is going nowhere." She said, looking determined. "I'm sorry, but I want to see my friend." With that said, she went for her wand, which had the Slytherins automatically whipping their own out with practiced ease. She looked surprised, but shook her head and finished pulling out seven inches of oak. She pointed the tip at her palm, reciting a slicing spell. It strongly reminded Pansy of her friends' own palms when she saw the girl's blood run and she shook her head clear before she could become distracted. Then, moving quickly, the girl slammed her hand against the stone wall.
"Lauren, what-" Granger started, but the girl, 'Lauren' apparently, cut her off.
"Pure blood upon pure stone, deny me not entrance to thy home!" Lauren started, and the wall began to glow white underneath her hand. "A boon I ask of the House of Slytherin, and a debt I will owe thee no matter the sin!" The wall's light flashed brightly, before a beam of it reached out, wrapping around her hand while another shot out, connecting to Severus's own hand. The Potions Master glared fiercely, but spoke all the same.
"Pure blood eaten by pure stone, thy shall not be denied entrance to our home." The scowl on Severus' face was almost murderous. "But should Slytherin House be betrayed by thee, death will come for thee within a week." He looked a bit more cheerful at that, but not by much. The other three Gryffindors looked shocked, and the Slytherins angrier then they'd been before, although they were also slightly pleased, as they were almost certain the girl had no idea just how binding that oath could be, or she never would have done it. There were ways into Slytherin besides a direct invitation, yes, but none of them were free. Or very pleasant.
"So be it." Both Lauren and Severus said together. The light flashed again, before fading and sinking back into the blood-free wall.
"Well." Pansy said after a moment's silence. "That was a stupid thing to do. And very bloody rude."
"What did you do?" Granger asked Lauren. "I understood the oath well enough, but how…"
"How did I know what to do?" Lauren asked, staring at her healed hand a little dazedly. "My mother's step-sister was a Slytherin. She told me how to gain entrance should I ever really need it, when I wrote to her about Ginny."
"Traitor." Melody hissed. "What is her surname?" Lauren looked at her warily, but answered.
"Praedon."
"Oh, wonderful." Melody said sarcastically. "Even better, then. A blood-traitor. Absolutely bloody fabulous." Lauren looked affronted, but wisely decided to keep her mouth shut and said nothing more than a few words.
"Right. Can we come in now?"
"You may. Nothing was ever said for them." Severus said nastily, and the Slytherins had quite a good time watching the Gryffindors splutter. Lauren finally began to lift her hand again, moving once more for the wall, but Severus waved her away with a look of complete and utter disgust. "Honestly, child. Do quit that. You'll end up a Slytherin slave."
"A what!?" Weasley asked, taking on a green tinge. Pansy, Anton and Melody looked at each other, silently and simultaneously deciding that it was too good of an opportunity to pass up, and that if they did, Blaise and Draco would never forgive them. Plus, the bastards had forced their way into Slytherin. A little payback was in order.
"A Slytherin slave." Pansy said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Severus shot her a warning look, which she typically ignored. "I knew the Weasleys were a disgrace to purebloods everywhere, except for your darling sister, but I was under the impression that you at least still followed the old ways." The Weasel looked furious.
"Of course we do!"
"Then don't you have your own slaves?" Melody asked, and the Gryffindors took on disgusted expressions that rivaled Snape's from a moment ago.
"Slaves?" Granger asked, her voice full of disbelief. "Oh lord, you actually keep slaves? Here? At Hogwarts?"
"Naturally." Anton said, sticking his nose in the air. "What sort of purebloods would we be if we didn't?" He asked, shooting a meaningful glance at Weasley. "Do come in, though. After all, the celebration is about to begin." While he'd been talking, Pansy and Melody had been doing some quick illusion wandwork behind their backs, trying not to snigger while Severus shot them exasperated looks out of the corner of his eyes.
"Celebration?" Granger questioned weakly. The Slytherins said nothing, only moved away from the entrance, motioning the Gryffindors to enter. They did so cautiously and gaped at what they saw, the wall closing behind them.
"Oh gods." Weasley said, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head as he looked at the common room-turned-S&M club. The couch where the three lost in a healing trance were was no longer visible, and all they saw was a huge open room, chains hanging from the walls, each set holding a whimpering male or female dressed in scraps of shiny leather. Whips, knives and other various instruments of torture and ecstasy were lying around carelessly, and the people attached to the walls were bleeding from various wounds.
