Without Question
By Tien Riu
tien_riu@yahoo.com
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters belong to J.K. Rowlings. Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine. WARNING: The future of this piece of fiction contains slash/yaoi/shonen ai/homosexual relationships.
Author's Note: Note, this chapter (Chapter Twelve) has been extended and revised. Apologies to those who caught the end of my depressed rant against Raw-Talent's (now removed) "Harry Potter Turns to God" fic. As before, please do not flame Raw-Talent for his beliefs (it would serve no purpose). Replies and responses to reviews at end of chapter. As always, thank you for the reviews, I love them all (even flames - though I thankfully haven't received one yet), read them all and try and see if I can fit in suggestions or clarify points that bring up the most questions. I'd really appreciate comments and criticisms on this chapter - especially on Draco's behaviour, current plot and Severus' turn of phrase. Harry's behaviour and your opinion of it would be nice as well.
Especial thanks to Kouji who C&C this chapter but ended up beta'ing the revisions. ^_^
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Chapter Twelve: Blood and Survival
The rain continued, a steady, misting fall - too light to be a downpour, too heavy to be a drizzle. Harry glanced up at the sky as he stepped off the train onto the platform; grey - from horizon to horizon. It suited his mood - a uniform, uninformative bland stretch of nothing. Not hate. Not happiness. Not anything - just. . . Nothing. He wondered, quietly, how long it would take to - adjust. How soon before it doesn't feel strange not to feel any more? He had gotten used to magic and Hogwarts. Surely this - which affected the external world in no way - should take less time. Will it always be like this?
"Pity."
"What?" Harry shook his thoughts away and glanced questioningly at Ron.
"The rain." Ron said, tilting his head up to the sky, "Just for once it'd be nice to have some really hot autumn days. Before school kicks in you know? Slogging over to see Hagrid in this weather is going to be a killer."
"Where is Hagrid?" Hermione asked as she stepped off the train, brushing her robes smooth.
"Probably scaring the first years -" Ron glanced over the heads of the students - he had grown (again) during the summer, Harry noted.
Ron had always been tall, now he was probably brushing the edges of six feet. Next to him, Harry felt like a very short weed. On the other hand, compared to Ron, everybody looked like a very short weed. Wonder if I'll ever get that growth spurt.
"Hey - who's that?" Ron's voice, overly loud, jerked Harry's (and that of everybody else within hearing distance) attention back to the conversation.
"He's wearing the Hogwarts crest." Hermione murmured, "Do you think he's the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher?"
"This year, I say we save time, and start off with spying on the Dark Arts teacher first." Ron whispered to Harry as Hermione tried to get a better view of the mysterious man.
"Honestly, Ron - just because Professor Quirrell, Gilderoy and Moody were all You-Know-Who's henchmen doesn't mean that all the Defence teachers will be." Hermione snapped, "Professor Lupin wasn't - remember?"
"He was a werewolf wasn't he?"
Harry tuned out what sounded like the start of yet another Ron and Hermione argument (the fifth thus far - the first having started over the chess match they had started in the compartment, the fourth over Ron feeding Pig chocolate frogs) as he watched the mysterious man.
He was of average height, with muddy-brown hair combed neatly. He looked - normal. If not for the Hogwarts-emblazoned robes he was wearing, he might have been a muggle.
" - Madam Pomfrey is waiting -" one of the Slytherin Prefects said as he strode past Harry, nearly walking into him.
Goyle - one of Malfoy's goons - followed in his wake; Harry frowned - Goyle was carrying Pansy Parkinson in his arms; the extra weight seemingly effortless to the larger boy.
"What happened to Pansy?" Harry asked.
Ron and Hermione jerked out of their argument.
"What?" Ron frowned, "What's Pansy got to do with Mad-Eye Moody?"
"Oh? Didn't you hear?" Hermione frowned, "Neville told me Malfoy and Goyle had an argument and she got accidentally hexed with an incendiary charm. The Prefects were kept busy all the way here keeping the pain-numbing enchantment going." She shook her head, "Honestly - a simple ice-pack and a tranquilliser would have saved them the trouble and time."
"Ice pack?" Ron frowned, then shook his head, "Not another one of those crazy muggle things is it?"
