Chapter Seven: Beware of Slytherins Bearing Gifts
Lili leaned forward, looking squarely at the top of Dia's head. "Come on, Dia! Out with it!"
Dia remained stiff-backed, eyes on her plate. She hadn't opened her mouth for more than a few bites since they sat down to dinner. Her skin, normally so ghostly white, had turned almost as red as Lili's hair.
"Oh, she'll never tell." It was a first-year and one of Lili's faithful followers, Mishal Chamcha. The older girls tolerated her company at dinner due to her seemingly inexhaustible archive of current scandals, rumors, and other juicy tidbits.
"That's because she hasn't got one." Millicent took only a brief second from attacking her turkey leg.
"No, Millicent, she has a date for the Yule Ball. You must have been confusing her with yourself."
Millicent stared murderously over the turkey leg but knew better than to challenge Lili with Mishal and Dia there. One hint of trouble and Lili's entourage of followers would flock, including her newest bodyguard, Crabbe. Lili glanced over her shoulder at him, a landmass looming behind her. He was standing –having already inhaled his dinner—eyes flat and dull, looking as if nothing in the world was on his mind. He had been a "gift" from Draco: a gesture she found rather disturbing.
She turned her attention back to the part in Dia's hair, lifting her fork and sighing in a casual manner. "It's Daniel Burge, isn't it?" It was her best guess. Dia had been flirting on and off with Daniel, a fifth-year Slytherin and their Quidditch team's Keeper, ever since he helped extricate her from some Strangler Vine she had been growing for extra-credit in Herbology.
Dia remained silent, swirling some string beans across her plate.
"I knew it!" Mishal shouted, black eyes glowing in triumph. "He's not at all bad, Dia!" Lili, Millicent and Mishal looked down the table at him, appraising. "I mean, I wouldn't have been so secretive if I were you. He's quite dashing. Sure he's a little younger, but—"
"It's not Daniel."
Lili's gaze jerked back, surprised. "What?"
"It's not Daniel." The girl was practically bathing her face in her dinner now, looking as if she wanted to hide in a rather large pile of mashed potatoes. "He's going with Pansy. You know, since she's not going with Draco this year."
Mishal and Lili traded dark looks.
"I'm sorry," Mishal said, at some length.
"I'm not," Dia sighed, pushing her plate away. "He was dreadfully dull. He's alright to look at, but there's not much going on upstairs, let me tell you." She pursed her lips. "Besides he's the type who can't get him mind off his –er, wand—long enough to hear a word you have to say."
Mishal giggled. "Then Pansy should be right up his alley, eh?"
All four girls smiled Slytherin smiles: drawn, sly, and dripping with venomous pleasure.
A long pause filled with the clanking of forks, the slurping of juice, the low roar of a hundred conversations echoing off the walls before…
"So who the hell is it!" Mishal was losing it. She prided herself on knowing every hint of gossip in the school: her patience for the secrecy seemed to be wearing thin.
"Leave her alone, Mishal," Lili said, a tone of mock-scolding, leaning in towards the first-year with a grin. "If Dia wants to keep her secrets let her. And, when people ask us who her date is, we'll just shrug and say, 'We're not sure, but we think it's Neville Longbottom.'"
Mishal laughed and Millicent looked as if she might spray pumpkin juice out her nose.
It hadn't been a serious threat, but apparently it was enough to make Dia squirm. "Look, I would like to tell you, I'm sure. But I promised him I wouldn't." Her eyes darted, almost imperceptibly towards the Gryffindor table.
Almost imperceptibly. --And nothing subtle escapes a keen, Slytherin eye.
"A Gryffindor?" Millicent roared. "Don't tell me you're going with a Gryffindor!"
"Great Merlin, it might just be Neville Longbottom," Mishal mumbled.
"It is not."
"Then who is it?" Lili pressed. She could see Dia's gaze flickering, just on the edge of giving in. "Come on, we won't make fun, I promise." She shot the other girls severe looks. "Come on…"
"Alright, alright." Dia's voice crashed until it was almost inaudible.
"It's Seamus Finnigan."
"Oooooo!" Mishal had the smile of one given a precious jewel. "Seamus? Why in the world—"
"Shhhhhh!"
Millicent looked ready to lose her dinner. "Ugg, that's disgusting. Really, Dia, a Gryffindor? And not even a decent-looking one at that."
"At least I have a date, Millicent," she spat, seeming, for the first time since they had begun their interrogation, her normal self. "He's perfectly nice, and he makes me laugh. Besides, we've been dating on and off since the beginning of term."
