Sunday Applications
Sunday morning, Hermione plowed down to Hagrid's cabin first thing (B5, 441). Siria enjoyed breakfast with Ron, before going to Myrtle's bathroom. She opened the bench to laughter that stopped immediately. Siria peered in, but only saw Malfoy and Myrtle. Myrtle smiled at Siria.
"Is it too late to add another contingency?" Siria asked as she closed the lid.
"It depends on what it is," Malfoy told her. Siria sighed.
"Would you not insult Hagrid during his lessons?" she asked. She put her bag on the floor and rummaged through, so she had an excuse to not face him.
"Could we take a your sarcasm policy?" He asked. "I'll try not to? No public apologizes though." She clicked her tongue, but nodded.
"What kind of skeleton is that?" Malfoy asked. Siria finished enlarging the humanoid skeleton.
"It's a long story," Siria said. "We're continuing Healing today, but I don't know if I'm good enough at dislocating and breaking to give you a good target for practice."
"You considered practicing on yourself?" Malfoy asked, his tone high with concern. "I wouldn't in a thousand years break my nose or something. How did you even get it in?"
"I know a guy," Siria allowed herself a small smile. She pointed her wand at the ankle of the skeleton. There was a small crack and the bones shifted. "Okay, you can use Ferula, to bind it, I've occasional luck with Episkey, or you can use Brackium Emendo, if you're feeling bold," Siria told him. He raised his wand and took a step closer to the body. Malfoy lowered his wand.
"What if I make it worse?" He asked.
"Then I'll fix it," she told him. "You only have an hour, get repairing."
"Did you get a new girlfriend— boyfriend… person?" Malfoy asked as Siria slid the shrunken down skeleton into her bag.
"What?" She asked in reply.
"You're just in a better mood," he noted. "I get the half— that Hagrid is back, but is that all it takes to make you happy?"
"What could be better than knowing your loved ones are safe?" Siria asked.
"Oh? Oh, no," he shook his head at her glare. "I just meant that, if I'd known you didn't know, I could have told you."
"How could you know?"
"I hear things," Malfoy looked to the wall of the room. "So, I knew he hadn't gotten caught by…" Siria raised her head in a small nod.
Just after she decided to be less harsh, he reminded her why she had been. Her hands wrung her bag's strap. "One day you'll see that people are more than their parents," was what she told him. Didn't she believe it?
"What made you ask for my help?" Siria asked. It was something she told herself she wouldn't. She reasoned it was his business, but now. Now she needed to know. What made proud, privileged Draco Malfoy scared enough to ask her for help?
"Warrington's a pureblood too, in Slytherin… and you…" Malfoy said.
"I'm a half-blood and—" Siria started, but stopped as Malfoy shook his head. His silver eyes were focused on the floor.
"You…" he paused again and sighed. Malfoy raised his head and looked her in the eyes. "You don't flinch," he said as he closed the distance between them. "You strut around, as proud as I used to be," he told her, right on her toes.
"Growing up, I was raised to think I'm better because I'm a wizard, then better than wizards because I'm a pureblood, then better than that because I'm not only 'pureblood', I'm a Malfoy," he confessed to her. "When I got on the train and learned the girl I met in robe shop, who, at the time I thought was in awe of me, was Siria Potter-Black, I thought I'd rule the school better than my father.
"You accepted my hand to stop a fight, got us talking about Quidditch before I knew what was happening…" he closed his silver eyes, as though he saw their eleven year old selves. "I thought I'd be greater than my parents, but you were sorted into Gryffindor," blue blossomed around the irises of his silver eyes, which she'd never been close enough to really see. "I thought you'd cut me off, so I wanted to isolate you, to pull you away from them by showing how much better I was… but I wasn't.
"But you never seemed to really hold anything against me, not until I called Granger that word, then when I said I hoped she got killed—" he said. Siria gasped, but quickly stilled her face. "If you were going so far as to steal or brew Polyjuice Potion, I didn't want to get in your way… not when you were so cross with me," and he gazed at the ceiling, so he didn't have to look her in the eyes any longer.
"My point is, you never saw me as 'Draco Malfoy' the way I thought I would be, the way I thought I was, so what if You-Know-Who doesn't either?" Malfoy asked. "What if he sees me how he saw Warrington? One more person in his way?" He tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "So, I figured that the worst that could happen is you would call my bluff."
