CHAPTER 28

The others in my year wake me up that next morning, and that's when I realize that there is one very good reason why I cannot skip class today: McGonagall may or may not be able to help me with Conjuration later, and I'll only know by showing up for breakfast. That alone forces me to get out of bed and get dressed for the day. When I get down to the common room, the Greengrass sisters smile and wave me over to them. Merlin, am I glad I decided to be friendly with other Slytherins instead of just Draco.

"Morning," I greet them.

"Morning," they answer at the same time. Astoria adds quietly, "Sorry about you and Draco."

"You heard too, huh?"

"Pansy was only too happy to spread the news on the Hogwarts Express when she found out."

"Of course."

"If it's any consolation," she says, "he wasn't good enough for you." She smiles broadly, linking her arm through her older sister's. "I mean, he's a pureblood supremacist, a bigot, and you're not. You can find someone so much better."

Is this why Draco didn't want me hanging around them? I smile sadly. "Daphne actually said some of the same things last night."

"Clearly, Astoria and I have had conversations about him in the past," Daphne says with a sly grin. "The disappointment we felt at the sight of a new transfer student immediately taking up with him and his cronies? Indescribable. We try to reach new Slytherins—typically first-years though—as soon as possible. I'm sorry you're hurting, but we can't be happier to have you away from him."

"Aren't you friends with Pansy?" I ask.

She shrugs. "We've had classes together every year since we were eleven. Friendly, I guess, but only because otherwise I'd have no one to talk to because she'd turn Tracey and Millicent against me. So you can imagine my joy at having another Slytherin girl in our year now who won't fall into line with her, thereby giving me a way out as well."

"Happy to be of service."

Astoria looks between the two of us, waiting for a moment to speak, and then says, "Would you like to walk with us to the Great Hall?"

I cheerfully accept, and we start that way.

"Anyway," Astoria says while we make our way out of the dungeon, "I wouldn't worry too much about it if I were you. Slytherins like him give our whole House a bad name."

"Slytherins like him and his group of disciples," Daphne growls.

In that moment, Draco and his posse enter the Great Hall and take their seats. Pansy grins wickedly when she sees me, making sure to take the seat beside Draco and scoot her chair as close to his as possible.

Astoria looks at me nervously, then bites her lip and proceeds with whatever she's nervous to ask, "You're probably tired of hearing this, of course, but what happened?"

"Family issues," I laugh miserably as we all take seats.

Though I've noticed a group of Slytherins hanging around the Greengrass sisters before, none of them join us and are instead much farther down the table. I don't ask why, but I can only assume it has something to do with me. Are they all worried that my views align with Draco's because we dated? A fair assumption on their part, really. The sisters don't seem the least bit upset that none of their usual friends have chosen to sit with them today.

"Everyone in his family is a pureblood supremacist. So you didn't lose much there," Astoria assures me.

"Yeah, like that aunt and uncle of his!" Daphne interjects. "What were their names again?" She taps her chin a few times. "You know the ones, Astoria. They went to Azkaban. There were three—the Lestranges!"

"Ah, right! Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange." Astoria looks at me sincerely. "They were such devout followers of You-Know-Who that at their trial before being sent to Azkaban, Bellatrix Lestrange screamed that it was an honor to go to Azkaban for her Dark Lord and that one day he would return. And if Potter speaks the truth, I would say she was right—You-Know-Who is back."

"But they're still locked away in Azkaban, so no worries there, of course," Daphne quickly adds.

"Yeah . . ." I think I'm going to be sick. "It's good I got away from him then, right?" My heart sinks. What would they think if they knew the truth? What would they say to me? Would they ostracize me?

"But enough about that," Astoria says. Can tell she tell something is bothering me? Could she possibly guess? "What class do you have next?"

"Transfiguration. You?"

"Herbology with Ravenclaw," she sighs.

"Not a fan, I gather?"

"She only dislikes it because it's the one class she struggles with," Daphne says.

Astoria blushes, and I say, "No shame there. None of Herbology makes sense to me. Fully prepared to fail that O.W.L."

Before she can reply, the owls swoop into the room. To my great surprise and joy, one of them drops an envelope onto my plate.

Come to my office at six this evening.

Professor McGonagall

A wide smile breaks across my face, but I don't look up at the staff table. "Good news then?" Astoria asks.

"Yeah—I'm getting help in a class, but I didn't think I'd be able to today."

When Daphne and I arrive in Transfiguration, it's not surprising to see Pansy sitting ridiculously close to Draco again. Daphne and I walk past them and take a seat in the front where Draco and I used to sit. Not three minutes later, someone takes the other seat next to me. I am surprised to look over and see a student I've never spoken to and have only seen in classes: Theodore Nott. "Morning, Rodgers," he says with a charming smile.

