Good day.
Hey, if you're an As Told By Ginger (that's a cartoon) fan who likes Carl/Blake slash, I just finished a four-chapter story featuring it. Just thought I'd advertise, woot. Just click my name and the story is called Love and Hate.
Some notes about this chapter:
-Remember the weird thing that happened when they broke the crystal ball in
the last chapter? That's probably not going to be brought back up. That's just
what I imagined would happen if you broke a crystal ball. I mean, there's got
to be something in there... I mean, what makes all the foggy swirly things
that crazy people see pictures in?
-Severus is a big meanie sometimes. I know. I'm keeping him as true to his character
as I can while forcing him to follow the story. But I promise that there will
be a mostly happy ending eventually, okay? :)
-You can't beat Padma-in-Crabbe's timing.
-I love wards because I can make up stuff about them. --"
-Dumbledore-in-Goyle knows more than he really should, but hey, he always does.
-And I just had to do it... something so entirely unoriginal... something done
in a million and three other romance fan fictions, more than half of
which where never finished because they tend to pair this with Mary-Suedness...
something like introducing a winter ball to the plot. Ahhh, please don't kill
me. At least in this story, Dumbledore has a very specific reason. --"
I'm sorry! It won't become a major part of the plot, I promise. begs mercy
Feel free to review. :D
The characters we know of are (body - person IN body):
Blaise Zabini - Harry Potter
Crabbe - Padma Patil
Goyle - Dumbledore
Neville - McGonagall
Ron Weasley - Blaise Zabini
Draco - Lavender
Padma - Ron
Harry - Draco
Pansy - Snape
McGonagall - Hermione
Snape - Neville
Trelawney - ?
Thank you to my wonderful reviewers!....
leeleepotter - Yes, it definitely is. About the identities - I would
think that a bunch of normal teenagers, all thrown together in one big mess
of age groups, probably wouldn't grasp the seriousness of the situation. People
like Padma and Ron, who don't care who knows it's them, are balanced out by
people like Harry, Severus, Blaise, and Hermione. But since Harry's always in
the middle of everything (how does he do it?), the more important characters
know who he is. I checked back on my writing... I think the only times that
it was said in front of general, unaware public were times when it was also
whispered. Correct me if I'm wrong though, I can go back and fix that, along
with a number of other little errors people have caught me with. Like the apparation
on grounds. Psh, I can be stupid sometimes.
Ronda-Silverpaw - Aww, thankies!
Cliffe - Thanks. :) Your reviews are the encouragement that keep me writing!
Kaaera - Thanks for the review. :D See my first note way up there about
the crystal ball.
ataraxis - It's great to be back too
Elmindrea-al'Thor - Yep... going to be a freshman (ahhh scary O.o). That's
good news too, someday they won't reject my short stories and poetry, just gotta
keep trying. Thanks for the review!
slytherinsela - :D
Chaows - Thanks, and here's your update. :)
owlri - Okies!
Dark-Lady-Devinity - Lol, they'd better get their bodies back, endings
are hard to write. :P More Neville-in-Snape... hmm... I dunno, maybe he'll turn
up later. Have you read my mini-fic Reflection? That's all Neville-y and stuff.
magicalme32 - Thanks. :) Oh, and I think most people do - it's too confusing
the first time around, lol.
penny - :D Thanks!
Katie Lupin Black - Well that's uplifting, I was hoping I wasn't making
Pansy too out-of-character. : Does it seem like she's, er, crying too much?
Maybe it's just because I reread countless times for revisions, haha. And they
better not make us reread To Kill a Mockingbird, I already recycled my
notes....
Ah yes, this is slash, male/male romance... between both Blaise-in-Ron/Draco-in-Harry and Harry-in-Blaise/Snape-in-Pansy (whew confusing)... just to enlighten the unenlightened. Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm not JK Rowling. I'm just a girl who lives in the United States who happens to enjoy terrorizing JKR's creations.
..
Chapter Fifteen
"What–what is this?!"
Pansy had walked to the door of the classroom she did training in to discover
Crabbe at the head of the class, directing them. She'd stared for a minute
or two, unnoticed, and then had found her mouth to speak.
No one really seemed to want to say anything. They shuffled around a bit, pawing
at the ground like nervous hippogriffs.
"I kind of took over for you yesterday when you got detention,"
Crabbe finally said. Pansy's eyes landed on him. "And why are you
all here now? Your training begins in five minutes. Not one of you, not one
of you has ever been early–"
"I told them to come back here twenty minutes early to review,"
he answered nervously.
Pansy was silent. Regaining some sense of control over her actions, she pointed
a hand at a random Death Eater in the room. One would never notice the slight
shake of her arm except for Crabbe, who disregarded it. "You, Malfoy.
