Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Author's Note: A few people have said that the stuff about the gods was confusing, so I'll try to clear it up a bit. (clears throat) Most 'old' cultures worshiped a certain group of gods, a 'pantheon'. The five primary pantheons are the Celtic, the Egyptian, the Greek, the Norse and the Roman. Some people group the Greek and Roman pantheons together since they have many similar qualities, and I myself have in other stories. But in this one, they are separate, as they should be. Now, each of those pantheons had 'dark' gods and 'light' gods, a good example being Zeus and Hades. Each were Kings, but Zeus ruled in the sky, whereas Hades ruled in the Underworld. So Cocidius, who's parents were never listed in anything I've read, I made the child of the Dana, the Celtic 'Queen' Goddess, and Afallach, the 'King' of the Celtic Underworld. But I won't be going deep into their histories, I don't think, so you don't have to worry about knowing that much about them. They're mostly just background characters anyway. If I missed anything or anyone still has any questions, please let me know!
French Translations: ((example))
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Virginia stretched lazily, the tightening of her muscles feeling exquisite. She was looking forward to the coming evening, as she, Draco and Blaise would finally get to go on their date to Hogsmeade. It was Saturday, but a week after their original plans had been set for, a week after they'd 'come back from the dead', as everyone so loved to remind them. Draco had been so angry when Snape had told them that their deaths had already been publicly announced that she and Blaise had had to take him for a hunt in the forest before he was able to even form a coherent sentence. She hadn't understood why at first, but when they'd gone back to classes on Monday, she'd understood perfectly.
The mixed looks and whispers of awe and hate that followed them everywhere were the most annoying and infuriating things she'd ever had to endure. They'd been splashed across every front page of every published magazine and newspaper in their world, and Dumbledore had been evicting the press off of the grounds almost four times a day, along with gawking witches and wizards who wanted one of two things: To meet them or to assassinate them. But what really didn't help them gain any peace was the fact that every altar within a two hundred mile radius had sprung back to life after over a millennium. Purebloods and halfbloods alike were flocking to them from all over the world, claiming it was a miracle.
There were three views on what had caused said miracle, however. The first was what had been printed; that she, Blaise and Draco were Cocidius's Chosen (Draco had been quite angry that that had become public knowledge, as well). The second was the opinion of those who followed Voldemort; that he had brought the altars back to life, that he had the favor of a god, and that Dumbledore was only using the three of them for cover. The third opinion was the one that most muggleborns were taking; that it was a fluke, a freak occurrence, and that maybe, just maybe, the gods did have something to do with it, but if they had, it was on their own, not because of anyone in particular. Personally, she didn't give a damn what they thought, if they'd only leave them alone.
"Virginia?" Pansy's voice questioned, using the portrait to call into the room. Sitting up and pulling the dark green sheet around her, she told the portrait to let her in. Seconds later, Pansy appeared out of the short entranceway, her dark hair floating around her smirking face. The mahogany brown tresses had been long up until last year, when she'd cut them off to her chin. It suited her sharp, angular face better in Virginia's opinion.
"'Lo, Pansy." Virginia mumbled tiredly, rubbing the last of the sleep from her eyes. And, as she had every morning since Hermione had told her more about muggles, she thanked the gods that she was a witch and hadn't had 'morning breath' since she was six, courtesy of a permanent, life-long charm. Scrunching her nose in distaste at the thought, she didn't even realize she had spaced off until Pansy laughed, waving a hand in front of her face.
"You awake?" She teased. "Because you didn't look it there for a minute."
"Hmph." Virginia huffed. "Well, some people around here still need a little sleep once in a while." She said, glaring towards the bathroom where her boyfriends were currently hidden behind the leafy green foliage. She heard the faintest echo of a masculine laugh through the soothing noise of the waterfall, and glared harder, knowing that they'd heard her. Bastards. Pansy gave her a knowing, sympathetic glance.
"I take it they don't even need the few hours of sleep they did before, then?"
"Oh nooooooooooooooo." Virginia grumped, purposely lowering her voice just to agitate them. "The big, bad vampires got all the perks out of this deal." The Mark on her arm glittered and tingled, and she shot it an adoring, exasperated look. "Joking." She murmured, causing Pansy to laugh again, although there was that same wonder-filled glimmer in her eyes that was in everyone else's when they looked directly at one of their Marks, even those who hated the three of them and said it was all a lie.
"So, does He…monitor you all the time, or something?" Pansy asked, looking up and meeting Virginia's eyes.
"No." Virginia replied, smirking. "It's almost like the Mark has a mind of its own."
"Do you feel any…different because of it?" She asked, and Virginia saw a small hint of remembered horror flash in her friend's eyes.
"Umm," she started, not really knowing what to say. She couldn't understand why Pansy looked so anxious for her answer, or why she'd seemed almost scared at the possibility that Virginia might not be exactly the same as she had been before. And in truth, she did feel different. But it wasn't a bad different. It was comforting, completing, to have small shots of divinity ceaselessly racing through her veins, and it was even better when she was with Draco and Blaise.
The Marks also connected them to each other, sort of like a mind-meld spell that hadn't been deactivated and sat dormant and humming in the back of your consciousness, a constant reassurance. And there were other things…But she was almost sure that wasn't what Pansy wanted to hear, and she couldn't fathom why. Pansy was one of the most accepting people she'd ever met when it came to the strange and unnatural. And in their world, 'strange' and 'unnatural' could be a number of things much more disturbing then what had been altered inside of them. So what if the world looked different to her eyes now? So what if those with any nonmagical blood running through their veins sometimes smelled like prey? There was nothing she could do about it, nothing she would do about it, except block it out like she'd been doing. And it was another good reason to surround herself with Slytherins.
