Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed.
I make no money, I mean no harm.
Patchwork
Something Hard of Hearing
After a somewhat exciting chase, the Gryffindor Seeker caught the Snitch and Madam Hooch signalled the end of the match. Draco left the Quidditch field in a good mood. He looked at the gate at the distance and hesitated; it would be nice to go and see Blaise, but Ginny hadn't come to the game, so presumably she was visiting. And it would be awkward for Draco to crash their date.
He headed to the lake instead. A swift walk in the crisp, cold air would surely help him to take his mind of Ginny and Blaise sitting on a sofa next to each other, holding hands...
Draco gritted his teeth and sped up. He obviously needed to walk faster. He forcefully stuck his hands in his pockets and pulled them out almost immediately. The ground sloping towards the lake was slippery and a bath in the icy water would definitely not be pleasant.
"Did you see how Bill dived to avoid that Bludger?" an excited voice sounded from ahead and Draco chuckled. He obviously wasn't the only one out in this weather.
"Which one is the Bludger again?" asked another voice wearily. There was a gnarled tree with branches hanging low to the ground standing near the edge of the lake, and as Draco reached it, he saw the two children leaning on its trunk. The low branches sheltered the spot from the wind, making it a pleasant refuge in almost any weather.
"Hello Lizzy, Robert. Discussing the game, are we?"
"Lizzy is. I just don't get it. What are all the balls for, anyway?" Elizabeth and Draco went to explain the rules of Quidditch to the bewildered boy.
"I'll stick to my potions," he mumbled in the end.
"You should broaden your mind, Robert. There's world outside the cauldron, too!" Robert made to mock-slap his friend with a book he was holding and Elizabeth evaded him with a giggle. Draco sat down on the ground.
"So I take it you're going to try out for the team next year, won't you, Lizzy?" Draco asked.
"Do I have to wait for next year? I can fly, it's easy, like riding a horse." She scoffed.
"Unfortunately, yes. What position do you like the best? Chaser?"
"What? No! I'll be a Beater!" She stood up to show off a swinging movement. Draco looked up at the girl. As little as she was, he already knew she was surprisingly strong.
"You know what, I think I'll come watch. I'm sure Headmistress will let me in if I ask nicely." He made himself more comfortable. "Did you see how the Ravenclaw Beaters kept your best Chaser away from the goal posts?"
"Sure, but our two remaining Chasers and Seeker just had more space..."
Robert sighed and settled down with his book. It was an ancient Potions textbook he had checked out of the library. He frowned as he started reading. Old English was so funny!
It was shortly past three in the afternoon when Neville dropped the last load of books from the bottom shelf on the table. Both Hermione and Snape had been working through booklets, textbooks, tomes, and even manuscripts with little to no success - no success at all according to Snape, who didn't think a hair-taming spell was worthy of attention. Hermione, however, had copied that one. Other than that, they only paused for about ten minutes when - at Neville's insistence - house elves brought them sandwiches and hot coffee. They complained about the forced break, but wolfed down the food all the same.
"Nothing," Snape commented on the thin unlabeled book he had been inspecting. "Unless you wish to inflict upon others a revolting skin disease." He handed the book to Neville and prodded the weather ball with his wand. The forecast didn't change.
"Oh, I think I've read that... Oh!" Hermione exclaimed and pushed a dusty tome on the table closer to the light. The pages reeked unpleasantly and seemed to rustle with malice. Snape looked up with one eyebrow raised in expectation.
"The Cautious Cage is a recursive defensive measure which can be placed over a wizard or a group of wizards performing a long-term spell to prevent others from learning about its making."
"That's it," Snape stated quite calmly. "Go on, Granger."
"That's all there is." All the excitement vanished from her voice. "Just the explanation of what it is about. Not the spell itself."
Snape sprang up and started pacing the room. He was limping, but didn't seem to notice, or at least didn't mind.
"Cautious Cage... Cautious Cage by... does it say who invented it?" he asked.
