Chapter 7 – Something Green
On Monday, as Pansy and Draco left the Charms classroom, the young man thanked all the Gods he'd decided to try Ginny's potion. Three drops in a hot tea, and he'd had his first restful night in over two months. It wasn't until he'd spent one peaceful night that he'd realised just how tired he'd been. This morning, he'd felt so great. He hadn't even complained when Blaise had woken him by taking away his pillow from under his head. To Draco, that was saying it all.
It had also helped that he'd told Pansy about his dream, and that she'd spontaneously proposed to help research it in the library. For weeks, he'd felt helpless about his… nocturnal unrest. Now, he was rested, and he was going to actually do something to appease his troubled mind. That made him feel a lot better. And much more like himself. Sitting around and waiting for things to solve themselves out tended to make him edgy.
The pair kept walking toward the dungeon. As they passed through the Entrance, they caught sight of Blaise and Ginny who were coming back from their Herbology class. And they were drawing attention. To be fair, Zabini was always drawing attention to himself. Female attention, anyway. However, this was different. The younger Weasley was laughing so hard her face had turned tomato red, and she had to wipe tears from her eyes. At some point, she even had to lean against Blaise to stay up right. Draco suspected that the only reason people didn't make a fuss over a Gryffindor and a Slytherin enjoying each other company was the she was a girl and he was… well, Blaise.
Pansy and Draco were getting closer.
"I don't believe you!" the redhead said between two difficult breaths. "You're making that up. You have to!"
"I swear on anything that is holy and not that it is the unvarnished truth. I totally froze! I didn't know what to say to her. Can you imagine being asked something like that? Of course, you can't. It's creepy, I'm telling you! I lost my composure, right then. And there was nothing that could have possibly help it. What a shame!" The young man shook his head in fake self-dejection while he snaked an arm around the young woman's waist.
Ginny was still trying hard to control her laughter… and failing miserably.
"I'm sorry. I really can't picture it. The Great Blaise Zabini, Hogwarts' Lover Extraordinaire, losing his… composure? I mean. You have quite a reputation when it comes to your performances… if you get my meaning," she said with a saucy leer.
"Listening to gossips, are we, Miss Weasley? Tut-tut! I'm so disappointed with you," he answered with an expression that would have sit better on McGonagall's face than on the young reprobate.
"Oh, stop it!" she interjected while trying to get out of Blaise's embrace. "Sweetie, you love that almost anything with a skirt whispers you name with longing in every corner of this castle."
Blaise gave a warm laugh that was answer enough.
Draco had never been jealous of Blaise's success with girls before. However, as he met with the both of them in the middle of the entrance, he couldn't help but feel like jerking the redhead away from Blaise's gasp. He itched with the need to get the other boy's hands off of the young woman. Inside of him, something deep, dark and primitive was roaring "mine, mine, MINE!"
Something must have shown on his face because, after Blaise's gaze crossed his, the dark-haired Slytherin let the arm he had warped around Ginny fall. Despite the infuriatingly knowing smile Blaise wore, Draco was grateful for the lessening of his unease.
Ginevra gradually sobered and looked at Draco pointedly. She smiled.
"I'm glad you used the potion I gave you. It seems to agree with you."
Before the Draco could respond, she was distracted by something behind him. He looked around to see Ronald Weasley frowning accusingly at his sister. He heard her sigh, so he looked back at her.
"I better go. I'll see you all later in Potions." She took her leave.
When the Gryffindor was out of sight, Pansy turned to Blaise.
"What were you telling her for her to laugh so hard?" she asked while they started toward the Dungeon.
"The Turpin's incident."
Draco cringed as he recalled what Blaise was referring to.
"I don't know how you ever managed to get it up again after that. If a girl was to ask me to personify Snape in bed, I'm sure I would be traumatized for life."
"I damn nearly was!"
"What happened to your neck?" Pansy asked, frowning, as she tugged at Blaise's unbuttoned collar. Sure enough, there were light-red scratches that went all the way around his throat.
"Oh, yeah. I had an accident in class this morning. It was really weird."
You don't tell me! Something strange happened? Why am I not surprised? Draco thought ironically.
"You see, we're studying vine-like magical plants this semester. With Ginny, we're presently growing a Venomous Tentacula. Its parts are very useful, but it is also extremely dangerous. I still can't believe Professor Sprout entrusted us with a 2nd class plant!"
He was starting to get excited about that last bit, but then he shook his head.
"Anyway. Since our Tentacula is still just a baby, I let myself get distracted, and I must have rub it the wrong way because it abruptly reached for my throat. No matter what I did, I couldn't make it drop. You wouldn't believe how strong those things are. Of course, ours is not full grown, but… Did you know a mature Venomous Tentacula's constriction potential is comparable to a regal python's?"
