AlsoKnownAsMatt: Thanks again for reviewing. Yeah, I don't know why people don't really seem to review my stories. It's a bit discouraging but I try to keep up writing anyway. And yes quality is def more important than quantity, but I'd be happy just to hear anyone's thoughts about the story. And you're right, I don't think Hermione would call it a hero-complex yet by OotP, but that was Harry imagining Hermione's voice in his head, not something she actually said. I hope the writing continues to satisfy and that I can keep Harry true to form, but also perhaps growing a bit more and working out his Slytherin prejudices. It's difficult though, I don't have too much experience writing Harry, or the trio for that matter. And OMG this reply is too long. Lol. Sorry. : }

redstickbonbon: Thanks for the review. It made me smile. Lol. I'm not sure why, it was just kind of amusing. I'm glad that you've enjoyed the story thus far and continue to enjoy it. I try to update as soon as chapters are finished.

Prompt: Quicksand (#74)

"Some things we don't talk about,
Rather do without,
And just hold the smile."

- The Fray, Never Say Never

Harry couldn't sleep, but considering the circumstances, that wasn't particularly surprising. Turning around in bed, he looked over at Ron, sleeping in the bed next to him, mildly snoring to himself contently and for a moment, he felt a horrendous swelling of envy in his chest. Wishing to stifle it, Harry turned on his back and stared the ceiling.

While the scouring of Grimmauld place, and his many failed attempts to gather intel from passing Order members, not to mention the presence of one very baffling Slytherin female, had certainly done a lot to keep his mind busy, it was impossible to forget at all times about the Hearing. When not dead tired, or at random intervals when something brought either school or the Ministry up, hist stomach would feel as though an anvil had been dropped into it. As much as he tried to act like he wasn't concerned, it was impossible, and if Ron and Hermione were anything to go by, they were worried too.

The next moment, a feeling of restlessness, surging from deep inside his bones, had him throwing the covers off him. Throwing his legs out of bed, he rose quietly from the bed and hurried from the room, careful not to wake Ron. Though, whether or not that was even possible was up for debate. Ron rather seemed to sleep like the dead.

He wasn't really sure where he was going, where his legs were going to take him, but he needed to get out of the room. He needed to stretch his legs. He had to do anything, anything at all, that would keep him from thinking of tomorrow and what it could bring.

~X~

On nights she couldn't sleep, when the work of the day or her studies hadn't tired her, and even occluding in bed was failing, Tracey took to exploring. On more than one occasion, she had tried to sneak into the library on the first floor, but to little avail. It was either always occupied by someone, or warded shut. It only made Tracey more curious to what possibly dangerous materials might be contained inside, if they were trying so hard to keep others out of it.

On this night when she'd tried again, only to find Professor Lupin and Black seated together and talking, Tracey had decided to troop back up the stairs as silent as a snake and slithered into the drawing room. She wasn't sure why she came here, but ever since she had seen the tapestry, she couldn't help coming back to it. Couldn't help staring at the name Lestrange.

Sitting on the floor, her back resting against the back of the couch, she continued to stare through the dark at the spot in the tapestry where she'd seen the name written. Though she sat in the dark, and the name was not visible to her eyes, she knew that it was there.

Rodolphous Lestrange, attached by a double line of gold to the name Bellatrix.

It was a bit strange, having never really thought of Rodolphous or Bellatrix too much in her life, and only really knowing about them and their crimes in recent years, to see that they were part of a family tree. It seemed so strange, to think of these two people who were supposed to be more than merely names of people now rotting in Azkaban, that there had been a life for them outside the prison. A life even outside their Death Eater personas. That once upon a time, they might have been her age and nothing more than students, growing up in their own dysfunctional homes with their own issues.

As she sat on the cold floor, continuing to stare unseeingly, she wondered what she was supposed to feel. Wondered if she was supposed to feel anything at all for these strangers; was she supposed to even care what loathsome, vile people they were, when most people her age weren't supposed to care about things other than school, their appearance and their social calendars?

If she focused on it, Tracey could feel a slight tightness in her chest, but it didn't pain her. As much as she tried to put a finger to feeling inside her, she kept coming up blank. She didn't feel anger, she didn't feel hate, resentment, bitterness, or even sadness. It made her wonder if it was possible that after so many years, she'd truly become numb to feeling?

Frowning slightly, Tracey tried to think of this rationally. She'd had years already to adjust to the truth, so perhaps it wasn't too surprising that she didn't feel anything about it anymore.

