A/N: And we're back! Thanks for your patience!
Chapter Eight: To Tell a Lie
February 2001
Safe House, Wiltshire
Luna's hair had grown past her waist. It was getting impossible to keep it out of her way. Luna had thought about cutting it all off, but there was a faint memory buried deep in her mind in which her mother brushed it while singing softly. As silly as it seemed, Luna feared that if she cut her hair, she might lose one of the few memories of her mother that weren't filled with loss and sadness. And so, Luna tried to keep her serene demeanor while Angelina Johnson scraped her hair into tiny rows braided tightly against her head. She was positive her scalp was bleeding.
"It looks amazing, Luna!" Hermione exclaimed.
"You're next," Angelina warned. "You're hair is almost as curly as mine, Hermione. We should have done this months ago."
Hermione paled, taking in Luna's tightly controlled grimace of pain as her head was yanked to the side. "Ah, that's okay. A normal french braid is enough for me."
Angelina laughed. "What a coward," she teased. "Beauty is pain, darlings."
Yank.
The potion's lab was not so much a lab as a table and a cauldron in a dusty old room. All seven of them herded into the tiny space before breakfast the morning after Draco's side-show shape shifting act. Apparently, amongst the many other things Granger had taken care of over the last two days, one was clearing out a room in their shared hall in the lower level of the castle. Pansy sneezed at the scent of moldering paper. Half of the small room was stacked to the rafters with old potions books, obscuring a bit of the single, lake view window. The newly freed half of the room held a few stuffed chairs, a long table and an ancient iron cauldron.
"Did you fish this out of the lake?" Draco sneered, running a finger along the lip of the cauldron bowl and then wiping the digit on his trousers.
"Such volatile ingredients could never be brewed in such a thing," Persia pursed her lips and cast a disdainful eye around the room. "I need one of solid gold."
Narcissa sniffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Persia."
Granger frowned, narrowing her eyes. "I didn't see any ingredients that needed to be brewed in a golden cauldron." She pulled out her copied journal and started flipping through the pages feverishly. "Did I miss a potentially dangerous interaction?"
Pansy pulled it from her grasp and rolled her eyes. "Calm down, you didn't miss anything. My mother is being a snob."
"Iron breaks down the magical signature of Gussywig fibers." Persia defended herself.
Granger looked panicked and reached for the book, but Pansy held it out of her reach.
"Mother," she complained. "Stop torturing her. She has an obsessive compulsion to be right. You always said we should be kind to the disabled."
Granger frowned at her. "I just want things to be orderly," the woman grumbled. "And accurate."
Persia gave a long-suffering sigh. "A brass cauldron will take longer to brew, but will do fine."
Granger still looked a bit wild around the eyes. "A brass cauldron?" she repeated. It was obvious that the dented- and slightly crusty- iron monstrosity was the only brewing vessel available.
"Does the Order not have even the most basic brewing supplies?" Draco scoffed.
"The Order has plenty," she snapped. "But since this little enterprise has been strictly forbidden by the leader of said organization, I can't exactly waltz into Slughorn's lab and take what we need without landing in chains."
"Ridiculous," Draco huffed under his breath.
"Take it easy, Drake," Theo interjected.
"I wish we could use this-" Persia indicated the cauldron and swallowed her derision. "Lovely device, but unfortunately it just won't do. The potion will take 27 days to brew properly if we use this ghastly iron thing, not to mention the inferior quality of the potion. If you want it finished with a safe margin for your meditations and ritual preparation, it must be brass, copper, or gold."
Granger's shoulders slumped. "In that case, I'll just have to get one."
"And how are you going to do that?" Draco was leaning negligently against the wall near the door, but he pinned Granger with an icy glare.
Granger knotted her brow at him. "I'm sure there are a couple brass cauldrons stashed away somewhere," she said vaguely as she turned away to collect a stack of parchment.
Pansy leaned into Draco and snatched at his sleeve. "What is your problem?" she hissed quietly at him. He shrugged off her hand and gave her a cold glare.
Meanwhile, Granger had turned back to them. "I've transcribed the potion-"
"Fangjuice," Theo interrupted.
"I beg your pardon?"