He was getting excited again.
"Anyway. Fortunately, Ginny hadn't gone far. That's where it becomes weird. She didn't even break a sweat. She was there in an instant, perfectly calm. She just put her hands on the thing, and then she mumbled something I couldn't understand. The plant simply let go of my throat and went still."
Both Pansy's and Draco's eyes widened a bit and Blaise looked like he still couldn't believe it. Draco didn't blame him. It was quite extraordinary. For a wizard or a witch to have the Green Hand was even more exceptional than to have the Sight. He hadn't even heard of a living wizard having the Green Gift. It was said that there had been a time when born tree-talker had arisen far more frequently. But it went back to the time when the Worship of the Goddess was still alive and healthy, centuries ago. In any case, Draco was curious. From what he'd read, the Green Hand, like the Sight, was known to emerge at puberty, around eleven or twelve. Wouldn't they have heard of it had Ginny Weasley discovered she possessed such an exceptional gift five years ago?
Draco was brought back to earth when Pansy asked for something he was interested in hearing.
"You didn't ask her about it?"
Blaise gave her a 'duh' glare.
"Of course, I asked about it! What do you think I am? Some moronic Hufflepuff?"
Pansy raised an elegant eyebrow. "Could have fooled me."
"I did question her. Unfortunately, the Weasley girl seems to be even more guarded than you, Dray. And you know I'm the best at getting what I want out of anything with a skirt."
Draco snorted.
"You didn't do much progress with Pavarti, did you, sweetie? Since when have you been sweetie to the Little Red and Gold, anyway?" he teased, but underneath his playful tone was an uneasy feeling. An uneasy feeling that possessed a greenish quality, but was not jealousy. Of course not. That would be preposterous.
"It's nothing like that, mate. Not that I haven't try," he added with a lecherous smile. "To me, Ginny is like Pansy. She's just so easy to be around. She's never offended with my devious humour, she even plays along with it." Then he slid a glance at their trio's female. "Okay. Maybe she's nothing like Pansy, after all. But you know what I mean. I can throw as much sexual innuendo as I please at her since we both know it won't lead anywhere."
Draco decided to let it go. He really didn't want to expose his inexplicably growing feelings for the younger Weasley.
Just as they went to put away their books before lunch, he turned to his friends and said "Do we go straight to the library after Potions?"
Blaise acquiesced, while Pansy looked thoughtful.
"I've been thinking… Maybe we could ask Ginevra for the translation. It would save us a lot of trouble."
Draco and Blaise shared a confused look.
"Why, her?" the last asked.
"Well, I'm not a hundred percent sure she talks Irish Gaelic, but the Prewett family, on her mother's side, is originally from Ireland."
Draco frowned.
"Prewett isn't an Irish surname."
"No, it isn't. They were named Ò Cathasaigh back then. When they migrated, it was changed for Prewett, a name that has the same meaning but sounds more English."
The boys didn't hide their surprise.
"And how come you know about that?"
Pansy rolled her eyes in disgust.
"My dear mother's latest obsession. 'A well-bred Lady should always know everything about everyone. It's the surest way to avoid any social misstep'" she recited with pretty realistic impersonation of Victoria Parkinson. "Last summer, she made me memorise everything worth knowing about all prominent wizarding families. You wouldn't believe what she considers worth knowing."
"And she made you learn about the Weasleys?" Blaise asked incredulously.
Pansy shrugged.
"They are pure-blood and an old family."
"What makes you think her family would still speak the language?" Draco wasn't too happy with the idea of asking Ginny for help.
"You speak French, even if your father's family left France over two centuries ago," she pointed out.
He had to concede her that. His parents had ingrained in him very early in his life the importance of roots. Welsh, on his mother's side, and French on his father's. When he was a kid, they often went on vacations to one the French estates owned by his family in le midi. He had very fond memories of those carefree days.
Draco stayed pretty much silent throughout lunch time. He was both eager to collect any information that could help him understand his dreams and apprehensive about having to ask Ginny for help. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of sharing any part of his dreams with her. He might be attracted to the little pixie, but he didn't really know her. While he was starting to appreciate many facets of her personality, she still was a Gryffindor and a Weasley. The combination didn't make her trustworthy as far as Draco was concerned. And his dream felt too personal, even intimate. He would ask her if she could translate the phrase and nothing else, he decided. She didn't need to know.