"If you're trying to seduce our girlfriend, Parkinson, you'll have to do better than that." Blaise said, appearing from behind a huge Imperial Blackleaf and pushing its large, green and purplish-black leaves back.
He had nothing but a thick, black towel wrapped around his waist, hanging low on his hips, and had produced a bottle of wine from…somewhere. It was open already, and moisture coated the dark green glass. Honestly, they had wine stashes everywhere. His long black hair was dripping wet and hanging down his back, the blue and purple lowlights lost among the water-laden tresses. Draco came out seconds after him, a matching towel slung around his waist and his hair just as wet. But he had two bottles of wine to Blaise's one, and his hair was still metallic, even while weighed down by the water. Watching the play of muscles as they moved distracted her to the point that Pansy laughed again, snapping her out of her very unladylike mental imaginings.
"I don't believe you have anything to worry about." Pansy replied as they glided up to them, and looked pointedly at Virginia. Instead of blushing, she sneered.
"Jealous, dear?" She asked, and Pansy's smirk reappeared. Before she could retort, however, Draco sighed.
"I knew it." He said morosely. "She's after our bodies. Damn. Whatever shall we do?" He asked, directing the question at Blaise, who put on a thoughtful expression.
"Well, she obviously can't resist our magnificence." Blaise replied haughtily, sticking his nose in the air. "So I say we sit back and watch them fuck."
"Blaise!!" Virginia and Pansy exclaimed at once, while Draco started snickering.
"What?" He asked innocently, taking a long swig of the wine in his hand. Draco handed Virginia one of the bottles he was holding, still laughing, and gave Pansy the other. He walked over to the star-strewn wall, said 'Caliga', and a panel appeared from nowhere. He pulled out another bottle, proving Virginia's point beautifully. There were four hidden caches in the bedroom alone.
"You're both horrid creatures." Pansy huffed, the hint of a grin on her face ruining her threatening posture. Blaise smirked and bowed mockingly before moving towards the wardrobe.
"Sure, sure. Now, love," he said, flashing Virginia a disarming smile, "will you be requiring clothes, or do we get to take you out in nothing but our bed sheet?"
"Not that he's complaining." Draco added, half of his wine already mysteriously gone. Virginia sighed, standing and keeping the sheet tucked tightly around her.
"Clothes, please." She replied, ignoring their looks of disappointment and sitting the bottle on the bed for later. "I'll be back in a minute."
They nodded, and she made her way for the bathroom slowly, letting the rich, exotic scents wash over her. She absolutely loved their bathroom, and knew that it had quite horribly spoiled her. But how could she resist? It was perfect. If she'd ever given any thought to what her dream bathroom would be like, it would definitely have been something remarkably similar. She parted the low, over-hanging leaves out of her way and let them fall closed behind her. The sound of the waterfall was more pronounced, and she let the sheet flutter to her feet before she slid into the warm water. Draco and Blaise had asked her to join them earlier, but she'd been too lazy.
She regretted it now, as their presence would have made the bath all the more enjoyable, but she'd been exhausted. They'd stayed up late the night before, chatting with the Slytherins, who seemed to be almost frantic with the worry that they would just disappear at any moment. And her brother, Harry, Hermione and Lauren had been stopping by almost every night, which the Slytherins were very slow to accept, as if they feared the same thing. The air was always thick with uncomfortable silences when they were around, but they persisted in their visits, mostly because Virginia rarely went to Gryffindor Tower anymore. The memory of her Housemates' jeering, hateful faces was enough to make her wary, even if half of them hadn't smelt like food. Being around Harry and Hermione was taxing enough.
Not to mention the fact that her boyfriends would rather chew off their own limbs than let her go alone. They were paranoid enough when she was with other Slytherins. Throw her in a group of Gryffindors, and their heads were likely to explode. Giggling at the thought, she waded over to the waterfall, the warm liquid of the pool nearly reaching her shoulders. There was a step right before you got to the waterfall, so that it was easier to wash your hair, and if you stuck your hand through the sheet of water, there was a shelf built into the stone, packed with herbal soaps and shampoos that Draco and Blaise brewed themselves.
She agreed with them that no matter how much gold they had, it was pretty pointless to pay for such expensive products when you could make them yourself. She'd laughed and told them that if they ever went bankrupt, they could always open a salon. They hadn't spoken to her for an hour, just stared, horrified, at the wall. Apparently, the thought of losing everything they owned was a new, alien and terrifying notion. She'd found it quite hilarious. Thinking of them, which she seemed to do constantly, made her wish, again, that she'd gotten up to bathe with them earlier. But it had been their fault she'd been so tired in the first place. They hadn't gotten to their room that late, after all.
Remembered pleasure coursed through her, and she shivered, the warm water suddenly feeling even warmer against her skin. She let her eyelids flutter shut, imagining their hands running over her skin. Her breathing picked up and she sighed, knowing that it was pointless to try to bring herself pleasure. It had been ever since the first touch of their skin on hers. She couldn't really bring herself to care, though, and reached mechanically for the shampoo. Bringing the thick substance to a lather, she ran her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. It was hard to wash by herself since it was so long, and she would have called the two of them to help if Pansy hadn't been there.
