A/N: In which Antares and Blaise try to procure certain shame for Draco.
Chapter 13: The Duel Forsworn
Antares opened his eyes again for what seemed like the hundredth time, wincing as the light around him seemed to bend oddly. He hazarded a long look around, and, after examining the high, pale ceiling and breathing deeply of the sterile, relentlessly clean scent around him, decided he was in the Hospital Wing.
And not a moment too soon, because a stern woman had suddenly appeared on his left, and was brandishing a wand with the firmness and direction of someone with authority. Antares winced in surprise as the first spell hit him, tensing out of habit, then relaxed as one or two vaguely familiar diagnostic spells washed over him, as keen and oddly refreshing as the woman's sharp look.
"A Black, are you?" she said suddenly, lowering her wand. As soon as Antares nodded, she began to tut and move away, looking highly disapproving. "Should have known – recklessness as I have never been able to understand – diving after parchment – "
"It was stolen from me," Antares said indignantly, thankful that his voice seemed to be normal, making sure that the Matron (whom the woman obviously was) was quite far across from him before trying to sit up and succeeding. "It was important – "
"Pah! Everything's important at your age, I'll wager," was the stern answer. Antares shrugged slightly, careful not to strain himself in case of – but there were no injuries. He allowed himself a small, triumphant grin. Despite his fear of flying and what he sheepishly knew now to be a rather blind, panicky attempt at some sort of wacky heroism, he'd definitely landed all right in the end, and evidently hadn't done anything stupid to himself.
And besides, he thought he might have conquered his fear of heights into the bargain, which was really fantastic –
"What do you think you're doing?" Antares started and stilled, and was already half off the bed before the Matron had turned on him, looking extremely fierce. "You get back onto that bed this minute, Mr. Black – I'm not finished with you yet – "
"But I feel fine," Antares argued, getting up and stretching his arms and legs, which felt a little sore but otherwise fine. "And I've got this essay – "
"Sit. Down." She intoned, turning back to the desk and cupboard of potions and other unpleasant-looking instruments that Antares rather preferred to be well away from. "The burn salve will be ready in just a moment, Mr. Black, and you are not to leave without it."
"Burn salve? I don't need any – "
"Of course you do! If someone had treated that fat set of scars on your back properly at the actual time you received them," the woman gave him a hard look, not far from the one Snape had given him upon examining them for the first time, "then you wouldn't be displaying them like some sort of hideous mascot right this moment, you silly thing," she said, waving away his objection. "Now, if you'll just sit down – "
"Poppy? Is he awake?" Antares stiffened almost without thinking at the sound of Snape's voice, a probably unfounded trickle of fear running down his back. Snape strode into sight, shutting the door firmly after him with a twist of his wand and not much more, the expression on his face a strange mixture of irritation and excitement. "Ah, I see."
"Just about to administer some burn salve, Severus," Poppy whatever-her-name-was said in airy reply, causing Antares to shift uncomfortably under her determined gaze. "Have you seen these?"
"You mean the cloth-like patch on his back that is extremely hard to miss, Madame Pomfrey?" Snape replied, laying the sarcasm on thick as he stopped at the foot of the bed Antares had been lying on, looking somewhat amused. "Oh, I've noticed that – his mother informed me that it is permanent, and sadly his cross to bear." Antares confined his glare to his knees as Madame Pomfrey (as that was obviously her name) tutted and fussed him back into his robes, complaining about flying lessons all the way. Antares, after a slightly feeble comeback of his on the merits of Quidditch in general was denounced by Pomfrey and rather obviously sneered at by Snape, decided to keep his mouth shut, his head down, and get out of the bloody Hospital Wing as fast as possible.
"Not so fast, Black – follow me." Antares stifled a resigned sigh, and tried not to hesitate more than was necessary. Right now, he really just wanted to go to bed – "It is past your dinner time, Black," Snape continued, slowing his stride slightly, as if to make sure Antares heard him properly. "You will follow me down to my office and have your supper there, and we will talk." Antares' breath hitched slightly as he stole a look at Snape's face – the expression on it was excited in a way he'd sworn he'd never see on the dour man's pasty face, and – "Stop dawdling, Black! I know very well that you are not injured in the least, so hurry up."
Antares groaned inwardly and did as he was asked, wondering what on earth Snape could want to talk to him about.
Then it hit him. Antares straightened slightly as they began to head down for the dungeons, now partly oblivious to the curious, slightly sympathetic looks he was getting being marched down by Professor Snape. The parchment Quirrel had made for him hadn't been nearby, like his robes, and – he conducted a quick, hopefully not too noticeable search for it in his pockets – not among the string and quills and small fragments of parchment. He stared up at Snape again – that could only mean that –
"Now, here we are," Snape muttered under his breath, making one or two quick motions with his wand before opening the classroom door, "Inside, Black. Now." Antares didn't need telling twice, and only had a moment to catch sight of the empty, slightly larger desks and take notice of the still air in the room before Snape had sat him down firmly in front of the large teachers' desk and begun to glare at him. Silence stretched around them in the stale, cold air of the classroom. It made Antares unaccountably nervous.
"Now, Antares," Snape said, sounding very calm and very calculating, "you will tell me why you were so stupid as to risk your neck for a sheet of parchment. Which," he went on, cutting off Antares before he could even speak in reply, "has been confiscated, and will be in my care until you elaborate on how such a useless item could entrance you into such gross folly."
"Sir," Antares began, as earnestly as possible, but Snape was already cutting him off again, the excited look coming back to his expression.
"Of course, you'll be joining the Quidditch team in your second year – right at the opportune moment, even, when that blackguard fool of a Terrence Higgs finally tears himself away – "
"Sir?" Antares' eyes widened of their own volition as he tried to process what Snape had just said. "Me, on the Quidditch team?" Snape, paused in the act of pacing distractedly in the space between Antares' perch and the teachers' desk, gave him a look that was almost indignant.
"Hooch nearly wet herself watching you, you imbecile, and certainly not from fear," Snape said impatiently, beginning to pace again, slower. "And of course, your housemates saw everything. Anyone with a modicum of sense would know that you belonged on a broom – probably born on one. I really shall have to inform Bella of the identity of your parents – not hard to guess, is it, with that natural talent – "
"I'll be on the Quidditch team in second year?" Antares repeated, trying to get this one thing solidly confirmed, heart beating uncomfortably hard in his chest. "But – I'm actually afraid of heights – "
"Afraid? Of heights?" Snape began to laugh, a little unpleasantly. "Then may all the members of our current team be terrified of them henceforth." Antares reddened, and tried hard not to puff up with pride. He had to have been good, to be practically promised a place on the Quidditch team next year, and for Snape to be muttering excitedly to himself in that manner – "You do know, of course," Snape said, finally leaning against the large desk opposite Antares, "that Professor McGonagall will be furious."