"No." Hermione looked down and read the paragraph again, then scanned the page for footnotes. "No, it doesn't." But Snape was no longer listening.
"Claudius Crescent... no, he wasn't much for defence. Marvin the Malevolent?" The tome rustled its pages. The nasty reek intensified.
"He's the author of this one," Hermione noted. Snape shut the tome and resumed his pacing. The book growled in discomfort and Hermione patted its spine.
"Neither Marvin... Dillicius Dormel? No, no... Felipe Fiddlebuck? Not quite."
"Is alliteration a prerequisite for writing a book on Dark Arts?" Neville wondered aloud.
"Most of them changed their names to sell better. Xaverius Ygor Zanthec?" Snape picked up a book he had already checked and scanned the index again, then dropped it on the table. The book cried out in protest. "Not him. Alan... Bryenna... Cecile... Estelle Eloquent of Eire!" He snapped his fingers.
"I've never heard of her," Hermione voiced what Neville was thinking.
"No wonder. She wasn't as eloquent as she claimed to be. Her writing was horrible. But she did have many good ideas. Most of them were published by her lovers. They usually took notes of her rambling, then made a fortune on publishing and moved on without her. The Cautious Cage, however, was generally assumed to be useless, and therefore left for Estelle to put in writing." He wheeled at Neville. "Where did the Horrible Hexes go?"
"The Hog's Head, Madam Rosmerta doesn't like them," Neville replied automatically.
"HEXES, NOT HAGS!" Hermione jumped in her seat and Neville disappeared in the hall, returning moments later with the requested book. Snape snatched it from his hands.
"But the spell isn't there..." Hermione muttered.
"No, but the book it is in is listed... here." He jabbed the index finger on the page. "Spells that Defy Snitches."
"Isn't that about Quidditch?"
"As I said earlier, poor Estelle was no artist when it came to wording her thoughts. What time is it?"
"Twenty past four," Neville supplied.
"I better be going, then. Miss Granger, if you could check the indexes of bookstores to see if any carries the book? I no longer have it."
"Umm... okay..."
Snape put on a heavy cloak and turned from the door with a smirk. "Potter and Black decided to learn to make origami from the pages, then let Pettigrew practice Transfiguration on the mangled pieces, and for all I know, they fed the remnants to Lupin on a full moon night. I shall be back shortly."
As the door fell shut behind him, Neville picked up the weather ball. The sleet was falling almost horizontally in the wind and the glass was icy to touch.
"Do you know how much in the future that thing shows?" he asked Hermione. She glanced up from Snape's personal pile of press she was already riffling through.
"It's set to now. A hairstyling magazine? What does Professor Snape use that for?" She tossed the offending magazine aside.
"Ads looking for complicated potions, mostly. That's beastly weather in Wiltshire right now, isn't it?" He shook the weather ball and set it on the table. "Can I help you?"
"Look for bookselling issues in this..." They worked quietly for a few minutes, perusing each issue. Then Hermione perked up.
"Wait... isn't Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire?"
"Well spotted!" Neville replied cheerfully.
"How nearby is that pub Tisha Flooed in? Draco never said anything about a pub nearby. Shouldn't we go pick her up? I'm sure I could Apparate both of us."
"Calm down, Hermione. Already taken care of."
"Homenum revelio," Snape repeated resolutely, pointing his wand firmly at the entrance. There was no reaction. He quickly recounted the wards placed upon the property - wards upon wards, it seemed - but no, none of the wards made it impossible to reveal the presence of a visitor inside. The house was empty.
Tisha had already left.
He turned around and looked across the grounds. The sleet was making it difficult to see anything farther than a few feet - and that was including the sphere of quiet Snape had cast about himself. Luckily Snape had placed a trace of a sort on his youngest colleague, and he had never bothered to lift the spell. He raised his wand again.