She leaned forward a bit so the rushing water wouldn't wash out the shampoo before she even got it all the way through her hair, and jumped when two sets of hands descended on her at once. She'd been so distracted that she hadn't even heard them. Not that she would have even with her recently enhanced senses if they hadn't wanted to be heard in the first place. She relaxed immediately as their skilled hands began working the shampoo through her hair and running the bar of soap over her skin, moving agonizingly slow. The lull of the water and the slippery, full-body massage soon had her floating in a tranquil haze.
"Where's Pansy?" She asked unconsciously, her mouth working on its own. A soft, warm chuckle tickled over her skin, making her shiver again.
"Au loin." Blaise replied, tilting her head to wash the shampoo from her hair. "Faire cela avoir de l'importance?" He asked as the last of the suds came out, and she shook her head. ((Away. Does it matter?))
She would have verbally responded, but one mouth covered hers and the other licked and nibbled a chilly, delicious trail down her neck. Tingling sparks flared up inside of her, and she responded eagerly, letting her lips be devoured and devouring in turn. The storm of sensations the two of them created in her was very nearly overwhelming, but she wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world. The soft, icy lips continued kissing down her shoulder and over her collarbone, before flicking teasingly across her nipple. She gasped into Blaise's mouth, arching her back and purring in delight. Their kiss turned hungry, demanding, and both yielded to it unthinkingly.
Sharp teeth bit her nipple just hard enough to draw a trickle of blood, and she moaned, feeling her knees go weak. Strong, sure hands gripped her hips and pushed her forcibly into the wall, knowing with an expert's finesse just how much she would like it. Her back met the warm, stone wall just hard enough to sting, and the rough pain doubled her pleasure, turning the heat running through her veins into molten lava. A body was pressed against either side of her, and Blaise's mouth had never left hers. He nipped her lips sharply and her blood mingled between them. Blaise growled, renewing the kiss furiously and cupping her breasts with his hands as Draco's mouth left her wanting skin.
She moaned again, half in pleasure, half in disappointment, before a chilled tongue swirled over her aching heat and made her scream. It was muffled around the lips on her mouth, and the small bit of comprehension she'd still possessed disappeared, along with any and all self-control. It all came back to the basics; to pure, aching instincts, their passion and groans of delight as old as time. Fingernails like small knives trailed over the smooth inner flesh of her thigh as her world began to swim around her, the colors melting together. She was barely aware of begging them to take her, but she was entirely aware when they did. Complete. She knew that she thought the word altogether too much, but it truly was the only one that came close to describing the way they made her feel, the way this made her feel.
Complete was feeling their flesh surrounding hers, feeling their hearts beating in sync. Complete was their touch, their smell, their rare smiles. Complete was their silky hair mingling with hers in a concealing curtain that fell around them, a patched mass of silver, black and blood. Complete was the low, sensual sounds of appreciation and devotion that escaped their throats in ragged gasps. Complete was teeth and nails and sweet, sweet pain soothed and spiced with caring adoration. Complete was twin sets of sharp, deadly fangs sinking into her skin, drawing her blood and replacing it with unadulterated ecstasy. Complete was having them inside of her, filling her body and soul, pounding and thrusting, ravishing and loving.
"Oh gods!" She screamed as the ecstasy peaked and crashed over her in a thundering, frosty wave, her throaty voice swallowed up by the rushing water and their own cries of release.
Her nails raked down Draco's chiseled back as Blaise's teeth moved from her neck to her shoulder, and her limbs began trembling violently. Her muscles gave out completely, and they sunk into the water listlessly, their limbs intertwined, and content, satisfied looks gracing their features. Draco and Blaise's fingers ran unerringly over every inch of her, whispered murmurs in French dancing over her spirit as healing hands lessened the bruises, leaving them faded and slightly aching, as they knew she liked them. Soft reminders, she'd called them once, and they'd told her there was no need, seeing as how they'd make new ones for her anytime she wished.
They didn't bother to heal their own at all, as they relished the pain even more than she did, which she strongly suspected had something to do with their vampiric blood. Or maybe not. But regardless, the marks meant something to each of them and they cherished every one. Before, she'd never known what a little blood and pain could add to sex, and she seriously doubted that it would be appealing were they anyone else. They seemed to bring out the parts of her that she had fought so long and hard to deny and hide while in Gryffindor Tower, and she thanked them more for it everyday. She had never felt so free in her life, and if there was one thing she was determined about, it was that no one would ever take it away from her again.
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Hermione sighed. Boys couldn't take longer to do anything if they tried. How very, very sad. Shaking her head, she called up the stairs again. "Harry! Ron! Are you almost ready? You heard what she said!"
"We know, we know!" Ron's voice echoed back down to her from the boys' dorms, sounding annoyed. "If we don't get there before seven, she'll leave anyway! It's those damn Slytherins' influence, I tell you!" Rolling her eyes, Hermione went and sat back down by Lauren.
"In boy speak, they'll be another ten minutes." She said, sighing again. Lauren grinned.
"Yeah, well at least you get to go. My mum said if I get another detention this term, that's she's going to give our tickets to the Quidditch World Cup away. Can you believe that?"
"Erm…" Hermione said, not sure how to respond. She really didn't like Quidditch. It was a stupid, ruthless and barbaric game if you asked her, but no one did. They knew how she felt about their sport of choice already.
