A/N: Ok, ok, I know I shoulda posted this far sooner than I did and I hope you didn't just give up on me. I've got school, I've got relations and I've got this weird stuff called "lack of inspiration". I'm slowly, ever so slowly, writing chapter 12 (so yes, even if you kill me for this you could get someone to start my comp and give ya some more… grins).
Oh, honestly. It's on its way, just lemme get past this period of… apathic excuses, last-minute schoolwork and angst because my world is upside down and that feels good…
I owe you all – but most of all my wonderful betas – Raithen and creativeangel.
Review? Please?
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CHAPTER 7 – The Inner Circle Nightingale
Draco Malfoy stood on stage, bowing eloquently to his guests. The gathered were beginning to relocate to the places where they could find more alcohol. As stunned as they had been when he had named Harry a Slytherin for the night, it hadn't lasted. It was Christmas Eve, for one thing, and Draco was known for his unusual surprises. The entire first floor had been changed into a place solely designed for pleasure. The Slytherin kind of pleasure. But first traditions had to be kept, and so he gathered the inner circle of Slytherin House around him as the rest drifted off toward the drinks.
"Now, dear guests," he said slowly, "I think you all know what's up." Most of the circle that had gathered around Draco nodded. He let a satisfied smile touch his lips. "Follow me." Draco let his steps guide him out of the Hall, assured by the fact that Harry was still by his side, half a step behind him as the Code of Slytherin prescribed – the one that he had forced down Harry's throat until he could mutter it in his sleep when it was confirmed that he would be at the Manor for Christmas. Everything was as it should be, most of the uninvited nodded respectfully toward the group exiting the Hall, knowing full well that those were the most powerful and respected of every year of Slytherin and, ever so seldom, their closest and most trusted protégés. Every now and then someone raised an eyebrow at Harry Potter's back, but no one was foolish enough to question the Inner Circle.
Draco led them to a room not far from the Hall, working his way through some safety precautions on the door and muttering a few words before entering. Those who entered the room were mostly people Harry didn't know, but from his own year came Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and a girl he thought was named Mary Greengrass or something like that. Draco made a gesture towards Pansy when they had all entered; about thirty people of all school-year ages, and the girl stepped forward, an unusual gleam in her eye caught Harry's attention.
"Slytherins all, honoured guests. Be invited to the Inner Circle Truth or Dare." She sounded dead serious, but somehow Harry couldn't believe his ears. He had heard of the game, of course. He had watched Dudley and his friends play it when he was too young to understand how boring it got after a while. Was then this what the most powerful of the Slytherins played when they had a party? No, he certainly couldn't believe his ears, but he listened anyway.
"To the first-years and others who are new to this, it might sound strange," she added with a smirk, as if she'd read his thoughts. "I know it did to me, the first time. But as it has been explained every year… can anyone tell me what the mightiest weapon of House Slytherin is?" There was silence.
"Power?" a young voice suggested. Pansy shook her head, eyes dimly watching some spot in the distance, but remained silent. The next suggestion came; "Money?" and was followed by another headshake. A few other ideas went back and forth before someone uttered a word that made Pansy smile, her eyes immediately fixed on the speaker.
"Yes… Leanne Rydell, that's your name, right?" The girl who had spoken nodded. "The Slytherin pride, our mightiest weapon… secrets." With those words, the significance of the game dawned on Harry. Dare could be just about anything in Slytherin hands, but Truth could be even more. Pansy nodded as she saw how it struck those new to the tradition. "Yes, that's the point. This is a matter of trust." Then the girl Harry had recognized as Greengrass stepped forward.
"Then, Pansy dear, why do we have a Gryffindor in our midst?" she questioned acidly. "You know how we've always trusted those," she mocked. Pansy just smirked.