"Now, only the older students are allowed to play with the muggles, of course." Pansy said, seeing Severus's resigned expression out of the corner of her eyes.
"They're muggles?" Granger croaked. The Slytherins gave her scathing looks while internally laughing at the Gryffindors' horrified expressions.
"Did you think we would enslave other wizards?" Melody asked with a sneer.
"This has to be illegal." Potter murmured, looking appalled.
"Illegal?" Anton questioned. "Why would it be illegal? It's tradition!"
"It's monstrous!" Granger argued, her cheeks flushed. Weasley gasped suddenly when he spotted a redhead against the right wall.
"Ginny?" He asked in disbelief, running over to her. Just as he was about to reach for her, he was yanked backwards. He spun around, glaring.
"Didn't you just hear us say that they're muggles?" Pansy asked, her voice full of cruel humor.
"That's not a muggle!" Weasley retorted furiously. "Let me go! I'm getting my sister and we're getting the fuck away from you Slytherin freaks! When the Ministry hears about thi-" Pansy cut him off.
"Then by all means, Weasley, go get her." She said, and shoved him hard. He fell backwards, his arms flailing wildly, obviously trying not to crush the small girl moaning in pain at his feet. But when he hit, it was the ground, not a girl. He'd fallen right through her. He made quite a picture with a phantom head coming out of his chest and four arms. It was silent until the Slytherins couldn't hold it in anymore and cracked up. Pansy would have fallen had Anton not caught her, since she was laughing so hard her knees had given out.
"Finite Incantatum." She and Melody both said, waving their wands. The illusions fell away, revealing their usual common room with its plush cushions and rich decorations. The Gryffindors' mouths dropped as they watched it all fade away, and dropped even farther as the couch and circle came back into view moments later. Weasley yelped, running for his sister, and this time no one stopped him. If the idiot didn't recognize a circle of protection, then he deserved what he got. Which happened to be running into an invisible wall that flung him backwards with a loud 'CRACK'. He flew through the air before slamming into a heavy wooden end table and slumping bonelessly to the floor. His friends ran to his side immediately.
"Ennervate." Granger said, and the Weasel's eyes opened groggily.
"Gin...Where's Gin?" He asked, struggling to sit up. Granger preformed a few quick healing spells and soon they were all on their feet once more. "What the hell did you do to my sister?" Weasley demanded.
"And what was all of...that?" Lauren added. The Slytherins took their time getting back to the couch they had occupied earlier, sitting down slowly and brushing imaginary dust from their immaculate robes. When the vein in Weasley's forehead was throbbing, Pansy finally spoke.
"Whatever do you mean?" She asked in a falsetto sweet voice.
"You know damn good and well what we mean!" Weasley vented. "What did you do with those people? And what 'celebration' were you talking about? Who could celebrate on a day like this?" He asked, and then stopped. "Oh. Of course. Slytherins." He said derisively. Cold glares were leveled at him, and Granger stepped forward, then slightly in front of him.
"I do believe we've been tricked, Ron." The mudblood said, her eyes darting around the room.
"You always were clever, Granger. I'll give you that." Pansy said, looking at her calculatingly. She then glanced lazily over at Weasley. "I have, however, come across decomposed bodies that were brighter than he is."
"You bloody bit-"
"That will be enough, Mr. Weasley." Severus said, his voice low and cutting. The Weasel looked over, his eyes wide, as if he'd completely forgotten that the Professor was there. Pansy shot him a smug grin.
"Do sit down." She said with false courtesy. "You look so awkward standing."
"I-" The Weasel started, but Granger grabbed his arm and they moved to one of the loveseats while Potter and Lauren sat on one of the oversized cushions. Pansy almost laughed, as they looked more awkward sitting with stiff backs among all of the green and silver pillows than they had when they were standing. "Better?"
"Yes." Weasley said through gritted teeth when Granger poked him in the ribs. "Now what the hell have you done to my sister?"
"Why don't you tell us what the fuck your Housemates and their friends did today, first?" Melody suggested, her eyes hard and her voice bitter.
"What are you talking about?" Potter asked, finally lifting his eyes and meeting Pansy's gaze. She let him see what she knew would bother him the most. Pity.