"Why?" Antares asked, feeling a little stupid, but very, very good all the same. Snape gave him a slightly savage grin.
"Well, the Quidditch Cup is Slytherin's for the rest of your school career, obviously," came the slightly amused answer. "Should help to speed up your climb of the social ladder very nicely, I assume."
Antares nodded, trying not to split his face with the grin that was threatening to break free. "Thank you, sir. Erm – the parchment – "
" – is among your things, in your dorm," Snape replied almost automatically, staring a little absently into space, making Antares narrow his eyes at him. You really never could trust what the man said, could you? "Oh, and Black? See that you report to Flint for the preliminary Quidditch meeting in a week. You will go to every Quidditch-related meeting, practice and discussion, or I will wring your neck myself, understood?" Antares nodded emphatically, and, when Snape sighed, beginning to stare off into space with a very smug look on his face, decided it was as good as any time to take his leave.
"Where do you think you are going?" Snape snapped, as he got up. "You haven't had your supper – "
"I'm not that hungry – "
"You will sit and eat, now," Snape said, cutting him off with a diffident look. "I have no intention of letting you starve yourself here, Black, not if you'll need your health for next year," Snape rose and dusted off his robes unnecessarily. "Wait here, I will contact the kitchen." Antares sighed and sat down again, watching Snape disappear out of the classroom with a sort of tired curiosity. He was a little hungry, after all.
When Antares returned to his dormitory some time later, he realised that the uncomfortable half-hour spent eating under Snape's absent, excited gaze had done rather well to prepare him for the speculative looks and whispering that followed his entrance into the common room a little after curfew. Blaise was immediately by his side, all nerves and angry looks in Draco's direction as he filled in Antares on what had happened after his occasionally swooning body had been Levitated off the Quidditch Pitch.
"It was really weird, you know? I mean, Hooch was really, really angry, and still she'd sort of an absent expression on," Blaise said, glaring rather ineffectively at anyone who leaned closer or came over to the corner of the common room they were sitting in. "You could tell she was just dying to know how you'd gotten so good at flying, and everything – "
"Antares? Are you okay?" Antares jumped a little at the overly indifferent tone of Tracey's abrupt question, which had him twitching round to see where exactly she was. Blaise scowled at her, as he had a habit of doing to anyone who interrupted him, and Antares gave her a quick nod, still interested in what Blaise had to say. A minute later, he was thinking so hard about everything that had happened today that he hardly noticed that Tracey had returned to her seat nearer the fire until a looming, burly, somehow familiar fifth year took her place just behind Antares, whose chair was turned a little haphazardly in Blaise's direction.
"Zabini, stand up and let me have a word with Black," the fifth year said decisively, the impassive look on his slightly trollish face one of such clear authority that Blaise was rising out of his chair before the fifth year could say anything else. "I'm Marcus Flint, and might soon be responsible for the training of your stupid arse. And Zabini, I never said you could hang about. Scarper, now." Flint's eyes were brown and hard as they flicked over Antares' nervous frame, and they didn't even bother glancing Blaise's way as he hurriedly backed away from the corner they were in. "Stand up, will you?" Antares stood hastily, recognising well enough the implicit threat behind every word, backed up by the sheer size of Flint's muscular frame, which was on a slightly larger scale than Greg's, who Antares thought was plenty intimidating even at eleven. Flint eyed him up and down appraisingly, ending his odd little perusal of Antares' short, thin body with a nod that somehow seemed to mean he could sit down. "Pre-practice is in a week. Pucey will let you know."
Antares sat down in a rush of relief, feeling a little like he'd passed some sort of test. Blaise returned as soon as Flint had stalked back over to his usual belligerent position near the common room door, igniting another spark of recognition in Antares. That was why his face was familiar – he was forever sitting near the entrance to the common room, in the company of one or two other male and female fifth years that gave off the same alarmingly aggressive air as he did.
"So," Blaise said, settling back into his chair, his expression as unchanged as if Flint had merely come over to say hello, "What did he say?" Antares let a cautious grin slip onto his face, and settled down to gossip over the new information as excitedly as he could seem without looking like a complete idiot in front of the entire room.
"He said something about pre-practice…"
"So you get to go to the Quidditch practices?" Tracey asked timidly. Antares nodded happily, ignoring the way the conversation around them reduced and finally ground to a grudge-heavy halt. It had been doing that ever since he'd returned to his dorm and found Draco playing a childish kicking game with his school bag and books, and Antares had made sure to attract the attention of Flint and one of his cronies, who, in a supreme stroke of luck, had been going down to their own dorm. Flint had sneered at both him and Draco and told them to buck up and had not been much of a help at all, but he'd provided the necessary distraction for Antares to seize his books and things back and pretend to curse them with an exaggerated charm that he gleefully told Draco would turn his skin orange for the rest of the week if he touched them again. Draco had scoffed, but had gone to bed almost immediately, and Antares hadn't been able to resist teasing Draco about his obsession with his appearance.
Draco had set Greg on him (Vince already being asleep by that time), and Antares, who had just been secretly referring to his recovered, and thankfully not too stained parchment, had used the Impediment Jinx to slow him into tripping over the trunk at the foot of Blaise's bed. Greg had groggily returned to his bed in a huff, and Draco had done the same thing, obviously seething at Antares' breezy insults.
It had all been extremely satisfying, and had therefore put Antares in quite a good mood. Which meant he answered Tracey without the irritation that came from having several second years pester him all rather obviously on purpose in the common room earlier with the same question she'd asked. Antares smiled a little derisively, not really caring that he still didn't know why they'd done that – second years were notorious for being mean to first years, and that was enough to imply that they'd got some kind of stupid enjoyment out of solemnly forcing him to stay in the common room while asking him if he was going to the Slytherin Quidditch practices fifteen times.
Oh, right, my answer.
"Professor Snape actually threatened me – really told me he'd wring my neck and all that, if I didn't go," he said, trying hard to keep the dreamy tone out of his voice, and hoping he wasn't failing too badly. Blaise gave him a grin that was slightly tinged with malice, and Antares returned it, already able to feel the comeback the nearby Draco was aching to make. "As if I needed a reason to go – "
"No one cares, Black," Draco finally spat, from nearby. Antares gave him a shit-eating grin, raising his goblet to him in a mocking gesture.
