The Good Slytherin

Chapter Six: Daphne

Why wasn't she on that list? Daphne found it hard not to think of much else in the weeks after Hogsmeade Weekend. The thought gnawed at her, causing her to wonder what on earth Malfoy had in store for her. Even Mark couldn't find the right words to put her anxieties to rest.

"An oversight," he offered weakly as they sat along the shore of the lake. The air was crisp, hinting at a merciless winter on the horizon and Mark was wrapping his green and silver scarf around his neck.

"Not bloody likely," Tristan chimed in, but quickly realized he wasn't being any help.

Daphne couldn't help but notice that both of them kept staring at her suspiciously, as if she had done something to earn herself favor with Malfoy. "This is as much as a surprise to me as it is you," she stammered defensively.

"Of course it is, Daphne," Mark replied.

"It's just that it's out of character for Malfoy," Tristan added.

The wind began to pick up, rustling the leaves from the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Looking into the sympathetic gazes of her friends, she couldn't help but wonder why was she having a hard time believing them?

When November arrived, with it came a biting cold that Daphne had feared. Students wrapped themselves warmly in layers and dragon hide gloves were the preferred protection against cold hands. Daphne did her best to continue with her studies since none of her professors seemed particularly keen on giving the students a break and Mark was finding diversions of his own, disappearing some nights after dinner without any explanation. She was getting suspicious of her best friend, especially when he came back to the common room one night looking disheveled and flushed.

During breakfast one morning, she finally got some sort of insight on what Mark was up to, even if it came from an unlikely source.

"Hey Gordon!" a voice squealed, piercing the sleepy peacefulness of breakfast. "I saw your boyfriend snogging a Hufflepuff fifth year! It looked like that mudblood Justin Fitch-Fletchley."

Daphne's pale cheeks must have turned five shades of scarlet because she could feel the heat coming from them. She didn't even have to turn her head to know that it was Pansy Parkinson, but one look to the other end of the Slytherin table revealed that nasty little pug face of hers surrounded by a coterie of equally menacing girls, all of which erupted into peals of laughter. Unlike Malfoy, Pansy still felt it necessary to continue with the vicious taunting.

"Oh piss off, Parkinson! I didn't know you liked to watch!" Mark shouted back before Daphne could think up a clever retort.

Pansy's smirk quickly turned rigid and she returned to her breakfast, no doubt thinking up something nastier to throw at Mark.

Daphne turned back to her best friend to find him calmly slicing a sausage in two, not even attempting to deny Pansy's rude comment. "Was she serious?" Daphe gasped in awe.

A mischievous grin spread across his face. "Yes, but it wasn't Justin. And it wasn't a fifth year."

"Was it a Hufflepuff?"

Mark said nothing. Gah! Why was he so bloody taciturn when it came to some things?

"When were you going to tell me?" she pressed. How did Mark manage to pull off such escapades?

"I was going to," he replied apologetically.

"Likely story. So who is it?"

"You'll never guess." It had been a long time since she had seen him this chuffed.

She sat back in feigned offense. "Give me some credit. I am your best friend after all and unless it is Snape, I have a feeling I won't be surprised when you tell me his name. Unless . . ."

He raised an eyebrow. "Unless?"

"Unless it is a girl."

Mark looked like he wasn't sure whether to erupt into laughter or horror. "I'll have you know it's a boy!"

"And are you going to tell me just who it is?"

"All right," he whispered, grinning. "It's Zacharias Smith."

Daphne tried to remember where she had heard that name before.

"You know, the bloke from the Hogwarts Express."

She suddenly remembered. "Details!" she hissed in excitement.

He gave her a mysterious look before pointing to his watch--if they didn't hurry, they would be late for Charms. She silently cursed her luck that she would have to wait the length of class before she could get the full Zacharias story out of Mark.

By the time the reached the classroom, they were only a few minutes late and Professor Flitwick waved them in. "Quickly, please. Take your seats," he squeaked.

Daphne and Mark took their places near the back as Flitwick continued with the lesson, explaining that they would be learning the Silencing Charm. Following his lecture on the workings and applications, he had Gregory Goyle pass out animals to the students to practice on. Daphne and Mark took turns with a raven; it took Daphne two attempts to master the charm and three for Mark.

"Silencio!" she said with the wave of her wand.

"Wonderful, wonderful, Miss Gordon! Five points to Slytherin." Professor Flitwick said as he observed her wand movements and charm. She looked over and saw Malfoy rolling his eyes in disgust, which surprisingly was the first reaction she had managed to get out of him all term.

