A/N: Hai guysss. Enjoy :)
EIGHT
"I knew it," Harry muttered. He had been muttering those words, or at least words to that effect, sometimes with an added "fucking Malfoy", for the last few hours and it was beginning to grate on everybody's nerves, Ginny and Pansy's especially. They were sat, along with Ron and Hermione, in the Room of Requirement which was currently posing as a cosy common room complete with a lit fireplace around which the five were sat. They were waiting for somebody to arrive, according to Hermione, though she wouldn't tell any of the rest of them who.
"Potter, if you say another word about Draco, I swear to Merlin I will-" Pansy ground out through gritted teeth, having finally reached the end of her tether.
"Why are you even defending him? He killed Professor Dumbledore for fuck's sake," Harry shot back.
"Yes, he did and it was an abominable thing to do. I don't even like him, you should know. But Voldemort was threatening to kill his family, fuck, he has killed Narcissa, if The Prophet is anything to go by. What would you do if you were in his place?"
"My family is dead!" Harry shouted, standing from his chair. The books and ornaments on the shelves around the room began to tremble as Harry began to lose control of his magic. Ginny winced as the Thunderbird began to rumble in her mind. She was in better control since she had voluntarily let the bird take over, but that did not mean that Harry releasing a mess of uncontrolled magic wouldn't cause Ginny to be taken over by the bird's more primal urges to destroy everything around her.
Pansy reached a hand across the sofa and placed it on Ginny's knee, a gesture that told Ginny clearly that the Slytherin, at least, had recognized the danger if she pursued this argument.
"Okay," Pansy said softly, lowering her defiant gaze, "I apologize. I only meant that although his actions can never be excused, I personally cannot say that I would not do the same if somebody I loved more than anything was in grave danger. And after seeing how much you love your friends, I thought perhaps you could see that as well. It was poorly worded though, and I should never have spoken in the first place."
The books stopped rattling in their places and Hermione and Ron shot Pansy grateful glances which Harry luckily missed as he slumped back into his chair.
"I'm sorry too," Harry muttered rather ungracefully, before resuming his moody glare into the fire.
Had Snape been of a normal disposition (for him, I mean, not for anybody else) he would have smirked when he cracked the door to the Room of Requirement open and heard the last half of Pansy Parkinson's little apology speech. It was horrendously obvious to anybody sensible (so, anybody but a Gryffindor then) that she hadn't meant a word of it, but Potter seemed to fall for it hook, line and sinker. However, Severus Snape was not of a normal disposition at that particular moment in time, his master, mentor, friend and savior having been murdered by his brat of a godson less than a week ago.
He was feeling, instead, uncharacteristically numb. Severus Snape was a passionate man usually, though most of that passion went into fuelling his hatred and rage, but all of that passion had dimmed entirely until it was barely a spark. He could not see any path clear to him. Dumbledore had not had time to finish telling the Potter brat of his plan to destroy Voldemort and without it Snape was afraid that they had no chance whatsoever. So now, Snape was a Death Eater. He hated the idea, more than he hated the fact that Albus had died, but unless Potter pulled a plan out of his ass, becoming a Death Eater proper was the only way that Severus could stay alive. He could just give in and die, he supposed, but that would surely be a complete waste of all of these years struggling through the days in a wash of misery.
Because Severus Snape had never truly been happy since the day he had called Lily Potter a mudblood.
Sighing slightly, he pushed the door open properly and stepped into the room. He felt as though he were sealing his doom.
"Him," Pansy snarled, for once in her life forgetting herself and allowing her first thought to spill from her lips. She regretted what she had done within seconds, though a minute more showed her the ridiculousness of this- why regret showing her true feelings when she no longer had any reason to hide them?
"Yes, him. Professor Snape, please come in and have a seat," Hermione said courteously. Pansy fought a smirk when Snape sneered at the Gryffindor and moved instead to stand before the fire. She glanced at Ginny, who was peering at Snape with narrowed eyes, but otherwise had not reacted to his presence. In fact, neither Harry nor Ron had reacted anywhere near as strongly as she would have expected. A Death Eater had, after all, just walked into the room. Unless they didn't know that he was… Surely the Order knew, and they would have told them.