"Ron! Just because it's different doesn't mean it's bad -"
And thus started another Ron-and-Hermione argument.
"First years! First -"
*
"- years - first years please!" a thin, warbling voice called above the roar of conversation.
Draco barely noticed the thin, insignificant man wearing a Hogwarts crest on his robes calling for the first years. His eyes were on Gregory Goyle's hulking form.
Standing at the back of the bustling crowd of students, Draco watched as Greg - carrying Pansy in his arms - and a Slytherin prefect, hurried off the platform and made their way quickly down the street. He wondered where they were going, and if Pansy, pale and with tears streaming silently down her face -
Malfoys do not apologise. His father's voice, stern and solemn, Malfoys do nothing without reason and meaning. Except - he had, hadn't he? Without actually meaning to - he had. It was her fault anyway, for getting in my way. And cringed inwardly at such a childish excuse. Malfoys make no excuses.
"Mr. Malfoy." He did not flinch at the familiar voice, nor at the sight of his Head of House.
"Sir."
Severus stared at the boy evenly for several seconds, "Follow me."
"The carriages are leaving -" Draco stopped, mid sentence; stupid really, he should have known Snape would know - not just what had happened to Pansy, but about everything.
It was an open secret - at least amongst their social circles - that Severus Snape had been a Death Eater during the last war. And not just any Death Eater. Severus Snape had been part of the Dark Lord's inner circle: the most trusted and highest ranked of the potions experts. His loyalty must be above suspicion. During the first few days of the summer, he had seen the Professor - albeit from a distance - with the rest of his father's 'crowd' as the Dark Lord re-established the inner circle. He was at the party - when I touched Pansy and it - happened. Had been the one who had healed Pansy the first time.
"Mr Malfoy, what are the consequences of your presence of a wooden contrivance in combination with your rather volatile - gift?" Did he hesitate? Draco foundered; Severus sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Do the world - and my patience - a favour, Mr Malfoy, if you cannot think for yourself then follow without question."
He found himself watching Professor Snape stalk off the platform, robes swirling around him. Eventually, he followed.
*
Five minutes later, they were seated in the middle of the informal living area of Severus Snape's quarters. Draco gritted his teeth and successfully quelled the urge to squirm beneath his Head of House's dark gaze.
"Need I remind you, Mr. Malfoy, that the Dark Lord's - gifts -" that damnable half-pause again! So slight a hesitation that Draco wondered if it was merely his traitorous imagination. I'm going crazy. Just like Uncle Mortimer - except without the fairies. " - are for use in his effort and his name alone. Not for use in adolescent posturings to gain Miss Parkinson's admiration." Severus said, voice a velvet rumble of anger, "Somehow - despite the direct orders of both, I am sure, your father and the Dark Lord - you have managed to draw unwanted attention to Slytherin House in situation worthy of Potter's attention-seeking behaviour. The blame for Miss Parkinson's current extended stay in the Infirmary under the already suspicious eyes of Madam Pomfrey - only adds to my rampant disbelief." He paused to drag a breath in, eyes blazing with anger, "Tell me now why I should not deduct fifty points from Slytherin for your stupidity and leave you to your housemates for reducing Slytherin to negative marks this early in the year!"
Draco opened his mouth - and found himself conflicted. Tell him Pansy was groping me and it was self defence. She and Goyle tried to pull the collar off - and I was protecting the Dark Lord's plans. Tell him Potter put me under Imperius - no, that'd just be demeaning. Tell him -
"It was an accident sir."
"An accident?"
Draco did squirm then under Professor Snape's bland tone - and promptly felt ashamed; he could almost see generations of ancestors glaring down at him from their portraits at such un-Malfoy like behaviour. To show weakness before an inferior (and all who were not Malfoy were inferior). To speak the truth - when it would gain him nothing. And yet, a part of him wanted to release the truth that bit and struggled to be spoken: It was an accident! I didn't meant o hurt Pansy. I didn't mean it - it wasn't supposed to happen. No - the whole truth was that he hadn't known he could hurt Pansy to such an extent. But saying those words - speaking absolute truth -
Malfoys are never unsure. Thus, Malfoys never made mistakes. Perfect. Always.
"Yes, sir."