"I didn't think you did, Draco," he replied, a little too loudly, and Blaise began to make stifled, laughing noises that got Draco glaring at him too. "Thanks for reminding me, though – I never would have known – "
Draco thumped down his cutlery and struggled off the bench with a quiet snarl, followed by a very obviously reluctant Vince. Greg sighed nearby and began to lob some rolls and sausages into a napkin, and that finally set Antares off. He set down his goblet, as he didn't want to spill pumpkin juice over himself (it was horribly hard to get out of robes with normal cleaning charms, and despite the fact that he knew the house-elves here would probably welcome the task, couldn't bring himself to subject them to a round of complex washing and cleaning charms), placed his head in his hands and practically cried with laughter for the next two minutes.
This enjoyable moment, unfortunately, would not last for long.
"Antares! Antares, look!" Blaise elbowed him hard in the back, making him sit up hard and vow to do the same at some point later in the day. Antares wiped the corner of one eye, scowled at the body of his friend, then looked round to see a sight that would undoubtedly replace the sheer bliss he'd just been experiencing moments ago. Draco was standing between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, his way blocked by a slightly-menacing-but-not-quite-that-menacing Neville Lupin and Ron Weasley. Neville was speaking to him lowly, a hard expression on his usually rather soft, irritatingly cheerful-looking face, and Draco was sneering and looking him up and down and fidgeting with his wand in what he obviously thought was a menacing manner. As soon as Vince reached Draco, Draco pointed sharply to him, and both he and Lupin argued briefly before nodding and glaring at each other as they all headed off for the exit, both of them conspicuously staying as far apart as they could.
Antares' eyes narrowed. If he didn't know better, he would have said those two had just agreed on something. Which was so unlikely as to be completely stupid, so…
"I wonder what they were talking about," Tracey said curiously, turning a little pink as Antares looked back at her in slight irritation.
"Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious – Blaise, do you know anyone in Ravenclaw?"
Blaise looked back at him, tearing his gaze away from the exiting Draco and Lupin with some effort. "Yeah, why?"
"Well, some of them have to have heard what those two were nattering about," Antares said briskly, lips twitching with slightly malicious glee as he ran through the possibilities in his head. He dug briefly under the table, retrieving his schoolbag and slipping off the bench. "Let's go find out, shall we?" Blaise seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking back at Tracey, who had somehow gone even pinker. Antares rolled his eyes to himself as Blaise slipped off the bench, his own bag in tow, and followed him. Girls – sometimes, they really seemed weird in the head, blushing and crying at the drop of a hat, even ones he'd normally think better of, like Tracey. Antares shook his head as Blaise led him down to the first year end of the Ravenclaw table.
"Hey, Boot," Blaise said, pausing behind a group of boys that seemed to be poring over something on the table. The light-haired one looked round and up a little impatiently, a bit of a scowl on his face until he saw Blaise, whereupon it deepened into an even bigger scowl. "How's life?"
"Going fine until you showed up," Boot said a little darkly, turning round to face Antares and Blaise properly. "Going to give me some more exploding candy?"
"Come on, Terry, it was just one," Blaise said easily, ignoring the slightly narrowed looks he was getting from Terry's companions, one with dark hair and a rather pointy face, and the other with brown hair and the irritatingly student-y look Antares often saw on some of the worse Ravenclaws' faces. "And besides, don't you want to know why Draco's so angry?"
"What for?" Terry said, perking up. "Oh, right, he just accepted a challenge to a duel from – "
"You're joking," Antares couldn't help interrupting, feeling like the holidays had come early. "Where? When?"
"They were really quiet about it, so Anthony didn't hear any more," Terry said easily, ignoring the glare from his student-y-looking friend. "Wish I could watch, though – "
"Draco and Lupin," Blaise was still saying to himself, his bag seeming to slip off his shoulder and onto the floor nearly of its own volition, "a duel to bloody remember, I'd say – "
"Watch your filthy mouth, you arse," Antares said companionably, elbowing Blaise in the ribs and smiling nastily when his friend scowled at him. "Well I can't have teachers blaming me for corrupting you, can I?"
"You know, I don't think we've met," Terry said, giving Antares an appraising look and rather suddenly extending his hand. "Terrence Boot, call me Terry." Antares dropped his bag nearby, mimicking Blaise, and shook his hand a little dubiously, feeling odd.
"Er, I think you already know my name," he managed to say, brow furrowing as Terry let go of his hand and continued to stare at him and Bl – no, just at him.
"Yeah, what does it mean?" Terry's friends were now no longer pretending to ignore the conversation going on behind them, and were listening rather closely, as was Blaise. Which made Antares nervous – he'd never liked people looking at him for too long.
"Uh – my mum told me it meant 'rival of Mars', or something. She's weird about names, I think," was his perfectly simple reply, one that certainly didn't warrant the student-y friend of Terry's letting out a low, triumphant exclamation and sticking out his tongue at Terry. "Er – "
"Will you be paying up now, or later?" Studenty Student was saying smugly in Terry's scowling direction. "Oh don't you start – it's not my fault you can't remember anything about constellations – "
"Shut up, Tony," Terry said defiantly, turning away from his crowing friend to give Blaise a tired look. "You were saying, about Draco being angry…?"
"He was ragging Antares in Flying class, right," Blaise said, obviously settling down to tell what he seemed to think was a good story, "Giving him a hard time, and all that, you know? Then he takes Antares' piece of parchment, flies away with it, and Antares here just goes mad – "
"All I did was get it back, Blaise," Antares said, interrupting, mostly because he thought he'd look too much like a preening idiot if he didn't say something to counter the rather, well, lofty retelling of the whole episode. "And Madame Hooch's probably still going to punish me for hexing Draco in the air – "
"You hexed him? I didn't see that – "
"Get on with it, will you?" Terry said impatiently, looking at his watch and after the people already streaming out of the Hall. "We've got Potions in ten, so please – "
"Calm down, calm down – so Antares hexes him, and it doesn't do anything – "
"Beg to differ," Antares muttered, "I did slow him down a bit – "
"Right, you slowed down a heavily charmed broom with standard anti-stop protections on it," Student-y – or, rather, Anthony said, rolling his eyes derisively. Antares scowled at him, feeling irritated. He'd been trying to bloody well downplay the whole thing, and this idiot was just being stupid about some arbitrary detail –
"I didn't say I stopped it, did I? I'm not stupid, I know you can't stop the motion of a broom, thank you very much – "
"Would you let him talk, please?" Terry interrupted, sounding even more impatient. "Go on, Blaise."