Flitwick let Daphne and Mark spend the rest of the class practicing on larger animals since they were quick to master the smaller ones. Mark took to the Silencing Charm as a child would with a new toy. By lunch he had successfully managed to silence two Gryffindor first years, an owl, Pansy Parkinson, and someone's pet frog. The temptation to perform the charm on Filch's cat was almost too great, but Daphne slapped his arm and gave him a reproachful look. "Don't push your luck."

He smirked and put his wand back in his robes. "I suppose you are right."

She just shook her head. "Speaking of silence, when are you going to finish confessing to this tryst with Zacharias Smith?"

In typical Mark fashion, he was as evasive as ever. It wasn't till they had finished up with lunch that she managed to pry the sordid details out of him, learning that him and Zacharias had had a couple of clandestine encounters. Though slightly annoyed that he kept this from her, she did giggle as he related their first kiss in an empty row of the library.

"Hang on. I never see you with Smith."

"Sometimes when you are with Marion, I go hang out with Tristan in the library," he said dryly. "Besides, it's not like I see him a lot. We just meet up from time to time so that we can--"

"Snog?"

"I was going to say study."

"Liar."

Looking pleased with himself, he said, "Pansy Parkinson must have seen more than she should have, the stupid cow. But it was dark. Perhaps that is why she thought it was Justin Fitch-Fletchley."

She giggled again. Despite Mark's flippancy, it was a welcome distraction from the seriousness of Malfoy's list, leading her to almost to forget about the daily sense of dread she felt.

The Great Hall teemed with noisy students as Daphne and Mark took their normal seats at the end of the Slytherin table for dinner. Mark's Zacharias induced good mood was in marked contrast to Tristan's; the sixth year arrived in a strop as soon as they began to eat, slamming his books down next to her and causing cutlery to rattle and pumpkin juice to slosh out of goblets. According to Mark, Tristan wasn't taking very well to the knowledge that Malfoy wanted him dead--that and a lower than expected grade on a Potions essay.

"And hello to you too, Tristan," Mark said disdainfully as he wiped some juice from his robes.

"Oh, sorry mate," he replied as he looked over to see Mark still dabbing at the stain on his robes with a napkin. Tristan shook his head apologetically and got out his wand, using a Scouring Charm to clean up the mess before finally sitting down to eat. "You'd think I could find a bit of refuge from that prat Draco Malfoy."

"You are not going to find it here," Mark said with a grin. "Now I know why you spend so much time in the library."

"If Professor Snape had his way, I would be sleeping in the library. It's a known fact that the man derives sadistic pleasure from assigning homework. Word to the wise--avoid N.E.W.T level Potions at all costs."

"And avoid Malfoy from what I hear?"

"Right," Tristan grumbled as poured a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Daphne's developed that into an art form."

She stopped ladling soup into her bowl and looked up. "Don't get cheeky with me, Mark. Besides, Blondie hasn't wanted much to do with me lately."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Daphne thinks she is so special because Malfoy has given her a reprieve."

Tristan continued to frown as he reached for the shepherd's pie. "Yeah well, aren't you lucky. He's in a right state today. Got his knickers in a twist over something."

"Or someone." And as if on cue, the three of them looked over towards the Gryffindor table and spotted Harry Potter.

Mark chuckled. "Looks like everyone been in a bit of a bad mood this week. McGonagall was a bit cross with us during Transfigurations."

Tristan stabbed angrily at his dinner with his fork and Daphne couldn't remember the last time she had seen him so worked up. "Snape was on about something too and then I had to go and run into Malfoy on my way here."

"I'm surprised Malfoy isn't here. His thugs are," Daphne noted, cocking her head towards the other end of the Slytherin table where Crabbe and Goyle were eating like animals.

"Thugs? More like minions if you ask me. Last time I checked, Umbridge's lap dog was out patrolling near the dungeons. Thought he'd give me a bit of cheek as I headed here for dinner," Tristan said acidly between sips of pumpkin juice.

"Speaking of minions, it looks like Pansy Parkinson got her voice back," giggled Daphne. Mark and Tristan shot looks down to the other end of the table and sure enough, Pansy Parkinson was chatting animatedly with large flock of Slytherin girls.

Tristan looked confusedly between Mark and Daphne. "What?"

"Oh I thought I'd try out my Silencing Charm on Parkinson when she wasn't looking. She proved a excellent test subject," Mark grinned remorselessly.

For a brief moment, the scowl left Tristan's face and was replaced with disbelief. "You're a lunatic! A bloody genius, but a lunatic no less!" He looked genuinely impressed and slapped Mark on the back. "Nice going, mate!"

"You'll have to try it sometime on Malfoy."

"I'll remember that next time. Anything not to hear that git again," Tristan practically muttered to himself. "Anyway, I'm off. Snape's given us a rather beastly essay due by Friday." He hurriedly finished his shepherd's pie and took once last sip of pumpkin juice.