"Bloody ridiculous, if you ask me." Lauren continued. "It's not my fault the teachers all hate me." Hermione laughed stiffly, the thought of all her teachers hating her being almost too horrible to imagine. The seconds crawled by, and exactly nine and a half minutes later, the boys finally emerged from the dark staircase.
"It's about time." Hermione said grouchily, having been ready herself for nearly an hour.
It was only four, but she didn't want to be late and arrive at a common room full of Slytherins who hated them and who, quite conveniently, would be there without Ginny, Draco and Blaise. Ginny was the one who really kept them off their throats, since neither Blaise nor Draco really gave a damn if the Boy Who Lived and all his friends suddenly dropped dead, but they would stop it if it were upsetting Ginny. Which is something, she had noticed, that it eerily didn't seem to do. In fact, sometimes she was almost sure that Ginny could barely stand her Housemates anymore, even them, but she pushed that thought away.
She knew that as soon as Blaise and Draco left tonight, leadership would fall to Pansy and Anton, neither of whom particularly liked the trio either. She was pretty sure that Pansy wouldn't let the Slytherins hurt them, even if it was only to please Ginny, but she didn't want to put any real faith in that yet. It didn't seem like it was going to be a problem, as it looked as if they were going to have plenty of time, and Hermione wanted to ask Pansy if she'd decided on whether or not to teach them a few things. It galled asking the Slytherins for help, but truth be told, they needed it. Harry's visions were getting worse, and they were getting desperate.
The end of their seventh year was rapidly approaching, and they were sure down to their very bones that that was when Voldemort would attack. And she couldn't bear the thought of Harry having to face that madman with only the magical knowledge he had now. Not even all of Hermione's research had been helping them, as they'd gone through every spell book in the library and hadn't found anything new. McGonagall wouldn't help them, the Weasleys wouldn't help them, Dumbledore wouldn't help them, and Sirius couldn't help them. That really only left one choice, no matter how distasteful that choice happened to be.
"Well, come on, 'Mione." Ron said, poking her shoulder. "You wanted us to hurry, and here we are."
"Good." She mumbled, her thoughts having turned dark. Standing, she headed for the portrait, unable to do anything but picture Pansy's sneering rejection over and over again. They needed this, damn it, but what the hell would a bunch of pampered Slytherins know about that? Slightly shocked by the intensity and vehemence of her thoughts, she shook her head free of them and crawled out after Ron and Harry, waving a last goodbye to Lauren.
"So what's up, Hermione?" Harry asked. "You've been weird all week."
"And you haven't?" She snapped back, tired of their ceaseless questions about her inner turmoil. Harry looked taken aback, but trudged onwards with his famous, typical bravery.
"Come on, 'Mione. You can tell us." He said, sounding sincere. Feeling slightly guilty for her outburst, she sighed and nodded.
"Look, I'm just worried, okay?"
"About what?" Harry asked, being polite about it even though he probably already knew what she meant.
"What do you think?" Ron cut in. "It's got to be my sister or a Slytherin. That's all Hermione cares about these days."
"Excuse me?" She asked, stopping dead on the Grand Staircase and glaring at him. Ron shrunk back, but still responded.
"You heard me." He said. "They're all you talk about."
"Oh, well, do forgive me for caring whether we live or die!" She retorted hotly.
"We don't need them!"
"Yes, we do! And at least I'm trying to find a way to help us! All you do is sit around, eat and play Quidditch!" She yelled, and he looked as if she'd slapped him. Wishing she had, she pushed past the two of them, storming down the stairs.
The landing between the fifth and fourth floor began moving just as she reached it, and she was so angry she did something she'd seen other students do before, but had never tried herself. She picked her pace up a bit and leaped the gap, landing hard on the other side and having to grab onto the rail to get her balance back. Her ankle had nearly twisted underneath her, but otherwise it had been all right. Looking back, she saw Harry and Ron halfway down the set of stairs she'd just been on, their wands out as if they'd meant to catch her when she fell and their mouths hanging wide open. The first genuinely cheerful grin she'd experienced in days lit up on her face, and she blew them a mocking kiss.
She got off at the next landing, continuing her way down to the dungeons, knowing that they'd catch up with her before she got there. Her pulse was still racing, and she couldn't stop smiling. That had to have been the best bout of 'stalking off' that she'd ever done. Feeling immensely pleased with herself, she hummed happily to herself, admiring the paintings as she hadn't done for years. She vowed that she would more often before the year was up, feeling slightly sad that her time there was almost over. She would miss Hogwarts, but she had more pressing things to worry about than a young girl's normal fears about life after school. Letting her thoughts wander back to her getaway, she didn't even see the person before she ran headlong into them.
"Ow!" She yelped as she hit the ground, her hand bending awkwardly under her weight. Pain shot sharply up her wrist and she groaned as stars flashed in front of her eyes.
"What the-" She heard her assailant mutter indignantly, and looked up only to meet Lycelle Parkinson's hazel eyes. "Granger?" The girl asked, leaping to her feet in one smooth movement. "What are you…Oh. Going to see them before they wine and dine?"
"Erm, yes." Hermione said, put off by the strange girl's almost nice tone and the wrenching pain in her wrist. Cradling the injured hand in her lap, she pulled herself to her feet using the wall as leverage.
"What happened?" The girl asked, gesturing to her hand.