In his mind, he stood in the Portraits Gallery at Malfoy Manor, and his ancestors glared angrily at the deterioration of standards that had produced him. Shame boy! Their voices echoed in chorus, A Malfoy does not serve. A Malfoy does not bow. A Malfoy does not -
A Malfoy did not wear a collar. Which leaves me where? He didn't want to think of this - What else can I do? A cynical voice that sounded more plaintive than angry muttered, Lie? What for? He's Snape - he knows everything anyway. Besides, there's going to have to be - special arrangements. Anti-incendiary charms on everything he used; he did not want to suddenly find himself naked in the Great Hall, clothes reduced to ash. Not that the girls wouldn't like it. . .
Not that I could do anything about the girls liking it. Depressing thought that - Chastity, thy name is Draco. His father had lost his virginity at fourteen. Draco was fifteen - a whole year behind already. If I hadn't gotten distracted with that whole Potter fiasco last year I'd probably have gotten further with Pansy. Another reason to wreck vengeance on Potter and his cohorts - except for his father's wrath. Potter gets away scot free. Again. And I learn abstinence and chastity - words I'm sure he can barely pronounced let alone understand. Bloody bastard.
"Is that all you can say in your defence?" Severus demanded, voice quiet, low.
"Yes, sir." Draco finally said, feeling defeated. Malfoys are never defeated - they strategically retreat.
"You are still wearing Lord Voldemort's collar?"
Draco flinched and nodded, "Yes sir." More seemed expected, so he continued, "I haven't taken it off since Father gave it to me." Put it on me more like.
After he had destroyed the charmed mirror in his - Prison. - quarters. He imagined he could feel the silvery metal sliding beneath his robes, ridge standing out against the heavy material like some sort of mark of the Dark Lord's ownership. Draco raised his eyes to meet Severus' gaze, flinching slightly before straightening his shoulders in a semblance of composure and arrogance, "It is said that even the Dark Lord did not predict the strength of my gift." He said with as much pride as he could imitate.
Severus arched one eyebrow, "And yet, the collar's influence on your gift seems to be working perfectly at the moment, Mr Malfoy." Draco flushed - he couldn't help himself, "Strength and power are useless without control, Draco - and my hypothesis is that your control is mediocre at best."
"Sir."
"That is not an answer - that is a noun." Severus snapped, then shook his head, "Don't answer - there is only so much inanity possible on an empty stomach. The Welcome Feast should be starting - and your presence, no doubt, dearly missed -" at this, the potions master sneered, " - by your fellow housemates." He stood, "Draco." And paused; for several seconds he merely stared and Draco fought the urge to squirm or show any discomfort at the unreadable blank gaze, "Slytherin House is renowned for intelligence, guile and knowledge. If you must cheat, stab and plot - do so with some semblance of discretion." He sighed, rubbing a hand through his lank hair, "Go."
It seemed to Draco that he spent too much of his time obeying the orders of others. A Malfoy leads - so why is it that everybody tells me what to do? He wondered briefly if his mother's blood could truly have diluted the Malfoy blood to such an extent. Oh right. Mother's gift.
He pulled the tightly bound package from his robes pocket - undamaged despite the excitement in the compartment. Undamaged despite his touch. Stupid collar can't even work right for all the indignity it puts me through. Beneath his fingertips, the wards buzzed. Draco looked up to find the potions Professor staring at both him and the package with a strange expression.
*
The Malfoy heir had been sent to the Sorting and the waiting Welcome Feast, figurative tail between his legs, along with the briefly denuded adolescent ego. It never failed to amuse Severus how easily Draco Malfoy - for all his posturings and adopted airs - became an exact duplicate of his father. Not Lucius as he was now - or even as he had been by the time they had graduated - but as the nine year old Severus had first met decades past. You succeeded in moulding him into your exact duplicate, Lucius. I wonder if you'll ever understand that.
Draco Malfoy was very much his father's son. Severus occasionally wondered if he had ever been allowed to be anything else. Well, except in potions. In that at least, he takes after Narcissa. There at least, the academic brilliance Lucius had shown, was tempered with interest. Not very much - and probably only for mischief-making, but at least there's interest rather than aristocratic disdain.
He had hoped, when he had first seen that interest, four years ago, that there was more to Draco Malfoy than a generational clone of his forefathers.