"But you just got here," Daphne said disappointedly.

Tristan made to leave. "Sorry, I have a date with the library this evening."

"Oh before you go, I have a gift for you," Mark added, taking his wand out from his robes. Tristan and Daphne exchange apprehensive looks. "You too, Daphne. You've been moping around since this list business was discovered and I can't take it anymore."

Daphne didn't think that was exactly fair. Her and Tristan had every right to be unnerved by an execution list--even if her name wasn't on it.

"What are you going to do?" Tristan asked, clutching his books like a shield.

Mark pushed up his sleeves and raised his wand and a mischievous smile crept across his face. "Get that pained look off your face, Tristan. The both of you will love this."

Tristan, half risen from his seat, looked like he was going to jump up running for the doors out of the Great Hall. "Mark, I swear if you--"

"Ye of little faith! Like I said, it's a gift."

Suddenly Daphne had a pretty good idea what awaited her since it was clear that Mark was in one of those generous good moods where he liked to share his mirth with everyone despite thoughts to the contrary. Neither she nor Tristan had a chance to react, much less protest, and soon Mark was giving the familiar wand movements and incantation for the Cheering Charm.

A warm pleasant sensation swept immediately over Daphne's body and she felt the uncontrollable need to giggle. All of the stress and anxiety she had built up over the last couple of months melted away into a relaxing bliss. She glanced over at Tristan, who had since slumped back down in his chair and was fighting the urge to laugh and not succeeding. With his vile mood seemingly erased, she started to see the old Tristan emerge, devoid of stress, responsibility, and loathing for Malfoy.

"Oh Mark, that was bloody fantastic," he said between laughs. "This is the best Cheering Charm I've ever felt."

Mark beamed and Daphne could only nod her head approvingly, genuinely enjoying the feeling of great content. She knew enough that she must look silly to others, giggling at her soup for no reason.

Tristan finally remember that he needed to be in the library because he gathered up his books and started to head off, laughing while he did so. "Mark, I swear I will kill you if I can't get any work done tonight. And if Madam Pince kicks me out of the library for laughing too loud, I am really going to kill you. Thankfully I know where you sleep." But the seriousness of his parting words was lost between further giggles. Mark looked at Tristan incredulously as he headed off.

"He needs to learn to stop taking his work so seriously," Mark remarked arrogantly. "And you. Forget about this bloody list for a few hours."

Fully mollified by the Cheering Charm, Daphne and Mark leisurely finished with dinner. Marion joined them for a short while before moving to eat with her other friends. It seemed like hours before they headed down into the dungeons Slytherin dorm to start work on that evening's homework. Mark was enjoying his spell handiwork no less, but thankfully the giggling had started to wear off--Daphne had been getting the strangest looks from her fellow students during dinner.

As they walked through the dimly lit corridor, it seemed that nothing could destroy that sublime feeling that swam through her head, but looking straight on was the one person who could. From the look on Draco Malfoy's face, it looked liked her run of good luck was about to come to an end.

"Gordon! You and your boyfriend out on a lover's stroll?" Draco Malfoy called out with a sneer and Daphne's heart skipped a beat.

"Damn," she muttered inaudibly, realizing that her apprehension all month was well founded.

"Oh look. Here comes the Hitler Youth," Mark whispered, leaving her to wonder who or what Hitler was. "Sorry Daphne, but it looks like your reprieve is over."

Both parties stopped dead in the hallway, the flickering of torches casting an ominous glow. From the two paces that separated them from Malfoy, Daphne could see a glint of silver--no doubt the prefect badge on Malfoy's robes.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" was all Daphne could manage to say. Her voice sounded regrettably weak and her heart was beating very fast--a mix of emotions and the remnants of the Cheering Charm that were starting to make her slightly nauseous. Bracing herself, she wondered why Malfoy was now deciding to resume his taunting after a month of silence.

"What do I want?" It was a strange response, as if it were quite obvious to everyone else but her what he wanted. He stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and stepped closer again so that he was looking down on her. It was at this moment that she was reminded just how much she resembled Malfoy and the realization disgusted her.

He raised his hand and for a moment she thought he might strike her--flinching at the thought. Instead he reached for a lock of her long pale hair and rubbed it between his fingers as if to assess its worth. A wave of revulsion stirred within her as she jerked backwards.

Malfoy had a curious expression on his face. "The blood of many great wizards and witches runs through your veins, Gordon." His cold grey eyes stared straight into hers as he said this. Terrified, she found herself incapable of protest. "Your blood, our blood, is pure. Don't forget that. You will have to decide which side you are on. Either you are with the Dark Lord or against him. It's not too late to stop hanging around the likes of Ferris here."

