Slytherins in Doubt

Chapter Three

Yule was little more than a week away. Draco had managed to field two more assassination attempts, both by more covert means than Crabbe and Goyle had chosen. One was a trap triggered to spring upon his entering his room. After that, Draco had been forced to endure the intrusion of several of the professors so that advanced wards could be placed on the room. The other was by poison. At that, Snape, of all people, had told him that it would probably be best if he sat at the Gryffindor table permanently.

He complained. Most of the Gryffindors were damned annoying. But, after thinking over the benefits, he complied. Being annoyed was certainly better than being dead. At least most of the group appeared to have forgiven him his past deeds, mainly due to the work of Potter. He suspected that Dumbledore had assigned him the project. After all, if the Golden Boy himself could forgive, what was there to keep the others from it?

The two still fought. Several of the arguments had nearly come to fisticuffs. Yet, despite this, the old hatred was gone. The arguments were, if not between friends, at least no longer between enemies. Hermione, who had become a true friend to Draco, was pleased to see the tempers cool. She and Draco found much in common, particularly an obsession with schoolwork. She was the first friend that he had ever had.

Snape had been unexpectedly kind as well, inquiring after his well-being and inviting him into his office to discuss life after Hogwarts. The relationship filled an emptiness for the both of them. Draco, who had struggled to make his father proud to no avail, now basked in the pride of his professor. Snape saw much of himself in the boy, and the friendship was a means of redemption. If he could keep the boy on the right track, perhaps he would be worthy of forgiveness for his past. They both needed a family. They were both so very alone.

Draco looked through a catalog dismally. For the first time in his life, he actually wanted to buy gifts for people. And for the first time in his life, he had no money with which to do so. He counted his meager savings and sighed. He should have started saving his allowance the moment he realized that he could not follow in his father's path.

Instead, he chose to make his gifts. The gesture would make obvious for all the fact that he could not give real gifts, but at least, this time, the gifts would be well thought out and not mere tokens. He had some talent with a sketchpad and paintbrush, and he had an idea.

So for the two weeks leading up to Yule he had been furiously sketching the subjects when they were least aware. With his sketches to base the images on, he had been painting almost all night long for days. For Hermione (and he supposed for Ron as well) he was painting a portrait of the couple together, looking rather sweet. It had been difficult to catch them in such a manner because of their tendency to quarrel over the least tiny thing. On Hermione's idea, Draco was copying, life size, a picture of Harry's parents from a school yearbook. Both portraits would be enchanted to move and speak, having the personalities of the people within. He had only just learned to make the special paint and perform the spell. He hoped that it would actually work.

Yet, he had realized that painting a portrait for Snape would never work. The only portrait he could think of would be a portrait of Snape himself. Snape would not appreciate that gesture. Instead, he chose to use part of his small savings to get Snape a pet. Somehow, as if in a flash of divine inspiration, it came to him that Snape had always wanted a pet snake.

He wondered briefly why divine inspiration had the same voice as his DADA professor.

**********

Snape was being a Scrooge, as usual. He had already told off Dumbledore's twit of a niece for attempting to get him under the mistletoe. He was certain that she only wanted to humiliate him again. Yet, despite his general anti-Yule cheer, he was happier than he had been in years. He felt that he was doing something right for a change.

Dumbledore informed him that Draco had asked if he could be his temporary guardian. The boy was seventeen, he would only need a guardian for about eight more months, but Snape was pleased. Draco trusted him. It was nice to know that someone other than Dumbledore was capable of that.

And so he had ventured down to Hogsmeade to buy the first Yule gift that he had given for years. Draco had told him that Lucius had refused to buy him a broom until he beat Potter at Quidditch. Snape hoped that perhaps with a better broom, Draco might actually stand a chance.

He would dearly love to see Potter go down. It would be nearly as good as one of his favorite memories of being a student at Hogwarts, when just that once, he had managed to best the boy's sainted father.

With that memory in mind, he smiled, completely forgetting that he was in front of a Hall full of students. Those who noticed were completely baffled and slightly afraid at seeing the odd expression on their Potion Master's face. He quickly replaced the smile with his traditional smirk. It wouldn't do to have his students think of him as anything but evil. He failed to notice the thoughtful expression on the face of one Ravenclaw girl.