"Let's skip the accusations, Miss Parkinson," Snape drawled, though his voice lacked the venom it usually did. "I am a marked Death Eater, but have been a spy for the last twenty years. You will not, obviously, be able to speak of this when you leave the room." Pansy's eyebrows creased at this last, wondering why he would be so careless as to just tell her, but then she saw his wand tip disappear up his sleeve and knew that he had spelled her to silence. Cheeky bastard.
"Fine. But you attacked Ginny at the start of this year, did you not?" Pansy smiled as Ron reddened and rose out of his chair.
"You did what?" He snarled, and even Hermione looked sharply at her Professor. Harry carried on staring broodingly into the fire, seeming to be oblivious to the fact that Snape's legs now partially obstructed his view. Ginny herself looked also to be oblivious to the conversation, as she continued to watch Snape. Her hair was beginning to drift in invisible eddies of wind around her shoulders though, so Pansy knew that the Thunderbird at least was reacting.
"I did not attack her," Snape said, "Your sister seems to have gained possession of some strange and dangerous power which I worried might be, and indeed has proved to be, a threat to the students around her. I tried to find out what it was, and she overreacted."
Ginny's hair crackled around her head in a flare of power that drew Harry's eyes from the fire to Ginny. Pansy put her hand on her friend's knee, hoping that she would not lose control and kill them all. Although that would stop them from having to fight Voldemort, she supposed.
"I did not overreact," Ginny spit out, and even Ron and Hermione who did not seem to be able to sense her power heard the edge to her voice. An edge of something different, something other. Something definitely not Ginny. Ron sat down again abruptly, staring at his baby sister with something akin to fear and awe. "You tried to force your way into my mind. Try again now that I have some control over my power and you will not come away so easily." Even the words were more Hermione than Ginny. The youngest Weasley had never been one for speaking complexly when a short, quick sentence could get the job done just as quickly.
Luckily for him, Snape seemed more amused than anything else.
"I don't doubt it," he smirked. "Will I be getting an explanation?" He directed this question to Hermione, Pansy was amused to note, who, as the only muggle born in the room was the least likely to know what was happening. Ginny, or rather, the thunderbird, was not pleased with this change of subject but nevertheless allowed it, her eyes flashing white with lightning only once before her hair settled back around her shoulders. She put a hand over Pansy's, shooting a grateful smile at her.
"Ginny has the power of a Thunderbird," Hermione told him. Pansy rolled her eyes. She always had to give an answer even if she knew nothing of what she was talking.
"Actually, she is a Thunderbird. So yes, she does have the power of one, but in the same way that we all have the power of a witch or wizard. We don't just have their power, we are them, mind, body and soul."
"But her power comes from the earring, doesn't it?" Hermione protested, annoyed at having her knowledge questioned.
"Not as such. Think about it like the way our magic slowly develops and grows over the years. Ginny's thunderbird heritage just needed a little… blessing, I suppose, to be allowed to manifest. A link to the bird."
Professor Snape nodded, though Hermione still had her lips pursed and a frown on her face. She really didn't like being shown up, Pansy decided.
"And how is it, exactly, that you know all of this, Miss Parkinson?" Snape asked. He sounded genuinely interested and Pansy supposed he was thinking of the Slytherin bimbo she pretended to be.
"I know a lot about a great variety of things, sir. You are not the only one to have played a part for years," she added. Her Professor looked at her intently and she thought for a moment she thought that she saw pride in his eyes. She snorted aloud. Typical bloody Slytherin.
"Why the fuck are we here, Hermione?" Ginny suddenly snapped, making them all jump. Perhaps she had not calmed down as much as Pansy had assumed. She had forgotten momentarily that the younger girl was a Gryffindor, and a Weasley to boot. She felt a sting and withdrew her hand from Ginny's lap and leant back in her seat, arching her eyebrows at the red head. "What?" Ginny asked, glaring at Pansy.