It still took him a minute to find the glowing footsteps. Tisha hadn't used the front door; the footsteps led from the garden and across the open field. In the distance, he finally made out a tiny dark figure battling the weather. She was about to pass a group of bushes and Snape concentrated on his destination.
"Ow!" He had Apparated so close to Tisha that she'd bumped into him and he grabbed her shoulders for balance. The hood slipped off of her head.
"Severus?" For a second he enjoyed the amazement in her upturned face. Then he cleared his mind and focused. He dug fingers into Tisha's shoulders and - distantly - felt her stiffen. The world compressed, blacked out, and rushed back. They were standing at Hogwards gates.
"Ohh..." Or Snape was standing. Tisha was staggering on her feet as if drunk.
"Tisha? Laetitia?" Snape pulled the Squib up by the shoulders and stared into her eyes, searching for signs of injury. Apparating with a living companion required extra concentration - more so since Tisha couldn't contribute to the magic on any level. Even when done perfectly, there was always a small chance of error. But there was no blood, no visible wound, not even a missing eyebrow.
"Are you hurt? Tisha?" She shook her head and moaned, then leaned onto him.
"Magic... wards..." she forced out and Snape finally understood.
Confident again, he tapped the gate with his wand to open it and pushed Tisha through. As soon as she passed onto Hogwarts grounds, she sighed in relief.
"Thank you."
"Very well. I believe you forgot to check the weather forecast?" Snape stated curtly. He turned to close the gate behind them again, then set out for the castle. Tisha jogged to catch up with him, pulling the cloak tighter around herself. There was no sleet here, but the wind was still icy.
"I didn't think it would get that bad," she admitted. "And I planned to leave earlier. How did you know I...?"
"You really need to plan your outings better. That is an hour-long walk you were going to take."
"Well, I've taken it before," she mumbled, embarassed. They reached the castle in silence and stepped inside. The Entrance Hall was empty, although a clatter sounded from the Great Hall. Tisha looked uncertainly at Snape. He shook out his coat, then Vanished the water from the floor.
"I need to Floo Myra, she would be worried," Tisha remembered with a start. Snape scoffed.
"As she should be. Good night." Mind already back to research, Snape headed down to the dungeons. Tisha stood in the middle of the Hall, dumbstruck, water dripping from her coat into a puddle at her feet.
"Good night," she replied slowly and turned to the Marble Staircase. It occured to her that it was still early in the afternoon and she laughed to herself. She took off her coat and looked down on the floor. She should clean it, before Filch harrasses some innocent student over the mess.
"Oh! Professor Malfoy!" It was one of her fifth year students who had just left the Great Hall with a friend Tisha didn't know.
"Hello, Miss Phooley," she smiled and the girl beamed at her.
"Are you going to Vanish the water? We have just learned the spell this week. Can I try it?" Phooley dropped her voice to a whisper. "I mean, I know we shouldn't cast spells in the corridors..."
"Well, if you've just learned the spell, you need practice. Go ahead, under supervision." Tisha quickly looked around. There was no-one else around, the doors to the Great Hall were closed. She just hoped Phooley had paid attention during class.
The girl whisked out her wand and stepped forward. "Evanesco!" Most of the water disappeared. Phooley hesitantly looked over the remaining dripplets.
"Very good!" Tisha cried. "I think you've got it. Don't worry about the details, that will come with practice. Are you going to your Common Room?" She steered them to the staircase and chatted with them until she turned to her rooms. Now unoccupied, her mind turned back to the Malfoy Manor and the house elves living there. She had to look after them. They were all too young - except Tibby, who was too old - to run the household themselves.
"There you are!" Tisha forced worries about the manor out of her mind and smiled.
"Hello, Draco."
"Where have you been all day? I was looking for you all over," her nephew complained as he hopped off the windowsill. Tisha spoke the password and held the door open for him.
"I was in London, helping a friend of mine... clear out a house after her parents. Her father died recently and her mother moved into a nursing house," she lied quickly. "The house is a mess, I'll have to go help her a few more weekends to get it all done. All the furniture has to be cleared out, cleaned, and all the stuff either bagged for dumpster or packed for shipping to whoever wants it."
