Hello everyone!
Almost back to my traditional Fridays (a day early), but next week I won't have internet, so I'll post either Sunday or Monday!
It feels like it's been forever!
lizy2000, Cae-Leigh Anne, NamesAreImportant, chocolate-writing-perfectio, Three Daw, BlueOcean24124437, Senyuu, Blue Luver5000, creelluka and malecftw (don't worry about reviewing late, I've missed a month of posting for school before), thanks so much for reviewing! It really makes my day!
Anyway, a bit of a filler chapter for you here.
The quill hovered over the parchment, the occasional drip reminding Emma that she always filled it with too much ink before finding the words to write. Fascinated, she watched the blots seep into the parchment as if trying to become part of the paper. You could still see the faint lines criss-crossing the expanse of white though.
Emma sighed, waving the parchment clean with her wand. She usually wrote to Narcissa in a weekly update of what went on in the school – potential Death Eaters, those who seemed like they were weak enough to be coerced into submisssion, and those strong enough to be deemed a threat. In a way, she was a spy, though technically Hogwarts wasn't enemy territory. Unless one counted its headmaster, which the Dark Lord obviously did.
With the appointment of Amelia Bones as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Emma had to write her correspondence as though it would be read by Alastor Moody – innocent enough to escape notice.
Dear Narcissa, she wrote.
As you well know, this week has been rather hectic. I'm sorry to disappoint, but I have no gossip to tell about my classmates. I wanted you to hear this from me: My father has recently passed away, it turns out that Dragon Pox is as unpredictable as it is fatal. I heard that some similar illness took hold of Orion, please send all of my best wishes to Walburga and your parents.
Regulus is holding up as well as can be imagined, I don't believe it will side-track his studies in any way. He's made of the sterner stuff, just like all of you Blacks. I can't think of you as a Malfoy – I guess that will change as time goes on.
I doubt I will be invited to my father's funeral, in any case I will be unwelcome. It may sound callous, but I feel like the last obstacle has been removed between James and me, as if we can start our relationship anew. At least Lily's been a good influence. She of all people would have reason to hate Slytherins, but instead she preaches inter-house friendships almost as much as Dumbledore does. Minus the hypocrisy, of course. Remember her friendship with Severus? It's a shame that he burned that bridge...
Moving on, I've found my skill in Charms to be improving in leaps and bounds, though I can't say the same for my Transfiguration. I suppose there's just a lot on my mind. Transfiguration needs a ton of concentration, that I apparently don't have. I'd like to blame it on McGonagall being the head of Gryffindor house, but she's as fair a teacher as they come. If she has favourites, she picks them on skill, rather than House. Before you ask, no that does not apply to Quidditch!
How are you, anyway? You told me last week that you and Lucius were trying to have children? Isn't that a bit early? I remember you once telling me that you wanted to live a little before having a child consume your life. Have you gone all motherly on me now?
How's your herb garden doing? Now that the frost has settled in, I suppose your stock isn't as plentiful as you might have wished. Your birthday's coming up soon, maybe you'd want some plants? I can always nick some from the greenhouses! (Joking, Professor Sprout would murder me, if her plants didn't beat her to it).
Faithfully yours,
Emma
Rubbing her eyes, Emma sprinkled some sand onto the parchment to let it dry. She could have used a spell, but the effort of writing a coded message had given her a headache. Could somebody tell the herb garden was used for Healing activities?
She was sure that the Order of the Phoenix knew about Narcissa's internship. The Malfoys were one of their prime suspects – one of the reasons Lucius wasn't used too much in the field. Instead his skills had been put to use in coordinating attacks. The Dark Lord was on the hunt for something big, something that could turn the tide of the battle. Nobody knew what, not even Bellatrix, apparently.
But even keeping that in mind, could they know that the state of her stock told those inside Hogwarts how their numbers were faring? If Narcissa had no herbs, that meant that they had all been used up in Healing injured Death Eaters back from missions. Specifically, the mission on Friday night. If Narcissa told her about a herb needing to be replaced, it meant one of their own had died. Rabastan had helped her think of that one.
The part about McGonagall, aside from everyday banter, was to tell Narcissa that Emma didn't know whether she was a part of the Order or not. The truth was, Professor McGonagall was very close to the Headmaster, but Emma had no hint of them being anything other than colleagues.
As for her paragraph on James... Well, if Sirius was in the Order, then Emma knew without a shade of doubt that her brother would be too. Her face fell at the thought. She had been counting on convincing James of the righteousness of their cause now that Charles was gone. Their father was no longer there to dispute every word that came out of his estranged daughter's mouth. But it seemed like she was too late. What she had done in her letter was damage control.
The only way to keep James safe was to imply that he wasn't prejudiced like the others. By reminding Narcissa of Lily's friendship with Severus, Emma was saying that there was more than what meets the eye to that girl. If Lily was a target, then James would stop at nothing and no one to make those responsible pay, but hopefully Emma could steer the Death Eater ship clear of Lily Evans. Maybe even convince them that she could join. The seed for this plan was planted in the letter – the emphasis on James's skills in Transfiguration.
