He was sitting quietly in one of the two squashy armchairs, facing the fireplace. Upon hearing his name, his head snapped up and he turned toward the door. A small, haughty sneer was attached to his lips but his shoulders slumped a little and his hair was slightly disheveled; his usually bright gray eyes were dimmed.
Seraphim stopped to catch her breath, clutching at the stitch in her chest. "Draco…"
He turned to face her, his movements rough and uncomfortable. "Hello…Professor."
Seraphim gasped as if she had been burned. "I'm-"
"No, that's perfectly all right, I understand," he rose from the armchair.
After opening her mouth and having nothing to say, Seraphim stepped forward and moved to touch Draco's shoulder. She took a deep breath and sighed, looking around aimlessly, finally settling on his eyes. "I don't understand."
A hint of the old spark was back in Draco's eyes, "But you're a professor, Professor. Don't you understand everything?"
Seraphim shook her head uncertainly, not in the mood for games. "No, I don't," she paused, as though not quite sure how to express her thoughts. She finally settled for a single word, "Why?"
"Why what?" Draco snapped, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
"Why me?" Seraphim explained, shifting uneasily.
"Why not you?" he asked back coolly, averting his eyes. "I told you people see my family."
Seraphim was transported to the morning by the lake and bit down a retort. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be, I don't need sympathy." Draco made for the door.
"No, wait, please," Seraphim latched onto his sleeve. "Please…"
"What is it?"
How the hell do you tell someone 'I accept your offer for a romantic relationship and I'm sorry for running out of the room earlier because I have an issue with surprises'? "I…um…"
"Hurry up woman, I may not have class tomorrow but I still need to sleep," Draco muttered.
"I'm sorry for…for running away from you…twice. And…I'm sorry for…being a hypocrite…about your family. And I'm sorry for…" she sighed miserably, "everything."
Draco looked at her, skepticism written all over his face. "Right." He continued for the door.
"Damnit, what do I have to do to…to…"
"'To…to…'what?" Draco tapped his foot impatiently. "To tell me that I'm not good enough?"
"I never said that!" Seraphim exclaimed indignantly.
"Well Weasley doesn't seem to-"
"I don't give a damn what Ron thinks about this. Because it is my life. And he should respect that. But he is doing what any good guy friend or protective older brother would do. And that is all right." Seraphim had grabbed Draco's collar and pulled him down to eye level. Her eyes widened upon realizing just how close they were. Draco was bending almost uncomfortably, his head jerked upward so that his forehead wouldn't hit her nose. "I…I'm sorry," she said immediately, releasing him.
"Don't be, it doesn't matter," Draco replied, yielding, and trying to escape the room once more.
"Stop right there. It does matter. That's why I came back!" Seraphim yanked Draco's sleeve again.
"What is your problem, woman?" Draco's eyes blazed and he ran a hand through his hair. "Just give me an answer already. Yes or no?"
A very pregnant pause descended on the room. Seraphim blinked a couple times.
Stepping forward, raising her chin and squaring her shoulders, she smiled uncertainly. "Yes."
A few floors up, Ron had just received a message from Fred and George. He and Hermione burst into the sixth-year boy's dormitory.
"Harry, wake up!"
"Mpghh…" Harry's head appeared once more. "What?"
"Look at this, look at it!" Ron shoved two pieces of parchment in front of Harry's face. The first contained a letter that looked like something from a social club. The second explained that it was intercepted by the Order and the bird carrying it carried the Malfoy crest on its left foot. Fred and George explained that they'd snitched a copy and figured the dream team could have a go at it since they always ended up solving the mysteries anyway.
"Looks like a letter to Malfoy's mum," Harry muttered sleepily.
"You're not fun. It's obviously a secret code!" Ron exclaimed excitedly. When Harry did not look enthused, he heaved a sigh. "Let's go find Seraphim, I bet she's still in the Room of Requirement." Grabbing Hermione's hand and the letters, they sped off.
It took a few seconds for the information to sink into Harry's sleep-filled brain. Room of Requirement. That was where Seraphim was, true. And Malfo- "Shit," Harry scrambled out of bed and raced after his friends.
The three Gryffindors burst into a very odd situation. Their professor who was also their roommate and good friend was sitting with their arch nemesis and had just been engaged in a slightly-less-than-innocent kiss when the door opened. Seraphim jumped about a mile.
Ron reddened. "You're-"
Hermione promptly shut him up with a silencing charm. "Well done," she smiled amusedly. "Sorry to interrupt, but, Seraphim, would you take a look at this and see if you can make hide or hair of it?"
Faith, darling,
Oh, the sunset is just marvelous from where I sit and the moonrise is so glorious. I hope you're well. And I hope your flowerbeds are being well taken care of. Everything is just darling. I just read the most wonderful story; it's called "The Seizing Defeat." I insist you read it and let me know what you think. It's a scream!