Theo nudged Blaise, who rolled his eyes affectionately. "We're calling it Fangjuice. Like Polyjuice, but with fangs."
"Very clever," Hermione answered faintly, and then continued. "I've copied Fangjuice in its entirety for better clarity. Everyone gets a copy." She handed the stack to Blaise, who took one off the top and passed it to Theo. They both looked incredibly amused. When Pansy received her copy, she saw that the parchment was pocket sized, charmed against water damage, and color coded. "Like I said before, we can't just request the ingredients we need. This is secret, and illegal. I want to go over the plan to attain all the ingredients so we can get started as soon as possible. I've got ingredient assignments for everyone so we can divide up and get it done faster, and hopefully, go unnoticed."
The neatly written ingredients were divided into two categories:
TO BE BORROWED FROM SLUGHORN
Lacewing flies
Leeches
Powdered bicorn horn
Knotgrass
Fluxweed
Shredded Boomslang Skin
TO BE COLLECTED
Blue-Spotted Mushrooms- Theo and Blaise
Torchflower Pollen- Neville, Pansy, and Luna
Gussywig Fibers- Narcissa and Persia
Dragon's Blood- Draco and Hermione
Pansy saw that she had been assigned to collect the Torchflower pollen with Longbottom. There was a Torchflower plant on Hogwarts grounds? A thrill of excitement ran through her, only partially doused by the knowledge that she would need to spend more time with the Neville the Wonder Farmer in order to see it. But even though she protested loudly, she was thoroughly enjoying her time in the Greenhouses. Hiding her affection for Herbology while at Hogwarts had been easy, but choosing not to take the course during sixth and seventh years had been difficult to bear. Now she found that she could dig her hands in the dirt and play with magical plants to heart's content, and all she had to do was complain about it to hide her interest.
"We can get the ingredients normally used in Polyjuice from Slughorn's lab as long as we do it secretly," Granger was saying.
"So when you say 'get,' you mean steal?" Pansy wanted Granger to admit it. She was having way too much fun with this new side of the stuffy swot.
"Yes." The curly haired woman colored slightly.
"Won't that be dangerous?" Narcissa asked. "Even if you can get into his lab to steal what we need, surely someone would notice the theft?"
"We brew Polyjuice a lot, so there should be enough of each ingredient available that our small portion will go unnoticed for a time. By the time they realize what's missing, we'll be breathing fire. They're welcome to attempt an arrest at that point."
"How very Slytherin." Theo grinned at her.
Granger huffed impatiently and continued. "The other ingredients are a bit harder to come by."
Narcissa and Persia found themselves sneaking into the Hospital Wing's dispensary early the next morning to retrieve their assigned ingredient. Gussywig Fibers were harvested from the Gussywig Fern, a plant only found in the sparse and remote habitats of Hungarian Horntails. The dragons used the huge fronds to line their nests, as the plant was naturally fire resistant. The normally frozen environment of the Carpathians were kept temperate by the biological heat of the dragons, allowing the Ferns to flourish. Wizards used the plant to make bandages that helped draw the cursed heat from dragonfire burns. The fibers were incredibly expensive and hard to find. According to Hermione Granger, the Order kept a small stock of the bandages made of Gussywig Fibers should any person suffer a burn from Bellatrix's Animagus form.
Persia was pretending to count jars of Cooling Paste while Narcissa surreptitiously stuffed two rolls of the burn bandages into her blouse. She was reminded of her fourth year at Hogwarts when it seemed that every girl but Narcissa Black had blossomed into womanhood over the summer holidays. An older Slytherin boy by the name of Lucius Malfoy was strutting through the halls, and Narcissa had been instructed by her father to attract the Pureblood's attention. Stuffing her lamentably tiny brassiere with rolled up socks had seemed like the only solution. If only she had known the full scope of her choices at the tender age of fifteen.
"Oh, I am so glad to see you two!"
The sound of Poppy Pomfrey's shrill declaration sent Narcissa skittering into Persia's shoulder as she hastily tucked the trailing end of a bandage roll into the neck of her robes. This was ridiculous, she silently huffed. She felt harried from all the subterfuge and had to reign in the impulse to pat her hair down. Narcissa heard the clacking of the woman's approaching footsteps and looked up from her cleavage to see the neatly stacked rows of bandages had crumbled into a messy pile. Meeting Persia's eyes for a terse moment, Narcissa moved to bodily block the obviously pilfered jumble from Pomfrey's sight. Both women turned to the healer with wide smiles.