Which, of course, was a load of bullshit. Pity was too good for Gryffindors, especially for the Boy Who Just Couldn't Die. The majority of the Slytherins disliked Potter for quite a few reasons, and they weren't what everyone else assumed. They detested him because the very moment that had made him famous and adored had completely fucked their lives up. Had Potter died like he was supposed to, the Dark Lord would have either been dead himself or reigning since shortly after their births, and they never would have known anything different. Or, had Potter at least actually defeated the Dark Lord (which is what he was famous for, yet was something he didn't even really do) they wouldn't have to choose between their families and sanity. Which, if you actually knew anything about the Dark Lord, was exactly what they had to do. Because that son of a bitch was not right in the head. But the main reason they didn't like Potter was because he was a self-righteous, poncy Gryffindor git who figured himself a hero and thought he could take down the big, bad evil wizard when he didn't even really know what darkness was, let alone evil.
"She's talking about the attacks on our Housemates today, Potter." Anton said scathingly. "I'm sure you don't know anything about those, however. But in case you were wondering, that's the reason your Housemate is deep in a healing trance."
"A healing trance?" Granger asked incredulously. "Ginny's not a healer."
"Really, you don't say." Pansy replied sarcastically.
"What is my sister doing in a healing trance, then?" Weasley asked, his fists wrapped tightly in his robe.
"Trying to save Blaise's life." Melody said venomously. "Care to guess why that would be necessary?" Granger looked at her for a long moment before shaking her head in denial.
"You're not trying to say that Gryffindors did this?"
"Oh yes," Melody crooned, "I do believe that's exactly what I'm saying. If it makes you feel any better, which I sincerely hope that it doesn't, they weren't alone."
"What happened?" Granger asked quietly after a few moments of silence. Pansy narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"What do you know about our friends?" She asked them, and Granger gave her a brief overview of what they had been told by Virginia, Draco and Blaise. She nodded in approval when the girl was done. "Right. Well, Blaise was hurt. Virginia's helping. The end."
"What!?" Weasley exclaimed. "That's it? I don't think so!"
"Umm, yes, about that." Pansy said, plastering a thoughtful expression on her face. "Information will cost you."
"Cost us!? What the bloody he-"
"Cost us what?" Granger asked, her hand having silenced Weasley by clamping over his mouth.
"Information." Pansy said with a satisfied smirk, leaning back into the arm Anton had slung around her waist. She could practically see the wheels turning behind Granger's eyes.
"Continuing information or just this one exchange?" Granger finally asked. Pansy met Anton's eyes briefly before using a trick Draco and Blaise had taught them, one that they themselves had discovered during long formal dinners when they were children. She traced a question with her fingertip on his thigh where her hand was resting, her nail sliding easily along the thick, rich, sinfully soft Egyptian cotton. He showed no outward sign that it was anything more that an overly friendly touch, while tracing an answer discreetly on her back with the hand resting against it.
"Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?" Pansy replied, heeding his advice to wait and determine if what they offered was worth it.
"You first." Weasley said nastily.
"And why should we go first?" Anton asked, his silky voice taking on an edge. "You're the ones who are...guests here."
"I must check on a few things." Severus said suddenly, rising to his feet. He shot them a look that the Slytherins understood perfectly. He was leaving them to their own devices, as it wouldn't be proper for a Professor to actively participate in such activities between students, but he expected a full report later. He turned to the interlopers just as he was about leave. "Harass my students, Gryffindors, and the detentions that you are still serving will seem like nothing." He then swept out of the entrance, leaving the seven of them alone with Draco, Blaise and Virginia's frozen forms.
"Well?" Granger finally asked. "What do you want to know?"
"Hermione, no-"
"Be quiet, Ron." Granger said, fixing a glare on him. She then turned back to Pansy, the same question in her brown eyes.
"We want to know what Potter's receiving through that scar of his." Pansy said bluntly, loving the severely surprised expressions on the trio's faces. "He must be channeling more than just scrambled images by now."
"How do you know about that?" Potter asked, looking as if he'd just received a nasty shock.
"Hey!" Weasley said abruptly. "My sister didn't..."
"Of course not, you bloody idiot." Melody snapped. "How could she? You never told her anything or included her in anything you did. It's your loss, though; that girl has one of the sharpest minds I've ever seen. No, you only really noticed her when she'd decided to rule her own life and in the process happened to acquire new friends that you didn't approve of."
"Are you actually trying to claim being her friend?" Weasley asked in disbelief.
"Yes." Melody, Pansy and Anton all answered in unison.
"But you don't have any real friends, not like normal people! You're Slytherins!" He exclaimed, but instead of seeing the angry denial that he'd been aiming for, the Slytherins simply relaxed, smug grins creeping across their faces.
"Yes, yes we are." Anton agreed pleasantly, looking quite satisfied about it all.