Severus turned his thoughts back to the package in his hand. It was small, barely the length of his hand, with a width of no more than two fingerlenghts. Beneath his touch, the wards - distinctively layered and coated till the binding crackled with magical energy - felt smooth and impossibly dense.
The oldest pure-blood families tended towards specialisation in the magical arts - but that had been in the time before it became 'in vogue' (so to speak) for pure blood families to teach their children only that which were related to the forbidden dark arts. Even he and his family had fallen prey to the fashion of the period; his knowledge was strongest in those potions related to dark magic. Centuries of his family's academic work in light magic potions lay lost in dusty tomes of old lore and spells in the family manor. He had promised himself that one day - when it was all over, and if he lived - he would find the time to finally understand the work his great-grandmother had dedicated her life to.
The Du'Lér family had been no different than any other pure-blood family. Their focus had been on wards; Narcissa had mentioned once - a long time ago - some sort of family legend for the cause of the specialisation. That too was not unknown - he had been brought up on family lore, the reason why a Snape, above all else, was brilliant at potions. Malfoy, no doubt, did the same with Draco. The Du'Lérs were a very old family. Almost as ancient as the Goyles and Crabbes - though there at least, intelligence had not been sacrificed for inbred purity of blood. The last male Du'Lér - Narcissa's father - had power of such extent that the strongest of his wards had been unbreakable. He had read - quite some time ago - of wards impossible to create without Du'Lér blood.
Narcissa Du'Lér had been a power in Slytherin House in her own right before she had married Lucius Malfoy. Many forgot that her lineage - and power - was as great as Malfoy's own, Narcissa encouraged the obliviation of such knowledge. She had not used her maiden name in sixteen years - not since she had left Hogwarts. So why now? And why so obvious a sign? He hadn't known Narcissa had retained the specialisation of her family - it was something she had certainly never passed on to her son. Either that or he is far stupider than I realised. The mind shudders at the thought of an adolescent ward wizard of Du'Lér blood playing pranks in Hogwarts. The oldest and strongest of Hogwarts' wards were of Du'Lér creation. Damn; Dumbledore will have to know about this. If the Dark Lord ever stoops to use a female in his plans, he has a weapon in Narcissa Du'Lér capable of damaging the school wards. Severus frowned - at the moment, the anti-apparation wards were very likely the only thing stopping Voldemort and his Death Eaters from infiltrating the castle in a more obvious manner.
The clock on the wall announced that he was very late for the Sorting - but still early for the Welcome Feast. Normally, he would have already been there, leading the applause for any child sorted into Slytherin. The package however - disturbed him. The wards sang beneath his fingers - an unheard song that set his teeth on edge and quivered with fear, urgency and smug knowledge.
Emotions he had never thought to see from Narcissa Malfoy. Why? And to entrust Draco as messenger - rather than any of the fleet of owls the Malfoy family kept for that very purpose. With their distinctively bred appearance and their traceable flight paths. He wondered how Narcissa had slipped the package to Draco.
With a decisive flip, he drew his wand and slipped it over the packaging. The wards did not so much open or break as absorb and identify his magic. The package split open in the palm of his hand, revealing a small ruby attached to a short glittering chain and a bauble on a spike. On closer inspection it was revealed to be an earring - of a style he remembered being fashionable amongst the Slytherin girls when he himself had been a student. Confused, Severus stared at the earring and wondered if insanity ran in the Du'Lér family line (or if Narcissa had somehow caught it from Lucius, who as far as Severus was concerned, had never been particularly stable). The wards and a convoluted method of delivery - all to give me an incomplete set of earrings?
The parchment that had bound the package writhed; as he watched, text began to appear - a glowing line of words forming before his eyes. A letter.
Severus,
My loyalties, as always, must lie with my blood. Fifteen years - almost to the day that I write this - I was shocked to realise it included one blond haired, screaming brat. By that time of course, it was already too late. Both for you and for me. You already know of what Lucius' ignorance and blind faith has done to my son.
Lucius is a fool. He blindly trusts the Dark Lord will ensure his heir remains capable of propagating the Malfoy line. Perhaps he even believes that the Dark Lord can somehow aid the Malfoy family retreat from its current precarious position at the edge of extinction. I myself do not wish to risk the last child of Du'Lér blood on such fallacy as the Dark Lord and his petty, testosterone fuelled dreams of dominance and world conquest.