"So Antares decides he'll just knock Draco off his broom instead, yeah? And he almost did, too – he was faster on that old broom than anyone else up there, see? And then – "
"For goodness' sake, Blaise! All I did was chase him for a bit until he dropped the parchment," Antares said, sighing irritably. Couldn't his friend see that the last thing Terry and company wanted to hear about was his foolish heroics? "He dropped it, I dived, I caught it. End of story."
"That still doesn't tell me why Draco looked like he was going to have a fit," Terry pointed out in a sensible tone of voice, looking oddly interested as Antares fought an involuntary blush. "Why, then?"
"Because Antares here is so good at 'catching parchment'," Blaise said, clearly relishing the thought as well as the sarcastic rendition of Antares' really rather obvious downplaying of his talent, "that he gets threatened into watching Quidditch practice for the rest of the year by Professor Snape, and gets an automatic in on the team next year, no question." Terry's eyes widened, as did those of his friends.
"Well I can definitely understand Draco, then," Terry said, making to stand up. Blaise stepped back, giving Antares an uncomfortably proud look as Terry, Anthony and their dark-haired friend rose from the table all at once. "I'd be jealous as hell, too..."
"Snape didn't give me an automatic in, though – well, not nearly in so many words or anything," Antares said companionably, fighting back a blush as they all began to approach the double doors of the Hall. It was just so odd, being eyed by Terry and his friends as if he had something they were jealous of –
"Antares, first years haven't been allowed on the pitch during Slytherin Quidditch practice since Flint got captain, and it was Snape that made him do it," Blaise said, giving him a knowing look. "I'd say 'watch practice or I'll hex you' is about as automatically in as you get, thanks." Terry gave Antares a slightly superior smile and wave as he and his friends split off towards the staircase that led into the dungeons, and as soon as they'd descended into it, Blaise nudged him sharply. "Don't go down on yourself like that again, you idiot – you know everyone's too eager to help you do that, don't you?"
"I just don't see why they're that jealous of me," Antares replied, feeling oddly sheepish as he adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "I mean, I know Quidditch is big here, obviously, but – "
"Antares, saying 'Quidditch is big' here doesn't cover it," Blaise interrupted. "Half the reason why people constantly talk up that Diggory in Hufflepuff is because he plays Quidditch. My step-father knows his dad, and he told me Diggory's also a bloody good dancer, but no one mentions that." He sighed slightly. "And then there's you – you're poor, you come from an unknown family, and yet you can probably out-fly anyone in this school with training. And you're smart, and a whiz at magic – what's not to be jealous of?"
"Well, now that you put it that way…" Antares mused, screwing up his face in a parody of thoughtfulness. He paused for a moment as Blaise continued on his amused way, then began to mimic Draco's swagger with slightly shoddy, over-the-top additions. Blaise burst out laughing almost immediately and easily fell into the somewhat lazy stride, and by the time they arrived at the Charms classroom, they were both a little late and very out of breath. All that laughing, really – Antares had never known how funny a sneer like Draco's could look on his friend's face.
"He isn't going to go?" was all Antares could say, the sheer surprise of what Blaise had just mockingly whispered to him robbing him of words. "But that's so – "
"Cowardly? Stupid? Take your pick," Blaise said diffidently, darting an amused glance in Draco's direction. They were all currently in the common room again, all of the first years working hard on a ghastly set of homework exercises from the lesson McGonagall had just let loose on them half an hour ago. Draco was at the desk he'd somehow managed to monopolise on sight as his since the first day of term (an action that made Antares all the more jealous when no one seemed to bother to give him a hard time about it), and was whispering about something with Greg and Vince, the look on his face extremely smug.
"How'd you find out, Blaise?" Antares asked, crossing out yet another potential solution to the irritating problem they were both trying to work on. Merlin's balls, but his hand hurt – McGonagall seemed to be able to set the most confusing logic puzzles, honestly –
"Daphne heard Pansy laughing at Draco saying he'd just tell Filch that Lupin and Weasley'll be sneaking around on the third floor tonight," was Blaise's slightly absent reply. He bent over the textbook again, brow furrowing as he re-read the question. "Which obviously means he's not going."
"But he swore," Antares said, thinking hard. "Didn't they? It's really bad luck to swear like that and not follow through – "
"It's hardly like he swore on his magic or anything, Antares," Blaise said, rolling his eyes as he began to scratch out another possible solution on the messy, rapidly filling parchment they were sharing. "It wouldn't even be a serious duel, anyway – "
"Well we'll never find out now, will we?" Antares said impatiently. "That's so – "
"What d'you mean, 'we'? You're the one that wanted to sneak off and watch," Blaise accused falsely, ignoring Antares' glare as he scribbled faster. Blaise had been just as excited as him after Charms, when Antares had overheard Draco talking to Greg about getting to the third floor without being noticed and immediately thought of following the would-be duellists out and hiding so he and Blaise could watch the (probably disastrous) duel. Antares rolled his eyes, flexing his tired fingers around his quill as Blaise continued to scribble. He tried to ease his irritation and boredom by digging out his wand and Levitating the open Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, and assumed an innocent look when it dropped heavily onto Blaise's hand.
Blaise glared. "Could you actually help me with this, Antares? It's not like you've done the assignment already – "
"But I'm so bored," Antares grumbled. "This school sometimes – I just want some bloody excitement, for once. You've never seen a real duel before, so you wouldn't understand – "
"But it wouldn't be a real duel, Antares," Blaise said impatiently. "The most Draco knows how to do is the Jelly-Legs, and he can't even get it to work properly."
"So? I'll bet that Lupin knows a few things," Antares went on heedlessly. "Probably put Draco firmly in his place – and by in his place, I mean on his arse, crying for his – "
"Excuse me?" an unwelcome voice drawled from nearby. "Nothing? Oh, I thought I heard a halfblood say my name – "
"And why the hell not?" Antares retorted coolly, winking at a surprised Blaise beside him. "You're obviously a coward, Malfoy, so I'll say your name how and when I like – "
"Take that back, or I'll make you!"
