A Meal With The Viper

The blonde girl came in late to breakfast, slinking along until she was behind Malfoy's chair. She bent down, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and murmuring in his ear for a few minutes before finding a seat herself. He seemed irritated her presence, and went back to arguing with Blaise Zabini as soon as she'd let go of him.

Harry frowned. "Hermione. That girl. She was at the dance last night. She got Malfoy to challenge me. Wasn't that her?"

Hermione shrugged and peered across the hall, then nodded. "Yes. That's Grace D'arcangelo. I think she's a couple years ahead of us. She spends a lot of time in the library; I've met her once or twice. She makes me nervous."

"Hm?" Ron looked up. "Why?"

"Well, she's a perfectly nice girl, I guess, but...I don't know. She's terribly secretive. And she's a Slytherin, and I don't think any of us have reason to trust them, on top of the fact that her father's very closely associated with the Malfoys."

"Oh. All right then."

They dropped the subject. It seemed that nobody in the school was terribly comfortable with discussing the events of the dance, though they weren't quite sure why. The three went on eating and chatting about classes, their friends, and how much homework Ron and Harry had, until Harry got the unpleasant feeling that he was being watched. It was nobody at the professors' table; nor was it Malfoy. He frowned, looking all over the room until he spotted Grace near the end of the Slytherin table. They locked eyes.

His scar prickled.

She smiled a slow, strange smile and then looked away.

***

Later that day, the three friends were in the library, hunched over reports that they were supposed to be working on for various teachers, when the sound of an uneven step approaching made them look up. "Someone there?"

"Here." A thin, pale hand holding a quill reached around Ron's shoulder and crossed off a number on his paper, writing a different one underneath it. "You want six ounces of powdered wolf's teeth. Eight would make it blow up in your face."

"Uh...thanks."

"No trouble." Grace moved around to look at Harry's paper, and he noticed from the corner of his eye that she walked with a slight limp. "Yours looks fine. Nothing to unexpectedly make it go bang. You might want to watch out, though, when you get to the fwooper tongues. Make sure you get the mixing-in instructions right for those." She spoke in a slow and languid manner, her voice in the mid-range, and she sounded as if this was something she'd memorized quite a long time ago, and as if it didn't interest her terribly.

She moved around again, and Harry finally got a good look at her face. It, like her hand, was thin, near to gaunt, and pale, making her mouth one of the few hints of color, even though it wasn't much pinker. Her eyes were deep brown under oddly shaped eyebrows. After a moment, he realized that they were strangely shaped because bits of them were missing, probably because of mistakes in Potions like the one she'd warned Ron about. There was a thin white scar under her eyes, tracing along her cheekbones and over the bridge of her nose. Her hair, if it had been washed that day, would have been a lustrous golden blonde, but as it was, it was slightly dirty, and there was a twig stuck in it, forgotten next to her ear. She wasn't a pretty girl, but not easily forgettable. Noticing him watching her, she flashed that strange smile, and again he felt his scar twinge.

Hermione fidgeted as Grace peered over her shoulder. "This should be right. I've worked through the calculations five times."

Grace shrugged. "It looks all right to me, Granger. But don't take my word for it; I did terribly in Arithmancy the one year I tried to take it. Still, I think it looks fine. If you want someone to check it, try Jessica Oberon in Ravenclaw. She's very good."

"Thanks." Hermione fidgeted again, nervously. "Uhm, what brings you over here?"

"Oh?" The older girl gestured to a large, ominous-looking book that she held in her other hand. "I needed to return a book to the Restricted Section."

"What book?" The other girl leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the spine.

"Moste Potent Potions." Grace grinned, but it wasn't a large grin. "It's for a project."

***

Harry sat curled up in his favorite armchair next to the fire in the Common Room, reading Quidditch Through The Ages and absentmindedly petting Crookshanks. He turned a page, and was surprised to see a portrait of a blond, thin-faced wizard in electric blue Quidditch robes. Not that he hadn't seen the picture before, but now he realized that this wizard must have been a relative of Grace's.

Grace. That slow, strange smile. He shuddered.

***

"Dragon, love, what would you say if I asked you to dinner?"

Not looking up from his homework, Draco Malfoy replied, "I would say, when, where, why, who else would be there, and are you planning on poisoning anyone?"