That was his thought as the three of them walked into the Potions classroom. The room was empty except for Ginevra who was already there, which was surprising since they had made it early themselves. She hadn't had lunch in the Great Hall, either, Draco had noticed. In any case, her earliness was a happy happenstance. That way, they wouldn't have to worry about being overheard.
As they approached and dropped into their respective seats, Ginny raised her head. Her eyes were red and slightly swollen. She'd been crying. Her eyes were dry now, but it was obvious they hadn't been a moment ago. The Slytherins exchanged an uncomfortable look. They didn't feel in their element with such outward show of emotion. In their world, you learn very early to perfect your poker face. His, and Pansy's, was a mask of cold arrogance, although he had to admit it wasn't all pretence. He would rather call it self-assurance, but, hey! To each his opinion. As for Blaise, he had always used shallow playfulness as a shield. When you don't expect any depth, you're not looking for it.
Anyhow, Draco faced the young woman who, in spite of her altogether five feet two, had looked imperial in her personification of the Great Goddess, a mere two days ago. Now, while she was visibly trying to put up a steady front, he felt her sorrow as clearly as if it were his own. That, in itself, was unsettling to Draco. He knew he wasn't an extremely empathic person, except to a handful of people. Still, the force with which he felt her pain was shocking. He could almost feel it physically.
"Hey, guys," she greeted them in an effort to sound composed. That was ok with the Slytherins who weren't ones to pry for you to share your feelings. They all responded with a tilt of their chin.
"We're glad you're here early. There's something we wanted to ask you," he said right away trying to shake off his unwelcome feelings.
That seemed to effectively distract her from any problem she might have. Her eyes widened a bit in surprise.
"You wanted to ask me about something?"
Ignoring her obvious amazement, he went on.
"You wouldn't happen to speak Irish Gaelic, would you?"
The look on her face was quite comical. He'd definitely taken her by surprise with his question.
After a bit of gapping on her part, she answered "Why, yes. I do, as a matter of fact. However, it may be a bit rusty since I don't get many occasions to speak it. May I ask why you would want to know?"
"I came across a bit of Irish Gaelic and wanted to know what it meant."
She just looked at him for a moment, and he thought she would question about how he'd came across Irish Gaelic. She did not.
"Okay. So, what is this bit of Irish?"
Draco searched his memory before he answered to make sure he had the right words.
"Athblian shona duit, Ard Rí," he recited, carefully living out the name.
Then she murmured under her breath, lips barely moving, like she was repeating the words for herself. Then she froze, and stared at him strangely, intensely.
Her voice soft, she said "It means 'Happy new year to you, High King'."
From the corner of his eye, he saw his friends' eyes turned to him, probably searching his face for a reaction. He gave none. His gaze lost in empty space, his brain was spinning furiously. The 'happy new year' part was easy. He knew that Samhain was considered the first day of the year in Celtic cultures. But High King Aindreas… He couldn't remember much about High Kings. That would require a bit of research. That conclusion made, he turned to Ginny again. The girl was still eyeing him strangely.
Slowly, she started "I'm curious. Where did you…", but she heard her name called.
The four heads turned as one toward the voice's owner, namely Hermione Granger. The girl walked in their direction, but stopped at a good distance. Draco fought the urge to chuckle. And they call themselves brave, he thought. Potter was not far behind, and with such a stubborn look on his face that the picture of a sulky three year old toddler dragged about by his mother came to Draco's mind.
The mudblood ignored the three Slytherins haughtily, looking solely at Ginevra. The urge to laugh became even more insistent. Dear Lords, the lots of them are pathetic.
"We would like to have a word with you, Ginny. We need to discuss things," the bushy-haired girl clearly implied she wanted to discuss those things without the Slytherins present.
At his side, Draco felt Ginny tense imperceptibly. By all appearances, she looked collected, but from where he stood, he could recognize the sudden tension in her stance. The slight irritation in her sigh, however, was very much audible.
"I would love to discuss things with you, but, you see, a discussion is supposed to consist of two people exchanging ideas. I'm afraid you're not interested in listening to what I have to say."
The Head Girl rolled her eye impatiently. Her glance slide shortly over the Slytherin trio. She obviously didn't like that they were witnessing the argument.
"Don't be silly! Of course we listen to what you say. We respect your opinion, but you should realise…"
"Stop, Hermione! You hear my words, but you are not listening to anything I say! And you know what? I'm done trying to explain myself to you lots when I shouldn't have to."
Then, Potter visibly lost patience and went to intervene, but people started to entered the room and he decided against it.
"We're not done talking about it, Ginny."
She met his green eyes unwaveringly.
"Yes, we most definitely are, Harry," she replied firmly.
