The Lion and the Serpent

Myrtle sat on a plain, wooden chair. Her translucent eyes followed Siria, as she paced around the empty room. It was from the Hogsmeade visit, though it was now invisible and tucked in Moaning Myrtle's stall. Siria rubbed at her eyes again. She stripped her makeup off and felt bare. Her Moony & Padfoot jacket was her only protection.

A pale, pointed face poked into the room. Siria stopped pacing to stare. Malfoy gave an awkward smile as he stepped into the trunk. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and snuck a glance at Siria.

"So, where's everyone else?" Draco Malfoy asked. "Am I really too dangerous for the kiddies?" He eyed Myrtle's solitary chair that stood above Siria's bag.

"It's one of the conditions," Siria leaned against a wall. "You'll learn the same things as them, but not with them."

"Not until we can trust you," Siria thought. She tried to breathe, but shuddered.

"If I'm so unbearable, why isn't someone else here?" Malfoy asked. Irritation clung to his voice. He was irritated? Siria shook her head. Fury boiled inside her. Siria slapped her hand against the wall. It stung, but not at much as her eyes or the pain in her head.

"Look," Siria said as she turned and walked toward him. "I'll teach you once a week, Quidditch permitting, for an hour, and only what I've taught or am teaching them." She opened her bag and pulled out the list of names for Dumbledore's Army. Another sheet of parchment was tapped over the names. "You'll sign this, in Invisible Ink, and agree to tell no one about this." She extended him the parchment, a quill, and ink bottle.

"Why is my signature invisible?" Malfoy asked. Siria tilted her head and looked down at him. "Fair enough," he said and accepted the parchment, "don't want my participation known either. What're your other conditions?"

"Aside from not using that word, no more 'blood-traitor' or other insults to the Weasleys," Siria sighed. Her shoulders ached.

"Then you can't be sarcastic with me— here, at least," he said. She arched an eyebrow.

"I'll try and, on the condition I fail, will fix it," Siria gritted her teeth. The quill hovered over the bottom of the page.

"There is one more thing," Malfoy confessed, "I thought you were really going to prefer I tell Umbridge, so—"

"You told—"

"I didn't—" and he rose up to just shorter than her. "I didn't tell her and I won't tell her," Malfoy leaned and signed the parchment. His eyes were wide and he panted for air. "I won't tell her, but, you have to understand."

"Wait," Siria held up a finger. She marched up, closed the lid, and sat down on the stairs. "I, that is, if you, I might," Siria pressed her fist to her mouth. "I am trying to be calm, but," she paused to shout, "it's going very poorly today— it's been a bad day." Siria walked back into her corner, away from the stairs. "Actually," she pointed to the chair, "could I use that?" Myrtle lifted off it. Siria put her things down and side stepped away from the chair. "Good," Siria lifted it a few inches and gave a light tap against the floor. "Yes. That'll break nicely, okay," she nodded.

"You said you weren't going to let me in, so I was miffed, and may or may not have written asongaboutWeaslybeingalousyKeeper," Malfoy half coughed over the last bit in his rush to get it out.

"You did more than write it, didn't you?" Siria asked.

"Pansy's teaching everyone," his voice was so quiet she almost felt his remorse. Siria paused. Silence hung in the air. Then she rose the chair and slammed it into the ground. She rose it again, high above her head, but saw Myrtle's face poking through the floor where Siria aimed the chair.

"You're stronger than your anger," Myrtle mouthed at Siria. "It may be a part of you, but it does not define you." She rose through the floor, her arms raised at her chest, open to Siria. "Your choices do, and you don't have to do this anymore," Myrtle whispered. Siria swallowed and put the chair down. It clattered, unable to stand on the two legs that remained.

"For Quidditch?" Siria asked. She focused on Myrtle, if she looked at Malfoy, she might beat him with a chair leg.

"Yes." Malfoy's voice was level, almost calm. At least he was honest.

"For the match?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Siria massaged the bridge of her nose. "Expelliarmus."

"What?" Malfoy asked and straightened up.

"The first spell I taught them was the Disarming Charm," Siria explained.

"Then, that's where we'll start?" He asked.

"Yeah," she was too tired to be surprised he didn't protest. She just wanted to crawl into Hermione's bed and cry. She just wanted to cry. Today was better off over before something else happened.

It was all she wanted. The hunger inside her would not subside until it was hers. More than the girl, she craved it. Today, the plain, black door at the end of the corridor taunted her again. How did she make it open? What could she do? Who could she use?

Siria Potter-Black clattered the floor of her dorm. Hermione held her comforter wrapped around her arm, but let go when Siria sat up, still on the blanket. "You're impossible," Hermione whispered. "Come on," she beckoned Siria out and into the common room.

Fred and George paced the common room. They perked up at Hermione's reentry. George gave a small, tired smile at Siria.

"Finally," said Fred.

"Thought you were murdered," George joked.

"I's," Siria squinted at her watch in the dark, "i's night time."