"The Grey Witch, this week-end at six o'clock, because I feel like having dinner with someone. I'm not sure if anyone else will be there, but Harry Potter might be, and no, I'm not poisoning anyone. And I've gotten permission from Professor Snape and, just to be sure, Professor Dumbledore."

"Pity. Potter deserves a good dose of poison. So why should I say yes if Potter's going to be there?"

"For my sake, graceful one. I've been working very hard this past month, and I think I'd like to do something nice with some friends. And also for our parents' sake. My dad would like it if he knew I'd been doing something social, and I'm sure your parents would love to hear that we've done something together again."

"...oh, all right."

"And you promise not to kill Potter yourself? Or seriously incapacitate him?"

"...I promise."

***

Harry's stomach growled fitfully. He was terribly hungry. He'd eaten quite well at dinner, so he wasn't sure why he was still so hungry, but he just put it down to the stress of having had to finish that essay for Professor Sinistra and crawled out of bed, fishing his Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk and snatching his glasses.

He was coming back from the kitchens feeling much better when he heard the floor creak behind him. Startled, he jumped, and the Invisibility Cloak fell off.

Professor Flitwick peered at him sleepily. "Potter, what are you doing walking about in the corridors?"

"I, uh-"

"Helping me, Professor." Grace had appeared like a ghost behind him. "I was working on a project for Professor Snape in one of the empty classrooms and I asked him to help me. We were just taking the finished product downstairs. I'd have done this during the day, but the potion requires the presence of moonlight to get the mixing right." She held up a small, corked vial and a handwritten note.

"Two of you for that?"

"It's a volatile substance, and I didn't make very much of it. We've been trading off each corridor." The calmness with which she told these lies was amazing. "I apologize for waking you, sir."

"Uh, yes, me too, sorry, Professor."

Professor Flitwick smiled faintly, took the note from Grace, and examined it. "I suppose this is in order. Good girl, then. Good lad. You get that downstairs. I'll forget about this."

As soon as Flitwick was gone and they were several halls away, Harry started whispering to Grace. "Thanks for covering for me."

"No trouble. Here, carry this." She handed him the vial. "Be careful with it. I don't want it to break. I've been working on that potion for a month now. I needed to talk to you, anyway."

"Why?"

"I wanted to know if you'd like to come to dinner with me in Hogsmeade this Saturday."

"Uh..."

"It'd be at the Grey Witch, at six o'clock. If you say yes, then it would be you, me, and Draco Malfoy, who's already accepted the invitation."

"Malfoy?"

"I know you don't get along. But I made him agree to a temporary truce."

"Um...sure."

"And you'll have a truce with Draco? Just for the meal?"

"Yeah..." He eyed her suspiciously. What in the world was this?

"Lovely." She smiled. "I've been slaving away all month at this project for Potions. I thought it would be refreshing to have dinner out with one or two people. I've gotten permission for it from Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore, and I'll check with Professor McGonagall just to be sure."

Harry nodded mutely, wondering what he'd just gotten himself into.

***

"Hermione!"

Hermione jumped, alarmed. "Oh! Harry. Hello. What?"

"I need to know anything that you know about Grace D'arcangelo."

She looked puzzled. "Why?"

"Because she's asked me to dinner on Saturday, and I said yes, but I've no idea why she would."

The girl in the armchair stared at him. "She what?"

"Asked me to dinner. Me and Malfoy. She had me promise to keep a truce with him, just for the meal."

"Well, that's...unexpected." Taking a deep breath, she gestured to another chair. "Sit. I'll tell you what I know."

He sat, watching her intently.

"Ok. She's two years ahead of us. You know what she looks like. Her best friend is that girl in Ravenclaw, Jessica Oberon, but she spends a lot of time with Malfoy and his friends. Her best subjects are Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Charms; I heard that she's been doing O.W.L. level work in Potions since her third year, and that she does lots of extra credit work for that class, but that other than her favorites, she averages grades that are only barely passing. Padma Patil told me about a rumor that she poisoned someone once after they got in a fight, and from what I've heard about her ways of getting revenge, I wouldn't put it past her. Her dad's some kind of mad inventor who makes really strange things on commission, and Malfoy's dad is one of his best customers, so he's pretty loaded. He does stuff for students for free, too, if it interests him and if you can get Grace to owl him about it. I don't know about her mom, I think she's dead. Apparently she's nice to people she likes, though, and you've seen how she acts around Malfoy. And that's all I know. Where are you going to dinner?"