"Oh, nothing. But if you don't stop giving out electrical shocks, I am never touching you again," she snarked. Ron almost choked.
"I wasn't aware that you were… touching her an awful lot to begin with," he croaked out, face reddening again. Snape rolled his eyes and sighed, as did Pansy, though they both looked away when they realized what they had done.
"Honestly, Ronald, that wasn't what they meant. They aren't touching in that manner, Parkinson just meant in general," Hermione scolded him.
"And how do you know we aren't touching in that manner?" Pansy asked, crossing her legs and grinning an evil grin. It was Hermione's turn to boggle at them. Only Harry seemed unaffected, indeed, he had seemed unaffected by the entire conversation. He had simply sat in his chair, staring unblinking at Ginny. It was unnerving enough for Pansy and she wasn't even on the receiving end of the stare.
"As interesting as hearing about my student's sex life is, I believe that Miss Weasley had a question that we would all like an answer to, Miss Granger," Snape drawled.
"Oh, yes," Hermione stuttered, flushing slightly. She was so flustered that she forgot to rebuke Ginny for swearing at her. "Well, I thought, well. You two," here she gestured at Pansy and Ginny, "seem to have formed your own side of the war. Now, I know that we can't join the Order, but I was thinking that perhaps we could join your side. Um… does it have a name?"
"The Thunderbugs," Ginny deadpanned.
"No," Pansy said at the same time.
"What's wrong with the Thunderbugs?" Ginny pouted, idly poking her finger through a hole in the hem of her t-shirt. She really did have the most appalling fashion sense, Pansy lamented before switching her attention back to the matter at hand.
"Not no to that, you dolt, no to them joining our side. Besides, what does Professor Snape have to do with that? He's already in the Order, I would assume."
"No? Just like that? Why not?" Hermione gaped, ignoring the question. Ron beside her looked just as outraged. Harry carried on staring at Ginny.
"No. Just like that," Pansy repeated. "And as for why not, why should we? What do you have to bring to our side?" Hermione gaped some more. She might have sputtered a little bit as well.
"What do we have to bring?" she eventually exclaimed, "We've been fighting Voldemort for years!"
"Yeah, we didn't just suddenly switch sides a few months ago, unlike some people!" Ron added. Pansy smiled, idly inspecting her fingernails, but she could feel Ginny growing restless beside her. She sighed internally, Gryffindors really were far too hot headed. Or perhaps that was just Weasleys. She supposed the whole Thunderbird thing really didn't help, but that did very little to excuse the two thirds of the Golden Trio's behavior.
"Interesting that you assume I was on Voldemort's side before I joined Ginny's. Is it because I'm in Slytherin, or is it just something about me as a person?"
Severus snorted. He had so far seen very little reason for his presence at this 'meeting', but as it was proving to be rather entertaining he was hardly going to complain now. At the very least he had gained enough material to mock Granger and the Weasley boy with for the rest of… forever. At the moment, the redhead was yelling expletives at Pansy and Ginny (for what reason, Severus wasn't honestly sure) whilst Granger nodded along beside him.
Potter was staring intently at the Weasley girl though, and Severus found his eyes being drawn to her as well. There was something vaguely hypnotizing about watching the power ooze and glide around her in eddies and currents. His own magic, he knew, flowed like oil around his aura and Albus's had (he winced at the past tense) floated like dandelion seeds on a breeze. Though he would never have put that thought into words, lest word got around that the fearsome head of Slytherin house was talking about such innocent images. It might scare the children.
But Ginny's power was something else. He was sure that Pansy had noticed as it was undoubtedly the reason she had suddenly decided to join the side of the light, even if she had joined it in such an unorthodox manner. Ginny's power was quick and darting, like gale-force wind or the sea in the midst of a fierce storm. It was old and powerful and nature at its harshest. And they wondered why he had worried about her being in the middle of a school full of children. It was like strapping a child with an armed bomb that might go off at any second and sending them off to class.