"Calm down, Mary-Ann. You know Draco announced him Honourary Slytherin?" The Greengrass-girl nodded darkly. "Do you mean to say that we can no longer count on our master, our leader at all times, the one who has never let Slytherin down for anything?" Pansy's stare could have crumbled mountains and levelled forests, drained seas and erased entire nations from the memory of the world. "Are you saying I can't trust Draco?" she hissed angrily. Mary-Ann looked into those stormy eyes with her brow furrowed, biting her lip.
"You know as well as I that people might be affected in strange ways, Pansy. No one has ever been an exception." Then she grinned, winking. "You know how old Voldie reacted to the presence of you-know-who and he was known for his iron-will and unflappability, too." This made Pansy twitch.
"That's not really the same, Mary-Ann, dearest…" she whispered hoarsely, her body beginning to shake.
What is she doing, Harry wondered to himself. Is she going to cry?!
"It's not like," she coughed, "like… I'm quite sure Draco isn't enthralled by the sole concept of fucking little Harry-boy senseless." While Pansy's unhindered laughter spread through the room, Draco roared.
"PANSY!" And as the ringing of the name between the soundproof walls subsided, Harry stood like struck by lightning, not knowing what to think, and then… giggles broke out across the room.
"Oh, Drakie, dearest," she mocked sweetly, "you know we'd never let you go to someone else." She couldn't hold back a giggle. "You're by far the most stunning, most charming..." and where she lost her voice to her glee, Mary-Ann filled her in.
"Absolutely gorgeous, exquisitely intelligent and cunning, not to mention filthily rich and scarily powerful wizard we've ever seen!" She grabbed his arm as he looked down upon her with a – partly acted and greatly exaggerated – fearful expression. Pansy sighed dramatically and looked like a hurt kitten.
"Do not leave us so alone, Drakie-poo!" At this, Draco's face darkened several hues and his wand was ripped out of his shirtsleeve, pointing at the roof in Pansy's general direction.
"Draw wand, you talky wench," he spat at her, with only a slight hint of amusement in his voice. With a dangerous grin wide on her face Pansy Parkinson let her wand slide out of its hiding place up her sleeve and into her hand.
"Now we're talking, Drakie."
"Don't call me that," Draco murmured coldly, all amusement gone. "Everte Statum," he spoke, his soft voice carrying across the room with a sharp edge. Pansy was on the verge of uttering a counter-spell as it struck her, throwing her across the room in a wild spin until she hit the wall behind her with a horrible, cracking noise. And there was silence, broken only by Draco's heavy breathing, his eyes wide for a second before he rushed to her side. He knelt lithely beside the girl who was wrapped in her now-tousled chestnut hair and purple silk and satin, carefully gathering her into his arms. Some strange fluttering things stirred in Harry's mind at the view.
"Pansy, you ok?" Draco whispered softly to her. Eyes glazed with pain looked up at him.
"You didn't have to throw me so hard, you know," she protested calmly, "you could have gotten your message through without breaking every bone in my body." Draco smiled lovingly at her.
"I know you're tougher than that, Pansy. What's for healing?"
"Righthand shoulder took the worst," she stated. "I think everything else is ok."
"Stupid girl," he scolded her. "You'd know better than to upset me." She giggled and smiled up at him.
"We know, Draco dear, but we know you'd never hurt us seriously." She grimaced as he turned her to take a look at her shoulder, picking up his wand from where he had dropped it and waving it, accompanying the wave with soft mumbled words. Pansy gave him a thankful hug, which he accepted with a sigh, and then they stood, in such obvious unison that the older Slytherins smiled knowingly and the younger looked slightly impressed. Again, they resumed their rightful positions.
"Let us get on with it," she said bluntly. She closed her eyes and began reciting something by heart.
"Before
you stand the Circle of Slytherin,
beware, witch and wizard, as
you walk in.
The Circle's demands must all be met
the rules are standing,
the game is set.
Witches and wizards gathered 'round,
in the Slytherin's
Circle can be found
to questions, answers,
to dares their
doers
no lie may be told,
one may no deed withhold.