Mishal shot Lili a look of ecstatic shock. Apparently, the value of that precious jewel had just tripled. "The start of term?"
Dia nodded.
Lili's eyes shot open in realization. "So that's where you've been running off to on the Hogsmeade trips! I knew you weren't that interested in examining the new shipment of Herbology books at Madame Circe's Discount Tome Emporium…"
The blush in Dia's cheeks spread across her entire face. "Yeah. Just before the start of term, he ran into me in Diagon Alley: knocked me over and all the books I'd bought went flying. I called him all manner of names, and he didn't even flinch: just gathered up all my books and asked me if he could apologize by treating me to a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. We've been meeting in Hogsmeade since the start of term. He's surprisingly charming. --And I would never have expected a Gryffindor to know so many practical joke spells. Rather reminds me of George Weasley."
"Oh, and she had such a disgusting thing for him," Millicent snarled. "Gryffindor trash. If you had any sense, you'd realize it just isn't right associating with them. Might as well be chumming up with Harry-bloody-Potter."
"Put a sock in it, Millicent."
Lili leaned back, determined to take some heat off Dia. "Well, Millicent, it is the last minute. Maybe you shouldn't overlook Gryffindor, eh? I hear Neville Longbottom is still available…"
Dia and Mishal doubled over with laughter, Mishal managing to spit string beans half-way across the table. Several nearby third years who had been eavesdropping, couldn't suppress giggles themselves.
Millicent slammed her meaty fists on the table, face going red.
"Actually," Mishal wheezed between guffaws, "I hear he's --going with a Hufflepuff sixth year—named—Janice Silver—" She fell back into laughter.
"Alas!"
Millicent shot up, stocky body trembling like jelly-covered concrete. "Oh you all can just— just—sod off!" She threw her napkin at Dia's head and stormed out of the hall nearly bowling over Crabbe. The doors of the Great Hall slammed loudly, and, for a few moments, everyone glanced over at the Slytherin table in curious silence. Lili felt the uncomfortable pause as many pairs of eyes sweep across her, then, slowly, conversations resumed.
"I'd better go on after her." Mishal had eyes like a hungry jackal's. "If she cries, people'll want to know…"
Lili went back to her food, satisfied now by Dia's answer. Well, somewhat satisfied. Part of her, like Millicent, reacted rather strongly against the idea of dating a Gryffindor, but she decided, anything she had in common with Millicent would be best ignored if not excised altogether. If Dia was happy, that was that. And, Lili thought with some sadistic satisfaction, if Finnigan did do anything to hurt her, Lili'd have double the reason to curse him out of existence.
"So—Lili—" Dia was resting her chin lightly on her hand. "What do you—I mean, do you think Seamus—"
"He seems fine," she sighed, taking a sip from her goblet. "If he treats you right, I suppose it's okay that he's a Gryffindor." They exchanged grins.
And then Lili's mind wandered, quite randomly, to Draco. They had been meeting almost every night for the last two weeks out on the Quidditch pitch. If Snape had wondered why she asked to leave by ten, he said nothing.
Lili found particular exhilaration in the flying. There was something relieving about leaving the ground, leaving behind the common room, the castle, the suffocation of the stone and earth. Ascending she felt as though she could shed all the questions, the worries, and the insignificant quibbles. She felt only fear and elation.
She smiled, seeing Draco in her mind, pressed down hard on the broom, goggles like the ends of glass bottles over his eyes. He had promised to teach her to fly some time soon. She was actually looking forward to it.
"I bought my dress robes at The Witch's Wardrobe last weekend. It's quite nice. Pale yellow, some emerald green trim. I think it'll look lovely with some saffron ribbons in my hair."
Lili winced but tried not to let it show. Dia had many strong qualities but color-coordination certainly wasn't among them.
"Have you found anything to wear yet?"
She couldn't help but frown. She had been thinking about this for some time now as it would be impossible to write her father asking for money to buy formal robes. What small funds she did have proved insufficient for any but the poorest quality of second-hand robes--and she certainly had no desire to be compared with a Weasley.
"I think I'll just have to wear some old robes from Zhong Mo Xue," she said, taking a long swig of juice in an attempt to appear offhand rather than disappointed. Her robes from Zhong Mo Xue weren't exactly formal, but they looked different enough to be passed off, she supposed. Blue silk, a mandarin-style collar, and silver threading: though somewhat worn and certainly not what she had hoped for, it would have to do. The Yule Ball was only two days away.