"But you're right, though, Weasley." Pansy said, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. "We don't have friends like normal people. Ours are better. Whereas you and your friends might die for each other, our friends would do the same, but more. They would kill for us, as we would for them. And in the end, what do you think will keep you alive? Tears and some miracle because you're all so very majestic and noble? Think again, lionhearts. You believe yourselves prepared for war?" She asked, looking at them in turn. "Tell me, do you even know why Voldemort is called the Dark Lord?"
"You have to be kidding." Anton said after a few moments of silence. "Fuck this, Pansy. If they don't even understand what they're fighting, what possible information could they have that would be useful?"
"No!" Granger said hurriedly. "It's not our fault, it's just that-"
"They won't tell us anything!" Potter burst out. "Not anything! Dumbledore just sprouts unintelligible nonsense every time I see him, McGonagall's a stuffy old cow, and Si-Snuffles barely ever has a free moment. Everyone expects me to fight, really fight, not just escape from, this incredibly dangerous dark wizard, but they won't teach me anything helpful." He looked down after his rant and the Slytherins exchanged glances.
"Are you serious?" Pansy finally asked. "They want you to face off against Voldemort with only the spells they teach in this school?" Potter raised his eyes, looking sheepish and slightly defiant.
"Yes. And I will. I'm not scared."
"Then you're stupider than I thought." Anton said. "Anyone with half a brain has a healthy dose of fear for a Lord of the Dark."
"A Lord of the Dark?" Granger questioned. "I take it that's why he's called the Dark Lord, but what does it mean? I've never read anything about that title before."
"Apparently not." Pansy replied. "Which honestly no longer surprises me. I said you were clever, Granger, but I might have been wrong. I would have thought that you at least would have acquired the appropriate texts and so forth, even if you had to sneak into Knockturn Alley yourself to get them. But I suppose not." Pansy said, looking slightly disappointed. "The title means what it sounds like."
"But what does the 'Dark' part stand for? The Dark Arts?"
"Partly." Pansy said with a sigh. It was sad, really, she thought. She'd known this stuff ever since she could remember. "But more. The Dark Arts are only the ripples on the outer shell of the void, and the void is Darkness personified, the living Dark. The primordial well from which everything came. But I doubt that I could explain it in any way and have it make sense to you. Suffice to say that you're completely fucked."
"Couldn't you teach us though?" Granger asked, and that completely floored the Slytherins. They looked at each other, seriously wondering if they'd gone simultaneously mad. Apparently, Granger's friends were thinking along the same lines, as they were currently staring at her as if she'd suddenly grown another head.
"Teach you?" Melody echoed, and the shock wore away into laughter for the three Slytherins. A Gryffindor had just asked them for help. Salazar must be rolling in his grave with glee.
"I'm serious." Granger said, her back rigid and her nose turned up.
"Hermione, you can't possib-"
"Shut up, Ron!" Granger snapped, her patience seemingly reaching its end. "We need all of the help we can get. They're right. Can't you see that past your hatred of everything Slytherin? We have no idea what to even expect besides death and destruction! Do you want to stand a chance of winning or not?"
"Look, Hermione." Ron said, his cheeks inflamed. "They wouldn't help us anyway. Have you forgotten who they are? What they are? They'd go straight to their parents and You-Know-Who with anything we said or did! And, even if, by some microscopic chance, they don't particularly want to be Death Eaters, they will be anyway! They're Slytherins, 'Mione, from the darkest families. Bad blood."
"'Bad blood'!?" The Slytherins hissed together in infuriated disbelief.
"You want to speak to us about bad blood?" Anton growled, the nails of his right hand digging into the leather cushion.
"Stop!" Granger said. "Please, just stop. Ron's an idiot." She said, glaring daggers at the red-headed boy.
"Very true." Pansy agreed, enjoying the turn in conversation. She could talk about the Weasel being a fool all night. "His ignorance is very nearly encyclopedic, isn't it?" Weasley made a choked noise, but another glare from Granger had him changing his mind about retorting.
"Really, though, would you consider it?" Granger asked, meeting Pansy's eyes and holding the gaze steady between them. When the Slytherin said nothing, Granger continued. "I know it wouldn't come without a price."
"Well, you're damn right about that." Pansy agreed.
"But would you consider it?" Granger repeated. Pansy tucked a piece of her chin-length hair behind one ear thoughtfully.
"In all honesty?" She finally asked, and Granger nodded. "I'm not sure. It's not really our decision in the end."
"Whose decision is it, then? Professor Snape's?"