"I fell on it." She said, the irony of the situation not escaping her. Seconds after she had congratulated herself on not twisting her ankle, she twisted her wrist instead. Perfect. The girl cocked an eyebrow, and then took out her wand.
"I know a pain-numbing spell." She said. "It'll last for an hour, but I wouldn't keep it on that long before getting it healed if I were you." There was only the faintest hint of dislike in that last part, whereas most of her Housemates would have laid it on thick.
"A-Alright." Hermione finally agreed, having mostly convinced herself that a third year wasn't going to kill her in the middle of the stairway, not even a Slytherin. The girl moved closer and spoke a spell, the pain vanishing instantly.
"Thanks." Hermione said, but Lycelle acted as if she hadn't even heard her.
"Well, come on then. Let's go get you patched up." She said, turning back the way she'd come.
"Shouldn't I go to the Hospital Wing?" Hermione asked, and the girl just stared for a moment.
"If we didn't take Blaise to the Hospital Wing, what the hell makes you think we'd need to go there over this?" She asked, and it was Hermione's turn to stare.
"Don't you ever go there?" She asked the girl as they started walking again. "Draco did in our third year."
"Yeah, Pansy told me. But that happened in class and it gave him a good way to annoy Weasley and Potter."
"So you all learn Healing?"
"Yes. Some, anyway. But become healers? No. That, as I'm sure you're aware of, is a talent you're either born with or you're not, although many have the potential."
"Do you?" Hermione asked, hoping the young Slytherin wouldn't take offence at her curiosity. She didn't seem to, though, and Hermione wondered why.
"Yes. Many could be. It's choosing to be that makes the difference. Do you?" The girl asked, turning Hermione's question back on her.
"Yes. And I'd like-"
"Hermione!" Ron's bellow cut her off mid-sentence. "There you are! Why did you do that? You could have been hurt!"
"I was fine, Ron."
"What's wrong with your hand?" Harry asked as they drew even with them. Sighing for what felt like the fifteenth time that day, she explained her run-in with Lycelle as they continued on their way to the dungeons. Ron was against her not going to Madam Pompfrey, but clipped words and a heavy glare had shut him up. It didn't stop him from shooting Lycelle distrusting looks and from being an ass, however.
"So you're Parkinson's sister?" He asked the girl, who had tensed and withdrawn as soon as the boys had shown up.
"Yes." She said shortly.
"Sorry for that." Ron said, ignoring the girl's withering glare. "It must be hard on you."
"Shut up, Gryffindor."
"Make me, Slytherin."
"Honestly!" Hermione finally yelled after another five straight minutes of bickering. "Ron, you do realize that you're fighting with a third year, right?" She hadn't meant the 'third year' part as a slight to Lycelle, but the girl looked affronted.
"Yes, well, you just entered that third year's territory, so I'd advise you to all to shut the fuck up." Her angry voice and blazing eyes did shut Ron up, but Hermione felt the need to apologize. The girl had been okay towards her, after all.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."
"Whatever." Lycelle replied, walking ahead of them. They went down the spiraling stairs in silence, before a painting that she'd somehow never noticed before caught her attention, one depicting a silver haired, mercury-eyed wizard.
"Draco has a portrait hanging down here?" She questioned, looking at the face that she had watched change over the years into what it was now. "But I thought you had to be-"
"That's not Draco." Lycelle said nonchalantly, not even looking back over her shoulder to see which painting Hermione had been referring to. Startled, Hermione looked again. She didn't know who the girl was trying to fool, but that was definitely Draco, down to the piercing gaze that had locked onto her and the disgusted sneer twisting the painting's lips.
"What? Of course it is." She argued. Lycelle did turn then, annoyance written across her small, dainty features.
"Do they teach you anything?" She asked, then seemed to catch herself and continued in a softer voice. "It's not Draco."
"Then who?" Hermione asked, out of her element and not liking it one bit. The girl obviously thought she should know who it was, but the only person she'd ever seen that looked like that was Draco.
"Salazar Slytherin." Lycelle said, and the Gryffindors gasped, moving closer to get a better look. Sure enough, there was an elaborately engraved silver name plaque along the bottom length of the frame, clearly reading 'SALAZAR SLYTHERIN, FOUNDER OF SLYTHERIN HOUSE, ORDER OF MERLIN, FIRST CLASS. INVENTOR OF NUMEROUS POTIONS AND SPELLS, AND A PROMINENT SUPPORTER OF THE DARK ARTS. 910 B.C. – 1075 A.D.'
"Oh Lord." Hermione mumbled. Then louder, "Why do they look so much alike?" Lauren opened her mouth to reply, but the painting cut her off.
"It is none of thy business, mudblood, why one of my favorite students resembles me. Nor is it thy place to pollute my dungeons. Parkinson! What in Tartarus is she doing down here?" Lycelle paled, before responding immediately and automatically.
"She has leave, my lord." The girl replied, and Hermione wondered why she was showing so much deference to a painting, even if it did happen to be one depicting their House's Founder.
"Leave from whom?" The painting asked suspiciously.
"Draco and Blaise, my lord." The girl said, and the painting looked almost sulky, as if it had been denied a delectable treat.
"Hmph." Salazar intoned. "And might I inquire as to why they have let this…trash into my House? From what I can see, these are the three Gryffindors that they like even less than most of the others. Red hair, frizzy hair, and an ugly scar. It has to be them. Surely thee jests."