I also want you to know that we'll be taming the fledgling you found a while ago. Poor dear doesn't quite have his feet straight yet. But don't worry. The old joker will be there to keep an eye on things!
Ah, I'm wanted at dinner.
Hugs and Kisses,
ZumiDraco was reading over Seraphim's shoulder. "That's addressed to my father."
Ron stopped struggling against Harry and Hermione to soundlessly yell, "What?"
In response to the incredulous stares, Draco continued. "Faith. Foi is faith. It's a code."
"I told you!" Ron attempted to tell Hermione, who finally remembered to give Ron his voice back.
"But um…Malfoy," Hermione began uneasily, "your father's, well, in Azkaban."
Draco snorted, "No he isn't."
Harry blinked.
"And sunset and moonrise are the fall and rise of light and dark, respectively," Draco added for good measure, smirking at his superiority.
"How do you know that?" asked Ron accusingly.
Draco gave the second youngest Weasley a look of pure disgust. "Because it's addressed to my father," and adding quietly, "idiot."
"I'll deal with you later," Ron glared at the blonde.
"Well," Hermione shifted from foot to foot, "what does the rest of it mean?"
"The flowerbeds are obviously my mother; Narcissa."
"What's the story?" asked Harry.
Draco shrugged. "Damned if I know."
Seraphim scowled. "Seizing defeat…seizing …seize…er…seize…e- Ceaser!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "The defeat of Ceaser."
"Which was when?" asked Ron.
"Why would they say 'story'…why not 'novel' or 'book,'" asked Hermione to no one in particular.
"Maybe," Harry thought, "maybe it's referring to someone who told of Ceaser's defeat."
"Shakespeare!" Hermione exclaimed. "But when…"
"The ides of March," Harry interjected. "March fifteenth."
"But-"
"It's the one date in Shakespeare's plays that everyone remembers," he explained.
Draco and Ron looked extremely lost. "But what's going to happen on March fifteenth?" asked Ron.
"Maybe it's in the next part of the letter," Hermione suggested.
"Fledgling…" Ron's head shot up. "Hermione, are all baby winged creatures called fledglings?"
"Um…most of them…"
"What about…dragons?" he ventured tentatively.
"I guess you could call them that. I mean, the more correct term would be-"
Hermione didn't get to finish her sentence. Draco slammed his fist into the table. "Damnit!"
"What's wrong?" Seraphim asked, moving closer to Draco.
"It's me."
"What?" asked Harry, puzzled.
"A fledgling…a baby dragon. To 'tame' them," he looked at the four blank faces. "They want to initiate me on March fifteenth you idiots."
Seraphim bit her lip at the 'idiots' part. "Are you…sure?" she asked, ignoring the insult.
"The old joker," said Harry, not paying attention. "Hermione, have you ever seen that Muggle show, 'Batman'?"
Hermione nodded.
"What were the villains' names again?"
"All of them?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
"No…well," Harry looked up. "Just two of them. Weren't there two named Joker and…"
"The Riddler!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's Tom Riddle."
"The 'old joker' is Voldemort," Harry set his mouth grimly, the simplicity of the letter was quite genius. It was so straightforward one wouldn't usually give it a second glance. "Well, I guess that solves that."
Draco swore.
"What's wrong with you? I'd have thought you'd be happy about being initiated into the Death Eaters," Ron sneered.
"Draco!" Seraphim grabbed his arm as it moved convulsively. "Don't. Both of you stop. He's just helped us decode this message. Do you really think he'd-"
"Yes," said Ron hotly.
"Well…" Seraphim sighed, "he hasn't done anything wrong yet so be civil to each other. For my sake, please."
"He's the one who's been sending you presents?" Ron sighed exasperatedly.
"Yes."
"Ahem!" Hermione coughed. "Perhaps we should figure out who Zumi is," she said, attempting to change the subject.
"'S Pettigrew," said Ron. "Zumi, like nezumi. It means rat in Japanese."
This time, four pairs of bewildered eyes turned to Ron.
"What?"
Harry shook his head, "I'll go pen a letter to your brothers, tell them we figured it out." He quickly excused himself.
"I'll come with you!" Hermione, wanting to escape the tension, followed suit leaving Seraphim, Ron, and Draco in the room.
"So…"
"Truce?" asked Draco, tentatively extending his hand.
Ron, looking quite disgruntled, stuck out his hand as well, "Truce."
They shook on it.
"But I swear, if you hurt her, I'll-"
"Don't worry, Potter threatened me already," Draco explained.
"Good. It goes double for me," Ron stated clearly.
"You know, Weasley, I don't doubt that."
Seraphim sighed; it was a start.