"I could help you." Draco sat down on her couch and looked at her expectantly. "We've just started covering household charms. I bet Hermione has them all mastered already."
"My friend's a Muggle. No magic where she could notice. And before you offer anyway, our talk would probably bore you to death. Tea?"
"Yes please." Unsuprisingly, Draco wasn't really invested in spending his free time on boring chores.
"So, did you watch the game? Was it a good one?" She put the kettle on and let Draco prattle on about Quidditch.
When Snape returned to his rooms, Granger and Neville were each writing a letter.
"It's Saturday," Granger explained as Snape opened his mouth to ask. "Flourish and Blotts are open, but the others aren't, so we're writing enquiries about the book. Flourish and Blotts don't carry it." She finished the letter, read it over, nodded her head in approval, and set the parchment down. She then whisked out her wand and copied the letter onto a pile of other parchments prepared on the table.
Neville set aside his finished letter and picked up one of the copies.
"Well, I'll just address these and take them to the owlery, shall I?" he said weakly.
"Excellent," Granger said happily. Snape glared at her. "If that's all you had planned for today, Professor, I have tons of homework to do. Good bye." She collected her bag and walked out of the door.
"You're lucky, Severus, she forgot to assign you your homework."
"Are you nearly done with the letters?" Snape poured himself a whiskey and stood over Neville.
"You can sit in the other armchair, you know," Neville said without looking up. "They are not labeled or anything. But yes, I am nearly done." He rolled up the last parchment and stood up. Snape sat down in the armchair, summoned a stool to put his leg up, and sipped from his glass.
"Everything alright?" Neville queried. Snape frowned at him. The youth had plopped down on the rug again.
"The other armchair is vacant now. I understand you refused to sit in Miss Granger's lap while she was occupying it, but it is fully at your disposal right now."
"I wasn't really worried. Just suprised Tisha didn't drop by. You did bring her back to the castle, didn't you?"
"She decided to start a Squib colony in the Forbidden Forest." Now that he thought about it, it was uncharacteristic of Tisha to leave him alone and go her own way.
"All by herself? I didn't know Muggles were able to reproduce through parthenogenesis."
"Squibs."
"Same thing, technically."
"Now you sound like Granger." It was true that Neville imitated Granger's voice quite well. "Only more annoying, if such a thing were possible."
"Why, thank you!" Neville touched his heart and wiped off imaginary tears with the other hand. "I'm flattered!"
"You are also becoming severely disturbed. That was not a compliment."
"Of course not," Neville retorted lightly. "You wouldn't know a compliment if it crawled out of your wand and jinxed your elbow."
"Where did you study all this goodly speech? From your friend, the horrible hagsy?"
"That was only a brief encounter. She paid me a compliment but Madam Pomfrey was able to cure it." Neville checked his watch. "I better get the letters to the owlery before all the owls leave for the night. Anything else you need to owl?"
"Hmm," Snape mused, "let me think it over. I cannot come up with anything so quickly."
"That's what I thought." Neville sprung to his feet and patted Snape's shoulder. "See you tomorrow." He walked out. Snape remained seated, glass in hand, and watched the pile of rolled-up parchments pensively.
"How far did you get?" he asked when the door behind him opened quietly.
"The Entrance Hall. Walking is good for health, you know." With that Neville picked up the letters and left again.
Later that night the Veterans found themselves in their Common Room. Hermione had a pile of books opened on her desk and metodically worked through her assignments. Neville was reading a chapter on household Charms. Draco was working on his Transfiguration essay, doodling on the edge every time he stopped writing to think about the next sentence. After the first half-hour of work, his essay looked like a modern art exhibit.
"Draco, do you still have the robes you wore to breakfast today?" Neville asked suddenly.
"Of course I still have them, I'm not frivolous enough to throw away good robes just because their dirty! I'm sure they can be cleaned."