You were ever weak at academics unrelated to potions, Severus. However, I have never been able to fault your perseverance. 'Tendo te draco ignis, te scelero draco'. Start there. You have till Christmas. After that, it will be over.
Enclosed is all that I can do for Draco given the current political situation and my place within it. Lily Evans saved her son at the cost of her life - I hope that living fifteen years for Draco will at least protect him from the future he has been unwittingly sold to by Lucius. Once you understand, do as you would with it. If you decide to give it to him - then tell him I am sorry I could find nothing more suitable. It will clash with everything in his wardrobe (it had better, I taught him that much at least) but an item of jewellery in a woman's possession for fifteen years must be above suspicion.
I entrust you with his future, Severus. Do not fail me as you failed your wife.
By my hand,
Narcissa Du'Ler né Malfoy
Lady Malfoy
Malfoy Manor
Hidden between the lines was Narcissa's knowledge of his double life during the last war. That should have been his first thought.
Implied was the knowledge that he was a traitor - the only one in the inner circle of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters. That should have been his second - if not only - reaction.
He should have already found Albus and alerted the rest of the school. Narcissa Malfoy was the wife of a Death Eater in Lord Voldemort's inner circle - what she knew her husband should as well.
Severus traced the last words. Your wife.
His laughter was rough - choked and perhaps touched with a hysteria he would never admit to experiencing. The sound echoed strangely off the stone walls. An acknowledgement of understanding? A warning? A threat? The similarities between our situations - her's now, mine then - are obvious. But what do they mean?
He re-read the letter once, twice - and then a third time. Finally, he closed his eyes. Loyalty only to blood. Survival at all costs. Salazar Slytherin would be proud that at least one of his chosen remembered the dictates of his House. Would that the rest of us had recalled it too - perhaps then we would never have entered this war between dark and light. Albus would have to be told. The Death Eaters had a witch of Du'Lér blood who was fully trained. That they had her since the end of the last war meant nothing except perhaps Lucius' astonishing lack of timing and a hereto forth unknown (though much suspected) chink in Voldemort's prejudiced recruitment practises.
Merlin - I need a drink. He stared at the earring; the ruby, dangling in a setting of silver, shone with the clarity of extreme expense. Only the best for a Malfoy after all - and if the best is also the most expensive on the market, all the better. His lips twisted into a grimace of distaste. Lucius had ever been one to flaunt his wealth (discretely but flaunt it nonetheless) - yet another trait successfully passed on to his son.
The fire reflected the ruby, casting shades of blood across the stone walls. He held it up to the light, and watched as it turned. He could feel the power embedded into the stone - the spells tied to blood, life and some strange amalgamation of both. To conceal, to protect. To hide and heal and shield. What is it you know of Draco's 'gift' that I do not, Narcissa?
The quotation gave no clue - despite her allusions of one. He recognised it of course - what potions maker would not? It was the premise and promise that formed the ethos of the art.
*
Hufflepuff had gained the greatest amount of new students that year. Of course, there had only been fifteen first years - Harry had heard some of the Ravenclaw sixth years saying that quite a few families had refused the Hogwarts letter, sending their children to other schools instead. The Ravenclaw had looked around before whispering something to her partner and they had both looked solemn and hurried towards their table.
Harry hadn't needed to hear what was said to know the gist. Familiar faces were missing in the crowds - there were less students this year. Neville had mentioned he had only just managed to stop his Grandmother from sending him to the Institute of Magic in Brazil.
And the Hufflepuffs and quite a few of the Ravenclaws were wearing black and yellow armbands.
" -
right mate?"
Harry jerked back from his thoughts as he realised Ron - seated on the other
side of the table - was talking to him (or at least attempting to through a
mouthful of mashed potatoes).
"What?"
Ron rolled his eyes, "Blimey Harry, you've been completely out of it all day. You haven't even eaten anything." He added.
Harry shrugged and poked the sausage on his plate, "Not that hungry." He said, "What did you want me to pay attention to anyway?" he continued, hastily biting the sausage before Hermione, on his other side, could worry.