She supposed that when she was told some years ago, of the crimes Rodolphous, Bellatrix, Rabastan and Barty Crouch Junior had committed when she was only one, she hadn't fully grasped the horror of the situation. After all, she was only eleven when Severus had told her the whole truth. She didn't know then how awful the cruciatus curse really was. She didn't understand the full implication of what that curse had done; how it had ruined another family.

At the time, it had hurt only because what it meant for her. It had hurt because Rodolphous and Bellatrix, and yes even Rabastan... because of them... Tracey had no one but her grandmother, growing up.

He was supposed to be there. Her gran had tried to explain it to her when she was younger, why he hadn't been there to see her grow up and raise her as a father was supposed to, but Tracey had never really understood because all she was told was vague half-truths about her father. Stories about how he'd simply been young and made mistakes...

Lies of omission, she now understood. Her gran, perhaps because she was so young, had wanted to protect Tracey. Whether or not Tracey was grateful for this, she wasn't sure. Just as she wasn't sure once she'd learned the truth, what she was supposed to be feel about who her parents were, and what that made her.

Severus, being the man that he was, had given her the truth... as much of it as he could; unflinchingly, and without sugar coating it. And yes it had hurt, and Tracey had been angry and didn't want to believe it, but in the end, she'd accepted it. Accepted the past, and who she was and where she came form.

But sometimes, Tracey felt lost. Sometimes, she didn't know who she was. And every now and then, irrationally and ludicrously, she felt overcome with the sense that her blood was in fact contaminated. Like it was venom, coursing through her veins, tainting who she was.

Had she ever had a chance? A chance to be a normal girl? To be happy? To be good? Or had her blood damned her from the start?

Severus would tell her, whenever she was having an identity crisis, that blood did not make a person who they were. However, Tracey often wondered whether or not Severus really believed that, or simply wanted to believe that. But... outbursts like the one she had with Sirius when he'd picked Kreacher up and tossed him from the room... that wasn't really her. That was something that surged from deep inside of her, something she was incapable of controlling no matter how practiced she was at Occlumency.

Tracey had been so humiliated that day, she'd holed herself up and refused to come out for hours. She'd never before lost it like that, at least not in front of outsiders. Even in front of Severus and gran, it had been something rare for her to lose her control like that.

Gran had called it the madness, often becoming frightened of Tracey's sudden and violent outburst of anger. Tracey, after learning from Severus the truth, had begun to call it the Lestrange Madness.

Tracey knew how pureblood families worked. She'd looked into it, she knew about all the inbreeding in their attempts to keep the bloodlines "pure". The truth of it was, as far as she could tell from her muggle upbringing, that all they did was poison the bloodlines with all their intermarriages. Poison she knew flowed through her veins, despite her mother being a muggle-born witch and diluting the effect to an extent.

Tainted blood. That's what she had, coursing through her veins; carrying in it the mercurial madness that Lestrange family was partially known for.

She could feel it again in that moment, surging through her. She tensed, her hands clenching onto her knees as she tried to resist the sudden urge she had to gouge at her own skin, in a futile attempt to rid herself of the blood in her veins; as if by scratching herself and bleeding it out, she could get rid of it.

Closing her eyes and resting her head against the back of the couch, she practiced her Occlumency exercises. She was in the process of clearing her mind, keeping focused on calming her breathing, when the sudden sound of approaching footsteps made her freeze. Turning her head, but otherwise remaining motionless, she listened as she footsteps came to right outside the door of the drawing room and then came the distinct sound of the door opening.

She could hear steps inside the drawing room and the door quietly shutting. Furrowing her brow for the moment, she wondered who else was up and wandering out in the dark as she heard the distinct sound of approaching footsteps. Putting some effort in not completely tensing, and making sure her breathing was quiet, Tracey continued to listen.

However, whoever was in the room, did not seem to be doing rounds looking for out of bed kids. The jostling of the couch she rested her back against, told her that the other night-wandered was now seated on the couch.

Furrowing her brow, feeling her curiosity taking the controls, she quietly got to her feet and peered over at the back of the couch at someone's messy hair. Even in the dark, the shaggy locks of incorrigible messiness were not hard to distinguish.

"Can't sleep either, Potter?" Tracey asked in quiet monotone, inviting conversation only to keep from her self-mutilating thoughts of just a moment before. The idea that it even crossed her mind for even a second disgusted her, and she knew if she had gone through with it, she would have hated herself for proving just how deeply the madness ran.