"Oh, is it?" Fred asked.

"Hadn't noticed," yawned George. He clapped a black box into Siria's hand. "You'll know what to do," he nodded.

"Hand it to him with all the confidence you carry," Fred yawned.

"Or he won't trust it," George added.

"Honestly," Fred yawned and rubbed at his eyes. "Hermione, how do you do it?"

"I told you," Hermione said, "I only use it every other day."

"We didn't have every other day," said George.

"We barely finished as it is," said Fred.

"Wha's happening?" Siria yawned. She fumbled with the black box until it opened. Two neon yellow pieces of stretchy flesh like material peered up at her. "Oh!" She gasped as realization shocked her awake. "You got them to work?" Siria asked as she stuffed the earplugs in. "Say something," she told them. Siria smiled around the room. "I can't tell if you're actually saying something and they work, or if you're just mouthing at me," she confessed and pulled them out. "Perfect!" Siria smiled at the yellow earplugs as she dropped them back into the box.

Moments after Siria fell back to sleep, Hermione woke her again. Siria jerked the comforter and buried herself back under. Hermione groaned as she tugged at the blanket. She whacked Siria on the hip.

"You'll never get her out like that," Parvati tsked. She clicked Siria's jewelry box open. "You know, Lavender, I think we can head to breakfast. Siria's got enough hair clips one of them should be able to hold that tangle."

"Fine!" Siria threw the blanket off and hopped out of bed. She shivered at the cold. Siria scrunched up her nose. "Please help me." Parvati smiled and picked up a hair brush and comb.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Parvati asked.

"No," Siria grumbled. As Parvati sat at Siria's desk chair, Siria sat on the floor before her.

"You better win though," Parvati told her. "I'm not doing your hair for free."

"I ought to cut it off," Siria confessed.

"No!" Lavender cried. "It's beautiful, in its own messy little way." Siria sighed, but silenced the thoughts of chopping it off.

Ron was pale as Myrtle in the common room. Neville stood at his side, eyeing anyone that came close with uncharacteristic suspicion. Colin and Dennis made a small fence to stop people approaching Ron.

Romilda Vane sat with her two friends, one of who Siria only knew as Jessica Thompson's younger sister. When Siria approached Ron and Neville, Romilda leapt to her feet and stood in Siria's path. She beamed up at Siria with a haughty smile.

"Good luck in today's match," Romilda told Siria. "When you win, I'd be happy to reward you with a date," and she bit her lip. Siria clenched her jaw and forced a smile.

"Winning is its own reward," Siria said. She took a step forward, but Romilda didn't move. Siria glared down at her. Hermione dragged Siria around by her arm. Colin hugged Siria. Around her side, he stuck his tongue out at Romilda before they headed to the Great Hall.

"Mate," Siria told Ron with an arm slung around him, "you ought to wear these when we play— at breakfast too," she told him. "If you can just focus and get in your own head, you'll do great." Siria handed him the yellow ear plugs. Ron's face drained. "Don't be like that," Siria rubbed his arm. "You're really good. You just have to focus, really."

"Do you think that's wise?" Hermione asked once Ron put the ear plugs in. "I thought that was how Malfoy cornered you?"

"That wouldn't be the same Malfoy you said I should let join the DA, would it?" Siria asked. Hermione let go of Siria's arm and turned away. She refused to face Siria at all through breakfast, which was cut short by the fact Ron wouldn't eat.

Luna Lovegood came up to them as Ron and Siria got to their feet. On her dirty blonde hair, was a life size lion's head as a hat. "I'm supporting Gryffindor," she told them. Siria nodded, wide-eyed at the hat. Luna tapped it with her wand. The lion gave an uncomfortably realistic roar that summoned the eyes of many throughout the Hall. "Good, isn't it?" Luna said at their shocked expressions. [B5, 403]

"Brilliant!" Ron shouted, unable to hear his own voice.

"I wanted to have it eating a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway, good luck, Ronald!" Luna smiled (B5, 403).

With her arm wrapped as tight as she could get it around his, Siria marched Ron out the Great Hall. down to the stadium and into the locker rooms. She wrestled him into his Quidditch robes before she put on her own. Then sat beside him, stomach turning, and hoped it would be enough. Angelina told them Crabbe and Goyle were the new Slytherin Beaters and, to Siria's surprise, that Montague replaced Warrington with Bradshaw. [B5, 405]

Both teams took the field to cheers from all sides and singing from the Slytherins. Somewhere in the stands, sat Lily Moon. Siria's heart plummeted at the thought. She tried to stand a little taller, but immediately slouched back down. Right now, she didn't have the heart for it. [B5, 405]

Montague tried to crush Angelina's hand when they shook, but she kept her face in a firm glare. Each of the Slytherin players had a silver, crown-shaped badge that read "Weasley is Our King." Siria ignored the knots in her stomach. Malfoy brushed his Quidditch robes to hide the badge when he caught Siria's glare on it. Madam Hooch blew her whistle. Everyone kicked off. Siria left her thoughts on the ground. What mattered now was the Snitch. [B5, 404-406]

"Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me—" Lee Jordan announced (B5, 406). Siria bit back a smile as she circled around the field. She should have asked Fred and George for a second pair of ear plugs.

"Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring,

That's why Slytherins all sing:

Weasley is our King." (B5, 407)

"About the song," Malfoy started as he approached Siria, high above any listening ear.

"Stop," Siria told him. She scanned the field for the Snitch. "It's taking all my willpower to not kick you off your broom."

"I told you about it, and Weasley's doing fine. He blocked a goal, didn't he?" Malfoy asked. Siria gritted her teeth.

"Get lost, Malfoy," Siria snapped.

"Are we still on for tomorrow evening?" he asked. Siria glared at him, but glaring didn't have its usual feeling. It used to be a mutual glare, like their mutual loathing, which would sometimes become mutual uncertainty about if they could be friends or why they ever tried. Whatever it was, it wasn't mutual anymore.

"Johnson scores! Forty-Thirty Slytherin," Lee Jordan announced. Siria dropped into a dive. Now was not the time to argue with Malfoy. She launched herself so close to the ground, she could have grazed it with her feet as she flew. "Snitch, snitch, snitch," Siria repeated as she slid out of the way of a Bludger. It wasn't in the grass, but wasn't in Malfoy's line of sight either.

"Bradshaw, hit by a solid Bludger from Fred or George, Bell with the Quaffle," Lee Jordan narrated. Luna's hat roared over the cheers at "Forty-Forty!" A smile broke over Siria's face when she turned to the hat, but fell immediately as she sped off before seeing it. Flat as she could be, Siria rested on her broom and rocketed toward the glittering, flittering orb of gold.

As the Snitch rose, Siria arched herself. Malfoy was closer. His arm stretched out for it, but he was too far. She gasped and stretched out her own, as they neared it and each other. The Snitch flew toward the ground, Siria flipped herself upside down, yanking her broom, and dove after it. Malfoy just behind her.

They knocked away the others arm. Siria took her other hand off her broom. Malfoy reached to knock both her arms. She nudged his shoulder with her own, tilting them both to the right as they dove to the ground.

"Get off," Malfoy spat between his teeth. Siria clenched her jaw. She squeezed her legs tighter around the broom that slipped. One hand kept his away and her other— Luna's lion let out another roar. "Potter-Black with the Snitch!" Lee Jordan called. "Gryffindor wins, One Hundred Ninety to Forty!" Siria beamed at the small, golden orb that fought against her grasp.

WHAM!

It ached. Not how her scar stung. Like when… she couldn't quite recall. She was small. Someone yelled. Her headached, like it did now.

In the all too familiar Hospital Wing, Siria opened her eyes. She winced when she sat up. Siria reached to run her fingers through her hair, but found bandages. Her head was warm.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Siria called. From the office, she heard a muffled reply. Faint candlelight paled against the last bits of sun. "How long have I been out?" Siria asked when Madam Pomfrey approached.

"Just a few hours, dear," Madam Pomfrey sighed. She unraveled the bandages around Siria's head. "Bludger to the back of the head— honestly, as if there aren't enough injuries without Quidditch."

"It still hurts," Siria said.

"Does it hurt or your scar?"

"Both."

"Hm," Madam Pomfrey grazed the back of Siria's head with a finger. "I'd like to keep you overnight, if that's the case," her lips pressed together into a thin line at Siria's expression. "Potter-Black, if it still hurts in the morning, come back in to see me." She handed Siria a palm sized container.

"This is for your scar and only for your scar," Madam Pomfrey said. "It should numb the pain a little." She smoothed Siria's sheets. "Though, it's not a permanent solution, and you should only use a little when it's bad. Just a dab should do, like with your balm."

"Thank you, really," Siria smiled at her and she returned it. "I'll only use it when it's bad. What is it?"

"A modified numbing solution. It's similar to what we use for teething and you gave me the idea," Madam Pomfrey said.

"Thank you, again," Siria said and slid out of the bed. "Um," she eyed the change of clothes and, more notable, the lack of broom.

"Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley have your things— your broom is fine, though even they were more worried about you," Madam Pomfrey said.

"Thanks, again," Siria grumbled. She slid the curtains to change.

"It'd give everyone a piece of mind if you didn't get injured so often," she tsked.

"I'm not getting hit by Bludgers on purpose," Siria sighed as she pulled her jacket on.

"Enjoy dinner, Potter-Black. If you need a Draught of Dreamless Sleep, you know where to find me."

"Why?" She pulled her messy hair out of the jacket.

"You were crying in your sleep, dear. Haven't seen you do that since we had dementors around."

"Like, crying out and grumbling?" Siria asked. If her nightmares of the corridor had gotten loud enough to hear in the office, Hermione would never drop them.

"Tears, dear. Perfectly normal to cry, though."