Black Truth

Chapter Four: Lifemate Sighted

Harry silently fumed as he took his seat next to Hermione for Potions. Still no sign of Malfoy anywhere, and the git had two minutes to get to class. But, Harry stopped himself, why in Merlin's name did he care? After Draco had "calmed down" and the wings had receded, the insufferable prat had left, going in the direction of the Slytherin dormitories (as Harry's experience from Second Year had taught him), probably to change his robes. And he'd probably be five to ten minutes late to class but would Snape care? Not at all. So Harry sat fuming at the unfairness of it all.

Harry was so buried in his internal rant that he didn't notice the arrival of Draco Malfoy, or the sudden hush that went around the room as all eyes (but Harry's) turned to look at the young aristocrat. If Draco was bothered by their looks, he didn't show it, and Harry, finally realizing the blonde's existence in class not thirty seconds before class began, thought that Malfoy would probably enjoy being in the spotlight.

Draco pointedly ignored the stares from his classmates as he made his way to his customary workplace. He was the only one at his table as he preferred to work alone, which now Draco realized was a good thing, as he didn't have to worry about working with a partner who was fretting about him sprouting wings every two seconds.

"Well if you would all be so kind as to stop looking at Mr. Malfoy, I believe you all have work to do," Snape snapped as he entered the classroom in the same manner he had done so since Harry's first Potions class in First Year. "But before you get to that, I am going to assign the next project that you will be working on and your partners."

A collective shudder went around the room. Snape's regular work was hard enough, but when he assigned projects... well they normally had the effect that the wooden horse had on Troy. The only two who had survived--much less passed--the last project were Draco and Hermione, who had worked by themselves. Everyone else had been sent to the infirmary for various reasons. Harry himself had enjoyed an interesting time where his eyes changed colors every few minutes. Really it had made for a quite interesting week, where the world was red one minute, then green the next, shifting into purple, and then black where he really couldn't see what was going on. Harry personally thought that Snape went through the library picking the hardest potions to assign for projects... and Harry wasn't too far off, except Snape didn't need to go to the library for he had already memorized all the information that was in those books already. Harry was shaken from this train of thought when his name and partner's were called out.

"Potter, Malfoy."

Harry fought back the urge to groan and glared in Malfoy's direction, a bit miffed by the fact that Malfoy was looking half in shock at Snape who was ignoring him.

Well this is just great, Draco thought. Not only had his beloved godfather thought to pair him with Potter of all people, but the same godfather seemed to have found a twisted sense of humor in all this. Draco scowled at the parchment in front of him on which some witch or wizard had painstakingly copied out all the information available on the--surprise surprise--Veriae potion which Draco, in all reverence to the book he'd found it in, had torn out. His father most likely thought the whole thing was funny, as he had hardly been able to conceal the smirk on his face when he had read the potion's name and purpose. Of course, for wizards who were not Veriae, the potion might be something useful if they were trying to find their perfect match. But... he was working with Potter! The whole thing was wrong just because of that little, somewhat unimportant detail. Potter. Just-

Wait... why was he obsessing over Potter anyway? It was just a stupid assignment which would take less than a week anyway. And besides... the whole point of this particular project was to be able to identify the ingredients for potions "in the field" just in case you couldn't walk down to whatever local apothecary you lived near. This meant that some of the ingredients for his (and Potter's) potion would be in the Forbidden Forest. Oh this would be fun. Draco was starting to enjoy the Forest. His father had woken him at dawn nearly every day for a stroll through the Forest. Draco could remember the smirk that had been prominent on his father's face when Draco had heard that Dumbledore had given his permission for Lucius to teach his son the proper control and use of his wings in the Forest. Draco was starting to think that this particular smirk was his father's form of laughter.

But the Forest wasn't so bad, once the more hostile creatures had figured out that you could aptly protect yourself at any moment you chose to. The centaurs were, well, they were quite weird at times, yet helpful at others. They were much more open to him now that he was seen as another of the Forest's creatures and not just a rogue wizard who happened to be in the vicinity. This attitude irked Draco for some reason, but it didn't really matter, he decided. Yes, it would be interesting when Potter finally figured out that he would have to go rooting around in the Forest for certain ingredients... scratch that, most of the ingredients. This could have some interesting prospects after all.

Lucius paced up and down in front of the fire place angrily. Up. Down. Up. Down. If Snape had ever watched muggle tennis, he would have been able to make a comparison, but since he didn't make a point of watching muggle sports, he could only watch as Lucius walked from one end of his range of vision to the other and back again with a forceful stride.

"Stop pacing Lucius, you're giving me a headache." He spoke finally.

The elder Malfoy stopped and instead turned to watch the slightly green flames that were crackling noisily in the fire place.

"He doesn't get it yet." Lucius spoke finally. "He was so preoccupied over that Potions assignment you gave him to think clearly at all."

"It might not be as bad-"

Lucius turned to fix the other Slytherin graduate with a glare. Snape shut up quickly.

"Not as bad. Just wait until the rumor mill gets working. By morning, the least descriptive story will be something along the lines of 'The Dark Lord is trying to come up with the perfect mix of blood for magic and so his most trusted family decided to experiment with their own son' and that will probably come from the Slytherins who have known Draco."