But remember here, as you walk inside,
the truth of Slytherin –
and our pride.
That
which should here be a common trait –
any witch, any wizard may
negotiate."
As she watched the first-years' stupefied stares, she smiled pleadingly. Harry leaned in on Draco, who had resumed his place by Harry's side.
"What was that all about?" he whispered.
"Well," Draco looked slightly excusing. "Every year the host Slytherin writes the Circle Map anew. Pansy's just not that good at it, is all." Without further delay, he stepped forward.
"Like Pansy said, whoever goes into the Circle can't back out and get a second chance. You've walked out once, you're out." He held up a hand to silence the objections. "No matter the reason, it's always been that way." Somehow, the rest of the assembled accepted this. "Concerning rules, we have a few. All questions that stand must be answered and all dares that stand must be done. Except for the rare occasion when it's horrible enough for the Year Head to intervene." This had Harry baffled. Do they have a Head of each school year in Slytherin? Then, Draco's voice occupied his entire attention again.
"But, as she clearly pointed out," he said, flashing one of his most charming smiles at the girl, "everything, and then I mean everything, is negotiable in the Circle." He didn't even wait for their confirming nods before turning to the empty side of the room and waving his wand slightly. A circle appeared, painted into the floor, about fifteen feet across. Along with it appeared four great armchairs and a couple of cosy sofas, but, Harry figured, they were far too few to hold all twenty of them.
"Oh…" Draco breathed out. "Did I tell you every year keep to themselves? Same circle, different places and all that," he said with a confident smirk. Then he entered the circle and was gone. After him went Pansy and Blaise with Harry trailing along behind them.
The Circle looked exactly like it should on the inside, the armchairs that could have held three Potters each, the great sofas and a little table by each and every one that Harry had not noticed before. He did realise that he couldn't see outside the circle, though, since the only thing he saw there was pitch-black darkness and a few, glittering starts.
Surprisingly enough, to Harry, Gregory Goyle came in after him, but the expected arrival of his constant partner, Crabbe, never came.
"Sit, Potter," Goyle rumbled amusedly, "Vincent's not coming, so you can stop looking for him. We're not connected by the hip, you know." Then he frowned. "Besides, the bloke's too stupid to be of any real use. Brawn can't get you everywhere." And this from Goyle? For the second time of the evening, Harry couldn't believe his ears. But he walked obediently over to the sofa where Draco lay sprawled and took a seat in the end that was not full of pale skin, costly clothing, long hair that sparkled like flowing silver in the moonlight and grey diamonds for eyes. Where did that come from? And what about the moonlight? The moonlight question was simply answered. In the great Outside that had been a room of Malfoy Manor seconds ago, there hung a huge silver moon, surrounded by a silver snake that bit its own tail. This certainly was a Slytherin creation. He was pulled out of his thoughts as somebody knocked on his shoulder.
"Far away, Har?" Draco smiled, holding out a crystal glass, filled to the brim with something… green. Harry took it silently, thoughtfully. I'm not used to alcohol… this has to be something like that… Draco swept his own glass contentedly and quietly watched it refill itself.
"Shall we get to the point?" There was an intense gleam in Pansy's eyes, she was unusually eager, Harry concluded. He wasn't really used to the difference, considering that the façade Pansy had always shown at school had made him think of her only as a flimsy little fashion drama-queen. This one seemed to have an intelligent mind and a flair for silly acting. Not to mention that she was quite serious right now.
"We might as well," Draco replied. "You go first, my lady, after all, you're our hostess for the night."
"Yes, and thank you for that, Drake. I'd say we start traditionally." She turned to Harry. "Our year of Slytherin have always raced across the field of emotion first, gets us past the things people find really interesting that I find really boring and you can always ask about the spicy details later. Everything you remember, you must tell." She turned away again, to face the other inhabitant of his sofa. "Draco, dearest of all my friends, traditional truth?"