Harry blinked, startled by the abrupt question. "Uh...the Grey Witch."

"Oh, wow." Hermione looked amazed. "That's great! She's really going for the good stuff. That restaurant's famous." She leaned forward and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. Even if Malfoy is there."

***

"Harry!" Grace smiled at him, and it looked odd on her thin face. Her hair was curled and pulled back, and she was wearing a black silk gown, over which seemed to have been laid a large silver spiderweb. She wore no makeup.

Draco was standing next to her, also in black, though his was velvet. He was eying Harry's green robes disdainfully. "Hullo, Potter."

"Hello, Malfoy."

Eyes narrowing, Grace glanced from one to the other, then nodded. "Shake hands. You both promised a truce."

They shook, grudgingly.

"Good. Come on, then. We've got reservations. I've signed us all out with Filch."

The walk down to Hogsmeade and the Grey Witch was uneventful, and they arrived fifteen minutes early for their reservation. Once there, Grace had them wait while she spoke with the maitre d'. "D'arcangelo, party of three. I reserved for six o'clock."

"Yes, madam. Would you like a drinks list with your menu?"

"Please."

"Then, please, lady and gentlemen, right this way."

They were led to a curtained booth decorated in deep reds and blues, with the occasional splash of black or shade of grey. The table was already set for three, and instead of a candle, a globe full of fairies hung over it, apparently from nothing at all. At the maitre d's gesture, they took their seats, Grace sitting against the back of the booth. This left Harry and Draco facing each other, and they both only barely managed to suppress glares.

The maitre d' bowed. "I trust that the lady and the gentlemen will be comfortable here."

Grace nodded. "This is very good. Thank you, sir."

"Excellent. Enjoy your meal." He left, drawing the curtain behind him.

There was a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence as they settled into their seats, but then Grace smiled again. "If you'll allow me, I will order drinks."

Neither of the boys objected to this. She opened her drinks list and scanned it for a moment, then nodded, leaning in towards something in the center of the table, made of glittering silver wire. "One bottle of your best white wine and one bottle of the 1857 Corinthian Red."

Two bottles appeared on the table. Harry blinked. Draco seemed to be trying to hold down a look of surprise. Grace chuckled. "That's what you order drinks and entrees from. The menus only show one course at a time. For courses other than the entrees, you talk to your plates. Could you two hand me your glasses? The thinner ones?"

As she poured wine, she talked more. "So how have your classes been going?"

Both boys muttered something along the lines of, "Well."

"You're both in Care of Magical Creatures, right? That's one of my favorites. Do you enjoy it?"

"Hagrid's a madman. I don't even know if those things he's got us working with are legal!" Draco scowled.

"What, the Springing Hartpards?" Harry frowned. "I don't know if it's just a question of legality. Are there any of them existing besides the ones we have?"

"Oh, yes, plenty. They're just not common here." Grace passed their glasses back, full of white wine. "I find them quite fascinating, actually. Did you know, I found out that they're not as aggressive if you feet them roaches. Do you both like shrimp?"

There was a surprised assent from both boys.

"Good." She spoke into the silver thing again. "I'd like a large fried shrimp entree, and a smaller one of calamari. Please include the sauce in a separate cup."

The food appeared. Harry paused. "...what's calamari?"

"Tiny octopus. They're very good." She offered him one. "Here. Dip it in the tomato sauce. You'll love it. Drink your wine, too, both of you. You won't get in trouble. Trust me."

The meal went on surprisingly well, the slightly strained conversation being mostly restricted to happenings around the school.

Suddenly, in the middle of the main course, Grace asked an unexpected question. "So. The dance. What did you think of it?"

This prompted a pregnant, uncomfortable pause before Malfoy spoke. "It was...interesting. Not what I expected. Interesting."

"And you, Harry?"

Harry did not reply. He seemed to be staring fixedly at a small design on the tablecloth. Grace dropped the subject, smiling to herself.

At the beginning of the last course, Grace asked for their other glasses. "You don't want white wine with whatever you're getting for the last course. Here, you make your orders, and I'll pour."