"And by 'make me', you mean Vince and Greg'll make me, don't you? Pity you don't know how to use your wand…maybe that's why you're not going for that duel with Lupin. Face it, Malfoy, you're scared – "
An angry hand seized at the neck of his robes from behind, and Antares rose sharply, dropping the quill he'd only just been chewing on in favour of his wand. Draco's hold on him loosened, most likely in surprise – the idiot probably knew very well that he wasn't quite able to lift Antares up like that, and Antares was resoundingly glad for it. He spun round, shoving Draco hard, and, knowing Greg and Vince would come by as soon as that happened, shoved him again, ensuring he tumbled backwards into one of the three low tables like the one he and Blaise had been sitting at.
He'd scarcely had time to grin at Draco's look of panic before another much stronger hand grabbed a handful of his robes and hauled him backwards. Antares twisted sharply, ignoring the ripping sounds on one shoulder as Greg tried to keep hold of him, and by the time Vince had reached them, he was able to kick Greg in the shins and duck out of the way. He headed straight for the common room door, stifling a hysterical laugh as he heard Greg and Vince coming after him as Draco shouted that he was running away like the coward he was, and was soon through it and heading immediately down the hallway in the direction of the older, unused dungeons. Greg and Vince would expect him to run in the other direction, as it was a shorter, more certain way to Snape's office and classrooms, and the other way, which he was heading now, was seldom used by any students who might be able to rescue him. Antares barely had a moment to squeeze into an alcove around the corner before he heard the thumping footsteps of his peers thunder out, pause and…he sighed with relief…head in the opposite direction.
Antares grinned, letting his head fall back against the cold, damp stone. Now, if Draco didn't go for the duel, he'd really be able to call him a coward.
Antares jolted awake, stifling irritable cursing at the origin of the noises around him only just in time as he remembered why he'd made sure to sleep without the slight dampening effect of having his curtains closed. He lay still in his bed, feigning sleep as Draco chivvied Greg and Vince into wakefulness and robes, silencing their groggy protests as to the change of plans by saying something vague and cocky about him knowing he could give Lupin what for.
Antares barely restrained a snicker at that – 'what for' indeed. The only reason he was going was because he was an idiot, and easily excitable, and perhaps secretly thought he was a coward for not wanting to face Lupin. Which Antares could understand, but couldn't help feeling scornful of – Lupin or no Lupin, a truly brave or truly cowardly Draco would never have bothered to listen to his taunts in the first place, much less change his plans at the last moment. He closed his eyes as Draco and company went past his bed (no sense in not being careful), wondering briefly if Draco had told Filch about the whole thing anyway.
But no, Blaise would have seen, or heard, and would have told him on his sneaky return to their dorm just after lights out. And he hadn't, so that was that. Antares counted to fifty before sliding silently out of his bed and tiptoeing over to Blaise's, his feet feeling horribly cold even against the carpet on the floor. Now was the time to wake him and set off, of course – he didn't want to lose track of Draco after setting all this up.
"Blaise?" Antares kept his whisper as low as possible as he gently parted his friend's tightly closed bed curtains. Blaise didn't so much as sniff or move as Antares poked him gently with his outstretched wand – a move that usually had Bella up and seizing it from him and berating him for taking her wand again. He'd done that a lot when he was young – it was always warm in his fingers, smooth and a little worn, a little like his mother's skin.
Well, this wasn't working. Maybe he just had to be a bit louder, or something –
"Blaise? Blaise?" When louder whispers failed to get a response, Antares began to poke his sleeping friend as hard as he could, reserving nothing when Blaise finally turned over and mumbled something incoherent. Antares paused then, as he thought Theo might be awake for a long, suspicious minute, and rolled his eyes when he poked Blaise again, cautiously, and saw that the rustling noise was just Blaise kicking under his blanket.
He sighed. Drastic measures would have to be taken, seeing as Blaise would take it as high betrayal if he was left behind. So after a couple of quick, paranoid looks around the half-empty dormitory, Antares whispered a Stinging Hex as lowly as possible, wand pointing directly at Blaise's visible stretch of dark neck. The results were distressingly good – Blaise jolted awake with a panicked, sleepy look on his face, and had got out half of a half-hearted yelp before Antares had thought to clap his wand hand clumsily over his mouth.
"Shut up!" he hissed, thankful that Blaise wasn't half as paranoid as him or, even worse, his mother. Anyone waking her up in that manner would probably have gotten a foot in the shoulder and perhaps a good hex or two before they knew what was happening. But Blaise was not Antares, and therefore the only sort of punishment Antares got was a rather nasty look and a painful twist to the wrist when Blaise shoved him away.
"What'd you do that for?" Blaise hissed, sitting up slowly. Antares rolled his eyes.
"You sleep like the dead, Blaise; that was the only way I could think of using to wake you up."
"With a Stinging Hex?" Blaise gave him a hard look as Antares stepped back to allow him to lumber out of bed. "Where do you learn all those, anyway? D'they have some kind of 'How to be a mean pig' class as part of your apprenticeship, or something?"
"Next time, I'll just leave you," Antares whispered, grinning. He turned back to his own bed, now searching for the pile of threadbare robes he'd shoved underneath it earlier that evening for the purposes of their little expedition.
"Like I said, you obviously have one of those classes," Blaise grumbled lowly, but from the noises Antares could hear as he quickly dug around in his trunk for his softer pair of boots, he too was struggling to find his robes. "I take it Draco and the others have gone already?"
"Yeah. They woke me up, actually," Antares said, sitting on the bed and starting to draw on his thickest pair of socks. Noticing the thin-looking shoes a robed Blaise was now putting on, he sighed. "Blaise, you can't wear fucking slippers around the castle, you'll freeze – "
"They're night-boots, Antares – charmed warm, you know?" Antares shrugged. If his friend wanted his feet to freeze, he wasn't going to stop him. "They're from my mum," Blaise continued, fishing up a jumper that was dangling messily from the foot of his bed, "for Hogwarts, for my eleventh birthday and all that. She always said they were the best for sneaking around, so…" Antares nodded impatiently, now fighting a pang of jealousy – it would be someone like Blaise who knew all those things and had all those things –
"Are you putting that on?" he said, suddenly noticing how Blaise was tugging on the thick jumper over his robes. "You look like an idiot, why aren't you putting it on under your – "
"It won't fit, it's too thick," Blaise answered, voice muffled through the jumper as he pulled it over his head. "It smells like my great-aunt (horrible old woman, she always gives them to us at New Year), and it's too thick to go under anything, but is really warm. So – are you ready?"