Potter nearly jumped out of his skin as he got to his feet swiftly and spun around. "Davis?" he asked, his voice a high whisper. In the dark, though his features were not distinguishable, she could see his skinny chest heaving as he tried to control his breathing and undoubtedly his heart. Tracey was partially amused. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep either," she replied with a shrug, walking around the couch and dropping into the seat on the other end of the couch, where Potter was now standing. "Are you going to stand there all night?" Tracey asked dryly a minute or so later, when Potter was still standing and staring in her general direction.

"Er-"

"Just sit down Potter, or get out, whichever. It really makes no difference to me," Tracey stated imperiously, rolling her eyes at Potter's verbal acumen.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Tracey could see the Potter's silhouette slowly sit down. Tracey smirked slightly in the dark at his unease, not concerned whether or not he could see it as she very well knew he wouldn't be able to. Even to her own eyes, which had long become accustomed to darkness, she could only see Potter's general outline, and some subtle ones like that of the rim of his glasses.

"Why so scared, Potter? I'm not going to bite," Tracey couldn't help teasing, hoping this put the boy somewhat at ease. Despite not being a remotely friendly or even social person, Tracey at rare times chose to humor people. Usually when she needed a distraction and Potter, considering the dark places her thoughts had been heading, had been a bit of a god-send. She wasn't about to pass it up, as she was a bit desperate at the moment. Not that she'd let on. "I suppose you're still concerned about your hearing tomorrow?"

Harry didn't say anything to this, but nodded his head stiffly even as his whole body seemed to clench. Harry had not intended to run into anyone in his late-night wanderings. He wasn't even sure why he'd come to the drawing room, but he'd been shocked nearly out of his skin when he'd heard Tracey's voice penetrate the silence so suddenly.

The fact that the girl had continued to speak to him, instead of immediately leaving, puzzled him enough to distract him from his worries. However, now that she'd brought up the subject, he couldn't help the sudden rush of anxiety that came over him.

"Why are you so chatty all of a sudden?" he snapped, unable to help the spike of anger and taking it out on Tracey as he turned to face in her direction. He hadn't wanted to think about the hearing, so why was she bringing it up now? Was she trying to torture him?

Tracey raised a brow at this, and felt mildly irritated but brushed it off. "Focusing on you at the moment is less draining than focusing on my own thoughts," Tracey replied aloofly. She knew that perhaps that statement gave a little too much away about her own personal state of mind at the moment, but she didn't think a Gryffindor like Harry Potter would have the mental acuity to take notice of it.

Harry tilted his head and though he could not see her, stared at the Slytherin girl in confusion. However, he couldn't help feeling suddenly curious about the girl. Tracey was a bit of a mystery, and something that hadn't been explained to any of them, was why Tracey was Snape's... responsibility. Why wasn't she with her parents? Why did Snape have guardianship over her, as he clearly must as she had to stay at Grimmauld?

"You shouldn't really worry Potter," Tracey stated suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts on her. He blinked as he stared towards her at a bit of a loss, only able to make out her petite form in the dark. "Worrying is like quicksand. The more you struggle with it, the more it gets a hold of you and sinks you quicker. Besides worrying is completely useless because it doesn't help you solve the problem and half the time you'll find, you've worried for nothing."

"Suppose that's easy for you to say, you're not the one who's being threatened to be expelled and have your wand snapped."

"No, but if it were me I wouldn't care," Tracey replied arrogantly. "If they snapped my wand or they didn't, it wouldn't make a difference to me. Magic is part of us, and you can never truly go against your own nature. I'd find a way to keep practicing, regardless of what the Ministry of Magic mandated. They can't truly keep tabs on you forever."

Harry tilted his head towards the girl and stared at her with a frown. He wasn't really sure whether he approved of disapproved at what she was saying. But then... hadn't Hagrid kept the pieces of his wand?Didn't he use magic on the occasion, before his name had been cleared, without being caught?

"You're a bit arrogant, you know that?" Harry stated when he wasn't sure what else to say, a tinge of doubt in his tone.

"Well that's your opinion, and I have no cause to particularly care for your opinion, one way or another," Tracey responded in deadpan. "But I think I've had enough of your verbal prowess for one night," Tracey stated sardonically as she got to her feet. "Good night, Potter. And take heart in the fact that if you are expelled you won't have to deal with arrogant, nasty Slytherin's anymore."

As Harry sat there for a moment longer, staring at the door where the confusing Slytherin girl just exited, he wondered if her parting shot was meant with malice. Sighing, and running his fingers through his hair, he supposed at least that the entire, bizarre encounter at least gave him other things to think about.