"No, my lord. I do not jest. They allow it for Virginia." Lycelle replied, and Salazar looked thoughtful.
"Well, she's alright. Quite pretty, too. Fine, thee may pass." He said, waving a hand dismissively and causing Hermione to wonder what he would have done had they passed anyway, without him giving the okay. It was just a painting, right?
"Come on." Lycelle hissed when they didn't move, and they started down the dark corridor. The torches flickered in their brackets, casting long, impenetrable shadows along the walls and pooling in the corners. When they reached Slytherin House's entrance, Lycelle whispered the password in an inaudible tone and they went in. Silence fell as it did every time when the Slytherins realized they were there, and they ignored it as best they could.
"Stay here." Lycelle said, as if were necessary.
Like they would actually try to explore with what felt like a thousand malicious sets of eyes trained on their every movement. Right. Maybe if they were suicidal. The girl disappeared into one of the many dark passageways that led from the common room, leaving them alone in an atmosphere humming with tension. She spotted Pansy through the jumble of green and black robes, and gave a sigh of relief. The other girl was currently laying on one of the couches, her head on Melody's thigh and her feet in Anton's lap. They were laughing about something, but Pansy seemed to feel the eyes on her and turned. Seeing Hermione looking at her, she rose gracefully and padded over to them on silent feet.
"Granger." Pansy acknowledged with a tilt of her head.
It amazed Hermione every day how pretty the girl had become. She'd always seemed small, especially when she was around Millicent, but she was actually pretty tall when you got right next to her. Her eyes were as dark a brown as her hair, and the pugish sort-of nose she'd had as a child looked simply striking on her older, sharper face. She was still petite, but muscles now graced her slender form from hours of playing Quidditch, which she'd been doing ever since she'd joined the team last year. Her mouth was the color of pale strawberries, but Hermione thought it looked much better when a nasty sneer wasn't twisting her lips, as one currently was.
"Pansy." She replied, purposely using the girl's first name. Pansy's eyes narrowed momentarily, but she otherwise ignored it, her gaze moving over Hermione's shoulder.
"Ron!" A low, velvety female voice called from behind them, and they spun to see Ginny looking radiant as she crossed the room, heading towards them. She was very nearly glowing, a brilliant smile on her face and her hair dripping on the floor as she moved. The Slytherins she passed greeted her with an air of familiarity and (gasp) friendship, which she returned unthinkingly. She was wearing a loose black and silver bathrobe over dark blue pajamas, and looked totally at home. It was new to them, as she'd never looked that way in Gryffindor Tower, or even at the Burrow.
"Hey Ginny." Hermione greeted her as she finally reached them. Ginny's fire-laced charcoal eyes swept over her, and Hermione saw that glimmer again, that flicker of something dark, something she subconsciously felt it was better not to know about. It was gone as quickly as it came, Ginny's eyes moving on to her brother and skipping over Harry entirely.
"When are you leaving?" Her brother asked, even though they were all aware that he already knew, seeing as he'd asked the same question about a million times. Ever since the 'Incident', as they called it, his normal over-protective older brother routine had stepped up about twenty notches. It might have had something to do with the fact that every one of his brothers had cornered him in a deserted classroom and threatened to…Well, it hadn't been pretty, to say the least.
"Seven, Ron, for the fourteen millionth time." Ginny said, rolling her eyes.
"Hmph." Ron grunted, rocking back on his heels. "Are you going like that?" He asked derisively. There were hisses of warning from the surrounding Slytherins, who weren't even trying to conceal the fact that they were listening to every word.
"Of course not." Ginny replied coolly. Harry made some small movement, and her eyes swiftly flashed to him, filled with a predatorial intensity that was just on this side of 'extremely frightening'. She drug those disturbing eyes away from him almost immediately, focusing again on her brother, the odd light once more dormant. Hermione's breath rushed out in a whoosh, and she realized she didn't even know when she begun holding it. It was that kind of look that worried her. Ginny never looked at the Slytherins or Lauren and Ron that way; only her and Harry. And it was the same way Draco and Blaise looked at them.
"And you'll wear something respectable? Something red?" Her brother questioned. The look Ginny gave him could have melted glass.
"I'll wear what I please." Ginny said, a hint of a growl in her voice. Ron looked dubious.
"And just where are…they?"
"They," Ginny replied scathingly, "have names."
"Fine." Ron grumped, crossing his arms over his chest. "Where are Malfoy and Zabini?" Knowing that was the best she would get, Ginny rolled her eyes again and replied.
"Getting dressed." She said, an amused, telling smirk appearing on her face. Ron blanched, his arms falling to his sides, and screwed his eyes shut tightly, as if he were trying desperately to erase something from his mind.
"Right." He finally said, his eyes reopening. "What time will you be back?"
"Whenever she pleases." A mocking voice replied, and they watched in surprise as Blaise slid silently into sight. Draco was nowhere to be seen, which was unusual with the two of them. Ginny looked slightly surprised herself, but didn't mention it. Ron, of course, did.
"Where's your other half, Zabini?" He asked, his face scrunched up in a mixture of his almost-constant anger and disgust. Blaise didn't even glance over as he took Ginny's hand, his eyes trained up towards the darkness that obscured the ceiling. Her eyes followed his, then widened slightly.
"What is he doing?" She asked, and the Gryffindors looked up too. They couldn't see anything except two dark, empty balconies.
