Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Warnings: Language.
Adrian Pucey - Phobos
Liam Baddock - Deimos
Theodor Nott – Oberon
Draco Malfoy – Chaos
Vincent Crabbe - Moros
Gregory Goyle - Pallas
Blaise Zabini – Pan
Pansy Parkinson - Nyx
Daphne Greengrass - Hebe
Morag Macdougal – Nike
Millicent Bulstrode - Cerberus
Elijah Harper - Cratos
Anthony Vaisey - Tyche
Malcolm Baddock – Hecate
Astoria Greengrass - Eris
Flora Carrow - Nemisis
Hestia Carrow – Hypnos
Ginny Weasley – Tartarus
Seamus Finnegan – Hyperion
Neville Longbottom - Chiron
Dean Thomas – Prometheus
Demelza something or other - Selene
Anthony Goldstien - Styx
Terry Boot - Perses
Zacharias Smith - Chronos
Kevin Entwhistle - Pontus
Jack Sloper – Morpheus
Ritchie Coote - Erebos
Colin Creevey - Metis
Dennis Creevey - Eos
Mandy Brocklehurst – Leto
Michael Corner – Charon
Stephen Cornfoot - Atlas
Orla Quirke - Lamia
Ernie Macmillan –Minos
Sally-Anne Perks – Aether
Draco paced nervously in the library. He'd called them all, he couldn't hide this. They had to make a plan. He also had called Potter, Granger and Weasley. He didn't know what to do with them, part of him wanted to turn them out, on their own to do whatever quest for glory they needed to do, but in the end it was up to them. He'd also invited the oldest of the centaurs they'd brought back. They all stood together, away from the wizards looking guarded. They were all juveniles, for centaurs anyways, sent with the young ones from the herds willing to take the bargain.
Pale Willow stood, flanked by steely grey, with dark legs and dark hair, a young male called Cypress, behind them two black bodied, tan skinned twins, one was Sage, the other Aconite. They were all broad, muscular, with the reserved suspicions that were customary of centaurs around humans.
The sun was setting, casting a reddish glow across Draco's pale skin, across everyone. Red light, dark shadows, fitting of the occasion, really.
"The ministry's been taken over. We don't have any details, just that its fallen, and that we're all seriously fucked." Alright, so probably not the most calm, and eloquent start to a meeting ever, but Draco though he was doing pretty well for a sixteen year old. Pan stood next to him, their personal squabbles forgotten. In the past year their friendship had been tested and pushed farther than Draco would've ever expected, but he trusted Pan to pull through for him in dark times, always. Now, Pan stood beside him, stoic, strong expression an anchor for Draco's hammering heart.
"I won't lie to you, I think we'll need help if we're to make it. The ministries been passing regulations, most of us in this room would be branded, and a tracking spell permanently bound within our blood. Our magic crippled, movements monitored and restricted. I've been branded, and it is not something I plan on letting happen to a single other living soul, if I can help it."
"I gave all of you a choice, when I asked you here, or brought you here. To be smuggled to a safe place, though I can't guarantee anything, especially not anymore, or to stay and fight, or to stay and be protected. I stand by that, the offer still stands. But for those of us who stay, I think we need to pick up some adult slack, and we need to do all we can."
"But Chaos, what does all we can mean? We could cut our losses, we could hide, lie low, be safe." Draco turned his gaze sadly to little Lamia, scared, but determined.
"I wouldn't fault you for that, and I can send you off, but I will never lie low, and let this shit happen, to my brethren. I mean other werewolves, other so called beings, other so called beasts, other wizards, other living beings. I will never kneel, I won't stop fighting like hell for the living, but I don't expect many to stay with me in this possible suicide mission."
Pan stepped forwards, his shoulder leaning against Draco's firmly, a canine sign of support, of brotherhood. Before anyone else could say anything, Willow moved forwards, her hand extended towards Draco. He clasped it, and she gave it a firm shake, nodding, turning to the humans. "We will stay—fight for our right to exist as we have for centuries."
There was some soft murmuring, but no one got up to go, Draco swept his gaze over the crowd, lingering for a moment on the three stand out Gryffindors, apart from the rest, muttering to one another, though Potter's darkened eyes were fixed on Draco, Willow and Pan.
"I think we need to divide into teams," said Phobos, his normally easygoing face harder than Draco had seen it in months. Pan twitched his head at Phobos, an indication to continue.
"We should figure out a plan, divide into teams, and do what dad said, attack from all sides, help from all sides." As soon as he spoke, Deimos and Oberon were nodding.
And like that the meeting progressed, no one left, not even Lamia, her stubborn jaw setting, her eyes colder than any fourteen year olds should be.
Through the whole thing, the three Gryffindors remained silent, and when after what felt like hours, the conversations died, and the centaurs returned to their side of the Manor, to do whatever centaurs did all night, finally, Potter rose, and approached Pan and Draco. Tart was sitting beside her brother looking exhausted, her injuries still not fully healed.