"Morning, Nott."

"So it's true then? Pansy wasn't just telling us some cock-and-bull story on the train?"

"Unfortunately, it's true, but I'd rather not talk about it because that seems to be the only thing people are interested in now. So if that's all you want to talk about, I suggest you move seats, because I refuse to say another word on the subject. Especially to someone I hardly even know."

"My apologies," though he does not sound the least bit sincere, "how about I change the subject? How are you faring in this class?"

"Really well, and yourself?"

"The Vanishing Spell is rather easy, if you ask me."

"Quiet down," McGonagall commands as she sweeps to the front of the room.

I pass Harry on my way to McGonagall's office that evening, and he pauses in the corridor before saying, "Hermione told us what you did the night the Weasleys and I had to leave."

"Oh, I mean . . . I didn't do much really, just lied to Umbridge."

"But you helped McGonagall keep Umbridge away from Dumbledore's office. Thanks."

I nod uncomfortably. "Um, yeah, it's nothing. Where're you headed? I thought for sure there'd be a D.A. meeting tonight."

"I have Remedial Potions," he grinds out.

Remedial Potions. I can't learn Occlumency because Snape can't teach Remedial Potions to two students at different times. I try to hide my slight anger at him, supposing that perhaps he needs it more than I do, but envy rears up in my chest that he gets to learn to hide his mind from Voldemort while I am left defenseless. He's not the only student who needs to learn to hide thoughts from Voldemort, after all. "Well, good luck," I manage to say evenly. "Snape won't like it if you're late."

He exhales loudly, and we go our separate ways.

I knock timidly on McGonagall's office door and enter once she gives permission. "Ah, Rodgers," she says as if she hadn't expected me to show up. "Until this morning at breakfast, I feared you might be dead inside of the Slytherin Dungeons."

"Snape—"

"Professor Snape."

"Professor Snape checked on me every day for that very reason. Did he not tell you?"

She smiles at me. "Of course he did, but given your history with him, it didn't seem farfetched to assume you were not being truthful with him during those check-ups."

I stifle a laugh but can't stop the smile from coming to my lips.

"Now"—her voice now very professor-like—"you know that Conjuration is one of the most difficult branches of Transfiguration, aside from Human Transfiguration. Have you been practicing on your own?"

"Yes, Professor. I can successfully Conjure a quill at will. Anything bigger than that though . . ." I just shake my head.

"I'm sure you remember the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell I assigned your class to write an essay on," she begins. I nod in agreement. "Good. That is the spell you will use to conjure any inanimate object. I assume you have been using this in your practices?"

"Yes, but writing about the theory of it made it seem a lot simpler than it really is."

"When I teach Conjuration to my N.E.W.T. classes, I never have them begin with Conjuring inanimate objects. For reasons unknown, two categories of creatures are more easily Conjured than others: snakes and birds. If I remember correctly, you can already Conjure a serpent, yes?" I nod silently. "The next thing you should learn is the Bird-Conjuring Charm. It is better to build up to the larger inanimate objects."

"And I should be able to eventually Conjure . . . almost anything?"

"Eventually. But for now, let's begin with the Avis, the Bird-Conjuring Charm." McGonagall proceeds to demonstrate the spell, a flock of birds shooting from the tip of her wand with a loud blast and a puff of smoke. The little birds flutter around the room before she waves her wand and makes them disappear. She makes it seem so easy.

I realize a moment too late that she is watching me expectantly, and I splutter out an uncomfortable apology before attempting the Bird-Conjuring Charm for the first time. And as I most feared, nothing happens. "Avis," I try again. My wand remains silent, and the room remains bird-free. My heart sinks. While I didn't really expect to accomplish this so quickly, for some reason, I had a glimmer of hope. Perhaps it's because I didn't want to fail in front of McGonagall or perhaps it's because I was hoping to finish this and be able to move onto Conjuring inanimate objects as quickly as possible, but either way I am disappointed in myself.

"You can't expect to be successful on your first try, Rodgers," McGonagall says patiently.

"I know."

"Keep trying."

For the next hour, I continue to fail at the Bird-Conjuring Charm despite McGonagall's advice and corrections. Part of me bitterly wonders if Harry is having any better success at his lessons with Snape right now. As much as I want to learn Conjuration, a greater part of me knows that hiding my mind from Voldemort is the most important thing right now. What would he do to me if he found out that I don't want to have his child? If he found out that I have been doing whatever I can to prove he does not control me? If he found out about my "act of defiance"?

"I'm afraid we're out of time," McGonagall says. "Practice on your own, and we will meet again soon."