"No. He leaves us to our own."
"Then who do you have to ask?" Weasley questioned with a nasty look on his heavily freckled face. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"Oh, honestly." Anton said, rolling his hazel eyes. "We're not, nor are we going to be Death Eaters, you stupid, plebian little twit."
"You're lying!" Weasley very nearly shouted, and Pansy was quite glad for the permanent silencing charms that had always encircled the common room. "You're probably all just dying to become Death Eaters, and it's not like you would risk being disowned by refusing!"
"Disowned?" Melody asked in disbelief, saying aloud exactly what the other two Slytherins were also thinking. "Are you mad?" Weasley looked confused.
"But wouldn't your parents freak out if you refused to join You-Know-Who?"
"Of course." Melody replied. "But disown us? I think not."
"But why wouldn't they?" Granger asked. "They have the power to do so and other heirs are still a possibility. None of your parents are exactly old by wizarding standards." The Slytherins could only stare for a moment.
"By Circe, they're as socially inept as they are magically!" Anton exclaimed. After the Slytherins' snickering had died down, the girl, Lauren, spoke up.
"I know why." She said, causing the Dream Team to do a double take.
"Look, it might actually be a half-decently educated Gryffindor." Pansy said dryly, one ruby lip curled up in a sneer. "So, what is it that you believe the answer to be?"
"There are a couple of reasons." Lauren started out hesitantly. "One is that most of your parents aren't power-mad from what my aunt says. She also says that most of them care for you, if not love you. But the main reasons now, I would think, are Draco and Blaise." The Slytherins grudgingly nodded their agreement, which caused the Golden trio to look skeptical.
"Why on earth would your parents care what two seventeen year old boys think?" Potter asked, his emerald eyes narrowed suspiciously behind his glasses.
"Because they're seventeen now, you idiot." Pansy snapped. "Seventeen year old billionaires who recently inherited the two largest global corporations in our world. They own our parents' flourishing businesses. One word from either of them and our parents are out of annual millions, which would force them to live off the vaults. And they don't want that, now do they? You'd be amazed at how much our mothers can spend in one go."
"Holy shit." Weasley murmured, mostly to himself. Then louder, "I suppose you're only friends with them so they won't cut off your monetary supply, then? Is that why you're nice to my sister?" He immediately knew that was not the smartest thing to have said while sitting in the dungeons, as the murderous looks the Slytherins gave him would have made a werewolf think twice.
"Excuse me?" Pansy asked through clenched teeth, her voice low and threatening. "You couldn't even begin to understand our lives or the circumstances that made us friends. Keep your fucking mouth shut about shit you know nothing about. Unless, of course, you wish my assistance in removing your tongue." Weasley's mouth snapped shut automatically and he paled slightly at her malignant tone.
"Gods, I fucking hate Gryffindors." Anton said, lifting his eyes towards the high ceiling, the top of which was obscured by darkness.
"My sister's a Gryffindor, too, you know." Weasley muttered indignantly.
"No, she's not." Melody answered without even pausing. "Not to us."
"Will you tell me what's going on, now? Is she okay?" He asked, his voice the civilest they'd ever heard it when he was speaking to a Slytherin.
"If you apologize." Pansy said, an evil smirk on her face. Weasley blanched.
"For what?" He asked weakly, after receiving yet another glare from Granger.
"You know for what."
"Fine." Weasley said, then grew silent. This time, Granger jabbed him so hard in the ribs he nearly fell off the small couch. "Okay, okay! I'm...sorry." He said in a soft, tiny whisper before going into a sporadic coughing fit.
"What?" Melody questioned maliciously. "I'm afraid I couldn't hear you."
"I'm...very disappointed in myself and whatnot."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Pansy asked, her eyes wide and innocent.
"I shouldn't have said what I said." Weasley replied, once again being evasive after his first, rushed peep of an apology.
"And?" Granger prompted acidly.
"I'm sorry!" He finally burst out. "There, I said it! Now what the fuck is going on with Ginny?"
"Like I said earlier, Blaise was hurt." Pansy said with a glare. "As you know, he's a shapeshifter. Some sixth years trapped two of our fifth years at the base of the Whomping Willow. That particular tree has some nasty side effects on shifters, and he was banged up pretty badly. It would have been fine, as he got the fifth years to safety, but one of the limbs stabbed him in the lower back. Even that wouldn't have been too bad, considering his healing capabilities and Draco and Severus's knowledge, but sap got in the wound. It's usually deadly if it gets into a shifter's bloodstream, which it did." The Gryffindors were silent for a long time.