"Well, I'm sure you'll look smashing no matter what. I don't think Draco'll much mind, what with having the Queen of Slytherin on his arm." She grinned, knowing just how much Lili hated this epithet.
Not realizing it, she'd begun tracing out wood-burn patterns on the table-top. "It sounds as if he'll be wearing the top of the line…." He'd told her last week that he'd purchased some smashing silk robes from Madame Malkin's. 52 Galleons.
She didn't like the idea of looking shabby next to anyone.
"Miss Lee."
She turned. "Professor Snape, sir." He was standing behind her, Crabbe having scurried off at his approach. His gaunt figure loomed, imposing against the deep indigo of the sky-ceiling, and, in some effort to put herself more at ease, she stood.
"I was hoping, Miss Lee, you might come by early this evening. I have some rather difficult potions on order this week, and they are going to take a considerable amount of time."
"Yes, of course, professor, I was just finishing." She laid her napkin on the table, abandoning the thin wood circles. It would do her some good to get her mind off the Yule Ball and on something useful. She felt altogether too much of a child if she dwelled on such things for long.
"Lili! Lili!"
Mishal Chamcha had burst into the Hall, shouting Lili's name through huffs of breath. It was enough to draw everyone's attention back to the Slytherin table.
Snape stopped, turning an only half-interested eye.
"Li-li," Mishal puffed, slumping down on the bench beside Dia, seeming oblivious to everyone else, including Snape.
"What? What is it?" Lili couldn't stop her heart from racing. The girl had obviously run all the way from the Slytherin common room, and Lili was overcome by horrible visions of Millicent throwing Hui down a staircase or, worse, following up on innumerable promises to use Artibius as target practice.
"Your—in your—room." Mishal began to splutter and around thirty Slytherins hurried to offer her a goblet. The girl drank slowly, seeming to relish one of her many moments as the bearer of news. Lili, exasperated, contented herself with merely balling and unballing her fists. "You have to come see. It's—it's." She managed only to wheeze. "Go—look."
She turned to Snape, a look of frantic questioning.
"I'll prepare things in the dungeons." In a rush of robes he disappeared, his shadow trailing at a distance, flickering its disapproval silently.
But her feet had already begun carrying her, at a run, out the Hall, Mishal and Dia close in tow. Please don't let it be Artibius or Hui. Please don't let it be bad…Her heart attempted to leap up her throat, and she was able to catch it only by gritting her teeth.
"Parseltongue!" she shouted at the stone wall. It seemed to roll aside much more slowly than normal.
The common room was almost empty, except for the large throng of people now following Lili and a dour Millicent who sat, sulking, in a fire-lit chair.
Lili didn't stop to notice. She vaulted up the stairs, stomach tossing food about violently. Mishal wouldn't have called her like that for something little: whatever was inside, would be—she didn't want to know.
Shaking, she pushed her way in.
"Lili?"
It was Hui's voice from the opposite side of her bed.
"Hui?" she called, taking several steps forward, gingerly. He didn't sound upset or hurt, and that, at least, was reassuring. Artibius swooped down from the ceiling, clicking excitedly. "Artibius," she sighed, the tenseness in her shoulders uncoiling. Everyone was okay: so what could--
Hui was standing beneath his tree, looking out from his painting with widely-stroked eyes. "Lili, ni kan a! Chuang shang!"
But Lili had already seen it.
It was hard to miss, really, draped over the edge of her bed, pooling onto the floor. It shimmered, shone in the torchlight. She gasped.
"Oh, Lili…" Dia clasped a hand over her mouth.
She leaned over, touching it light, expecting it, at any minute, to disappear in a puff of smoke. It didn't.
"They're the most beautiful robes I've ever seen," Mishal whispered, perched on the edge of Dia's bed, jackal-eyes glowing. "I couldn't believe it."
But Lili didn't hear a word, still reeling from the sight. It fell in showers of silk, curving out with a delicate sheen. Every edge, every seam and hem, seemed to glow, as if, somehow the dress was enchanted. Tiny emeralds lined the sleeves, forming shimmering veins that dripped down the length of the gown, arcs and lines kissing each other with a glow of lustrous diamonds. Lili picked it up, gently, from the bed. The fabric flowed like liquid in her hands, and she realized, to her delight, that the entire dress was green and silver—Slytherin colors. She felt tears stinging in her eyes.