"What?" Severus snarled, glancing around to find that everybody was staring at him.
"We were just wondering what you thought, sir," Hermione piped up. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"What I thought about what exactly?" he asked acidly.
"About these three joining me and Ginny. Though why exactly your opinion matters, I don't know. For that matter, I don't think I ever got an answer to why you're even here. No offence, sir," Pansy smiled innocently at him. Annoying bint, he thought.
"I don't really care either way who joins your little club since I have no doubt you have no idea what you are even doing and with Miss Weasley unable to control her power you are all more likely to blow yourselves up than you are to defeat Voldemort single handedly." More's the shame, he added to himself. If they had a decent chance he would have a much better option than maiming in Voldemort's name for the rest of his life.
"I am not unable to control my power!" Ginny snapped, but even as she said it her power pulsed around her angrily, like a dog straining against a loosely held leash.
"Clearly," Snape drawled. He was growing bored with the entire conversation. Why was he here? Why had he foolishly given in to his curiosity and accepted the invitation? He would be better served to sitting in his quarters and drowning himself in fire whiskey than in this room with these imbeciles.
"Ginny," Pansy said in a soothing voice, flashing a glare at Severus which he pointedly ignored.
"Why am I here?" He asked Hermione bluntly, successfully distracting her from her ongoing outrage at Pansy's refusal. It seemed the little know-it-all couldn't bear being asked a question by a teacher and not answering it, even in the state of annoyance she was currently in.
"I was hoping that you would be our liaison with the Order, sir," she said politely, "That was assuming, of course, that we would be allowed to join our friend's obviously very exclusive group." This last was said with no little amount of venom for the Gryffindor.
"Well, of course we're not going to let you join if you're already making decisions without our knowledge!" Pansy snapped, exasperated.
"Why don't you let my sister talk for herself, Parkinson? She's the one with the power, you're just a nobody Slytherin!" Ron retorted.
Snape sighed to himself as they descended yet again into bickering. And they thought that they could defeat Voldemort? They were bloody idiots.
Draco panted as he ran through the forest, tripping constantly on roots and debris. Spells shot past his head but he didn't bother turning to retaliate- if they caught up with him he would be dead. Well, tortured for hours first most likely, but then they would kill him. So he just ducked his head down and ran.
His usually pristine hair was filthy, falling in lank locks around his face, and his expensive robes were cut to shreds, revealing the equally soiled suit underneath. He looked like shit, and he knew it, but surprisingly for him this was the least of his worries right now.
The Dark Mark appeared to have some sort of tracking spell in it; at least that was how he assumed they kept finding him. He needed to get rid of it, and soon. He wouldn't last much longer like this and he knew it. He was well aware of how long deserters tended to live. Regulus Black had lasted a week or so, his father had told him, and Karkaroff a few months. But he had only lasted that long because the Dark Lord had other things on his mind at the time. With Dumbledore dead, Draco appeared to be near the top of Voldemort's to-do list.
A spell grazed his ear and he cried out in pain, stumbling over the rough ground. That was how he saw it. The cave. He put on an extra burst of speed and threw himself into the darkness, throwing up every shield spell and ward that he knew behind him. Within seconds they were at the entrance, battering his shields with a barrage of spells. Draco considered his options.
He could apparate out again; it would take them a little while to find him. But they would find him. Or he could get rid of it. Get rid of the Dark Mark. It was an idea that had been floating around in his head for the last few days, but he had no idea if it would work or not.
Looking up at the black robed figures mere feet away, he made his decision. Blood poured everywhere and he could not help but scream as the cutting charm sliced a chunk of his forearm off.
He didn't bother healing it before apparating away. If it had worked, then there would be plenty of time for that later. If it didn't then he didn't suppose it mattered if he died of blood loss before they could torture him too much.