"Merlin, yesterday," Antares said, rolling his eyes, feeling increasingly jealous. All he had was Bella, and, since they were living in his house, Severus. Oh, and some weird old woman Bella sometimes dragged him along to visit in what felt like the coldest part of Scotland, but she wasn't family. Blaise was constantly complaining about numerous Great-Aunts and Grandfathers and Uncles, but never seemed to understand how much more interesting it was to actually have more than one person you shared the same bloody name with. Antares sometimes wondered whether he did have family somewhere – he didn't know who his biological parents were, after all, and they could be part of a family like the Weasleys, with cousins and aunts coming out of the woodwork. But now was obviously not the time to go mooning on about it. "Can we go?"
Blaise simply rolled his eyes at him and set off for the door. Antares followed, shaking his head – Blaise was weird like that, blowing hot and cold, aggressive first and passive at the next turn. You never knew quite what he was thinking, or, more significantly, what he was thinking of doing. It had made life in Slytherin that much more interesting, being friends with someone so unafraid of doing whatever they wished, with no reservation or fear. Or at least very little of it.
The door closed behind them with an audible click, and Antares' blood began to heat, sparking off impatience and excitement in his limbs as his chest seemed to contract. He grinned at Blaise, not caring what response he would get, because this was it – the beginning of their adventure. Blaise gave him a slightly superior smile, then, creeping down the corridor past the other doors to the dorms of the older boys, stumbled over something. Antares barely stifled a laugh, thanking Morgana that the corridor was truly empty. Blaise grinned stupidly as they crept out into the main corridor, and the little Antares could see of his friend's expression hinted at his feeling the way the heavy silence seemed to press on them. Their footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet underfoot, and the silence seemed to wrap around them both, like a thick, cool cloak. Antares sighed – there was something about being alone and out at night here, different from the same in Knockturn Ally, and he knew he was going to love it.
Unfortunately, they would not be alone for long. Just as Antares and Blaise left the corridor connecting the dormitories to the common room, Blaise bumped into someone.
"Shut up!" was the whisper on Antares' lips even before Blaise or the person he'd bumped into could gasp, curse or anything. "Look – "
"Antares?" Antares blinked, leaving hold of the slightly soft arm of the person, who sounded oddly like –
"Keep your voice down, Tracey," Blaise said excitedly, his own voice suitably low. "We're going out, just – "
"What?" Tracey whispered, at the same time as Antares pinched Blaise, hard. "Why?"
"The duel," Blaise continued, ignoring Antares' glare, "Draco's going to get hexed within an inch of his stupid life, and we're going to watch!"
"Oh, smart going, Blaise," Antares muttered at him, just able to see the puzzlement on Tracey's face change to curious excitement. "Now she's going to want to come – "
"What?" Blaise said, his tone rising defensively. "She's sneaky, and her brother told her how to get past Snape's rooms without waking him up…"
"Did he?" Antares asked, swivelling towards her abruptly. At Tracey's excited, slightly wide-eyed nod, he sighed. "Fine. But if Filch comes, it's every man for himself, got it?" Tracey nodded immediately, looking nonplussed, and Antares' opinion of her rose by a fraction. He preferred people who could take care of themselves and didn't have a problem doing so in a heartbeat. It meant less to worry about, especially on a jaunt like this, where being caught would mean House points and possibly a horrid detention with Filch wheezing over them for an hour. "Right, then. Do you have a robe on, or something?"
"My nightgown," Tracey whispered, looking at him a little shyly. "Look, if you don't want me to come – "
"No, you'll be useful," Antares said, starting to feel a tiny bit guilty. He'd never really told her he didn't care about the whole broom thing, had he? Well, now wasn't quite the time, but – "And stop looking at me like I'm going to hex you, all right? To be honest, I think the whole thing with the brooms will be the best thing that happens to me all year." The slight tension between the three of them seemed to disappear with that, and Antares tried not to notice Blaise's surprised smile. Perhaps this had been the right time to say that, then. "Except maybe for the duel we're going to watch – Draco'll really get his arse handed to him, I'll wager." Tracey snickered, pulling her nightgown tighter around herself. "So, can we go?"
"No, Antares, let's go back to bed," Blaise teased lowly as one by one, they tiptoed through the common room. "Really – "
"Shut up, Blaise," Antares said, stifling a grin. "And really, you two, I'm not looking to get caught. If something happens, I'll just – "
"Yeah, right," Blaise said, sounding curiously on the verge of laughter. "As if you'd leave us for Filch, you heroic twat – "
"I highly doubt telling him that will incline him to rescue you, you know," said an amused voice from frighteningly nearby, causing Antares to jump before he remembered who it was.
"Hey, Rufus," Antares said, grinning at Blaise's slightly cross look. Rufus nodded at him negligently, feigning disapproval as Blaise paused to listen at the door next to the portrait Rufus was lounging in – he remembered being told by Adrian that Rufus was the most devious Slytherin Head Boy in recent history, and had had his portrait hung next to the exit of their common room to keep an eye on the comings and goings of Slytherins sneaking out. Unfortunately for whoever had had such a silly idea, Rufus simply lounged there round the clock, occasionally nipping out to flirt with the portrait of an equally famous Slytherin Head Girl (Norma something, Antares thought. He couldn't really remember, as she was in the hallway leading to the girls' dorms, and he'd never bothered to go that way for anything more than a curious look around). Rufus spied on everyone leaving the common room unabashedly, but never seemed to tell anyone with the authority to stop the goings-on, as nothing ever happened to you if he saw you sneaking out. Luckily for some, he also never told anyone where anyone else was going (sometimes because he liked to know more than anyone else, but mostly because no one with any sense discussed their, er, destination in front of him), and dearly loved to mislead you if you asked.
Or so Adrian had said. Antares, being out after hours for the first time in his Hogwarts career, was hardly likely to know if that was all bull or not. Rufus, however, seemed to fit the detailed description Adrian had given him so far, eyeing all of them shrewdly and looking very smug as they clustered around the common room door nearby.
"Sneaking out, I presume? To do what?" Antares shook his head, smiling as Blaise began to cautiously slide the common room door open. "Two boys and a girl, and far too young for anything…interesting," Rufus continued, smiling a little knowingly at Antares, who reddened. Eurgh, the idea of doing anything of that stuff with Tracey and Blaise…well, he didn't have so much a problem with Tracey as with Blaise, but that was hardly the point – "And you stopped to chat, too! Can't be on some kind of schedule, can you? Doing a bit of shadowing, maybe? Ooh, let me guess what group you're following – "
"The Malfoy one," Tracey said impatiently, giving the two boys bewildered looks as they gave her brief stares. "What? He asked, and I told him." Antares suppressed a grin at Rufus' irritated expression, privately thinking it served him right.