"You weren't going to tell Umbridge?" Siria grabbed his arm and he looked back up at her.
"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Malfoy asked.
"No," Siria shook her head and released his arm. "Consider it like therapy— nothing leaves this room." She couldn't seem to find anything else to say. Though she didn't know what she expected, such a confession was not it.
"Except us," he made a small smile.
"Right," Siria nodded. "I actually have to go see someone about an application. We'll arrange next week's meeting once we know about Quidditch and the DA."
"I am sorry," he said. "For trying to cut you off from the others."
"I know," Siria nodded.
She hurried from the trunk, out the washroom, and to Professor Chaudhary's office. Siria rubbed her sweaty hands on her jeans. Her heart hammered for the exercise and nerves. "The worst he can say is 'no'," Siria told herself and knocked.
In the cold, dimly lit hall, Siria stood before another door. Her heart hammered louder than before, harder than before. It ached in the shadows of the dungeons. She raised her fist and tapped the door. Then again.
"Enter," a voice colder than the corridor replied. Her hand shook on the door. She could run and he'd be none the wiser. Siria placed her head on the door. This was so easy. If she just went in. All she needed was a signature.
The door pulled from her grasp. She rose to her full height, her shoulders arched up near her neck. Snape glowered down at her. Siria eyed him over the rim of her glasses.
"What is it, Potter-Black?" Snape snapped. "It's Sunday. I shouldn't have to see you until tomorrow."
"I—" Siria's voice was so small the shame of it made her wince. "Sir, I," her eyes fell to her bag. Siria fiddled with it as she stepped into the office. He closed the door behind her and she silently wished he left it open.
Siria placed a piece of filled out parchment on Snape's desk. He swept it off, without sitting, and glared as though she handed him an envelope of bubotuber pus. Snape read back over the parchment, then examined Siria, who kept her eyes down.
"What is this?" Snape scowled. She raised her eyes and wrung her hands around her bag strap.
"It's an application for independent study, sir," Siria ignored the chattering of her teeth.
"Independent study?" He repeated like she'd just sworn at him.
"Yes, sir." Siria focused on the dark eyes that glared at her and not at her throat sealing up.
"And why, Potter-Black, should I approve you for independent study?" Snape asked. "When have you ever shown the aptitude for anything more than rule breaking and mouthing off?"
"Sir," Siria said through gritted teeth, "if you hate me so much, you should sign so you don't have to see me anymore. Unless, nitpicking my Potions is the only satisfying thing in your life, sir."
Snape read over the application again. He sat at his desk. His eyes did not leave the parchment. Siria remained rooted to the spot. Snape wrote several lines on the page, but did not sign at the bottom. He rested the paper down, turned it to Siria, and presented her with a quill and ink bottle.
Siria stepped forward to read the additions to her application.
Professor Conditions:
Potions will be submitted to the Hogwarts Potion's Master weekly.
Two essays, one roll of parchment each, must be submitted. One on a Potion ingredient, the other on an O.W.L. Potion.
Once a month, an exam will be issued to the independent study student.
Should the student fail to pass the exam or fail to meet any of the above requirements, the student's independent study will be terminated. In addition to the student resuming Potions with the Hogwarts Potion's Master, the student will use evening lessons to catch up to the material covered without them.
"Is there an issue, Potter-Black?" Snape asked. A small smirk tugged in the corner of his mouth.
"No, sir," she dipped the quill and signed "Siria J. Potter-Black" on the bottom line above "Student". Snape took the parchment and signed above "Professor". He grinned at it.
"I do hope you realise, Potter-Black, I shall be the one grading you," he noted.
"I do, sir," she said. "May I have the application?"
"I'll submit it to Professor Chaudhary myself," Snape said. "Wouldn't want you to cave into any second thoughts."
"Thank you, sir." Siria gave a small bow and made for the door before he could change his mind.