"You're sure the elves can clean them," Hermione injected with a touch of disapproval in her voice.
"What I meant is, are they still stained? Or have the house elves cleaned them yet?"
"Hmpf." Draco stood up and disappeared in the bedroom. He returned moments later with the robes. "Here they are, as dirty as this morning. What do you need them for?" he asked curiously as Neville spread the robes on a free armchair to display the stain properly. He then raised his wand.
"To try out this cleaning spell for mustard stains. You were eating your sausage with mustard, weren't you?"
"I'll have you know this is my favourite set!" Draco said, alarmed. "These spells can go wrong, horribly wrong!"
"Oh, shut up." Neville stood over the robes with an open book in one hand and wand in the other. He practised the movement several times before taking a deep breath and casting the spell. Draco snatched the robes right away and inspected them.
"Well?" Neville asked. Hermione put down her quill and watched them with interest.
"There's still this greasy stain right here..."
"Give them back, the chapter has several spells for that, too."
"Have you tried this before?" Draco clutched the robes protectively. "On your own clothes, for example?"
"Why would I try it on my own clothes when I can use yours?" Neville retorted innocently. "Besides, I didn't spill breakfast over myself." Hermione laughed.
"Is that an agreement to fix my robes if Neville damages them?" Draco turned to her expectantly.
"No, I'm just laughing at you. Neville is skilled in Charms, anyway. You have nothing to worry about." She bent back over her work.
"Oops..." Neville said and Draco leapt back to the armchair and picked up the garment.
"What oops? What did you do?" He frantically searched the robes for damage. Neville roared with laughter.
"It's alright, I got the greasy stain out. Just messing with you." But Draco lit up his wand and continued his search until he was certain his robes were in mint condition.
"Oh, is this what you do all day, Draco? Fuss over your wardrobe?" Neville teased.
"I'm a social creature. I need to look good when talking to people. There." He folded the robes. "But that brings up another interesting topic, what where you two doing today? I didn't see you all day."
"I went to the game. I'm sure you did, too."
"I was working with Professor Snape on that curse thing," Hermione said.
"I met the two little Gryffindors after the game," Draco said, abandoning his essay completely. "Robert and Lizzy, do you remember them?" Both Hermione and Neville shook their heads, but Draco didn't notice. "Robert is a lost case, but Lizzy wants to be a Beater," he continued. "She seems to have her way with a broom - I didn't see her yet myself, but Madam Hooch claims she's a natural. So I got a permission to give her some extra flying lessons when the pitch is free, since I was already talking to her. To Hooch, I mean." Hermione looked up in surprise, then smiled as she returned to the essay.
"Wait - you can do that? First-years aren't even allowed to try out for the team," Neville exclaimed.
"I'm an adult wizard entrusted by the teacher," Draco replied smugly. "I wonder if Madam Hooch needs an assistant?" he mused aloud.
"Teachers can allow students who are of age to supervise younger students during practice of any subject," Hermione said. "It says so in Hogwarts, A History. You should read it." She looked up in thought and added, "You should read more anyway. You would learn a lot."
"What would be the fun in that?" Draco sprawled over the armchair and conjured a small ball. "Hey, Neville, can I borrow your broomstick now and then? The school ones are lousy."
"What? Ah, sure." Neville returned to his reading. "But it's probably not as good as your spare one," he remarked after a moment's consideration.
"I'm not even sure where that ended up," Draco said dismissively. Although he was sure: the one he had brought from the manor was the spare one. His best broom was still somewhere in the storage room, farther from the entrance than the spare one had been. About one thing he would be sorry to lose when he finally got rid of the house.
"Once again, Professor..."
"I'm not patrolling." Snape pointedly averted his eyes from Tisha, but he could still hear her robes rustling. She matched his pace.
"I wanted to thank you for coming for me in the afternoon," she said finally.
"Go ahead, then," he replied. Tisha laughed.