Do a reflective shielding charm."
When the Slytherin hesitated, she shot an embarrassing but altogether harmless
curse–Jelly-Legs Jinx. He hesitated a second too long and the spell caused
the dance that followed. Another Slytherin muttered the countercurse, and Pansy
only said, "Hmm. Try again."
This time, Malfoy was ready; he sent up the transparent blue spell in between
himself and the curse, and the Jelly-Legs narrowly missed Pansy's left
ear on its course that ended up disintegrating an innocent candle in the line
of fire.
Pansy nodded. "You'll need to learn to aim. Bullstrode. Block
a Body-Bind." The Slytherin, caught by surprise, stepped aside automatically.
The curse passed her and towards Crabbe, who put up a simple shielding spell
that snuffed it.
"I'll disregard the fact that I asked you to block it, Miss Bullstrode,
and will instead mention that your reaction time is better than average."
Pansy missed the rather proud look Crabbe had as she straightened her robes
before turning her head towards him. "What did you teach while I was gone?"
"Several shielding spells, Jelly-Legs, and the Trip Jinx," Crabbe
recited, confidence coming to him in leaps and bounds.
She narrowed her eyes at him, frowning. "And how did you teach this many
spells to them when I can't ever seem to teach them all two in one classtime?"
His confidence left him, and he almost visibly deflated.
"Well, sir–er, ma'am... uh..."
"Parkinson."
"Well, Parkinson, they... don't like the way you teach all that
much...."
"Is that so?" She crossed her arms. The movement was so simple
and comforted her more than much else at these rather vulnerable moments. The
moments when it came back to her about her personality and how far from perfect
it really was. The moments when her foolish mind let these things get to her.
They don't like the way you teach, Severus. They don't like what
you teach. They don't like you, Severus.
Inside Crabbe's mind, however, was a very different thought pattern. Smart
move, Patil. Ding ding, wrong answer. You're in for it now. He wondered
how to patch up this fatal mistake.
"Well–you tend to expect them to know everything the minute you
show them it. It just doesn't work that way. They–they need a more
patient teacher. They–"
"And you think yourself to be exactly what they need?" Crabbe
hesitated like Malfoy, the expression of trying to remember how you are expected
to react in the face of danger–and Pansy continued. "You imply that
I do not know how to teach?"
"Well–um. No. I mean, you need to be more patient but–"
"Interesting. Please leave."
"What–"
"You seem to know enough to get you past the world's worst madman
to date, so you are free to leave. If at any time you deflate enough to admit
that you are wrong, you may come crawling back to me and maybe I'll
let you rejoin the class."
"Sir–"
"Go!"
Faced with nothing even remotely dignified left to say or do, Crabbe retreated
to the door, glanced back in, and left.
Pansy turned back around to a silent class. Someone coughed.
"I don't believe I've taught you the Body-Bind. It's
alarmingly simple and impossible for the user to get out of once they're
in it without outside assistance."
She continued teaching halfheartedly, writing the incantation phonetically on
the chalkboard, giving several slow examples, and finding herself getting completely
frustrated when they didn't seem to get it.
Dismissing her class several minutes early, she fell tiredly into the teacher's
chair, burying her head in her arms on the desk, knocking over a bottle of ink
and smashing it, not caring as the magical substance sept into the aged carpeting.
They don't like the way you teach, Severus. The voice of McGonagall
came to mind. She'd told her once years ago and then never said another
word about it. Years of being called the greasy git now piled upon her, causing
her to crunch more and more into the ball. Isolation was safety from others.
"I know they don't," she told the empty room, then sat up,
wiping at her eyes, glaring at nothing, and left for the Slytherin commons.
"What's wrong?"
Pansy turned to face the crackling fireplace. Harry's face appeared in
her line of sight, almost upside-down. "Severus?"
"Don't." She flipped again. The couch creaked below her as
Harry slumped back into place in front of her, and clung to her arm when she
turned away again.
Silence.
Harry looked the opposite direction of Pansy. "You know, when I said that
one of 'em was a Death Eater and you jumped on me–all I told them
was that you found out it was me."
"They're not supposed to know who I am though, Potter, so
your stupidity–"
"–But I think Draco's new love interest has pretty
much gotten him out of trouble, besides the way I saw him nod during Dumbledore's
speech," he plowed through her words.
"Draco? I'm a dead man," Pansy said, slumping further into
the couch. "Who's his damn love interest?"
"Blaise Zabini."
She stiffened next to him. Harry's eyebrows shot up and then back down
at her next question. "You?"