Before Sir I-Can't-Get-Clue could insist any more, Professor Slughorn made his entrée with his usual cheerful "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!" With a last obstinate look, Potter turned around and followed after Granger.
"I can't stand those losers," Pansy blurted. "What's their problem? Aside from being their usual Gryffindish pain in the arse, that is."
That succeeded in making the corner of her mouth tug, but it didn't last. Ginny didn't let out a word for the duration of the class. Draco's eyes kept drifting back to her. Her narrow shoulders stayed stiff throughout the lesson. Every bit of body language she gave off said she was simultaneously angry, frustrated and sad. Unable to hide it inside, she let it out on the poor asphodel's roots that she chopped with a disturbing enthusiasm. Once her and Pansy's potion was done, she wasted no time, gathered her things and mumbled her farewell before she practically ran through the door. She probably wants a head start on her two stalkers, Draco thought as he vialed his own sample.
Blaise and Pansy left, but he waited for the rest of the class to go, so he could have a word with his Head of House. Unfortunately, it seemed Theodor had the same idea because he wasn't leaving either. They were both waiting for the other to state his case to the Potions Master. Ultimately, Theo motioned him to the sitting teacher with a side smile.
"Be my guest, Captain."
Draco shrugged, a bit irritated with his chaser, but told himself it didn't matter if he heard it since it would pretty much be public knowledge in less than a week. He turned to Professor Slughorn who was eyeing them expectantly.
"Professor, I want to take the special defence class. I just thought I'd let you know."
Theo took a step forward.
"That's why I stayed behind as well. I want to take it too."
Draco raised a curious eyebrow at that. Slughorn smiled up at them.
"Duly noted, gentlemen."
They went to take their leave, but the Professor called back.
"Mr Malfoy?" Draco looked back. "I would like a word with you in my office."
He nodded and followed the shorter man in the adjacent room. Slughorn motioned him to a chair in front of his desk while he took place behind it. Draco was curious as to what he wanted to talk about. Then he thought about Dumbledore's death and inwardly winced. It would be just like Slughorn to be after exclusive information. Draco had no intention to go through it again. To live it and then experience it again night after night in nightmares had been enough, thank you very much.
The old Slytherin stayed silent a moment before he started talking.
"I owe you an apology."
Draco's eyebrows went incredibly high. An apology? What the…
The teacher misread his student.
"I know, I know. I should have done this much sooner, but, to be honest, I was unsure how to go about it." He shook his head self-deprecatingly. "You see, last year, I didn't know of your circumstances. Had I known about your dire predicament… well, I would have been more understanding, of course. As it were, all I knew was that you were… that your father… It wouldn't have been proper for me to…"
Be seen with the son of a fugitive Death Eater, Draco finished for him in his head.
"Well, I can't tell you how guilty I feel for not realizing. As they say, you found yourself between the devil and the deep blue sea. That's why I insisted that you be allowed back at Hogwarts. The least I could do was to give you a chance to finish your schooling." He shook his head again. "I'm afraid I haven't been very supportive as your Head of House. Such dreadful events…" He rubbed his imposing silvery moustache distractedly. "Dreadful, but inevitable, as you know."
Draco froze. What was the man talking about? What had been inevitable?
"Inevitable, sir?" He knew his confusion was clearly drawn on his features.
Slughorn looked puzzled. And then stunned. And then disturbed.
"You mean to tell me that nobody explained anything to you?" Now he sounded indignant. "Dear Heavens above! But I thought someone would…" he stopped. "Of course. Who could have?" he murmured more for himself. He looked back at his pupil. "My dear boy, the Headmaster Dumbledore was dying. There was no way around it. Before his… demise, he had been on a quest that had put him in contact with an utterly corrupted magical item. Its manipulation was tricky, and it backfired. That corruption was slowly but surely poisoning him. He was dying, and he knew it."
Draco was trying to get that in, but his professor wasn't finished.
"And, naturally, since Severus had been helping to treat the curse, he knew about its deadliness. That's why he accepted to take your mother's Unbreakable Vow. And Albus knew about the vow, of course. They both thought you had a great potential that should be focussed on a healthier purpose. It was decided that Severus was to look over you and prevent you from doing anything that would… scar you irreversibly."
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Draco's heart was pounding painfully. He simply couldn't digest what he was hearing. He'd known about the Unbreakable Vow. His mother had told him about it when he'd gone back home last June. He hadn't been overly surprised about Narcissia's drastic measures. He knew his mother would walk through the fires of hell for her child's safety. But Severus… He'd been so certain the Professor Snape was part of Voldemort's cohort. So the old Potions Master was not a good little Death Eater after all? He was… what? A spy?