"Well, thank you, Severus, I really appreciate it." Some uneasiness seemed to lift off of her as she said it. Snape glanced at her. She looked happy.
"I hope it was a productive visit."
"Rather. I had an enlightening chat with Narcissa's painting. Cleaned too little with too much glamour. Discovered house elves in the kitchen."
"I assume there were house elves in the kitchen even before the war," Snape said.
"These used to be grown-ups." She then proceeded to describe the elves in as much detail as she remembered. Snape paid her close to no attention, listening intently to strange sounds coming from a shadowed alcove between two windows a little ahead of them.
"Wait." With his left hand, he stopped her while he himself took two more steps. Something moved in the alcove. Something that did not make Tisha shiver with fear.
"It's not..."
"McKenzie and Clayworth! That's fifteen points from Gryffindor and fifteen points from Ravenclaw for wandering the castle after curfew. Back to your respective common rooms - the Gryffindor Tower is that way, McKenzie - at once." The two students fleetingly pressed hands in a mute goodnight and quickly departed.
"Lovebirds," Snape scoffed. "I fail to understand what is the benefit of holding hands in cold halls."
"Do you?" Tisha queried with a soft smile.
"If they at the very least..." He didn't get to say what he would expect the students to do, because at this moment Tisha slipped her palm into his hand, burning a hole in it through which, as it seemed, all words fell out.
When three hours later, after finishing the patrol and walking Tisha to her room, Snape passed the House Points hourglasses in the Entrance Hall, he paused to look at the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw gems. As if he weren't certain whether he should give back the points or take away even more.
Ginny moved into the Potions classroom and yawned. It was just after lunch, she felt full and drowsy. Snape glared at the class from the blackboard, but they were Seventh years, mostly used to his glaring, so they just quietly moved to their usual places.
"You will be working in pairs today," Snape announced. "As it appears, the Ministry does not have enough confidence in your abilities as to provide enough restricted ingredients for each of you to work on your own potion. Mr. Harper, you stay in the front row." The Slytherin shivered. He bent over his assigned desk to appear smaller - not an easy task, he was nearly as tall as Snape.
Ginny looked around and settled next to another Slytherin in the back row.
"Hi Charity." The girl mumbled something unintelligible in response. Charity was a quiet and industrious girl. She could have done well in Ravenclaw, Ginny mused, but she also had a drive to prove herself.
It was still a few minutes before the lesson began, but they both quietly studied the instructions for the potion. It wasn't any from the textbook. Snape didn't provide the name, but there was nothing new at this point. He would ask them to determine the possible use from the recipe - and then call them idiots because no-one would get it right.
Ginny looked over the table. Charity had already taken out scales, a set of measures, a silver knife, and various tools that may come in handy. Ginny quickly followed suit.
"You're missing a few weights," she noted.
"I can work it out," Charity replied defensively.
"It's okay, I have the full set. Not the newest, but still accurate."
There was a timid knock on the door. Everyone's head turned. It was Patricia Pitty. Without saying a word, Snape took a book from his desk, handed it to the girl and closed the door.
"The lesson begins now," he announced. "Get your wolfsbane and boomslang skin now, I am not leaving these ingredients in the open for you fools to tamper with them."
"I'll get them," Charity offered and moved before Ginny could reply. Ginny in the meantime went to get the other ingredients. When she returned, Charity was already slicing the boomslang skin.
"Do we need so much wolfsbane?" Ginny asked.
"Oh... No, I must have grabbed too much." Charity scooped up the rest in a clear phial. She looked up. Harper was still measuring out restricted ingredients under Snape's close supervision. "There's still time, let me finish this. Get the beetles, will you?"
Ginny busied herself with preparing black beetle eyes. She liked Charity, she thought to herself. She was quiet. A little bossy - or rather short - but she did her share of work. What more could she ask for in a partner?
As she slowly dropped the eyes in the cauldron, one by one, she forgot all about the extra wolfsbane.
A/N: Ha! I got another Shakespeare quote in there!