"You sound surprised, Poppy," Persia purred innocently. "Were we not scheduled to help today?"
"Who knows?" Pomfrey groused. "With all the preparations for the upcoming battle, I've been running around like a hippogriff with its head cut off. But I am always happy to have extra hands, especially ones as competent as yours."
"You're too kind," Narcissa simpered.
"Is everything in order here?" The healer's sharp eyes took in the storage closet briefly.
Narcissa silently ran through a litany of excuses for the wads of precious fabric pressed against her breasts while keeping her face completely guileless. "So far, so good," she answered coolly.
"Excellent." Pomfrey turned on her heel. "Once you're done with inventory in this cabinet, please move on to the linens." She stalked away muttering to herself, her grey hair sticking haphazardly out from under her cap.
"This is absolutely absurd!" Narcissa complained, swiftly reordering the bandages. "Sneaking about as if we were children with our hands caught in the cookie jar!"
"I think it's quite exciting." Persia was grinning, her face flushed with pleasure.
"You will never speak a word about this to anyone," Narcissa demanded. "I won't have my dignity besmirched."
The two women went to work on the legitimate task of taking inventory of the various salves and potions in the closet.
"Are you going to tell Draco about the Granger girl?" Persia queried after a moment.
Narcissa sighed. "And what would I say? He knows what happens to captives at the Mansion."
If there was ever a conversation that Narcissa would avoid until her dying breath, it was that one. Since that night in the Great Hall after the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco had experienced a queer obsession over the movements of Hermione Granger. Going to France as a recruiter for the Legion had kept him occupied for a time, but the events that had transpired while he was gone were deeply troubling for him. He had been unaware of his mother's involvement until just a few days ago, and Narcissa intended to keep him far from any further information. It made Narcissa queasy to imagine the look on his face should he discover even a fraction of what the Granger woman had suffered at the hands of his aunt and uncle.
"He's upset with you." Persia stated.
"Upset," Narcissa chuckled without humor. "What an understatement. He hasn't looked at me directly since we left Malfoy Manor."
"It might help if you told him the details. You have no reason to be ashamed."
Narcissa scoffed. "My actions at the home of my sister may have been noble, but my choices up to that point were more than shameful. Draco has every right to be angry with me for keeping him in the dark, and I will not use my single act of penance to ease my discomfort."
"You took great risk for that girl." There was a question in Persia's tone.
"That girl had every reason to hate my family. A few words from her could have ruined us and it would have been justified. Instead, she was willing to sacrifice the good opinion of her friends to help us. You know what that small thing meant to us. To Draco. If things had turned out differently, her subtle act of friendship would have made the difference between freedom and Azkaban. Whatever I have done for her was only to balance the scales."
Persia took that with a shrug of acceptance. If there was something the Pureblooded wife of a Death Eater could understand, it paying one's debts. "I still think you should tell him. But I am also a firm believer in lying to your children when it is necessary and for their own protection."
"One day there will be a reckoning in which all my secrets will come back to haunt me," Narcissa said softly. "Until then, allow me to shelter my son for a while longer."
The Blue-Spotted Mushrooms had been ridiculously easy to obtain. After the initial horror that swept through the ranks of the kitchen elves at the sight of two wizards entering their sacred space, they had been more than happy to be of assistance. Theo had explained his need to a tiny and shriveled elf named Paisley.
"I steep the mushroom in my tea to help me sleep."
The lie was perfect because the fungus could legitimately be used as a sleep aid, but it was not popular since it also tended to cause intense and prophetic dreams in humans. At first, Paisley was suspicious, and unwilling to part with his secret stash of mind altering mushrooms-which he sliced into his stew when he wanted to take a small holiday-but softened noticeably when Blaise produced a large skein of dyed lamb's wool.
"They never have enough to knit their smocks," Hermione had explained when she handed it to Blaise. "Paisley in particular likes this shade of pink. It should buy you enough mushrooms to complete the potion."