"Check the tag," Mishal instructed, shaking anxiously. Obviously, she had already done so.
Lili turned it out. Lady of the Lake Designers Inc.
"Lady of the Lake! Do you know how much a dress like that costs!"
She didn't, but she could guess. She held it up to herself, already knowing it would fit perfectly. It was as if, somehow, the dress had been made for her and her alone.
"And won't that look lovely with your eye color…"
Lili turned to Hui, eyes teary but a smile spread across her face. "Hui—shei—"
He grinned. "It was your young man. He told me to tell you that he wished he could be here to give it to you, unfortunately, he had an unavoidable detention."
"Draco," she whispered, laying the dress carefully across her bed, unable to take her eyes off it.
"Yes," Hui said. "A Mister Draco Malfoy. I believe he left you a note."
She looked about frantically, searching. Her heart was pounding, now, from joy.
Probing, she felt it beneath her pillow. Her eyes jumped over it as best they could, still bubbling with the beginnings of tears. "Dear Lili…" She read in silence.
Finishing, she pushed the tears out of her eyes and grinned with a smile that made her entire body warm. She couldn't believe he had done it…but he had. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen: it was the best surprise she'd ever had.
"What?" Mishal pressed, squinting at the parchment in Lili's hands as if willing herself to see through it. "What does it say?"
Lili wiped her cheeks, chuckling as she read. If you must know, he said, 'I heard you were worried about what to wear. Royalty deserves only the best. And after the Ball there will be no doubt: you are the Queen of Slytherin."
Every girl in the room --though all Slytherins and not inclined to such things—looked between the letter and the dress with stifled sighs of longing.
Lili, still half-way between sobs and ecstatic laughter, wrung the parchment in her hands, never wanting to let it go.
"Two handfuls of dragonscales."
"Handfuls? Not precise enough."
"That's what it says."
Snape grumbled, taking the book from her, sneering at it, lips taut and white.
"You see? I can read."
He tossed the book aside, disappearing into his office for a moment. When he returned he had a different volume, this one much thicker.
Lili took it and hefted it onto the desk beside her, flipping through the pages in silence.
"Hurry, if we don't add it in the next few minutes—"
"I'm looking as fast as I can."
Snape had been in a foul mood all night. The Ministry had not only ordered more of the normal grade potions they had been preparing, but were now asking for some of the most complex concoctions Lili had ever heard of.
"Alleviolixir. Uh…oh, 4 grams of dragonscales."
He measured them out quickly, dashing them into the potion with a precision Lili found odd.
"Next."
"Let sit for seven and a half minutes, stirring anti-clockwise."
Snape sighed, removing his gloves and handing her the large, metal spoon. "I'll let you do that. I'm going to try and find another jar of fairywing. This one seems to be quite past its prime." He disappeared into his office, this time for a while.
To her surprise, he had asked her no questions about the disturbance in the Great Hall. He hadn't even chided her for being late. In the end, much to her own exasperation, she had been forced to tell him herself, feeling as if she might explode from the excitement otherwise.
His reply had been, "How much essence of morning glory again?"
The potion was turning a brilliant blue. "Pro-professor Snape?"
No answer.
"Professor, I think the potion's ready for the next addition. We need the fairywing."
Snape emerged from his office, looking positively murderous.
"What?" She hoped it wasn't something she had done.
"That damned Potter." He was shaking with anger. "He and Weasley have been up to something the entire term. Probably trying to make Love Potions or something equally ridiculous. This is the second time they've managed to pinch my fairywing. I don't think I've any left, and now this whole damn potion is ruined."
Inwardly, she giggled at the idea of Potter and Weasley bent over a cauldron trying to find a way to spice up their love lives. Outwardly, however, she was sure to look somber. "Well, we could try—hmm….do you have any dragon livers?"
Snape eyed her, sharp. "Yes."
"Where?"
"Third cabinet on that wall." He gestured to the other side of the dungeon.
She hurried across the room, prying open the jars and removing two jiggling, slimy masses. Without affording Snape a look, she ran back to the cauldron and, leaning down, held the livers over the fire. Even with the thick gloves, her hands burned.
"What are you doing?" Gruff, but not without curiosity.
She didn't answer. She hurried back across the room to a nearby sink and covered the now dry livers with several drops of cold water, stretching them until they were thin and stiff.
She held them out in a look of triumph. "There you are. Just tear them into strips as needed. They have almost the same properties as fairywing now, except that the potion might be a tad foul-tasting." She sighed. "But if anyone complains, we can tell them to take it up with Harry Potter and his Insatiable Libido."