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
And what about Dumbledore? The old Headmaster had been on the edge of death already? So what? What did it change, really? It changed nothing to what he had done, what he schemed on doing. If anything, it made him feel even worst. Albus Dumbledore had died at the hands Snape so Draco wouldn't have to live with that death on his conscience. Too bad his conscience didn't work that way. Who was he to deserve such sacrifice? Dumbledore had been the greatest wizard of his time. So many things and people had depended on him. So what if he had been dying anyway? Surely he would have had a couple of months left. Hell! Even a week of that man's life was too high a price for his peace of mind. He'd just been a blind kid. A stupid one at that. Hardly worthy of any devotion.
Mechanically, Draco got up. Slughorn might have said something then, but he was in no condition to hear it. He got out of his Head of House's office and made his way toward Slytherin's common room like in a dream. He felt numb, disconnected from reality. Along the corridors, he looked at the students who passed him by. How could they not feel the alteration in reality when all of his universe had just shifted? They looked all so light-hearted. Unaware. Innocent. Things he suspected he would never be again.
Draco entered the empty common room. He had a second of wondering why before he remembered that dinner was served in the Great Hall. He crumbled heavily in the nearest seat.
He sat there, his brain lost in a strange haze, for an undetermined among of time before he heard the common room's entrance door open and saw his friends come in. One look at his face, and they dragged him to his and Blaise's room. Once there, he went straight to his bed and let himself fall on the bedspread. He felt them sit on the bed next to him. They didn't say a word. He knew they wouldn't. They would wait for him to do this his way.
So he started talking.
His gaze fixed to the ceiling of the four poster bed, he talked like he hadn't for over a year. He told them how, after his father's breakout from Azkaban, he'd been summoned in front of the Dark Lord. How he'd been told that he was to pay for his father messing up the operation in the ministry. He told them of his fright for his parents' life and his own. He recalled out loud what he'd been through during their sixth year. His different attempts on the Headmaster's life. His work to infiltrate Death Eaters in the school. He told them of his misjudgement of Snape's intentions. Then he went through the tale of what had happened in the tower the night of Dumbledore's death. After that came the confrontation with his father the previous summer. He told his friends how, blinded by his own bitter shame, he'd lashed out at a man he'd loved and admired all his life. Eventually, he finished with what he'd learned less than an hour ago about Dumbledore illness and Severus unexpected allegiance.
The room fell silent. They didn't offer comforting babbles, and Draco was glad they didn't. After a minute or so, Pansy let out a sad sigh. She looked down at him.
"You know you should have talked to us a lot sooner, right?"
Draco didn't bother responding. Yes, he knew. And she knew he did.
"Well. That's fucked up," Blaise sighed. "But it doesn't change anything now, does it? It doesn't change what happened, and it doesn't change your present situation." He paused. "Although, that might mean you're now part of the infamous Slug Club!" He playfully hit Draco on his leg.
The blond Slytherin couldn't help but smile slightly in spite of his dark mood. That was one of Blaise's gifts after all.
"He's right, you know. It doesn't change a thing. Besides, we have some research to undergo tonight. I say we go snatch you something to eat, now."
Draco smiled frankly at her. It was so much like Pansy to go all business on them. At any rate, they were both right. He had enough on his plate right now and didn't need to fuss over things that were already passed and done.
Later that night, the three Slytherins were in the library, haunting the aisles in search of a book that would give them any hint of who High King Aindreas was. Easier said than done. It had seemed quite simple at first. One would think that a person with the title 'High King' would appear somewhere in a general Irish history book. It didn't take them too long to realise their mistake.
The title of High King was a very, very old one in Ireland. So old, in fact, that the list went back to mythical times, in the second millennium BC. Also, the High King was not exactly a political figure. He didn't rule over Ireland. He was chosen among the rulers of the numerous Irish kingdoms and possessed more of a sacred role of unifier, especially in dire times. Such occasions often led the High King to become a warlord.
Since High Kings had existed for so long, their number was countless. It made it extremely difficult, nearly impossible, to find a single inventory of all of them. Even worst, Draco couldn't narrow the time interval of their search, for, in his dream, people had been wearing hooded cloak which didn't help to pinpoint the period they belong to. Furthermore, the fact that High Kings did not own political power and that many had not played a great role historically made them hard to find in general history books.
Thus, when the curfew came they still hadn't found anything useful about a High King named Aindreas. Blaise and Pansy insisted that they had all the time in the world to rake through the library. Draco knew it was their way of cheering him up, of telling him not to get discouraged. There was no need. He was resolute about understanding what his vision had been, to know what it meant. His determination, when settled, was bone-deep and steel-strong. He was not giving up anytime soon.