And indeed, the small house elf snatched the wool from the tall man's fingers and shuffled over to a nest of old linens. "Not many wizards know of the mushroom's great healing powers, no they do not," Paisley praised them as he dug through his small collection of possessions. "Prefer No Dreaming Potion. If mushrooms working for elves, they is working for Wizards also."
Theo tucked the small bundle of mushrooms into his shirt and bowed to the castle elf. "Many thanks, Paisley. I will surely sleep well tonight."
Paisley gave them both a wide smile and shuffled off, cradling his new skein of wool like a child.
"You lie so well," Blaise laughed at him as they left the kitchens.
"Turns you on does it?" Theo grinned at him.
Blaise raised an eyebrow at him speculatively. "It does," he purred, sending Theo the kind of smile he knew went straight to Theo's pants.
Blaise looked around briefly, his amber colored eyes taking in the empty pantry, and then pushed Theo through the open door, smashing their lips together. The feeling of Blaise's mouth on his was achingly familiar and enough to set his head spinning. Even after eight years, Theo was still astounded that the beautiful, intelligent, imperturbable Blaise Zabini was his. Studious and quiet, fading into the background in fear of his raging temper, Theo had always been in awe of Blaise. When the eleven-year-old Blaise had swept into the Hogwarts Express compartment that held Draco, Theo, and Pansy, he had done so as if completely assured of his welcome. He had sat next to Theo with his coffee colored skin and long, graceful hands. He had complimented Theo's signet ring with a perfect white smile and had earned himself an admirer for life.
It had taken years of painful friendship while Theo watched Blaise make his way through multiple casual relationships with both men and women before the man had realized his plain, rather shy best friend was what he wanted most. Theo remembered the day Blaise had cornered him in a dark hallway and pressed up against him, much as he was doing now, whispering words of love and wanting. It had been a revelation of crashing feelings and exploding sensations. Since that day, Theo had belonged to Blaise heart and soul.
Being in the service of a genocidal maniac and her insane wizard posse had put stress on both of them. They were often apart, but when they reunited, they were reminded of why they stayed true to each other, why they risked so much to end the reign of the Black Dragon. Theo could see a future in which their sins were wiped clean by a pair of bright brown eyes- or green or blue, it didn't really matter- in the smiling face of a child who called them family. He would be the best father he could, and never let his child feel a moment of terror, of horrible, clutching pain. The little witch or wizard would be a Nott, and Theo would spend the rest of his life making the name worthy of sitting on the shoulders of their child.
"I love you," Blaise gasped as their mouths parted. The words, just like the kiss, still sent a thrill through Theo's heart.
"I love you, too," Theo replied, pressing their foreheads together.
Torchflower was a rare plant, and was, as it turned out, not on Hogwarts grounds. The only place to find it, besides the posh and well-guarded magical nurseries of London, was the Forbidden Forest. Not only was it hidden in the depths of a dark and deadly wood, but it was also contained within the territory of the centaurs. Granger had assured Pansy that the centaurs were mostly friendly since the Order had moved into Hogwarts- the presence of the rebellion keeping a Pureblooded Wizengamot from hunting the half-breeds to extinction. It was the word mostly that was giving Pansy the most trouble, followed closely by the fact that Luna Lovegood was to be their liaison with the historically touchy creatures.
Neville Longbottom seemed unconcerned that his life was in the hands of a woman who slept in a tree and muttered to herself under her breath. Pansy, on the other hand, was terrified. Apparently, the blonde woman saved Prince Helgerian's life six years ago, and was confident that the beasts would not only not kill them on sight, but would allow the three humans to invade their territory and collect pollen from one of the rarest flowers on earth. When Pansy voiced her misgivings about the trustworthiness of Lovegood, the unconcern of Longbottom, and the entire fucking plan as a whole, Granger had merely smiled at her.
"You are one of maybe three people that can complete the transformation and help win the war," the woman had said. "Do you really think I'd risk your life before I can get you on a battlefield?"