After lunch, in the Room of Requirement, Siria slid a piece of parchment into the nook of a mirror. She smiled at the updated list of Dumbledore's Army. Beneath Miles and Hayes of Slytherin were Olive Foster, Nancy Hughes, Marolyn Yang, and Carl Powell of Gryffindor. Under their names, Augusta Ridgeway, Clara Simmons, Rees Russell, Eugene Wilfrid, and Polly Barnes of Ravenclaw signed. In addition to the fifty-nine visible names, was Draco Malfoy's. Siria tapped the parchment with her wand and the names vanished. A seeminly plain piece of parchment was now fixed to the mirror, beneath a photo of the original Order of the Phoenix.
Siria crossed her arms and smiled at it. Patricia placed her hand on Siria's shoulder. She smiled down at her junior. Siria returned it.
"I'm glad you let them in," Patricia said. "And that you finally decided to teach people how to heal."
"It was always on the agenda, but you brought up a lot of good points," Siria said. "Thank you, for making us keep up with our sessions. I know I'm not easy to deal with."
"You just need to vent, sometimes. Everyone does."
"I've never seen you vent."
"I do, but in private. It's sometimes difficult to share things, you know," but Patricia smiled. This piece of information was all she shared.
Cassius blew the whistle. He opened his arms in a gesture of "Hello?" Siria chuckled and excused herself to co-lead the sessions with him. She placed the skeleton Malfoy practiced on out on the floor. Then pointed her wand and its ankle, which cracked as it had before. The other cracked, then the shoulder popped. Next each wrist. She directed her wand to the nose. Siria gave her wand a quick snap, then another. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"It's always the nose you have trouble with," Cassius grinned. "It's kind of funny, with how well you fix them," he stomped on the skeleton's nose. "Geminio!" And it became two skeletons. They repeated the Duplication Curse until there were almost thirty copies of the skeleton. As most of the others were used to, they divided into pairs, with a skeleton to each.
"Alright," Siria called their attention. Though taller than most of them, she stood on a chair. "Cassius and I will circle. Remember to use verbal casting, so we can help with your pronunciation—"
"You weren't using verbal casting," Smith said. Siria glared at him.
"You're more likely to need to fix an ally's ankle than break an enemy's," Siria said. "Unless you're just aiming to hurt somebody, you shouldn't be breaking their bones." Siria stepped off the chair.
Pair by pair, Cassius and Siria circled the room. It took them over an hour to meet in the middle, where they compared notes. Siria stepped to continue the way Cassius came. He took her arm. Cassius looked from Siria to Lily Moon. Siria pulled a smile on.
"I asked her to come back. If I really care for her, then I need to help give her the best fighting chance," Siria said. "She's Muggleborn, and all," she added. Cassius smirked and nodded.
"Alright, P.B., but you have to look out for yourself first," Cassius said.
"Third," Siria said and stepped away. She was right after Hermione and Ron.
"Thank you for coming back," Siria said as she knelt beside Susan Bones. Lily Moon nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you to sooner and I won't say anything further on it."
"You've gotten taller," Lily Moon whispered. She kept her beautiful brown eyes on the skeleton. It was a shame it couldn't see how her eyes glistened like pools of honey when sunlight hit them.
"Someone told me it's when I look my best," Siria said. Susan Bones pointed to the skeleton's nose.
"Does— er— does that look alright?" She asked. Scarlet tinted Siria's face. She examined in the skeleton's nose from a hair away.
"It would make do," Siria ran her finger along it. "It would have to be set proper later, but this would stop the swelling and bleeding."
WHEE
Cassius blew the whistle. "Dumbledore's Army, good lesson, but it's time to start filtering out," he instructed. Hermione hugged Siria's arm.
"You should have seen the nose, once I finally got it," Hermione smiled. "I think I finally have them down."
"Not as good as me," said Ron. "If you ever break your nose, you should have me fix it."
"Weren't you two using the same skeleton?" Siria asked.
"Ron rebroke the nose," Hermione tsked. Siria laughed.
"How else could I practice?" he asked her.
"Sit down," Patricia told them. She slid a final, newly appeared chair, into a circle, in the middle of the Room. They nodded and followed her lead.
"Are you considering being a therapist?" Hermione asked Patricia.
"It's a little late for that," Patricia said.
"It's not," Maddy snapped. She looked to Patricia, who humored her with a smile.
"So, who'd like to share first?" Patricia asked. There was a pause.
"Suppose I will," Alice tsked. "Mr. Travers wrote another letter…"