Chapter Ten: Parting of the Ways

He was used to the grand and extravagant life, but the cavernous hallways and lofty, black velvet ceiling impressed him nonetheless. But unlike the majority of the other first years, who gawked in shameless wonder, he walked forward, occasionally flicked a glance to either side.

He was Draco Malfoy, and that explained everything.

As they arrived in the Great Hall, stretched out before the hundreds of older students, he blinked at the light of thousands of shimmering candles. They effectively blurred the pale faces below into one, one shapeless, featureless mass that was only somewhat interested with the proceedings. Then someone began to sing―it was the raucous hat―but Draco never tore his eyes away from the leftmost table, silenced Crabbe (or Goyle, perhaps?) with a meaningless nod. For the first time, he was looking upon Slytherin, and he knew them and they knew him.

The first few students walked up to the stool. For the most part he watched calmly, with an almost bored air; unlike that rabble, Draco knew perfectly well where he would be by the end of the evening.

"Kwan, Laine Callida," called Professor McGonagall.

The silent Slytherin table stiffened, recognizing the implications of the name. Callida. It was an unusual one, but more importantly, a derivation of Callide, the Lady Callide. The Lady who represented the Gentis Apexis and bore the smile that they strove to attain. Cool, reserved, and mildly amused. The Lady Callide represented power and ambition and raw, naked beauty―she had the dark eyes and the effortless grace of a dancer or a queen. And this unknown bore her name.

Draco kept his features impassive as the Hat rested on her head for an eternity. None but she could possibly know what judgment was being weighed, but he had a strong suspicion that the Hat was unsure...that Laine was at the fork of the two likeliest paths she could take. On one hand, he wouldn't mind putting some distance between himself and the silly girl; on the other, he wouldn't be able to bear the tension that would arise. But either way, the choice was not his to make.

When Laine finally stumbled towards the left, dazed as the blank faces stared back at her, Draco was the only one who wasn't surprised.

As she sat down at the end of the table, he smiled mentally. Several other students, none spectacular, and his own Sorting was next. It passed quickly, almost too quickly, and he too made towards the Slytherin house table after barely a second of contemplation. But he approached them as a princeling...whereas Laine was merely a first year. An ordinary first year, of another House for all they cared, but for her name.

Without meaning to, his lips curved into the hint of a smile, greeting the older students and even then sizing up the few members of his own class. Of course, he recognized all of them―Jareth Clay, languid beyond belief; Crabbe and Goyle, semi-conscious bodyguards; his own cousin Alecsander Roucieux (just Alec); Blaise Zabini, striding smoothly towards him. The girls were fewer in number, although generally, the House itself accepted only the best suited of all students.

Otherwise, they might not survive.

Draco ran that thought through his mind, then turned it to the first issue that faced him. Finding a seat. For a moment, he nearly panicked, his eyes widened, and he exhaled slowly, tussling with that initial urge. Briefly he looked at Laine and shook his head before taking his rightful place at the center of the first years. As he gestured aside Goyle, their faces automatically turned to the quicksilver eyes like flowers worshipping the brilliant sunlight, and Draco nodded and smiled once more. His earliest worries subsided and were replaced by a rare moment of pleasure, of childish, stupid delight. And he picked up a fork to taste the first, most innocent Hogwarts feast of his life.

She picked at her soup slowly, listlessly, not bothering to look upon anything but the contents of the bowl. But her mind was screaming itself hoarse, while her tongue remained firmly attached to the back of her throat. Amazing. It was simply amazing where she could have been tonight, and the difference between that and where she was...

"Congratulations, Pansy," she heard a girl's voice, already cool and pleasant. Lifting her head, Laine spotted the girl to whom the comment was made, a dark-haired, vivacious little Slytherin.

"Oh, you too," was the response, "not that either of us could have expected otherwise."

But she had. She had expected to be a Gryffindor with Katie Bell, and she wouldn't have minded at all. And now even Draco had abandoned her.

"By the way," Pansy continued, "would you happen to know her­?"

A few cautious eyes turned, but Laine forced her gaze directly forward. Obviously they did not know "her" due to her lineage, or rather, lack thereof. It was beyond the point even to ask.

The other girl, who could easily have been Draco's sister, merely frowned. "Naturally I would assume that she's...you understand, different."

Laine stiffened, fuming. Even as she pointedly ignored the chattering in front of her, she could also sense a pair of eyes flickering at the side of her head. It was probably just Draco, she decided. Draco, who looked like he had been born to sit in the middle of the crowd and command it with a wave of his hand. But it was also so unfair that he had been born into this life, while she was undeniably an outsider.