"He's quite taken with him, apparently," Harry continued,
intending to draw this out as long as he could. "Bloody good kisser too–"
She flipped back around and stared up at him with a face that said it was trying
to be blank but was having an extremely hard time about it. "Malfoy kissed–"
"And–"
"Malfoy kissed you? You let Malfoy kiss you? I thought you l–well,"
Pansy looked suddenly uncomfortable. "I rather thought that you would
prefer... anyone... to Malfoy.... You seem a bit taken with me, don't
you?"
Harry grinned. "Actually, I rather meant the Blaise Zabini that is currently
in Ron's body, but seeing as you like to jump to conclusions–"
"I did not jump–"
"Oh come on, admit you're wrong for once," Harry said, pulling
himself closer to her. "You don't have to be all self-protective
and stuff, you know. I would've hoped that you'd have noticed that
I don't intend to thwart your every ambition like my father." Closer.
"I don't want to be like my dad to you, you know."
She didn't seem to really know how to respond to that and instead surrendered
to the part of her that wanted to let him kiss her. Her eyelids fluttered shut.
"Professor, I–er, maybe this isn't the best time–"
The voice of disaster about to happen.
Harry jumped up in surprise and fell off the sofa, banging his knee on the table
in front of it, and landing on the icy stone floor. The arm of Pansy's
he was holding on to went with him, and she ended up face down in the cushions.
"What, Patil?" Her words were muffled by the pillows.
"I just came to admit my wrongs and kiss your feet," Crabbe grumbled,
offering Harry an arm to help him up.
"That's good, you can go." Pansy carefully sat up, wishing
to continue where they'd left off.
"That's it? What, you're not going to take this chance to
publicly humiliate me?"
"No public to humiliate you in front of."
"Hello?" Harry called. Both ignored him.
"Wicked," she said, and turned. "I'll just leave you
two to it, then. Although I suggest you get a room if you're going to
do much more than–"
"Your welcome is quickly dissolving, Patil–"
"Right then. Thanks, professor."
She turned back to Harry, who was in the middle of a yawn, and she lost anything
remaining of her desire to revive anything of the moment.
"You know, I'm going to give up wondering why you find anything
worth wanting in me," she told him, glancing up at the clock. It was a
little past ten already.
"That's good, because you probably wouldn't get anywhere anyway."
The next day was Halloween, accompanied by the usual feast and early end of
classes. There was no speech, no really relaxed atmosphere–just a polite
sort of air about. Students did eagerly dig into pork roasts and puddings, however,
but many left early.
Glancing up at the teacher's table, Harry didn't see any sign of
Lupin, who was probably still recuperating from Tuesday's full moon. He
pitied whoever had to go through the horrors of being a werewolf, hoping that
someone had thought to assist them; from what Lupin had told him over the years,
transformations were painful, and even with Wolfsbane, one needed to possess
amazing amounts of self-control to keep the things and people around them–and
themselves–from being severely injured.
He turned back to his table, overhearing a snippet of a conversation between
Crabbe and Malfoy and realizing with a start that it was about Draco's
streaking in his body. Feeling his ears grow warmer, he realized that he'd
never live that down. He had a sudden disturbing image of Colin Creevey, wildly
snapping wizard photos....
At another end of the table, whoever was in Hermione's body had come over
to talk to Millicent Bullstrode. They appeared to be arguing, but when Millicent
grinned and waved Hermione off, he realized they'd been joking around.
Harry found that he just wasn't enjoying the festivities, and rose at
the same time Pansy did, across the table; as Crabbe glanced over, Pansy sunk
back into her seat, not taking her eyes off Harry until she was seated again.
Then she cast them over in the direction of the Ravenclaw table. Sighing and
leaving, he wondered if he'd ever manage to gain her trust.
Testing a stupid idea, Harry leaned down to retie his boot laces behind a
suit of armor, and smiling to himself when Pansy exited the Hall a minute later.
"Hey Severus," Harry said, and she jumped slightly as he hurried
to walk at her pace. "Feasts just not your sort of ordeal?"
"I always leave feasts early," she grunted, looking away.
"Ah. Well, I usually don't, but hey, no one to really talk to today,
unless you want to." He grinned sheepishly when she gave him a 'yeah
right' look. "Or not, whatever."
They walked to the commons in silence, and Harry ended up leaving for a shower,
so Pansy opened up her research book on wards and continued looking for something
that may allow them to reverse the effects of the wards.
Wards were a risky business. One could certainly reverse the effects, but there
were countless more ways to do so that shut off the wards for a certain amount
of time, which would allow the original spell to perform its purpose, whatever
that was. They'd assumed that it was a mass Avada Kedavra, but it could
be just about anything unpleasant. Make them all slaves... or slowly mutate
them... or roast them all to death... there were a number of bad things it could've
been.