"You're supposed to let him guess, Tracey," Blaise said, causing Antares to give him a curious look. "What? My mum told me all about him, said he'd just been put up in her second year, I think. I don't know if she knew him personally, but…" He shrugged as they went through the door, stopping to close the door after them. "We'd better get a move on, you know; Draco might be losing already – "
Antares and Tracey heartily agreed, and they all continued to snicker and make up silly poses Draco could be hexed into by now as quietly as they could.
"So, third floor, yeah?" Tracey asked, after a particularly funny one from Blaise. They were now in a stairwell that led as far up as the fifth floor (from what Antares could remember from one sleepy, slightly desperate morning that had him searching for a classroom on the fifth floor instead of the second), and would soon be getting out on the third floor. Blaise nodded, grinning in anticipation as they cautiously approached and opened the door.
"Yeah, in one of the classrooms near that corridor that was blocked off – "
"Shut up!" Antares hissed suddenly, hoping against hope that he wasn't seeing Mrs. Norris streak by in front of them as they stepped out. He didn't have to say it again as he saw Draco, Vince and Greg burst out of a classroom not a door away from the stairs and begin to run directly for them, looking shaken and panicked – "Merlin, what the – " Blaise and Tracey, spun round, eyes wide with dismay, already following Antares' meagre lead by thundering back down the stairs in the direction they came, Tracey well ahead of Blaise, leaving Antares to descend as best as he could with Greg and Vince trying to squeeze past him.
"Belt up and clear out of the way!" Draco was practically shouting, having reached the stairwell last. True to form, Greg and Vince, before merely content to shove Antares out of the way, eventually squeezed his wildly struggling form into a tiny alcove just behind the door, rapidly acquainting his face and arms with the rough, cold stone. It hurt, but not as much as hearing the telltale huffing and puffing of Filch nearby as Draco clambered clumsily down the stairs ahead of him. Antares had prised himself out of the alcove as soon as the idiot was past and was doing the best that he could. But, as being winded and having your arm feel as if someone had crushed it (which wasn't far from the truth) tended to give one rather a disadvantage, Filch had spotted him and was now in dogged pursuit.
Antares sped down, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. He hadn't grown up on Knockturn for nothing, and being a natural runner helped immensely, giving him enough speed to stay more than a healthy distance away from Filch as he alternately cursed and threatened him from behind. Blood thudded in his ears, and he swore he could distinctly hear Bella telling him it was no good being seen in the event of an escape. He somehow shoved the idea of detention and punishment out of his mind as he slammed open the door at the end of the stairs and burst out onto the first floor, picking up speed as he thudded down the corridor to the back entrance of the stairs that led down to the dungeons and to safety. Blaise and Tracey were nowhere in sight, thankfully, lending him courage and even more speed as he barrelled down the stairs, knowing he could make it to the dorms in time if he just –
Fuck!
Antares saw the dark form of someone he just knew would be Snape cross his path, and cursed out loud as his momentum carried him straight into them. Snape's potion-y smell hit him like a thundercloud as the obviously startled man staggered back under his assault, and Antares felt himself land hard on the floor even as Filch's wheezing came closer.
"Miserable little maggot, leading me on such a chase," he heard soon enough, the words punctuated with very Filch-like wheezing and coughing sounding not far from them. "Ah, Professor – "
"What is the meaning of this, Black?" Snape's frigid tone sent a shiver down Antares' back as he, trying to rise, was hauled roughly to his feet by a hard grip on the injured shoulder. Antares closed his eyes in part miserly and part anger – this had been such a hopeless night – "Speak up, you imbecile, or – "
"Or else what?" Antares hissed back, the anger starting to win. "I just half-kill myself running into you, and you can't even help me up properly – "
"Excuse me?" Snape's tone was, if possible, even colder. Antares couldn't find it in himself to care – it was all he could do to tamp down on the rage within him, rage against Draco, because it was his fault, and he was so fucking tired of tiptoeing round him, and he. Would. Pay.
Silence strained around the three of them for a moment, punctuated oddly by the wheezing of the approaching Filch, who, though practically vibrating with the expectation of seeing a student severely punished, probably knew enough of Snape's moods to keep silent. Antares abruptly decided he couldn't afford to, and opened his mouth to speak. "Please accept my apology, sir," he said, as slowly as possible, gulping down his anger. "I – I didn't think, and I think I fell on the shoulder you're holding, and it hurts – "
"And?" Antares did not look up, a new bolt of fear running through his stomach. The man sounded angry enough not to care if Filch truly fulfilled one of his stupidly outrageous threats – "Is that reason to show your profound lack of respect?" Snape continued, voice dangerously low. He let Antares go abruptly, gesturing sparely towards a nearby door Antares assumed was one of the dungeon classrooms, or something – "Get your worthless little hide in there and wait for me. Now." His tone brooked no argument, and Antares shuffled quickly for the door, dread pooling horribly in his gut.
"But Professor, sir – " Antares heard Filch beginning behind him. He closed the door hastily, leaning back against it briefly, heart pounding in his ears even harder than it had been when he'd been dashing to –
"Antares!" Antares jumped, whipped out his wand, then stared. Blaise started up from the chair he'd been sitting in in a dark corner of the classroom, looking relieved. "Snape got you, then?"
"What?" was all Antares could think to say. "Where's Tracey?"
"We split off on the first floor," Blaise said, sighing as he sat down again. "Probably took that way past Snape's rooms she was talking about – I ran into him on my way past, and – "
"Then why's he still here?" Antares said, his fear diminishing significantly. It was starting to look like –
"Well, I sort of mentioned you'd be coming by," Blaise said matter-of-factly, his tone of voice belying his slightly embarrassed look. "Did he get you, or did Filch?"
"He did," Antares answered, now heading for Blaise's side, "I think he's trying to convince Filch he'll punish me long and hard, now…" He sat down heavily, massaging his wounded shoulder. "Thanks a lot, Blaise."
"Whatever," Blaise said in an unconvincingly nonchalant manner. "What happened to your – "
The door opened, and both boys stiffened as Snape strode in, looking as displeased as usual. Antares tried not to notice how Blaise sat up straight, as he was doing the very same thing and it would therefore be pointless to mock Blaise later for doing so, as fleetingly crossed his mind. He prudently lowered his eyes to the floor as Snape glared at him, then, for some reason, noticed that Snape was wearing night-boots of the same type as Blaise.