Ron frowned, pausing, "Damn - can't remember - no wait! Yeah - looks like Malfoy got off again." He said, "Doesn't even look like Snape chewed him too much either." He added the last around a mouthful of chicken and carrots, "Slimy git - doesn't even bother to pretend he's being fair."
Hermione made a face, "You could at least swallow before you speak, Ron." She said, "No wonder Harry isn't hungry," she quipped, before turning her head, "Wonder what his punishment is."
Harry turned as well; Draco Malfoy was walking down the length of the Slytherin table to take his usual place beside Gregory Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. Where's Crabbe?
"Hey - where's Crabbe?" Ron asked, echoing Harry's thoughts.
"Probably at Durmstrang like the rest of them." Hermione said, turning back to her food, "Slytherin has to be the smallest House this year. Don't you think so Harry?" she paused, "Harry?"
"Uh - yeah." Harry said - it was true, most of the missing faces came from Slytherin.
There were barely more than three hundred students. Unfortunately, most of the fifth year class was still there. Potions is going to be just as hellish as last year then. Harry thought, And Malfoy's gotten worse than last year - if that's possible. Though his taunts were rather strange if what he'd said on the train was any example. As Harry watched, the other Slytherins moved away, creating an empty place around Malfoy. Stuckup prick - making even his housemates treat him like he's some sort of royalty.
Harry turned back to his dinner and continued poking the sausage as he waited for the feast to end. I wonder where Hagrid is.
The half-giant wasn't at the high table - Professor Dumbledore hadn't however, introduced a new Care of Magical Creatures professor. I only ever got that one letter from him at the beginning of the holidays. Just saying he was going on a trip and wouldn't be able to write. He wondered if Hagrid had sent a birthday present that year - Dudley's morning raid and being thrown out of Number 4, Privit Lane hadn't given him much chance to rescue the cards and letters.
Across the Great Hall, he caught a flash of black, yellow and shining brown eyes. He froze, and ducked his head. Cho Chang. She was sitting on the Ravenclaw table at the other end of the hall wearing a yellow and black band.
He was surprised at the pang of grief and hope and lust and what he thought might be love that briefly constricted his heart and made his breathing speed up. And other things to get interested - but he was fifteen so that was more or less normal (at least he hoped so). It seemed there was still some things that he could care about. Cedric's dead and I'm lusting after his girlfriend. . .
He poked at the sausage.
"Looks like Snape finally managed to make it." Ron remarked; Harry looked up more from reflex than any true interest.
Professor Snape hadn't changed much since the last time Harry had seen him in the middle of the holidays. His hair was just as greasy looking, and his robes still flared around him as he stalked in through the small door off the side of the high table. Surprisingly, the potions master didn't sit at his usual seat but made his way to Dumbledore's side.
Dumbledore paused in mid-bite and glanced inquiring at Snape before leaving the Great Hall behind Snape.
"Well - that's strange." Hermione noted quietly, "Do you think it's got anything to do with what Draco Malfoy did to Pansy Parkinson?"
"Nah - bet it's to do with the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and You-Know-Who." Ron replied.
Beside him, Neville froze then shivered, "You don't really think so, do you, Ron?" he asked.
"Come on Neville - after four years with those three you should know that anything they notice has to be some sort of plan of You-Know-Who." Dean called from the other side of Ron; in the candlelight and the flicker of lightning from the enchanted ceiling, the silver of his prefect's badge gleamed.
"Better be careful this year." Seamus hooted from Harry's right, "Or Dean might take points for breaking school rules when you three sneak out to save the world." He laughed as Dean glared, "I still can't believe it, Dean. How'd you manage to make Prefect?"
Harry tuned them out, turning to stare at the door Professor Dumbledore and Snape had left through. What's going on?
*
"Tendo te draco ignis te scelero draco?" Albus frowned, "If my Latin serves - he who would control the dragon's fire corrupts the dragon." The Headmaster paused thoughtfully, "I see no current relevance to young Draco's situation - other than perhaps that the effects of his unfortunate gift does bear a startling similarity to that of fire."
Beyond the door, Severus could hear the buzz of four hundred students conversing - no doubt on the topic of why the potions master would arrive late and depart immediately with the Headmaster.