She had been working on this in the past few weeks. Potter problems
and Death Eater training had held her up slightly, but she'd managed to
at least pinpoint an area between the steps in activating any ward. Pansy intended
to ask Dumbledore what wards he'd used after the feast was over, so she
could eliminate some of her possible options.
Finally the clock struck seven; Harry had come back into the commons already
but just sat across from him, playing silently with a pack of wizard's
cards. Pansy stood, magicked her research so it would fit in her pocket, and
left to find the headmaster.
"Lemon drop?" The usual ritual.
"Eh, no thank you," Pansy said, opening up her notes again. "I
need to ask what sort of wards you placed on the castle."
"Ah, yes," Goyle said, leaning back in his chair. "A variety
of complete simpler ones, protection from Muggles, anti-map wards, anti-apparation
too. Since the events of last summer, we also started to put up wards to keep
Occlumency from going through them, in hopes that you would still teach Mr.
Potter, but Voldemort would have a smaller chance of getting to him through
dreams in case you didn't. Actually, that ward was the only unfinished
one at the time. All the other ones have been finished for years."
"Did you continue constructing it after we were all switched?"
"No."
Pansy was feeling a sinking feeling somewhere in her stomach... the ward had
probably been a variation of the normal anti-Occlumency ward created by Dumbledore
himself, if it allowed Occlumency inside but not to enter from outside. But
it could prove more useful if....
"Did you keep notes about the stages you were at? Did you record the exact
spell used to add to the wards when you created it? Did–"
"Calm down, Severus, of course I did." Goyle stood up and left
the room for a moment, and Pansy felt suddenly much relieved; maybe she could
finish the countercurse before Christmas, even. It was then that Pansy realized
the presence of Dumbledore's bird Fawkes, who chose that particular moment
to fly over and land in her papers, swooshing them in every direction. She tried
to back her chair away and ended up toppling onto the floor, clutching her head
and spewing Latin curse words. Goyle entered to see this scene.
"Here they are, Severus." He swept his wand around the room and
Pansy's papers gathered, and he put the several pages he was holding on
top, picking up Fawkes and allowing the bird to fly back to its place. Pansy
rose, brushing off her robes and reseating herself. "Is there anything
else you would like to ask me?"
"No, thank you Albus," she responded and began to stand, but Goyle
waved him back into the chair.
"The school spirit has been considerably dim this year, have you noticed?"
Pansy made a scoffing noise, but the other boy ignored him. "Even at today's
feast, the atmosphere was strained! I suggested to the teachers and Minerva
that we cancel classes the day before winter break and instead hold a ball similar
to that held during the Triwizard Tournament–"
"No," she interrupted flatly. "You are not going to use this
opportunity to make P–Zabini cling to me further, Albus–"
"I'm sorry, but seeing as you aren't currently a teacher,
Miss Parkinson, you have no say in whether or not we hold this Winter Ball or
not," Goyle said, smiling impishly.
She stared at him. "You're just going to bend my identity any way
you want, aren't you? Need help with wards, I'm Severus Snape, but
hold a Yule Ball and I'm Miss–"
"Oh, open up Severus. Just let yourself go for once. You're always
so obsessively on top of everything. You don't have to be, especially
now. You can–"
"I don't have to be–?" she roared. "I
don't have to be?! Every night I train Death Eaters who have no
clue what they're doing because tomorrow might be the day, tomorrow
might be the day, Albus! I–"
"But you have the whole day to be whoever you want to be as Miss Parkinson,
Severus."
"I want to be who I have been being," she said stubbornly, feeling
the anger drain out of her and knowing a surrender was near.
"But Mr. Potter seems quite attached to you, in any case. Do you want
to disappoint him?"
"As Snape I lived to disappoint him," she said flatly.
"I mean now, not then."
"Eh." She frowned. She knew where Dumbledore was getting at. Playing
with her emotions, manipulating her so she did what he felt was best–Hogwarts
was the man's chessboard. "Not really," she found herself
saying, and broke eye contact to glare at Fawkes blearily. Her body spasmed
as she sniffed, trying so hard not to cry that it was making her head hurt.
This body seems accustomed to crying at the worst moments, she noted.
Miss Parkinson must cry a lot. Brat. "It's wrong,
Albus. I shouldn't–"
Goyle was silent, listening to the former Potions Master babble until she couldn't
think what else to say and clenched her jaw in a way that looked rather painful.
"You know, there's no rule against student-teacher relationships
recorded in the handbook," he informed her with a shrug.
Pansy stopped crying in an instant and her head shot up to stare at Goyle so
fast it hurt. "You–"
"Good day, Severus," Goyle said cheerfully.