"So that's it then?"
Whatever Draco expected Potter to say, that was not it. "Pardon?" snapped Pan, testily, before Draco could do more than narrow his eyes.
"It's all and well to save whatever, get whoever, run around like the masked bandit, sabotage whatever, but why won't you fight?" Potter looked livid, and Draco felt angry bile rise up in his throat, but again, before he could respond, Pan snapped out an answer.
"Look, Potter, I know you're the boy who chose, or whatever it is your title is these days, but we can't exactly take on the ministry and the death eaters, and dementors, and giants, and all of them. I don't know if you've noticed, but we aren't exactly an expansive army, here."
Potter's eyes flashed, and he opened his mouth, obviously ready to spit fire, and Draco sprang into action before anybody died. "Pan, darling, would you mind going and helping Tart back to bed, she looks dead on her feet, I can finish this conversation."
Both dark haired boys turned their thousand watt glares at Draco who was doing his best to herd Pan away from the conversation, shoving him towards Tart. Pan sighed, but deflated quickly, and went along, dutifully helping Tart to her feet, though he didn't actually looked that pleased.
"What do you want, Potter?" Asked Draco, too tired and worn out to beat around the bush. He leaned his hip against a book shelf, careful not to let his tender back touch anything solid.
"I want to know if this is all you're going to do!" The weird, calm truce the two had wordlessly formed in the infirmary was obviously gone, Potter was practically spitting at him in rage.
"Oh! Terribly sorry trying to save us sub-humans from Voldemort isn't good enough for you. What would you have me do?" Pan's technique of rage hadn't worked, so Draco let his icy exterior solidify, not showing a shadow of emotion as he coolly sneered at Potter.
Potter shook his head in exasperation. "It's great, it's fine, but you can't just run forever. Help me kill him, then you won't have to save anyone."
"We aren't running Potter, but lets see logistically for one moment. I know this kind of thing kill you Gryffindors, but bear with me for one second, will you? There are maybe 50 of us in this place, strong enough to fight. Less actually. Voldemort had an army, and army that includes most of our families. What are we going to do? Put on armor and go clash swords with him? We'll do what we can, in our calculated attacks, continue our guerilla war style, so we don't all die. We can't just run around murdering leaders of rebellions like it's easy. If you want to go, and run him through with your big old sword, or whatever you kids call it these days fine, but I won't be attending your funeral."
Despite everything, Potter rolled his eyes, cheeks flushing. "God Malfoy, is everything about- that?" he muttered darkly, but sighed, sitting down on the arm of one of the armchairs abruptly. "Help me then."
"Help you do what? Get in the Dark Lords robes? Potter, don't be ridiculous, I have a rebellion to run here."
Potter shot him a look, and Draco smirked, amused at Potter's flush. Potter didn't back off though, raising his eyebrows, clearly awaiting an answer.
"Fine. Help you what, vanquish the dark l- Voldemort? How? Do you need me to steal his food? Turn into a dog and bark at him? What the hell can I do to further your cause?"
"But if you could. You would?" Potters eyes were lit up with a weird light, almost maniac in its brightness, suddenly fixating on Draco.
"Fine, whatever," muttered Draco, feeling weird, and tired under the weight of boy hero over there's gaze. "If," he said suddenly, brightly, a sweet, innocent smile on his face.
"If…? Should I be worried?" Potter asked, suspiciously, licking his lips nervously at the angelic smile that to be fair rarely meant anything angelic.
"If you go and get me coffee whenever I want, for example, now?"
Potter gave him a blank look. "Wait, seriously?"
"He never jokes about coffee," offered Nemisis, slipping over to stand next to Draco.
"Eavesdropping is rude," replied Draco, but he couldn't help smiling. He knew he shouldn't be happy, hell was about to break loose, but he felt weird and warm, here in the library, with his little group of fighters, almost like a pride, but even warmer.
"Mmk, but Nyx wants me to force you to rest. Come on, da, Potter will go get you coffee and I'll let him into the lair when he's done. Come on. Nyx's orders," she said, shepherding Draco along insistently, making a dismissive shooing motion at Potter, who still looked a little like he wished all the Slytherins in the world would just melt on the spot to make his life easier.
"I'm assuming caffeine emergency is a decent excuse for letting Potter breach?" She asked cheekily, smiling as she practically dragged Draco over to his own bed, crossing her arms and glaring.
"I've trained you well. Tell Nyx not to fuss," he said yawning, adjusting himself to lay gingerly on his side, as to not put pressure on his burn. He let his eyes close, for a moment, while he waited, satisfied, for his coffee, but before he knew it, he drifted off to sleep, unaware that Nemisis had just gone to tell Potter to leave him alone until tomorrow otherwise Leto and Nyx, ever the mother hen's, might have seizures. For now, to let everyone get the sleep they'd need.