Only one corner of Snape's mouth turned up, whether from distaste or amusement, she couldn't tell. He tore the livers and dropped them in. The cauldron hissed horribly, smoked, and finally, revealed a full vat of transparent blue liquid.
Lili smiled. It was perfect.
Snape was expressionless, watching the potion carefully. Lili wondered if he felt affronted by not knowing something.
"Ancient Chinese secret?" he asked at some length.
She sighed. At least he wasn't upset. "Not really. Just something my Potions Mistress at Zhong Mo Xue taught me. She was very well-versed in substitution possibilities and ingredient properties."
"Interesting."
A thin white skin was forming on the potion's top. "It's ready for skimming. I'll get the vials."
"Have you ever skimmed a potion before?" he asked her, pulling a long, thin piece of wood from the cabinets behind them.
She shook her head. Only the most complex and rarest potions came from skimming. Usually one spent hours preparing the ingredients, hours mixing the potion, and all for one thin layer of skin to fill just a single vial. And, though she had watched Mistress Yang do it on countless occasions, Lili herself had always imagined herself far too unskilled.
"Well then, here, take the excorior," he said, handing her the instrument. "You simply scrape the top layer, as if it was icing on a cake."
She laid the excorior on the white skin of the potion, scraping, trying to keep her hands as steady as possible despite Snape's critical gaze.
"Be careful." A low silk from somewhere over her shoulder. "If you skim too far, you'll puncture into the potion below and the skin becomes useless." He was leaning close to her as if guiding her arm with his eyes.
After several minutes, and a great deal of tense guts and beads of sweat, she let the white film drip off the excorior and into the vial.
Snape wilted into a chair, wiping his brow, face shadowed and tired.
Lili understood the feeling. Even after all the excitement of the evening, she was beginning to wither. "That was by far the most complicated potion I've ever made."
Snape considered this with a wan sneer. "I have no doubt. The Alleviolixir is difficult the first few times especially. But at least it will do some good. It can't completely alleviate the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, but it's better than nothing."
Lili was overcome with the feeling he was speaking from experience.
"But, you should get used to making it," he sighed, running his hands through his hair which, normally greasy, was now doubly so due to sweat. "The Ministry has ordered forty vials."
"Forty!" She gasped, feeling as though she was ready to give up then and there. "But it took us four hours to make two!"
He sniffed, shaking his head in agreement. "Yes, well, let's just say the Ministry doesn't care much about how things get done. They just make sure everything runs on their timetable."
"Well, I suppose it will be good practice." But her heart wasn't in it. Sighing, she slouched against a table, her hair limp around her face, wet from the stinking cauldron steam.
She could see Snape eyeing her between sodden curls. It was the first time he had looked at her in that way for quite some time, and she wondered if, for some reason, he was thinking of Harry Potter's mother.
"Well, Miss Lee, I'll expect you back tomorrow for more of the same." He seemed too tired even to sigh. "And, since it is well past midnight, I'll excuse your homework for tomorrow."
"No need, I've already written it. Did it a couple of days ago." She pushed several sagging curls from her eyes.
"Very well."
She pushed at her cheeks, attempting a smile, but was overcome with fatigue in every part of her body. "Good night, professor."
"One more thing, Miss Lee."
"Yes, sir?"
"Are you familiar with The Iliad, Miss Lee? The story of the Trojan Horse?" His tone was serious, though she couldn't figure out what in the world was so serious about the question.
"Uh, no sir. I'm afraid I don't know much at all about Muggle stories."
His eyes turned back to her with a calculated slowness. There was something there in the dark tunnels of his gaze: it was nothing she had seen before. It was a pain that gave her the sudden urge to end this line of discussion.
She, however, knew it was best to listen now. When he spoke of anything but potions, it was always quite serious.
"Think about that dress, Miss Lee, think about it carefully." The words sunk heavy as shadows from his lips, deliberate and low. "Think where it came from, who paid for it—and why."
If she hadn't been so tired, she would have furled her brow. "What about the dress? I'm sure Mister Malfoy paid for it. Draco wanted me to look nice, that's all. What—" She paused. He wouldn't be telling her this for no reason. "What are you saying?"
"Beware of Slytherins bearing gifts, Miss Lee," he sighed, gliding past her, face once again composed and unpleasant. "That is all."
"Goodnight, Professor Snape."
His voice fell from him now. "Goodnight, Miss Lee."