"Yes, Professor." I leave her office and start towards the library, where I hope I can find Ron and Hermione—Harry is probably still with Snape. I never had a chance to apologize to Ron for the "Weasley Is Our King" mishap, and I feel like now is a good time to get that behind me once and for all. After entering the library, I find Hermione and Ron sitting beside each other, Hermione working diligently, Ron doing practically nothing.

I clear my throat. They look up at me, and Ron's face darkens. "Can I speak with you?"

"About what?" Ron says shortly.

Hermione snaps, "Ron, remember what I told you!" I'm guessing that me helping McGonagall get rid of Umbridge isn't something Ron really cares about when compared to the whole of Slytherin mocking him and his family and getting his brothers and best friend banned from Quidditch forever. It makes sense. I'd be a little angry about that too, I think—assuming, of course, that I had brothers and a family to care about.

"It's fine, Hermione," I say quietly. Ron looks slightly less angry.

Hermione casts Ron an ugly look, but he ignores her. "What do you want?" His voice still has traces of contempt, but he's not as rude as he was a moment ago.

"Firstly, I want to apologize for the part I played during the Quidditch match . . . you know, the song." Ron still doesn't seem appeased. "And I would like to make it up to you. Secondly, I wanted to see if your father is okay."

"He's fine," Ron replies coldly. "How do you expect to make something like that up? You're just as bad as the rest of the slimy Slytherins!" He stands and tries to storm off, but I grab his arm and turn him back. "Don't touch me."

"Let me make it up to you."

Hermione jumps in to stop Ron from snapping again. "What did you have in mind?"

"I will let you hit me with any spell, jinx, or hex that you so desire," I say to Ron. "So long as you don't try to murder me."

"Ron, don't—"

Neither of us pays her any attention. "Fine," he agrees. We silently walk to the Middle Courtyard. It's snowing. Ron, Hermione, and I make our way to the center, and I take my wand out of my pocket and place it in the snow. "Ready?" I nod at him.

I brace myself. "I don't know what this does, so if it kills you or maims you . . . well, so be it, I suppose." Before I have a chance to worry about this newfound realization, Ron shouts, "Titillando!" An invisible force shoves me to the snowy ground, tickling me—but it's a painful tickling, like someone is forcefully grabbing my sides and squeezing to the point of bruising. It's an odd hex for Ron to cast at me, but I don't really care at the moment. Despite the laughter emanating from me, tears of pain spring to my eyes—I can't breathe. The pain slowly starts becoming almost excruciating to the point I cannot keep my eyes open any longer and sit there gasping for breath, my legs curled into my chest. Then it stops. I start to get up when I hear Ron shout, "Locomotor Mortis!" My legs lock up.

"What the hell, Ron?" I yell at him, wiping snow from my face. "We agreed on one spell!"

"That spell was pointless; it doesn't count!"

"Ron!" But Hermione's admonishments do not stop him.

Globs of snow fling themselves into my face with enough force to knock me onto my back from my sitting position. I splutter, struggling again to breathe as the snow works its way up my nose to set my sinuses ablaze, but Ron does not let up. Finally, I manage to roll to my stomach and protect my face with my arms for a second before beginning to pull myself over to my wand amid a barrage of snowballs, pick it up, and say, "Protego!" The snow stops assailing me, and I counter the Leg-Locker Curse. I continue sitting there for a moment, pulling my knees up to protect myself in the event of the Shield Charm's failure, taking this time to catch my breath. Then I drop the shield and wipe my face and see Ron and Hermione approaching me. "Are we even now?" I ask.

"We're even," he says, offering me his hand. I accept, and he helps me to my feet.

We all venture back into the library, me completely covered in melting snow and slightly shivering. Part of me wants to leave them and go off on my own for a while, but my desire to have company outside of the Slytherin Dungeon overrides it. They don't try to make me move when I sit next to them. "Where's Harry?" I ask, even though I know exactly where he is—getting the Occlumency lessons from Snape that I need to face Voldemort.

Ron looks over at me. "He's . . . he's in Remedial Potions with Snape."

"Who decided to call it that?"

Hermione then looks over at me. "What do you mean?"

I lean close and whisper quietly enough that only the two of them can hear, "His Occlumency lessons with Snape, who decided to call it Remedial Potions?"

Both of their faces drop. "How . . . how do you—?"

"Over the holidays I tried talking Snape into teaching me, but he said that he was already teaching a student and that he couldn't because he would have to use the same cover for two students. I just pieced it together and came to the conclusion that the other student was Harry because what other student needs protection from You-Know-Who?"

"But you were with the Malfoys over the holidays," Ron says.

"For all of day and a half."

"Why'd you leave?" Ron asks. Apparently, he doesn't realize just how personal of a question that is. Either that or he doesn't care.

"Family issues." That's become the best answer to that question because I don't need to feel guilty about lying—it's simply a half-lie.