"Who did it?" Lauren finally asked, her eyes flickering between Blaise and the conscious Slytherins.
"Three Gryffindors, three Ravenclaws, and one Hufflepuff who sprouted momentary balls. Lycelle and Devon said that Blaise gave them quite a scare when he leapt off a third story balcony out of nowhere, spitting curses at them in the old tongue. Sometimes, I really wish I had a Time-Turner. That would definitely be worth seeing."
"Three Gryffindor sixth years, huh?" Granger asked, the wheels turning again. "All male?"
"No. One was female." Anton supplied.
"I see." Granger said, her face hard and a hand lifting to finger her Head Girl badge unconsciously.
"Right. Bloody horrible and all, but that still doesn't tell me why my baby sister, who is not any sort of healer, is currently in a goddamned healing trance." Weasley grumped.
"How do you put up with him all the time?" Pansy asked Granger off-handedly.
"With effort." Granger replied, flipping her slightly frizzy hair over her shoulder.
"Your sister is acting as Draco's second." Melody answered Weasley's inquiry. "She offered, and he needed someone strong if it's going to work. And before you say anything, she was the most logical choice. None of the rest of has enough training, not even Sev-Professor Snape. The only other person who could have taken either of their places is lying on that couch, half-dead."
"Malfoy's not a healer." Potter said derisively. "Even if he wanted to be, they would never accept someone like him."
"Correction: He would never be accepted by the White ranks." Pansy pointed out. "And he's too powerful and too dark for the Gray. But not a healer? Very wrong there, Potter. The only reason he and Blaise haven't been inducted into the Black ranks yet is because of that pesky Ministry law that says they have to be a year past their majority. And, since I can plainly see from your dumbfounded expressions that that was something you were unaware of, you now owe me. Beautiful day, isn't it?"
"Oh, this is wonderful." Weasley grumbled under his breath. "My sister is lost in a healing trance with Malfoy as her only hope of getting back out. My mum is going to kill me." No one said anything to that, and they sat in relative silence. Pansy glanced up after a while and saw an expression of deep concern on Melody's pretty face. It worried her since the girl was actually showing unintentional emotion around Gryffindors.
"If you worry so, go and pray." Pansy told her absently, her thoughts still with her friends, wherever they might be.
"And what god would listen? Bacchus? Bes? Or perhaps Asclepius?" Melody deadpanned. "You know as well as I that the gods have not helped nor hindered in centuries. They stay in their realms, disgusted with the way muggles and wizards alike have turned out, and who can blame them? Cutting down their forests, ruining what they gave us, forsaking their worship…What god would not be angry?"
"Then spill your blood upon the altar." Pansy said automatically, barely thinking as the words spilled from her lips. "You are pure, you follow the old ways. If they heed anyone, it will be those whose lines have not been tainted, those who still pay homage. The first among us began as their children, after all."
"And what makes you think our blood will still serve as a beacon to them?" She asked, her voice more curious than bitter. "Many of the old families never turned their backs on the worship of earth and deity, and yet they still turned their backs upon us, punishing us for the wrongs committed by others of our race."
"Yes." Pansy agreed, the mention of the Gods' Abandonment bringing a chill to her blood as it always did. "But it is written that if they ever heed another's call, it will be someone who is still connected to them in an unbroken line." There was that damned shiver again. "And the days of glory shall be restored. Or so say the prophecies, anyway. But enough talk of the gods, we need t-" She stopped, her eyes growing wide and horrified as she caught sight of their friends inside the circle. The others followed her gaze, choked cries forming in their throats.
Draco, Virginia and Blaise were all still motionless, but their mouths were open in silent screams. Blood was trickling from their noses, their ears, the sides of their mouths, even from the corners of their eyes. Blaise had gone deathly pale and didn't appear to be breathing, his chest lying still and lifeless. Draco's skin was turning redder and redder as if he were burning up from the inside, sweat pouring off of him as blisters began forming all over his flawless features. Virginia's entire body that was visible was blue, ice crusting in her hair, eyelashes and robes, black spots of frostbite slowly appearing and spreading over her tinted flesh. Pansy's mind was screaming in denial as her numb legs carried her toward them, her only concern being deactivating the circle and getting to her friends, when the protective shield became briefly visible, wavering in the air before exploding outwards and slamming her head first into a wall.
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Another cliffie! Don't worry, you find out what happened in the next chapter. Please review and tell me what you think!