~X~

"I'm not sure why you're so concerned," Tracey groused the following morning after breakfast. Mrs. Weasley had trouped them all to disinfest yet another part of Grimmauld Place. Somehow Tracey felt that no matter how much work they put into the damn old place, the creepy crawlers somehow kept finding their way back and in Tracey's current cranky-state, she wasn't up to putting up with it stoically. "It isn't as though Potter would ever be expelled. He's not so lucky."

"Lucky?!" Ginny cried indignantly and looking at Tracey as though she were stupid. "How would that be luck?"

"Well the way I see it, every year he's been at Hogwarts he's been hospitalized at least once during the school year, had to put up with ridiculous amount of obstacles, and at the end of each year he either fights the Dark Lord or something equally bizarre and unlikely happens. And considering how many times the Dark Lord has infiltrated the castle, Hogwarts can't possibly be the safest place for him, can it?" Tracey argued in a bored tone, before dropping herself into a seat, propping her elbow on the arm of it and placing her head on top of her hand. As she yawned tiredly, she contemplated that perhaps she was getting far too comfortable around these Gryffindors if she could bring herself to sit in their presence, so unconcerned about them attacking her.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, suddenly stepping right in front of her. Tracey slowly dragged her eyes up the lanky frame of the red-head standing before her.

"Sitting down? Are you blind as well as dim-witted, Weasley?" Tracey retorted acerbically, though her tone was still flat and emotionless.

"You can't take a break! If the rest of us have to work like house-elves, you do too!" he stated, pointing a long finger in her face. Tracey grit her teeth. She'd never liked people invading her space, and a finger in her face was definitely on that list of things that ticked her off the most. Along with mistreatment of people or creatures that couldn't defend themselves properly, and being talked down to like she was stupid, or a child.

Before Tracey could threaten the red-head, Hermione Granger started one of her rants on the treatment of House-elves. Tracey turned away form the distracted boy before her, and looked at the bushy-haired girl in slight bemusement.

"You do know, that depriving them of work, and even proposing that they take vacations or income would be offensive to them and even potentially harmful to their systems, don't you?" Tracey asked, raising a brow at Hermione, cutting her off before she went full-steam ahead.

Hermione seemed to sputter in shock as she turned to look at Tracey. She gave the seated Slytherin girl a confused look as she tried to think of what she wanted to verbalize. "I thought that you- So you actually think that they should be treated like slaves?"

"I'm not saying that they don't deserve to be treated with respect or consideration, but it's their nature to serve. They feel deep inside themselves that their life only has purpose if it's lived in service of a witch or wizard they have sworn loyalty to. It's supposed to be a sacred bond, both to the wizard or witch as well as the House-elf. Without it, the House-elves fade. Their wills wilt, and their magic weakens," Tracey explained monotonously.

"But that's probably because of centuries worth of conditioning," Hermione argued.

Tracey shrugged as she stood up, tiring now of this conversation. She didn't particularly care to dissuade Hermione from her misguided mission. She knew that she wouldn't get the other girl to see things from her point of view and she didn't care to bother, even if she knew she would save Hermione a lot of time if she could manage to convince her that what she was working for would bring about no changes whatsoever.

"Possibly. But no one can really know, unfortunately documentation of House-elves has never been of importance to wizards. It is the unfortunate outcome of imbuing someone with such absolute power; absolute power corrupts absolutely. But that is reality," Tracey stated aloofly, even though she personally felt that House-elves are quite admirable little creatures. It was something about their purity and their sense of loyalty. Having opened her eyes from a young age, Tracey knew that there was so very little in the world that was pure and good, and she felt that such purity should be protected and cherished.

However, Tracey wouldn't share this, least of all with a Gryffindor lot that regarded her with suspicion at best and hostility at worst. Saying no more, Tracey swiftly got to her feet and exited the room.

"I can't stand her!" Ginny complained once the door had shut behind Tracey, though loud enough that the Slytherin girl probably heard her through the door anyway. "I mean does she really have to talk like that all the time? She sounds like a Professor or something! And she'd just so haughty!"

Neither Hermione or Ron said anything for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Hermione trying to understand what Tracey was saying and wonder how Tracey could not care about bettering life for house-elves, while Ron hoped that perhaps Tracey's more logical arguments might register with Hermione and convince her that she was wasting her time.

"Hey!" Ron suddenly stated as something occurred to him. "She just left us with all the work!"

TBC...