Hermione makes a disgusted face. "The Malfoys hate you too, huh?"

My breath catches in my throat. "They've always hated me. It came as no surprise."

"'Always'?" she says. "It sounds as if you've known them for a while."

"Because I have—well, we've known of each other for a while." I don't say that this is because the Malfoys were in charge of hunting me down. "We met—officially met—just before term started." I smile. "They weren't expecting it to be me who showed up with Draco."

"But how did you know of each other?" Ron asks. "You came from Durmstrang. Do they have connections there?"

"Unfortunately, the Malfoys have connections everywhere."

I continue sitting with them for a little while, Hermione and I working on homework. After finishing an essay for Potions, I pull my pocket watch from my robes and look at the time. "I really should be going now. I'll see the two of you later."

"Where did you get that?" Hermione asks me, looking at where my watch had just been.

"It was my great-uncle's," I say while I stand. She doesn't look satisfied, but I don't feel like going into detail about it. Doing so will only lead them to the conclusion that Draco and I are cousins, and I don't want to deal with the sympathetic looks. So I leave the library.

The moment I step into the Slytherin common room, Pansy ambushes me, forcing me into a corner with questions. "So are you going to say what happened between you and Draco?" she asks. I don't answer. "He won't tell me. Who ended it, you or him? You had no right to end it if you did . . ." I remain silent. "Why did Draco end it?"

I sigh. "If he didn't tell you, what makes you think I will?"

"I'll find out eventually so you might as well confess!"

With that, I shove past her and go to my bed.

I stop before crawling into the bed, my head slowly turning to my trunk almost against my will. Glancing around the room to make sure no one watching, I thrust my hand into the trunk and pull out the elixir that induces euphoria. I drip three small drops of the sweet-tasting potion into my mouth and swallow, then hide the vial deep under my things.

The elixir kicks in before I even draw my hand back out of the trunk. My head feels light. The torturous thoughts of Draco and my recent failure in Transfiguration flee my mind. The sorrow of my newfound family that has been pushing against my chest for nearly three weeks now is lifted. I fill my lungs with air, taking a deep breath that I've struggled to take since I discovered that Bellatrix is my mother, since I discovered that I am the daughter of Voldemort's most devout followers, since I realized that I am not as unlike Bellatrix Lestrange as I like to pretend that I am.

Relief is the only thing I feel, and it is the most overwhelmingly peaceful relief that I have ever experienced. It's like nothing in my life matters anymore. I just know that I will be fine, that I will make it through this. In fact, it's not even as big of a deal as I thought it was. So what if I'm the daughter of Death Eaters? If anything, that just makes me that much more important to Voldemort—it makes me more valuable, less replaceable. That, and the Lestranges are wealthy. I might be able to live a somewhat comfortable life after all of this. Surely Voldemort won't let me live like a Muggle when my parents have so much money, right? I can have a good life now.

I smile and turn to go back to the common room. Even Pansy doesn't break through the elixir's effects, not her relentless questions, nor her smug smile. Not even the sight of Draco gives me any pain.

I leave the room and walk through the dungeons to stop and knock on Snape's office door. "Enter," he says. I open the door and step inside. He sighs impatiently. "Did I not warn you about making it a habit to come to my office?"

His rude response to seeing me doesn't dampen my high spirits. Not even Snape can ruin the effect of the potion. This is so much better than I could ever have imagined. "I came to thank you, Professor."

"For what?" he says absently.

Though he surely knows exactly what I'm thanking him for, I say, "The Christmas gift, Professor." I smile at him. "It works wonders."

"I've no idea what you're talking about." He would have been convincing had I not known the truth. "Close the door when you leave." I smile at him one more time before leaving his office.

I go back to the common room and sit by the fire with Astoria and Daphne, who are working feverishly on what looks to be homework. Neither of them speaks, but they do look at me curiously for a moment. Can they see that something is different about me? I certainly hope not—I want the elixir to be my secret. No one else is allowed to touch it or even know about it. I don't want anyone trying to steal it or ask for any of it. It's mine, and it shall remain that way. Others can know about it when the vial is empty, when there is no danger of them trying to get their hands on it.

Draco and I make eye contact once, but we refrain from speaking to each other at all. And thanks to the elixir, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. When everyone else files out of the room to go to sleep, I follow for the first time. Draco and I used to stay in the room for a little while longer just so we could have a few minutes alone. But no matter how well this elixir has worked so far, I simply do not trust it enough to risk something like that, so I go with the rest of the fifth-year girls back to our dormitory. I fall asleep without any trouble.

When I wake up the next morning, I force myself not to use any more of the Elixir to Induce Euphoria. Had I known what would happen at breakfast, I probably would have taken the whole vial before going to the Great Hall.