By the time she had finished analysing every possible case scenario, Emma's feet had found their way to the Owlery. Normally she would have asked a friend, but shaken by the thought that the Order had spies amongst the students, Emma instead selected a perfectly average barn owl, one undistinguishable to the rest of them. Of course at Malfoy Manor it would stick out like a sore thumb, but by then there wouldn't be anyone to care about its physical appearance.
Hopefully, the letter would contain enough information to keep the Dark Lord happy, whilst gaining the much-needed explanation of what had happened to the others after the fight. In the meantime, Emma would have to pick up the work that she had left off recently.
Emma had made sure to sit by Rabastan for that week's Potions class, thanking Merlin once again that they didn't have randomly assigned seats. Though if there was a seating chart, you'd know how to sweet talk ole Sluggy into granting you an exception, she thought, as Slughorn bobbed his bowler hat at her, sweeping past her desk. She was mildly surprised that he hadn't had a "little get-together" for Halloween, though it was just as well.
'What a pleasure, Miss Potter,' Rabastan said theatrically. 'And to what do I owe this?'
Emma involuntarily glanced over at Regulus's table. It was true that she always partnered with him, on the days she wasn't working with Lily. The latter was whispering furiously with Sirius, both breaking off as they saw James enter the room. Emma quickly averted her eyes, she didn't think she could ever look her brother in the eyes again after what had just occurred.
'I just thought we should spend more time on the Ravenclaws,' she replied, quickly starting on the Sopophorus Beans.
'Woah, woah,' Rabastan said, laying a hand on Emma's to still the knife. 'The book says "slice" not "squash". Who are you intent on murdering next?'
Emma gave him a dark look.
'Sorry, just an expression,' he replied quickly, taking the knife away and looking around to see the cause. 'I should have realised... Well, that explains it. Have you spoken to your brother yet?'
His partner shook her head mutely. Rabastan sighed and started to skin the Shrivelfig, making sure the juices all fell into the bowl below.
'In a way, this couldn't have come at a better time, you know. I don't know who killed Charles Potter, but the faintest whiff of foul play has got you back on His radar. If he thinks you're responsible and are dedicated to the cause, then He will cut you some slack when we all get out of here. Plus, it's not as if you ever got along anyway.'
'I suppose not,' Emma replied.
That's the second time someone's mentioned that, she thought. Trying to analyse the situation logically, putting her feelings aside to examine them, she supposed that she shouldn't have been surprised to discover what she found there. You're not actually upset at his death. In fact, it's a huge relief. It's just because he was your father that you feel like you need to feel something, and he hasn't even been that for the past six years. So actually, you feel guilty about not feeling bad, causing you to feel worse.
'And there's Alecto,' she reminded the cold voice in her head.
'What? -' Rabastan started, before the Sopophorus bean juice started dripping onto his robes. He yelped and moved aside. 'How the hell did so much juice get out of those?'
Emma wasn't even listening; she was staring thoughtfully at the redhead who had turned at the sound of her name. The dark haired girl nodded ever so slightly, showing that she didn't blame Alecto for the situation any more. But their relationship would never be the same again, at least for Emma. Alecto had revealed that she could become a cold-blooded killer without question. Something about that chilled Emma to the bone.
Unbeknownst to his fellow Slytherins, Severus Snape's calculating eyes flicked between the beans and the knife, before jotting a side-note in the cramped margin of his Potions book.
'I'll get some more,' Rabastan sighed, cutting into Emma's exchange.
'No, let me. You're tending to the potion right now, and this step doesn't come in until after the mixture's stirred,' she replied, feeling responsible for the mess. 'You never know when the potion turns from purple to blue.'
Inside the storeroom, Emma was forced to hunt for the remaining beans. Evidently, many of the students were also having trouble, since usually it was impossible to even break the bean. Lots of them seemed to squirm out from under the knife, only to shoot into the flames beneath the potion. Having located the complete seven needed – two were on the floor – Emma straightened up only to have the top of her head knock painfully into someone's head, forcing their teeth to clamp shut with a click.
'Ouch,' Regulus said, rubbing his jaw.
Emma's eyes were still smarting. She was about to laugh, to make some kind of witty joke. But she completely clammed up. The blood rushed to her face in embarrassment and she ducked through the doorway with a mumbled apology, leaving a bemused Slytherin behind her.
'So, how did you manage to cut up those beans?' Rabastan asked, intent on making a good elixir for once.
The aim was to complete an Elixir to Induce Euphoria by the Christmas holidays. It was up to the students to bottle their attempts and select the best potion to be marked at the end. They had done the same with the Polyjuice Potion during the months of September and October, but Slughorn wasn't quite as lenient then. Nobody wanted a repeat performance of the previous year.