"Uhm, well…" For some reason, Draco actually blushed. "I really don't think that'd be a good idea." The answer was followed by a long silence, which slowly filled with the sensation of the others' amazement, and then…
"Draco?!" Blaise had jumped from his armchair, looking stunned and stoned. He sat down in silence, watching the pale blonde, who wouldn't meet his gaze and in the silence the dark-haired Slytherin whispered slowly; "You have never been afraid of that question for as long as I have known you." This time the blush touching Draco's cheeks was unmistakable.
"Stop fussing about and give me that dare, would you please, Pansy?" he muttered, eyes averted and pale cheeks gone rosy.
"Of course, dear," she said with a nod. "It's been a long time since I last heard you sing…" she spoke to herself aloud, then looking directly at him with a persuasive smile. "Would you favour us with a tune, mister Malfoy?"
"You know I don't do that," he growled at her. "But if that's what it takes to keep you quiet… it can be done." He sighed and sat straight, closing his eyes firmly and taking a few deep breaths. He waved his hand lightly and tunes came from nowhere, the sad and lonely song of a piano, followed by the harmony of a violin as the silver bell sound of his voice drifted out into the confined space.
I would
bring you flowers in the morning,
wild roses as the sun begins to
shine,
sweet perfume in tiny jewelled caskets
if I thought
you'd ever change your mind.
The song drifted slowly, Draco's eyes still closed, as the Slytherins leaned back into their chairs and let the music wash over them. His choice of song was most peculiar in Harry's view, nothing he'd have expected. But on the other hand, neither would he have expected the sad furrow of the fair brow, the way his voice was woven into the melody, creating a heart-wrenching tune of the absolute solitude.
I would
take you where the music's sweetest,
and feed you winter fruits
and summer wine.
Show
you things you've only read in storybooks,
if I thought you'd
ever change your mind.
A tear dwindled down from the corner of his eye, but Harry dared not move. Then, a strand of pain beyond what the young Gryffindor had thought possible was woven into the harmonics of the star-strewn silver sound.
I will
bring you happiness,
wrapped up in a box and tied with a yellow
bow.
I will
bring you summer rain
and rainbow skies to make your garden grow.
And in
the winter snow,
my songs will keep you from the cold.
Draco's silver eyes shot open, a lone tear slowly drying on his cheek. In their depths were unreadable emotion. He's singing about someone real, Harry suddenly realised, but did not understand why the realization hurt him so, beyond what he could have expected from someone who had suddenly walked into his life and claimed a position as a friend.
But
what use are flowers in the morning,
when the garden they should
grow in is not mine?
And
what use is sunshine if I'm crying
and my falling tears are
mingled with the wine?
The grey diamond spheres that were Draco's eyes had stared into space, seemingly trying to see further than what his present ways would allow. Now he raised the glass in his hand, looking with a dead gaze into the liquid. As green as his eyes, he thought to himself. As green as eyes I cannot live without, as green as eyes that will probably never be mine. And in the depths of his soul, hope would not die away as it should.
I will
bring you happiness,
wrapped up in a box and tied with a yellow
bow.
I will
bring you rainbow skies
and summer rain to make your garden grow.
And in
the winter snow,
my songs will keep you from the cold.
I
would bring you flowers in the morning,
wild roses when the sun
begins to shine,
winter fruits and summer wine,
sweet perfume
and columbine,
if I thought you'd ever change your mind.
If I thought you'd ever change your mind.
And with that, silence settled for a precious time.
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"Draw steel, you talky wench!" said by Tim Bell during the creation of the game Ultima Ascension, picked from the "Quotes"-section. Yes, yes, I admit it – I just can't resist stealing good quotes and making them my own, but at least I'm honest about it, ok?
The song is one of my recent favourites, sung by Agnetha from ABBA, third track on her CD "My Colouring Book". Unfortunately, I don't know what it's called; I just find it totally heartbreaking and unspeakably wonderful.