"The clabbert got loose." Blaise said, a hint of amusement in his tone.
"Again?" Ginny groaned. "How far up?"
"The top." Blaise replied, his amusement thickening. A small smile quirked Ginny's lips and she nodded.
"He's going to be mad if it rips his dress robes." She commented dryly. Blaise's grin turned feral.
"I wouldn't worry about that." He said, his eyes following what Hermione assumed was Draco's progress through the darkness.
A minute passed in which it seemed they had forgotten the Gryffindors were there, laughing softly to themselves as they watched what the others couldn't see. Then, a part of the darkness turned shimmery, and Hermione realized it was Draco's hair. Except there was something else, and he was climbing down the wall like a cat would a tree, in the small space between the two halves of the first balcony. Sharp silver claws slid easily in and out of the stone, and when she squinted, she swore she could see other similar markings already on the wall. He jumped off when he was just clear of the balcony, landing easily and turning to face them.
He was bare-chested, wearing only a dark green pair of baggy pajama pants, and she realized what Blaise had meant about not worrying about his robes. The claws were obviously retractable, as they slid back into his skin in the blink of an eye. Corded muscles played under his pale flesh, and he glided over the floor with a slow, natural grace. There was a creature wrapped around his neck and arm, but all she could see at first was that it had its face buried in the Mark on Draco's forearm, rubbing against it and squealing happily. Small shivers shot down her spine as she gazed upon the parts of the Mark that she could see, but Ron's hands were visibly shaking as he looked at it.
The creature looked up, and she gasped when she realized that Blaise had been completely serious, and that they really did have a clabbert. It was smallish; the size of a monkey, but its hide was a green the color of summer oak leaves and scaled like a dragon's. It had fully working little hands, thumbs included, and webbing between its fingers and toes. Tiny, inch long horns grew from either side of its head, and it had a face that vaguely resembled a human's. Its large mouth was set in a wide grin, showing that all of its teeth were pointy, and it had a large bump under the skin of its forehead. Hermione had read about the creatures before, but she had never seen one.
"Little bugger." Draco was muttering as he walked over to them. As soon as he reached them, the little creature took one look at her and Harry and mewled loudly. Draco patted its head, sneering at their curious expressions. The bump on its forehead shriveled away, revealing a red, ruby-like stone under the skin that was glowing faintly. She'd known that the bump would glow red around muggles, but she hadn't known that they, however faintly, responded the same way to muggleborns, or that it was a stone that caused the bump. And she couldn't help commenting.
"I didn't know clabberts would react that way to…" She hesitated, finally settling on, "Me." Draco and Blaise looked as if they would rather not even acknowledge the Gryffindors' existence, let alone answer her. Ginny glanced back and forth between them, before finally nudging them both in the ribs.
"Let's sit." Draco suggested as the clabbert perched itself on his shoulder, oddly reminding Hermione of pirate movies she'd seen as a child. She steadfastly refused to look at his bare chest as they went to a group of empty couches and cushions, settling themselves as best they could. The clabbert scrambled off of Draco's shoulder and ran over to Hermione, circling around her and chattering wildly. It finally creeped closer, poked her leg with an outstretched finger, and yelped, jumping back and into Ginny's arms. Feeling slightly insulted, she smoothed her robe and drew her lips together tightly.
"She smells funny." The thing squeaked, startling the Gryffindors so badly that they almost jumped off their seats.
"It talks?" Ron asked in disbelief. "I didn't know they could talk."
"As if I would make it a habit to talk to a blood-traitor like you." The little creature spat, before pushing up Ginny's sleeve and nudging her Mark, a rattling purr rising from its throat. Hermione felt vague tingles run up her spine again and tried to ignore them, focusing on the clabbert. The talking clabbert.
"Have you seen who you're sitting on?" Ron responded hotly. "That's my sister you're rubbing your squatty little head against." The creature leaped, lightning quick, and slapped Ron hard on the face before darting away again. They could do nothing but stare for a moment, before the Slytherins all started laughing. Even Ginny was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Ron's cheek had a tiny, bright red handprint on it, and he looked stunned.
"Did we forget to mention not to insult it?" Blaise asked, a vicious smirk dancing across his lips.
"Forget?" Ron asked in a high voice, the handprint beginning to disappear as his whole face turned red. "Keeping things like that…You're all completely screwed in the head."
"Perhaps." Draco replied. "But I'm not the one sitting around chitchatting while one of my Housemates is hurt." The trio looked taken aback, as they had all completely forgotten about Hermione's wrist. Remembering the pain numbing charm, she looked up in surprise. Harry and Ron were looking at her guiltily, obviously feeling bad. She looked at Draco, however.
"How did you know?" She asked, horribly curious.
"There are burst blood vessels under the skin of your right wrist." He said, his voice bland, and she wasn't really sure that asking him had been such a great idea anymore. She just knew that she wasn't comfortable with the fact that he seemed able to smell her blood while it was all still inside of her.
"Oh." She said weakly. Then drawing herself up, she continued. "I forgot about it because of the pain reducing spell. Lycelle wanted me to get it healed here instead of at the Hospital Wing." No one said anything for a moment, as the Slytherins just stared at her as if she'd gone crazy.
"Not a problem." Ginny finally said, and then looked at her boyfriends. Their eyes widened and they shook their heads.
"No way."
"I don't think so."
"Please?" Ginny asked, skipping an argument and hitting low. They both glared and sighed.