"I suppose I should punish you," Snape murmured, leaning stiffly against the door.
"Yes, sir," Blaise said beside Antares, his voice the very sound of respect. Antares fought the urge to pinch him, hard – what kind of imbecile agreed to an undefined punishment from Snape?
"Black," Snape continued, in that same low tone, "you seem…reluctant to speak."
"If you're going to take points, go ahead," Antares said coldly, wishing he felt as bravely indifferent as his voice sounded. "We didn't go out on purpose to get caught – "
"And yet, you did," Snape said, with an oddly wry twist to his tone. "Oh, look up, the two of you, I've no time for such dramatics." Antares looked up in surprise, and saw Blaise slowly do the same out of the corner of his eye. "I suppose it is only to be expected, as you two are on your first foray…be sure it does not happen again, of course. Next time, I will hardly be so lenient."
"Thank you, sir," Blaise said, voice still respectful, and Antares had the sense to echo it. Snape's face twitched oddly, but his rather bored frown still held.
"Just get out," was their answer. Antares and Blaise rose at the same time, and waited for Snape to step aside from the position of blocking the door. "A moment – Black, what ails you?"
"It's nothing – "
"Decouvere mala," Snape intoned, obviously indifferent to Antares' denial of injury. Blue light seemed to pulsate around his shoulder, and Antares gulped, recognising the spell his mother had often used on him every time he returned from playing outside with a limp. He shook the odd, constricting feeling off with a shiver, and, as Snape rolled his eyes and raised his wand again, wondered what that oddly calculating expression he'd seen briefly in those dark eyes meant. Then his shoulder was tingling, a little uncomfortably, and the pain going down. "Don't condescend to conceal your injuries from me, you idiot," Snape said, tone firm. "Now go to bed, the both of you." Antares was the first one out the door, the feelings of both gratitude and anger constricting oddly inside – Snape was just weird, sometimes – "Oh, and Black?"
Antares turned back with a barely suppressed snarl, making Blaise jump. "What, sir?" he managed to say without spitting. Snape emerged from the classroom slowly, and gave him a cool, assessing look that he just knew was somehow upbraiding him for the anger he was probably going to let loose back in Slytherin.
"That letter to your mother, boy?" Antares groaned inwardly, trying not to fidget with embarrassment as he felt Blaise give them a very interested look. "It is a week late. Get on with it, understand? If it's not on my desk by tomorrow evening, you may serve some kind of punishment after all." Antares' mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a minute. "Didn't I tell the both of you to go to bed?" Antares practically fled then, Blaise hard after him, feeling Snape's hard eyes on him as they disappeared round the corner.
"Does he know your mother?" was the first thing Blaise mumbled in his direction. Antares shook his head, not quite wanting to say anything yet. "But how can he – "
"Fine. Yes, he does." Antares glared at his friend. "Happy?"
"Well, I just thought it was a bit odd, that's all," Blaise pointed out in a very sensible whisper. "I mean, why would he care if you wrote to – "
"I don't know, and I don't care," Antares returned, ignoring Blaise's shrewd look. "I really don't, all right? I just – look, after he found me in Knockturn, we stayed with him for a bit. Greasy bastard – "
"Wait, he found you?"
"He was the one that recommended me for the apprenticeship, you idiot," Antares said, trying to hurry up the whole stupid conversation. If there was anyone he didn't want to know about him and Bella's circumstances, it was Blaise. "Of course he was the one who found me."
"You never told me he put you up for it specifically," Blaise pointed out, voice just as low and reasonable as always. Antares rolled his eyes, wishing he'd never opened his mouth – he forgot, sometimes, how persistent Blaise could be when he wanted to know something. "And what does your mum think about it?"
"What?" Antares stared at him, unconsciously slowing his pace. "Well, she's obviously grateful, but I don't see – "
"Oh, come on," Blaise said, rolling his own eyes with a knowing look, "You're trying to tell me he just makes sure you write to her out of duty, or something?"
"He doesn't really care either way, Blaise," Antares sighed. "He just likes winding me up, and that doesn't mean anything. You know how he is."
"Okay, let me try and put this – right," Blaise said, voice thoughtful. "Have they ever been friends? You know – Snape and your mum?"
"Sort of," Antares replied, cautiously. From everything his mum had told him about Death Eaters, they were hardly very friendly with each other. And anyway when they'd met Severus that first, fateful time in the Leaky Cauldron, his mum had looked absolutely terrified. "Not very close, I think."
"And now they are?"
"Merlin, Blaise, they're adults that happened to share the same house at one point! They talk, yeah, they laugh too – sometimes at me! It doesn't mean anything," Antares added, lowering his voice even more as he and Blaise approached the blank stretch of stone that hid their common room door. He was unable to hold back a sigh of relief: they'd gotten lost once, on the way back just before curfew, during the week when the torches had been put out after a botched experiment by some idiot in sixth year – ended up shouting the password at Professor Snape's own hidden door to his rooms, but – yeah. "And honestly, him and my mum?" Antares shook his head. "As poor as we are, even I know she's way out of his league."
Blaise shrugged, looking rather unconvinced. "Suit yourself," he whispered. Antares, ignoring him, whispered the password, and the door slid silently open. To his mingled disappointment and relief, everyone in their dormitory seemed to be fast asleep once more. As Antares couldn't see why Draco would be pretending to be asleep since Greg and Vince were in the dorm and conveniently on hand for a fight, he had to content himself with outlining a plan of sneaky action by wand light behind his curtains, and fell asleep with a grim smile on his face.
Paying Draco back, if he did it right, would be wonderfully enjoyable.
A/N: Aaaand we're back on-line! Sorry this has taken so long, fellas – hope you enjoy my efforts as much as I enjoyed employing them towards the end. I'm definitely not a hundred percent positive about some of my choices for characterisation and various portrayals of people in this chapter, but am (lazily) willing to let things stand as they are. I'm also unsure as to how on earth this chapter got so darn long, but hey – all to the good. I'm also unsure (repetition ahoy) as to what my fave moment in this chapter was – Flint's cool appraisal of Antares and Severus' barely restrained delight vie equally for my attention, as does the interesting inter-House moment smack bang in the middle of everything. How about you guys? Do tell.
All thanks are due to my faithful reviewers and to Snakeling, who ensured my cries for help would never be heard again by giving me a handy reference to canon. Oh, and to all the countless essays and things I've been reading for the past month or so, which I'd like to believe have given me a clearer perception of how matters shall stand in the rest of my fic.
Next chapter: Halloween The First