The two boys, being occupied with choosing and ordering their last course, did not notice that, after having poured the wine, Grace added a drop or so of something from a vial to each glass. Nor did they find it suspicious that she had to leave the table just as they'd started on that course. "Draco, if you'll let me out, please, I've got to go talk to the maitre d' again. And both of you, do drink that wine. It's very good."

They obeyed quietly, making faces at the wine's taste but swallowing it anyway, and as soon as she'd gone, Malfoy spoke up. "So. Potter. What do you think of Grace?"

"She's...very nice, I suppose. She sorts of makes me twitchy," and Harry only wondered for a moment why he was telling that to Malfoy. "You've known her for longer, what do you think of her?"

"Me? She scares me shitless. I've known her since I was three, and she's still scary."

"...why?"

"She's a cold bitch, that's why. She always knows exactly what she's doing, and it's always in her interest."

"But don't you do the same thing?"

"Yeah, but I'm not also obsessed with power. She's the only person I know who asked for a tutor at home, just so she could be ahead of everyone at Hogwarts. Worse than your Mudblood friend, that way."

Harry stiffened and resisted the urge to punch him. "Don't call her that."

"No chance, Potter." A momentary confusion flickered over Malfoy's face before he continued. "So. Since I promised Grace that I wouldn't kill you, we might as well try to have a civilized conversation. Do you like the restaurant?"

"It's amazing. I've never tasted food this good, even at Hogwarts. I expect you've been here before, though."

"No. It's new to me. The Grey Witch is the kind of place that my father takes my mother out to. I've never gotten to come along."

"Well, then what do you like the most?"

"The colors that whoever designed this place picked. They're very pleasant."

"Yeah. ...it makes me think of that dance."

"Which?"

"You know. That one. The one Grace mentioned."

"Oh."

There was another long silence. The temperature fluctuated momentarily, becoming extremely hot, then extremely cold, and then evening out. Both boys frowned, mouths tightening.

Draco broke the tension, but only barely. "What was going on then, anyway?"

"I don't know. I felt something. There was something very important happening. Did you?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

They stared at one another. There was a third long, uncomfortable pause, accompanied by another temperature fluctuation.

"...so what does Grace like? Besides Care of Magical Creatures?"

"Charms. Potions. Trick broom riding."

"Trick broom riding?"

"Yeah. You know. Standing on it. Using five brooms at once and doing gymnastics. Things like that."

Another long pause.

"So what do you like the most about the restaurant?"

"The calamari."

There was still some of it left. One after the other, they reached forward and took a piece. Draco dipped his in the sauce, popped it into his mouth, and frowned. "It's gone cold."

"Funny." Harry's voice was a bit strained, and he gulped down some ice water. "Mine's terribly hot."

Grace chose that moment to return to the booth, somewhat unexpectedly. She smiled at them. "Just dessert left, if you can eat it. What do you think?"

Harry and Draco both shook their heads. The meal had been incredibly filling. She nodded. "All right, then. I've paid already; we might as well go."

They walked back to the school in silence. Draco and Harry did not look at one another.

***

The dance. Harry shuddered, staring at the canopy over his bed. He remembered intense, blinding heat, and he'd moved as if possessed, not knowing why he did the things he did. It was natural.

Natural...the heat and the light and the urge to dive and strike and kill, the urge to fall to the floor with his hands in a death grip on the other boy's throat and then to let him go because it was not time yet for them to die.

Across the school and underneath, in a room in the Slytherin dormitory, Draco Malfoy pulled the covers up close. He knew that it wasn't a cold night, but he felt ice running through his skeleton, making him shiver and shake even as he knew that he was made stronger by it. That was what he had felt on Sunday night, that pulling, dragging coldness that drew him to create a dragon, that made him want to go for the kill.

In two separate dormitories, two boys fell asleep and dreamed of battle.

***

Once she was back in her dormitory and quite sure that everyone else was fast asleep, Grace D'arcangelo opened up the box next to her bed. In it were two small figurines in Hogwarts school robes. One wore Gryffindor colors underneath, and into that one she placed one short, dark hair, and then watched as its blank head took on the features of Harry Potter. The other figurine wore Slytherin colors, and into it she put another hair; it assumed the form of Draco Malfoy.

A muttering charm and a wave of the wand, and the two figures were moving in her hands. They circled one another, eying each other warily. She smiled and placed them back in the box, where they continued to circle, unaware of her.

"Let's see if it can be done."