"The Gryffindors will merely stop at 'He's a freak.'" Snape put in helpfully.

"And the Ravenclaws will want to study him," Lucius snapped. "If I didn't already want to ring Weasley's neck, I surely would now!"

"Which one?" Snape asked sarcastically. "Because I'll help." He paused to hand Lucius a glass of brandy, which the elder Malfoy promptly drank in one shot. "Lucius, Draco may be the talk of the school tomorrow, but he'll handle it. He'll probably enjoy it, strangely enough. The first real chance he's had to use the full reputation of the Malfoy family, you can't tell me he won't live it up to its full potential. He wouldn't be Draco if he didn't."

Anything else Severus would have added was cut off by a burning pain on his arm. He hissed, at the same time as Lucius did, and while his hand went to his arm in an attempt to numb the burning feeling, Lucius was busy working something off the middle finger of his right hand. Severus blinked as whatever Lucius was working on came off and flew to land on the floor with a clatter. Small, golden, and circular. Snape looked at Lucius in surprise as he recognized the tell-tale crest of the Malfoy family that was etched into the black stone of the ring, the black stone that was glowing a bright red.

"I'm having another one made, but it will take a month or so." Lucius spoke, answering the unspoken question. "Until then it would be unbecoming of the head of the Malfoy household not to wear the signet ring, don't you think?" Snape's eyes traveled to Lucius's hand where he could see a band of scar tissue that marked the spot on Lucius's finger where the metal had met skin.

"Are you going?"

"No."

"I'll have to tell him then."

"Forgive me for saying I'm glad it's you and not me."

Snape smiled ruefully as he made his way towards the door.

"Do you want me to wait up for you?" the question came softly, but firmly from in front of the fireplace.

"Some brandy would be nice," Snape replied equally as softly before he left.

"What are you still doing up, Hermione?" a somewhat tired voice asked. Hermione looked up from where she had been curled up in an armchair, reading.

"Couldn't sleep. You?"

"Death Eater meeting. He's feeling rather... destructive tonight. I wonder what made him so angry?" The last part was sarcastic.

"Do you think Malfoy didn't go?" Hermione asked softly.

"The Marauder's Map states quite clearly that Lucius Malfoy is currently sitting in Snape's office. And Snape isn't anywhere on Hogwarts grounds."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully as Harry sat down on the sofa near her. His eyes flickered to a black object on the table. "Why do you have that, Hermione?"

"Research purposes. Be careful, Harry. It's sharp enough to cut through stone as if it was jello."

Harry frowned. "And Malfoy keeps wings of these in his back?" He picked up the feather gingerly. "'Mione? Are you sure this is that sharp?"

"Yes. Malfoy was angry, ergo his feathers were sharp."

"Doesn't seem sharp to me."

Hermione's eyes widened as she looked at the feather. Sure enough, the feather Harry held in his hands was not razor edged, but silken. Frowning, she reached for it but jerked her hand away when the part closest to her reverted back to its razor state when her hand neared it.

"Maybe it doesn't think you're a threat to Draco," she suggested.

"Hermione, are you trying to tell me that these feathers can think?"

"No, but they can feel. They are the Veriae's link to the magical currents running through the Veriae's body."

"So these are like the Veriae form of wands?"

"Right."

"Found anything else out that I should know?" Translated: should I be watching out for anything if I annoy Malfoy?

"I don't know yet, Harry. There are painfully few books about Veriae in the library. This one came from the Restricted Section."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Happy reading, I guess," he finally said.

"It's really interesting actually. Many of our own customs were based after the Veriae customs, such as the whole 'head of the house' idea, which came from the Veriae Aspectus."

"You're going to need to explain all this, right?"

"Yes, it's a complicated system. Harry, you look dead on your feet. You should try to sleep."

After Harry had gone into the boys dormitory, Hermione frowned worriedly and re-read the paragraph she had been absorbed in before Harry came down.

It takes months, and in some cases years, for Veriae to learn to control their wings because just having their wings makes the Veriae prone to rash mood swings. The instinct of the wings is to protect the Veriae at all cost, and thus for the first few months after the first rebirth the slightest anger may set them off. But it is interesting to note, that while the Veriae may not be able to control the wings, the Veriae's intended can. The touch of the Veriae's soul mate makes even the sharpest, most angry feathers instantly change to their soft form so as not to hurt the Veriae's intended.

"Oh my, Harry what have you gotten yourself into now?" Hermione whispered worriedly. Absorbed in her book, the girl continued reading long into the night.

Lucius Malfoy sat watching the flames sputter and die, and continued sitting motionless after the room went dark, his sight now focusing intently on the small charred circle that the ring--currently on his finger--had left in the floor.
Dumbledore sat absently stroking Fawkes's feathers, thinking back to when he had first seen the matching aura between the two boys, after Fawkes had pointed it out to him, and wondered how this would affect the oncoming war.
Draco Malfoy slept soundly, his eyes flickering to a color of silver and gold underneath closed eyelids, and slept soundly, enclosed in his black aura.
And up in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, Harry Potter slept soundly as well, enclosed in protective black wings that kept out all the nightmares.