The sheer Slytherin nature of Granger's argument managed to put Pansy at ease, right up until she stepped foot over that invisible boundary that separated Hogwarts from the Forest. It was just after sunset when she felt the castle wards slither across her skin, and the atmospheric charm that kept the crops warm fell away. Suddenly, she was cold and unprotected, walking into certain danger and accompanied by an insane killer and a lumbering oaf. Her unease ratcheted into full blown panic when sometime later, the group of humans were surrounded by five centaurs, bows nocked and ready.
"Take us to Helgerian," Lovegood requested in her eerily soft voice.
Four centaurs faded back into the trees, while one grunted and turned down the path. He was all brown fur, tanned skin, and long brown hair. Pansy supposed that was permission to follow. Luna was muttering angrily under her breath. "Wasting my life debt. . . half-baked witchcraft. . . fucking insane."
They started walking single-file down the narrow trail, wands raised and lit with a lumos charm. Neville looked at her over his shoulder.
"Keep your eye open for Devil's Snare," he said in his northern drawl. "It's all over this part of the forest."
At Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom had been shy, forgetful, and rather bad at magic. Seventh year had seen him mature and take charge, protecting the younger students from the Death Eaters that had taken control of the school, but even then he had been clumsy and uncertain. Neville had been a loser, right up until the moment he stood in front of Voldemort, declaring his undying loyalty to Harry Potter and wielding the Sword of Gryffindor. At that moment, he had become a hero.
When Hagrid had brought the limp body of Potter into the Great Hall, Pansy had been hiding within a small cluster of Slytherins smuggled back into the castle by Slughorn. She knew she was officially an outcast after her panicked, and rather loud, suggestion that the Chosen One be handed over to Voldemort. But she would be damned if she would cower in Hogsmeade while there was a battle going on. Even if she had to kill her Death Eater father with her own wand, she was going to help defeat the monster who had made her life miserable for three years. Then Neville had sliced the head off Nagini and Potter had killed the Dark Lord in a duel. And then instead of getting better, things had gone completely to shit.
Over the last three days, Pansy had come to see the new Neville Longbottom. There were two other wizards who worked in the greenhouses with Pansy, one of whom talked incessantly, and she learned from him that Neville was singly responsible for all the agriculture on Hogwarts grounds. The responsibility sat easily on his shoulders, for he walked with the assurance of a man who knew his own worth, who had fought and won battles, who feared little and wanted even less. Pansy found herself watching him more often than was strictly necessary while they worked together. His hands were large, with darkly lined callouses and dirt under his fingernails. He met her complaints with quiet amusement. He had a way of putting her at ease, of smoothing down her prickly nature with his good humor and patience. Growing up in with Dark Wizards around every corner, Pansy was unfamiliar with the feeling of contentment.
In fact, she had grown so comfortable in his presence, that while they had potted medicine ferns together the day before, Pansy had set her wand on a nearby table and not realized it was missing until she was fifteen pots away and needed it to cleanse her dirty hands. She had stood, immobilized with shock as she stared at a weapon she had never- besides the recent four days she went without- let out of her reach. Pansy rejected the natural conclusion, that she felt so safe in the company of this oafish Gryffindor that her mind simply stopped working. It was dangerous. Pansy didn't like it one bit.
Entering a wide clearing, the small group found themselves once again surrounded by armed centaurs. Prince Helgerian met them with thinly veiled impatience. He was dark, his human half like the blackest coffee, his bright copper colored eyes shining out from the darkness of his face, while his animal half was shining ebony.
He glared down at the three of them from his superior height. "Why have you trespassed on our sacred territory, little magical humans?"
"I'm calling in my life debt." Luna said without preamble.
Pansy would swear she saw the princely beast wince. "And what do you demand of me, Soulless One?"
Luna didn't blink at the unpleasant appellation. "We need access to a rare plant within your territory."
"A rare plant?"
Neville stepped forward then. "I need to collect some pollen from your Torchflower."
Grumbles went through the centaurs surrounding them. Neither Luna nor Neville seemed perturbed by the increase in tension. Pansy stepped a bit closer to Neville, soaking up his strength and praying he didn't notice the movement.
Helgerian stopped the noise with an upheld hand. "And this will fulfill my debt to you?"
"Yes," Luna affirmed, though she looked as if she'd swallowed something sour. Pansy wondered how long it had take Hermione to convince her piratical friend to call in such a great debt, and in pursuit of magic of which Luna was skeptical.