She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

"Leave her alone, Malfoy."

She jumped at Mark's words, having almost forgotten that he was standing next to them. His voice was low and calm, but not lacking at all in threat.

Malfoy stepped back slightly, but only to get a better look at Mark. "Everyone knows where your loyalties lie, Ferris," he practically spat. "Everyone knows you're a blood traitor. Don't think for one moment that your parents can change that."

A look came across Mark's face that Daphne had never seen before. It was a mixture of fury and hatred. In the blink of an eye, Mark had taken his wand from his robes and was pointing it directly at Malfoy's chest.

"You touch her again and I will kill you." He uttered these words with such force that Malfoy took a step backwards and in this moment Daphne realized she had a true friend.

Malfoy, however, looked as though he was about to say something, but he didn't get that far.

"FERRIS!"

The three of them looked to the other end of the hall where a figure was ascending, black robes billowing. It was Snape and the look of rage on his face easily matched that of Mark's.

"FERRIS!" he roared again, voice echoing off the stone. "Put down that wand or so help me, I'll have you in detention for every night until you leave this school!"

Mark stepped back and lowered his wand reluctantly; his eyes locked with Malfoy's.

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape snapped when he finally reached the three of them. He looked accusingly between Mark and Daphne and she couldn't find the courage to say anything in response. She withered in his glare.

Mark, on the other hand, had no qualms saying anything. "Malfoy and I were having a little chat. Isn't that right, Malfoy?"

Malfoy looked chuffed that Snape was there to rescue him, but potions professor turned on him. "Shouldn't you be at Quidditch practice? I dare say if you lose another match to Gryffindor, I will very, very displeased."

Malfoy lingered long enough to give Mark once last lethal look before heading up out of the dungeons.

"You, Ferris!" said Snape with a flash of disgust. "If I ever see anything like that again it will be worse than detention. Some other houses might allow such behavior, but not in Slytherin. Do you understand?" But it wasn't so much as a question then a demand. Snape leaned in as if to place more emphasis on what he said. He held both of their gazes for what felt like an eternity before heading swiftly away towards the Great Hall.

Daphne and Mark said nothing to each other for a full minute. Her head was pounding, her pulse was racing, and she felt a little faint. The whole of their conversation with Malfoy was replaying in her head with disturbing clarity.

"He knows! I can't believe that git knows about my parents," Mark suddenly exclaimed in disgust. "Malfoy's father must have told him."

"I knew it was too good to last," she said ignoring Mark's comment, her voice trembling with emotion. "I knew Malfoy would come around sooner or later," she said as she slumped against the cold dungeon wall.

He still held his wand in his hand. "Did I hear him correctly? Did he just say you could join his side?"

Daphne repeated Malfoy's words in her head and then aloud for Mark. "He said it wasn't too late to stop being friends with you."

"But it doesn't make sense. Other than you being his cousin, why would he suddenly be interested in which side you are on?"

She shook her head no and instead said, "I knew this was coming. I knew Malfoy was building towards something."

"We have to tell Tristan."

"You go to the library," she said weakly. "I need to go and sort my head out."

Mark's anger suddenly crumbled into sympathy, giving her his full attention. "Are you all right?"

"I--" she started, but was overcome with the memory of Malfoy standing over her. A lump formed in her throat and stiffened herself against it--she would not let Malfoy make her cry. "Just go find Tristan. I'll see you in the morning." She flashed him her best plaintive look to underscore that she just needed to be alone. After he left her to sprint upstairs for the library, Daphne headed down to Slytherin. She was in such a state of shock that she barely remembered reaching her room, where she immediately climbed into bed and pulled shut the dark heavy velvet bed hangings.

Laying there in the semi darkness, she did her best to stifle a troubling thought that was beginning to emerge. Malfoy was giving her what she always dreamed of--the approval of her Slytherin peers. That very choice awakened a part of her that she had never before acknowledged, a vulgar and loathsome side that would sell out for one ounce of acceptance. The greater part of her was revolted by this realization.

Daphne slid under the thick emerald duvet and began to shake. Though the thought gnawed at her seductively, she had enough sense to silence the voices of temptation. Her sight traced over the familiar shapes of the intricately carved serpents coiled around the wooden bedposts. Slivers of light highlighted their undulating curves and their eyes gleamed with inlays of pearl. Barred fangs and tongue were burnished with silver leaf--a detail that suddenly struck her as rather ghastly, despite having studied them for four years. She couldn't believe that she had never examined the serpents this closely before in all her years there.

Once seemingly docile, it was the first time that she felt certain the snakes were poised to strike.