Disclaimer: Most of the characters aren't mine. J. K. owns Harry Potter (sigh)
A/N: Please please please forgive me for the neglect that I have shown you faithful readers of this story. I'm terribly sorry that I've been away for so long, but senior year was rough and I had so much to do. Luckily I have now started college and have less to do and will be able to write more of the story. I'm really sorry for not keeping my promise; I hope that you forgive me. Here is the next chapter. Enjoy.
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Draco Malfoy was extremely irritated and Daphne and Pansy were getting on his last nerve. He slowly removed his wand from his robes ready to cast an Unforgivable when Blaise walked in looking very pleased with herself. Her amber eyes were alight with mischief and even in his foul mood, Draco was interested to see why she seemed so pleased with herself.
"Off snogging Crabbe again were you Zabini?" Draco drawled lazily, knowing it would work to get real information out of her without having to ask for it. He was right of course, for Blaise immediately glared at him and took her—for your information—stance.
"Actually, I was off having a nice chat with your best friend," she stated cryptically, the happy glint coming back into her eyes.
"And who, exactly, is my best friend?" Draco asked begrudgingly, knowing that she was loving the fact that she knew something he did not. She cackled—actually cackled—with suppressed glee.
"Harry Potter," Blaise said letting the cacophony of disbelief hit her full force. Draco knew that no matter how much he tried there was no way to keep the surprise he felt from dancing on his features. Daphne had a look of disgust on her face, and Pansy rather looked like a confused monkey.
"For shame Blaise! Why in the world would you stoop to talking with Potter?" Pansy shrieked.
"How did you even get him to speak to you?" Daphne wondered aloud. Draco sat stoically in his chair, his features once again schooled to indifference. He cursed himself silently for ever allowing the emotion of surprise to cross his face.
"Apparently Potter has a thing for snakes," Blaise said practically bouncing up and down with glee.
"We know that Blaise, the freak sent one to attack Finch-Fletchy our second year," Draco said in a bored manner, hoping to take control of the situation once again.
"Let's just say he likes to converse with them about everything," Blaise said.
"Everything?" Pansy asked flabbergasted.
"Well, almost anything," Blaise said dejectedly, "I couldn't get anything useful out of him of course, but—"
"Useful?" Draco interjected, "And do you mean to imply that you can speak parstletongue?"
"Useful—meaning anything of use to the Dark Lord, Draco. And yes, but only when I'm in my animagus form." Blaise said smugly.
Draco was thoroughly alarmed by this statement. What did she mean she was an animagus? Where did she learn to become one? But most importantly, what mission was she given to do for the Dark Lord? Was he not just as, if not more, capable than this overexcited bint in front of him?
"You're an animagus?" Daphne breathed, clearly ditching her snobbish manner to admire Blaise's accomplishments.
"Yes."
"Hold on a second, you are doing a mission for the Dark Lord?" Draco asked not able to cover his contempt for the witch in front of him. He hadn't received notice of anything since he'd spent that horrid night helping the Weasley brat.
"Yes, Draco. Of course, I'm not allowed to discuss specifics, but I'm hoping with time that I'll be able to coerce information out of Potter. It's extremely hard considering I can't pretend to know who he is or the Dark Lord for that matter," Blaise chose this moment to slump down on the sofa that was occupying both Daphne and Pansy.
"Well, did you get anything out of him?" Draco hissed, letting his anger flow freely from him, lashing out at Blaise. In return Blaise flinched at his tone.
"Sorry Draco, I didn't have a lot of time to build a lasting relationship. Ginny Weasley came and mucked everything up." Draco's ears perked at the mention of Ginny Weasley. He hadn't seen her since they'd had their screaming match the night that Reda was soaked.
"Why was she there?"
"Hell if I should know, but I can tell you this. She understood every word I was saying," Blaise said. She seemed to be staring off as though she were contemplating a difficult arithmancy problem. Before Draco could remark on Blaise's findings Reda burst through the entrance looking for all the world as though she was going to blow something up. She marched to the center of the common room and stood breathing heavily before she let out a mighty scream.
The scream was unlike anything he'd experienced before; with the possible exception of the sigh he heard when he'd found Ginny Weasley in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. It filled the common room, reaching all the way to the ceiling. Pansy and Daphne covered their ears and stared at the young red-head, clearly at a loss of what to do. Blaise on the other hand, Draco observed, moved to touch Reda but only moved forward a little before she was knocked back by a seemingly invisible force.
Draco wasn't certain as to what he should do. What he did know was that he was getting tired of girls and their inability to control their emotions. Draco stood languidly and said in a clear voice, "Reda."
The scream immediately stopped and the red-head looked at Draco as though challenging him to say something else. He sneered at her; if she thought she was above him, she was sorely mistaken. He moved toward her slowly, but deliberately, hoping that he wouldn't be forced away like Blaise had been.