There had to be others like her in the House―it was inconceivable that the aristocracy of the wizarding world had so many children. She sighed yet again, looking over the other first years. The boys, Draco had already gathered, and they had probably grown up in each other's manors. Unfortunately, there weren't as many girls, only Pansy and the blonde (Arlene? Ardele?) in the entire year, as far as she could tell. In fact, the Slytherins seemed to be outnumbered by the other Houses overall, although she was certain that they were unconcerned...

Glancing down at her plate, Laine managed to place a piece of zucchini into her mouth and, wondering what it was, chewed apprehensively. To her surprise, the odd-looking squash melted into a light flavor and reminded her of the scent of gardens somehow. Hogwarts food could not be described as "bad"; indeed, it tasted better than some of the food of the Malfoy manor, although Draco would probably just claim that she had no taste to begin with.

And he looked happy. But her year would probably be wasted on watching his contentment. That is, until she felt the presence to her right turn directly towards her.

Stunned, Laine turned towards him as well.

She found herself gazing into a pair of hazel eyes, lucid in the golden candlelight. They were angular, like those of a smiling cat, and she instantly thought of Nott. But no, not quite the same either. They simply looked at her, so she looked back.

When he finally spoke, his words surprised her. There was no greeting and no semblance of the usual niceties that Laine had come to expect. Just a bare statement and the lightest of smiles.

"You know, they're already betting on how long you'll last in Slytherin."

She blinked stupidly, realizing who she was talking to by the snippets of conversation around her.

"Really now..."

"Oh, come on," he interrupted, "it's unimaginable that one of Malfoy's...friends wouldn't have noticed."

A half-amused smile came to her face. "And what do you think?"

Again she was unprepared for the change that washed over him. Instantly he grew quieter but his eyes―those smooth, elegant eyes―were alight with a sort of fire that she had seen once in Draco's, and another time in Uncle Lucius's.

"I'm confident that you'll survive, and you will shine brighter than half this crowd." His voice dropped; he nodded to finalize the matter. "Because I'm going to help you...in short, I'm going to ensure it."

Without thinking, she asked, "And what for you?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, and he lowered his eyes, obviously unsettled. Then there were a few seconds of silence, before he exhaled. "Loyalty," he said softly, "which is so hard to find now. Loyalty, and everything that you'll eventually become."

And everything that you'll eventually become...

"Normally I'd hate to admit it, but I predict that yours is a mind beyond compare. And it would only improve with time..."

When she heard those words, she shook her head slowly but did not say anything. Part of her wanted to accept the compliment, and the other part inclined towards finding his judgment faulty. But he seemed so much older than she; it reminded her of meeting Draco, or meeting Nott for the first time.

He laughed at the doubt crossing her face, then raised a questioning brow. "You have until tomorrow to think on it, so don't waste the time. I suppose I'll speak to you then." And he returned to the main stream of conversation without missing a beat, attracting only a superior glance from Draco. The rest of them either had not noticed or did not dare to comment.

And that was how Laine met Blaise Zabini, who would become Prince of Slytherin. Who was second only to Draco himself, and who had aspirations beyond her imagination.

But the feast came to an end, and blearily she followed the others past the dungeons and into the dormitories. Her trunk of belongings, pitifully small compared to those of her three roommates, was already there. So were they.

The clock had barely struck nine, but she immediately undressed and ducked behind the velvet green curtains of her bed. For a time she lay there, hardly daring to breathe. She knew the others were there, sitting around, smiling.

And then the whispers began. That night, Laine slept with one eye open.

When she woke the next morning, it was to darkness and the silent rustlings of heavy drapes. Pansy, Adele, and Millicent Bulstrode had all gotten up already, by the appearance of their beds. So she too rubbed the sleep away from her eyes―so early, too early. No one in their right minds got up at this time. Then she glanced at her watch to check her instincts and scowled. 5:30.

She pulled on the uniform, but her pale hand lingered on the serpent badge, cold and foreign under her fingertips. One look at it and Laine thought of Katie Bell again. She wondered if the second year remembered her at all, from their conversation on the train. Or if the older girl was asking herself why that first year had ended up in the snake's pit, instead of with her. Because she certainly did.

Following the delicate tinkling of water to the bathrooms, Laine instinctively stepped aside as Pansy and Adele passed her on their way out. They looked much too eager to leave her, but just as they were about to, Pansy made a sudden movement and, quite deliberately, crushed Laine against the frame of the door. She turned, raising a brow before moving on.