"Why can't she do it herself?" Draco questioned, looking slightly rebellious. "She's healed Weasley before." Hermione knew she had to look sheepish as she responded.
"I haven't gotten that far yet." She said, not able to meet his gaze. She knew by now that he was a really good healer, and she also knew the contempt that she would see in his silver eyes.
"I'll flip you for it." She heard Blaise offer, and her eyes shot back up. Draco nodded, and Blaise pulled a galleon from somewhere. "Heads or tails?"
"Tails." Draco said, and the coin tumbled into the air in a smooth arc, landing back on Blaise's hand.
"Hah! Heads. Your go." Blaise said triumphantly. Draco grimaced, sliding off the couch, and she couldn't help a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. Wait…Anticipation!? Stop, Hermione, just stop. Looking back up, she saw Blaise watching her, the look on his face resembling the one he had given her in the Great Hall over a week ago. His hand shot out, clasping Draco's shoulder and causing him to turn.
"Quel?" Draco asked. ((What?))
"I'll make you a deal." Blaise said, then leaned forward and whispered something in Draco's ear. A smirk later and they had switched places, much to the Gryffindors' suspicion. Blaise moved the three feet to the cushion Hermione was on, his knowing eyes burning into hers. He was amazingly quick about the entire thing, although she was positive that he made the process hurt a little more than it had to, but it was over in less than twenty seconds. He returned to his previous spot on the couch, and wiped his hands off on a silk handkerchief. Again insulted, Hermione tore her eyes away.
"Uh oh, Blaise." The little creature said in a singsong voice, jumping onto his lap. "You've got her stink on you now. Better go wash." Blaise looked utterly disgusted and made a face at the creature before wiping his hands on it. The thing squealed, pawing at its face and spluttering curses. It finally calmed down, then looked up at Blaise and glared.
"I'm going to tell your mother." It threatened, spinning in furious circles on his lap. "I'm going to tell your mother that you wiped muggle on me!"
"She's not a muggle!" Ron exclaimed, his face becoming red again.
"Same difference." The creature said dismissively. "Not pure." Wanting to change the subject, Hermione turned to Pansy, who'd been sitting quietly and watching them.
"Did you decide on what I asked you?" She questioned, and Pansy shook her head.
"Not yet. There hadn't been time to bring it up." She replied, and then turned to face Blaise and Draco. "They want us to teach them how to fight." She told them, her face serious, and they simply looked at her for a while as silence descended thickly around the room, the word spreading quickly.
"And why," Draco asked, his voice soft and dangerous, "would we want to do that?" Hermione didn't understand the sudden tension in the air, but kept her mouth silent that time.
"Potter's scared."
"I am not!" Harry yelled, jumping to his feet. Quite a few of the Slytherins drew their wands at his sudden movement, but Blaise motioned for them to put them away. They did so, however reluctantly, and Hermione breathed again.
"Then why, Potter?" Draco asked, leaning back into the pillows behind him.
"Don't ask me! I sure as fuck don't want your help!" Harry said, his face contorted with rage.
"And you won't have it." Blaise hissed, the purple in dark blue eyes becoming more prominent.
"No, wait!" Hermione said before they could completely lose it and turn this into more than just a verbal argument. "We really do need your help. Harry, sit down." He did as she asked, but was still fuming badly enough that she was surprised smoke wasn't rising from his ears.
"What exactly are you asking for, Hermione?" Ginny asked, laying a hand on each of her boyfriends' arms. They seemed to calm at her touch, and moved closer.
"Lessons." Hermione started. "In…In the D-Dark Arts, if that's what's needed. Everyone knows," she hesitated, "that Voldemort's going to come for Harry, that it's only a matter of time. He can't fight him with only what he knows now."
"You are aware of how incredibly stupid you would have to be to fight him in the first place, right?" Blaise asked, tilting his head and examining them. Harry, looking offended, opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione stopped him with a glance.
"Yes." She answered through gritted teeth. That had been harder than she'd thought it would be.
"And you realize that he'll probably kill you?" Draco questioned.
"He'll probably kill you, too." Harry said bitterly before she could stop him. But Draco only smiled.
"No, he won't."
"I knew it!" Ron shouted, pumping a fist in the air. "I knew you were in league with him!" The murderous hisses from the Slytherins crawled over her skin, and Ron's hand dropped back to his lap even as his face stayed triumphant. Draco, Blaise and Ginny simply rolled their eyes.
"You're an idiot, Ron." Ginny snapped.
"And your, your…things are evil! And rude!"
"We are not rude." Blaise remarked dryly. "You're simply insignificant." Ron looked ready to pop when the Slytherins started laughing again, and Hermione stepped in once more.
"Will you help us?" She asked, her voice earnest. They looked at each other for a moment, then towards Ginny. Their eyes were questioning, meaning they would let her make the decision. Ginny's eyes trailed over the trio, that look flashing in them again, but she nodded all the same.
"Well, well." Draco sneered. "It looks like we just acquired some new students. You can call me Mr. Malfoy. Now, for the first order of business," he said, clearing his throat unnecessarily, "Weasley, you do know that you can be arrested for impersonating a human being, right?" Ron's responding howl of fury could be heard all the way to the Great Hall.
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Please review! The bath scene earlier was weird for me, as I'm used to writing NC-17 when it comes to that kind of thing, but since I can't post anything more that R here…Well, just tell me if it sucked!