"We do not need your tantrums disrupting our lovely afternoon. If you are having," Draco grasped for the word, "personal problems, I suggest that you deal with them on your own time. Otherwise join the Gryffs because here in Slytherin we know how to handle ourselves in public."
If he had expected her to scream at him then he was far from what was expected. In a most dignified manner, Reda tuned on her heel and marched out of the common room. There were many faces staring in the direction of where she had gone but no one had said a word. People who had heard the scream from their rooms had made their way onto the landing of the stairs, looking, with what they hoped, was contained interest at what was going on.
Draco huffed in disgust and moved to help Blaise off the floor. The girl had some troubles gathering her bearings.
"Follow her," Draco ordered once Blaise seemed stable once more, "I have some things I need to do. Also, find out if she's a parstlemouth." Blaise didn't acknowledge Draco's request with movement, but rather a cross stare.
"Just do it." Draco barked and Blaise was out the door before he could snap at her again. Draco glared to the common room at large and made his way to his sleeping quarters.
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Peter Handle sat on the steps to the main staircase, loathing his situation. He pulled gingerly at the hem on his robes and glanced sideways, ready and anticipating any sign of red. He didn't know why he bothered; it certainly didn't matter, at least that is what he'd told himself on countless occasions. It wasn't as though she was ever particularly nice to him, she didn't even go out of her way to acknowledge his presence, and still he was drawn to her.
Much to Peter's dismay, however, she seemed drawn to someone else entirely; someone who Peter thought of as a foul loathsome fool. Peter's thoughts toward that person weren't kind, especially not after the fiasco today outside. Before he had any more time to ponder the recent dilemma, a flash of red brushed past Peter's eye. He snapped his neck up so fast that he could swear he heard a faint pop before there was this tingling pain. Reaching up with a hand to rub his neck, Peter made to follow the girl.
Unbeknownst to Peter, he in turn, was being followed as well.
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Reda was boiling hot from the inside out. She didn't want to speak to anyone, and at the same time she just wanted to cry on someone's shoulder. She hadn't meant to cause a scene, well, okay…maybe she had. Was it honestly so horrid to want some attention? Draco was right though, she had acted as though she were a child.
"You are a child," came a small voice from behind her. She was so startled by the noise that she twisted her ankle turning around. Only to find herself face to face with Peter Handle. She knew his name; he was the one who seemed to follow her wherever she went. In the beginning it was sort of endearing to have a person gaze at you the way this boy did, but lately she found that it was a little unnerving.
"I'm sorry?" Reda spoke. It was the only thing that entered her mind. On any normal occasion she would have spoken as though she were sure of herself; as it stood she wasn't certain how the boy had come to respond verbally to her unspoken thoughts.
"Well, I could have sworn that I heard you say that you had acted like a child. Well…you are a child." Peter stated staring at Reda with something akin to wonder in his eyes.
"I am not a child," Reda huffed daintily. No one had ever called her a child before and she wasn't about to allow this—this boy to call her one. She straightened herself and tried to look the epitome of 'grown-up' and yet she was slowly coming to the realization that she was only eleven years old. Eleven years old? Why was it, then, that she felt so much older? She glanced down at her skirt, there were no developed breasts to keep her from seeing straight to her feet. Her hips were straight; there was hardly any curve to her body at all. No, wonder John doesn't notice me.
"But you are a child, I'm a child as well and Azar…well, Azar is even more childlike than anyone I've ever met," Peter said.
Reda raised her head from her self examination to see the boy in front of her. He lacked to confident air that John possessed, yet he seemed to exude a sense of stability. He seemed small within his robes and his features were softer, but she felt comfortable being around him. He spoke the truth, even though she didn't want to hear it.
"You're right of course." Reda conceded.
To her surprise the boy smirked at her in a somewhat self-satisfied way. He looked to his shoes, as if for guidance before saying, "I'm always right."
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She knew his name; she knew the name of the girl as well, even if they had never spoken to each other before. She hadn't always known though; in the beginning she was quite unaware of whom they were, but as she started noticing the similarities around her she started piecing together the puzzle pieces. They, of course, were still oblivious. She expected nothing else to be honest. They were too busy letting their hormones distract them from what was real.
She wasn't in a rush to push the situation along. She was having too much fun just watching them. That's what she'd done from the beginning, when all of this really started. She had sat back and watched nature take its course. History, however minute, would always repeat itself. So she sat and watched as her three comrades tore the world, unknowingly, to its knees.
A/N: I'm so sorry for leaving you in the dust for such a long time. I was overcome with severe writers' block, not liking where the story was going and revamping the entire thing; but I made the oath to finish this story and I will finish it. I apologize once again for it being so late and for not keeping my promise for a fast post of this chapter. Your reviews are what keep me going so please be kind and tell me what you think.
Shmily,
Meg