"Hope you slept well last night...see you upstairs."

Furious, Laine shook her head and splashed water onto her slightly reddened features. That girl hadn't actually hurt her, of course, but it was always a good sign when one's own dormmates sent their love like that on the first morning. After a few moments, she dried her face with a thick towel, brushed her hair, and stared into the mirror. Not quite adoring what she saw―she looked like nothing compared to beautiful, blonde Adele―but she figured it acceptable for the meantime. The key thing was to stay alive, and then decide what next.

She thought the common room was empty until a slim body rose from one of the plush green sofas. It was Blaise again, looking perfectly at home as he waited for her to come closer, tapping a foot impatiently. A smirk flickered, for he could easily spot the signs of a restless slumber on someone so pale and delicate as Laine. Knowing Parkinson, she would have been lucky to sleep for three hours straight.

"So..." he drawled, "did you have time to think things over?" His question was met by a glare, a glare that held so much fury and intensity and brilliance all at once. And then silence. They continued walking up the stairs from the dungeon to the main floor, the click of their shoes echoing in the endless weave of the hallways. At the top, Laine stopped and composed her features.

"I did," she replied, her voice cool and confident. "I accept your offer."

I accepted it. There is no going back.

Fresh hope coursed through her body as Blaise scrutinized her for an entire minute, then nodded. And just like that, it was over. Her awkwardness, her status as the misfit could be buried, or thrown to the autumn breezes. Suddenly she knew the meaning of a friend.

When she arrived at the table a few seconds after Blaise, those around him automatically gave way for her. She took her seat at his side and in their midst. Somehow, all of them knew that arrangements had been made over their heads, and they had no reason to object. After all, Blaise Zabini only answered to the Malfoy, and only at the best and worst of times.

Laine Callida Kwan, pureblooded progeny of lions and lionesses, had been claimed. No one was foolish enough to harass her, because that would mean confronting the wrath of the lesser Star. And he was a star all the same.

In the time between classes on that first day, Katelyn Marie Bell caught a brief glimpse of the raven-haired girl she had met on the train. She waved as the girl passed, but Laine merely held her head high, with Blaise just behind her. There was no act, verbal or otherwise, that showed a trace of recognition.

She frowned, but was soon distracted by a tap on the shoulder. The cute Ravenclaw! A silly-looking grin found its way onto her face as she launched into a two minute stream of chatter about nothing in particular. By the time he had walked away, leaving her with the lopsided smile, Laine had also made her way out of the crowd. And Katie had forgotten all about her.

Of course, she did not understand the politics of the Slytherins and was not even aware of its presence. But she could see that some incredible transformation had occurred in Laine over the short span of thirty-six hours.

As for the Malfoy? Even Draco did not object to this new arrangement, though nor did he ever directly approve of it. After classes, however, when all the first years were gathered in the common room, he offered her a brief view of that rare but magnetic smile. And he even introduced Laine to the others. There was Alec Roucieux, his cool, thoughtful cousin who had a cutting precision with words; viciously sarcastic, dispassionate Jareth Clay, with his chestnut brown hair ruffled and blue eyes snapping; Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, barely distinguishable from one another; Adele Strathmor, the elegant one she'd thought of as Draco's real sister; Millicent Bulstrode, who would never look like she belonged with them, yet somehow did...

Pansy introduced herself formally, the outward malevolence melting from her hard face. Then she sank into a chair gracefully, silently daring Laine to follow suit. Naturally, she did so, just for the sake of it.

And then...then there was Blaise, smooth and utterly polite, but also ambitious like none other she had ever seen. Every time Draco laughed, the group imitated instantly, but with Blaise, seconds could pass before they chose to respond. Laine shuddered inwardly and resigned herself to joining Blaise's plans for the future. At the same time, she awaited them with an inexplicable eagerness.

The first years talked late into the night before dispersing for sleep. It was the same from then on; the previous tensions had all but melted away. She was no longer a stranger, and they were no longer "evil." Over time, Laine even developed a deeper appreciation for their cold elegance and their hypocritical disregard for society's rules and ironbound loyalty to those of the Gentis Apexis.

She had encountered this before, but suddenly it had taken a real shape. And she eventually wanted no other House but this one, and the others had no desire for her to leave, at least.

For that matter, Laine learned the meaning of deep, restful sleep once more.

AN: Well, happy New Year, everyone! I have another chapter ready to go, so reviews are highly encouraged at this point.

l8er
-cybErdrAgOn