"Not all things revolve around Draco Malfoy - or the Malfoy family." He said, "Which makes Narcissa's choice of usage all the more confounding. The phrase is not unique - it has a hundred derivations. I know it as the maxim of potion makers - our ethical guide if you would."
"Wise guide indeed. Those who seek dragon's blood should be wary of being unfortunately cremated before death?" Albus asked; Severus gritted his teeth at the older man's twinkling eyes and inappropriate humour.
"The metaphor states: the power of that which is wild and freely given exceeds that which is bound and enslaved."
"A wise truism on the world at large." Albus said, thoughtfully, "I take it that for you, it refers to potions ingredients?"
"Of course." Severus said, "However, I am at a lost to understand what Narcissa Malfoy meant." He frowned, "Unless of course she refers to the spell cast upon him - some derivation of what we already know - using purely wild components. An increase in strength perhaps. . ."
He trailed off as he realised Albus was no longer listening but deep in thought. The Headmaster smiled suddenly, "Severus, my suggestion is that you speak to Minerva on this." And with that, the Headmaster swept back into the Great Hall, leaving a startled potions master standing alone in the tiny staff entrance hall - confused and feeling the affects of his drinking spree. Despite (or perhaps in spite of) the anti-inebriety potion he had consumed.
Damn him and his riddles. Must that man be forever five steps before the rest of us? Severus thought, glaring at the (now) closed door before sighing. Narcissa - you have not changed since seventh year. And that in itself is as fearsome a thought as the knowledge that Draco Malfoy has your temperament by blood inheritance.
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Author's Note: Ah, the plot is picking up. And finally, there is an explanation for that first latin quote (that Kouji translated all those chapters ago ^_^).
silddki - is this enough Draco POV for you? ^_^
Kandra - sorry, Draco and his anxiety and how everybody handles *anything* will come when people actually find out about Draco's idiosyncratic 'gift'. ^_^ Plot plods slowly forward ne?
Bored Beyond Belief - (firstly - interesting pseudonym ^_^) Kouji and I actually exchanged several mails about Severus and his reactions and reasons. Suffice to say, there is more to the Slytherins than evil minded children (well okay, so they are in most parts evil minded children - but then most children are evil in some way, that doesn't make them *evil*-take-over-the-world though ^_^).
KDay2, Juliet, Annon - thank you
Kcgal - 'torque' thing and usual formula? 0_0 Guess I wasn't as original as I thought. ^_^
Bienfoy - once more, thank you. And what do you think of Chapter Twelve?
Ashfarley - I did download 'Medication' by Garbage - have you tried 'I Try' by Jonatha Brooke? I keep hearing it replay in my head whenever I sit down to write 'Without Question'. Meanwhile - underrated? I hope you don't mean that I should have rated it higher (cause one more and I'm going to have the whole 'how do I write a slash scene ANYWAY' problem I have with 'Lust' ^_^).
silvershadow, FatalDreams-Seducer of Fantasy (0_0 Interesting pseudonym ^_^) - Thank you!
Kandra: thanks - I worried a little over Narcissa Malfoy. There is a large lack of information about Narcissa in canon, which makes writing her a dangerous place to go when you want to avoid plot-induced Mary-Sues. ^_^
MistyKasumi - ah, Ranma 1/2 fan? ^_^ Thank you for your kind comments, and hope the extension to Chapter 12 made it all the better.
Finally - if I've missed anybody, I did read your review, but couldn't find it while trying to pick them all out of the review section at FF.net.
By the way - anybody worried about the new NC-17 censorship? There are quite a few NC-17 stories that are rated that highly simply for 'safety' by the author. I'd miss reading 'Only This' by Blue, 'Mirror of Maybe' by the ever incomparable Midnight Blue not to mention that most of the very good stories in the anime section are NC-17 rated. ~sigh~ Guess my plans for fleshing out Draco and Harry's 'relationship' (in the future) will have to be shelved unless I can find an archive somewhere.
Ah well - one day in the future I guess. Should probably get around to making my own site I guess. ^_^
And as always - reviews, comments, criticisms all appreciated. Flames laughed at (unless they're constructive in which case they will be read and mulled over).
A/N: Review? Please? If only to point out plot holes? Or out-of-characterisation? Or if not tell me how much you loved it (this last because Sildtsr told me to stop asking for 'it sucks' messages ^_^)