Emma knew how important this potion was, that it would probably be featured in the N.E.W.T.s since it was one of the only potions that could be brewed in a single session, but she couldn't concentrate on the Sopophorus beans for the life of her. Instead, her eyes were trained on the grey-eyed seventeen-year-old emerging from the supply room, wondering if she hadn't made an even bigger mistake than she had previously thought.
The strangeness Emma had felt with Regulus was happening again.
They were in the library, working on a mountain of papers. Literally. Emma could only see the tuft of black hair that marked Rabastan as still sitting opposite her, as opposed to having bunked off the way Alecto had. The redhead had declared that no one would have time for Muggle Studies in a war that wizards were clearly winning, and had marched out of the room – probably to torment some gullible first years with stories of the Bloody Baron.
Scratch that, the Bloody Baron wasn't nearly scary enough for Alecto.
Lucinda groaned, though she was only taking four N.E.W.T.s: the compulsory DADA, Divination, Herbology and Charms. Still, the theory needed was backbreaking work. Literally. They were all bent over, their eyes blurred from reading the books, their index fingers bearing the indentation of a permanent quill mark.
'I'm off to find something else on DADA,' the blonde said, swinging her legs out from under the bench. 'There must be something that can repel Dementors aside from the Patronus Charm!'
There was a mumbled acknowledgement from the three others, though they were mostly engrossed in their own work. Emma was regretting ever taking Arithmancy; her dream of becoming a Curse Breaker seemed to be dwindling further and further into the distance. The Wizarding War was dragging on, with no signs of stopping. She couldn't pretend that it would be over by the time she graduated anymore.
There was a time when you prayed for the war to end after graduation, the voice in her head said snidely. How would you prove yourself if you didn't even get the chance?
Shut up, she replied vehemently, imagining herself chucking the Arithmancy book at the voice. The fantasy was enjoyable for a moment, before she realised that the voice didn't even exist.
Hoping to take her mind off of things and feeling like she couldn't take one more line of code, she cast her eyes about for a change of topic. They settled on Regulus, who had decided on a Quick-Quotes-Quill, mouthing words silently as he read his enormous dusty tome. Emma peered at the cover, angling her head sideways: House-elves and Garden Gnomes, an Understated History.
Well, that was unexpected. Emma couldn't imagine old Binns droning on about House-elves or Gnomes, though that was mostly because by now she couldn't even remember what his voice sounded like. Unsurprisingly, she didn't mind this slip of memory.
The script itself looked to be in fine print, enlarged by Regulus's wand as he passed it over the page. Emma studied it, comparing it to her own. One summer, before the holidays and after the exams, they had all compared wand types and wondered what they meant.
Her wand was made from hawthorn, giving it a grey tinge that sometimes made her wonder if it was real wood until she touched the smooth surface, her fingers slotting into the grooves made from constant use. By contrast, Regulus's wand was a light brown, almost orangey colour. She remembered being surprised the first time she saw it, as it contrasted with his mostly black and white appearance. In fact, in his school robes, the only colour on Regulus was the green from the Slytherin logo.
What was his wand wood again? Cypress, that was it. Regulus had smirked and twirled it in his hands, saying that Ollivander had told him it was meant for heroic deeds. All the old wand maker had told Emma was that it showed that she could be a blessing or a curse, whatever that meant. Her mother had told her not to worry about Ollivander's ramblings and her father had laughed, saying that she should be happy she had something more enigmatic than James's "excellent for Transfiguration".
Emma wondered if you could tell what the core of a wand was by observing the person, or by observing the wand. She supposed that it was a wand maker's secret. Come to think of it, the choice must be extremely hard. No wonder she had gone through thirteen boxes before settling on the right one.
Regulus's was made with the tail hair of a unicorn, whereas Emma's core was made from dragon heart-string. That made sense. Emma's magic was a little like a dragon, sleepy, but powerful and completely out of control when angered. Regulus was shyer and less prone to displays of powerful magic, but every spell he cast was carefully controlled, measured: not too much, not too little. Though if Regulus ever heard her compare him to a unicorn, she'd definitely see a bit of dark magic in the near future.
Emma reigned in a laugh at that, but went back to work when Regulus looked at her quizzically. Her mind wasn't on the Arithmancy though – instead she suddenly became uncomfortably aware that Regulus's other hand, the one that wasn't holding the wand, was on the back of her chair. In her haste to look like she was studying, she had leant back in her chair, causing said hand to almost be trapped between her back and the chair though.
Regulus didn't seem to mind, and why should he? But Emma felt as though he was steadily burning a hole through her robes, all of her focus shifted to that one piece of him that was touching that one piece of her. She snuck a glance back at him, smiling when she saw that he had fallen back into a deep concentration almost a second later.
It was only when Lucinda slammed down a stack of DADA theory books that Emma realised she had fallen into a reverie where Regulus was kissing her again.