"Very well." Helgerian nodded. "Kallax will take you."
The brown centaur from before shifted unhappily on his hooves, but bowed to his leader and set off to the south, the three humans trailing him. It took about half an hour of tramping through twisted trees and avoiding the whip like stems of Devil's Snare before they reached it. Down at the bottom of a gully, hidden by hanging moss and ivy, was the Torchflower.
It was a low growing bush with long, floppy leaves. The flower grew from the base of the plant on an incredibly high stalk, this particular bloom was as tall as Neville. At the top of the stalk was the crimson, cup-shaped flower that gave the plant its name. The bloom emanated a glittering yellow light, and released tiny grains of glowing pollen into the air. The pollen was blazingly hot, and sizzled when it met the damp ground below, leaving a wide circumference of scorched earth around the plant. There were Hinky Moths swarming around the lighted flower, attracted to the unearthly glow, their silver wings delicately swooping past the heated motes.
Neville pulled a glass jar from his shoulder bag and moved closer to the Torchflower. Suddenly, Pansy had a memory of Neville in Potions with his cauldron in pieces and his face covered in smoke. "Maybe I should get the pollen," she blurted. They really couldn't afford to waste this opportunity if he had an attack of his old clumsiness.
His brow creased, but he paused. "I can handle it."
Swallowing her objections, Pansy nodded.
"They have to be hot when we add them to potion," Pansy called to him as he descended into the gully.
"I'll cast a stasis charm," he reassured her.
Despite his assurances, a bit of hot pollen sizzled into his shoulder as he stepped into the charred radius of the plant's reach. He cursed and batted it away. Heaving a great sigh, Pansy cast a protection charm over his head like an umbrella. Instead of being embarrassed, Neville turned to her with a wide smile of appreciation.
"Thank you," he chuckled.
The men Pansy knew would be irritated that they had been caught unprepared, and would have sniped at her. What did one say to a man who took his mistakes in stride?
"Perhaps you should try a gentle summoning charm?" she offered delicately. The soft words almost stuck in her throat.
"Very gentle," Neville agreed. He readied the jar by removing the lid. "Accio pollen," he whispered.
A single mote of flaming pollen leapt from the top of the flower and came barreling towards the tall wizard, who ducked instinctively. It landed on Pansy's neck, and immediately slithered down the front of her shirt. A burning trail of pain blossomed. Pansy yelped and pulled the shirt away from her body, letting the thing hit the dirt with a sizzle. Neville was by her side instantly while Luna looked on disinterestedly.
"Alright, Pansy?" He gripped the side of her face and tilted her head so he could see the burn along her neck with worried blue eyes. So bloody blue. "Sorry about that."
Pansy's heart was thudding in her chest. "I'm fine," she replied. Did that sound breathless? For fuck's sake. "Just get the damned pollen so we can get out of here."
The second try was more successful. A glowing orb was floating in the glass jar and put under a stasis spell. Neville tucked it into his bag and the three of them left. Pansy's burn was throbbing and the fabric of her shirt was brushing against it often enough to cause pain. There had better not be a scar, she swore silently. The Forest had begun to thin when they were come upon by a new centaur. It was their former Divination Professor, Firenze.
"Has the pale dragon appeared?" He gasped as he reached them. "It was foretold that the three dragons-who-are-not-dragons would bring about the end of the war."
Pansy, Neville and Luna stared at him.
"That is why you have come for the Flaming Flower," he insisted. "I have Seen it in the stars"
"What else have you Seen?" Luna demanded.
Firenze became guarded. "Only that the dragons will tip the balance. Before when there was only death and loss, there is now light."
"Why didn't you tell us what you had seen before now?" Neville asked. "We could have started this process years ago. We could have ended this years ago!"
"Everything has its right time," Firenze intoned. "And we don't involve ourselves in the affairs of humans."
"You'd better start involving yourselves," Neville snarled. It was the most angry- most anything- Pansy had ever seen him. "Because the Order is the only thing standing between centaurs and the Legion. Without us you would already be hunted to extinction. If we fall, you're next."
A/N: Reviews are much appreciated!