**********

The staff party was always held the night before the Yule Feast. This year there was no Ball. Dumbledore had thought that encouraging the students to go home for the holidays would be a good idea. If Snape's information had been correct, some of the students may never see their families again. The headmaster had even gone so far as to invite several families to join those students who would stay for the holidays.

Snape sat morosely in the corner of the decorated staff room, nursing his brandy. He was not looking forward to the large group of parents and siblings expected tomorrow. He particularly dreaded the arrival of the entire extended Weasley family. His hopes for a quiet holiday were completely shattered.

"Mind if I join you?" Aislyn asked, standing before him. She had her hair down once again. He silently wondered which god had blessed the child with such an abundance of it.

"Would it make a difference if I said no?"

"Probably not," she answered, and sat in the chair across from him. She watched the activity of the party for several moments in silence. Albus had asked one of the portraits to sing and the professors were beginning to dance. She laughed a bit at the sight of tiny Professor Flitwick dancing with Madame Hooch.

A deep, silky voice roused her from her observations. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be spending your holiday with Black?"

She looked back at her companion, her eyes twinkling. "Oh no. Remus is visiting, I'm afraid. I decided that I should allow Sirius his privacy, even if he is sleeping on my couch."

Snape's forehead wrinkled a bit, displaying his confusion. He had been certain that Black and this girl were together.

"Of course," she continued, "they may have chosen to avail themselves of my bed since I'm not there."

Snape's eyes widened slightly. His mouth opened in a silent "Oh".

Aislyn smiled. "Do you honestly think that Uncle Albus would allow a single, straight man stay in his only niece's bedroom?"

"He certainly seems to allow a single, straight assistant headmistress to stay in his own bedroom easily enough," Snape gestured toward the party, where Albus and Minerva were dancing rather enthusiastically. "How on earth can a two hundred year old man move like that?"

"By being Albus," she laughed. "I always had a crush on Minerva in school. Shouldn't surprise me to learn that Albus got there first. He wrote the book on robbing the cradle. He was one hundred and twenty when she was born."

"Hooch is available, if you're interested. But I've heard that her version of courtship can be brutal," he answered, not entirely surprised. He had noticed that her glances tended toward the females of the school population. He watched Aislyn sneak a quick look at Madame Hooch, as if considering. He was surprised to find that he was enjoying the conversation. But then, for once, the girl wasn't laughing at him. In fact, she seemed rather subdued.

He rubbed at his shoulders, grimacing. He had been leaning over cauldrons a bit too much lately, and his back was killing him.

"It isn't Hooch that I'm interested in," she said, looking at Severus pointedly. He was oblivious, rubbing at one shoulder in obvious discomfort.

Snape suddenly felt hands on his shoulders, but when he glanced around there was no one near him. He looked at the woman across from him to find that she was watching him, her green eyes bright. Then he remembered the flying plate, being held against a wall, and countless other tiny things.

"You're telekinetic," he said. He didn't even need to ask to be certain of it.

Among other things said a voice in his head. He now knew beyond doubt who the voice belonged to.

"So that's what Albus meant."

She smiled at that, not letting her concentration slip. The invisible massage was working. Snape had begun to relax back into his chair.

"Did he warn you that I could be dangerous?" she asked.

Snape nodded.

"Yes, well, sometimes my abilities are a bit difficult to control. Imagine it combined with me before Hogwarts."

"Untrained wizards have difficulty controlling their magic," Snape said, understanding. A witch and a psychic in one would be doubly dangerous.

"When I got angry or excited, bad things tended to happen," she explained. "I broke my mom's arm once. Completely by accident."

Albus was walking their way, a smile on his face. "Well, well. It certainly is nice to see you two sharing a peaceful conversation for once." He pulled them both out of their chairs. "Now, dance. The both of you."

Aislyn grinned. "I don't think that Severus enjoys dancing as much as we do, Uncle Albie."

"I insist. It's been years since I've seen the man dance," Albus said. "He's rather good at it once he's forced onto the floor."

Dumbledore forcibly posed the two, as if manipulating mannequins. He waved a hand at the paintings, and the music changed to a waltz. Snape growled. Aislyn giggled.

"Shut up," Snape snarled.

"If you could see your face, you'd be laughing too," Aislyn said, still visibly trying to control her laughter. "Are you going to dance, or just stand here like a statue?"

"Your uncle is a meddling old fool," Snape said, but he pulled her closer and led her into the dance. Dumbledore hadn't exaggerated. Snape's distaste for dancing definitely did not stem from lack of skill. He was good. The other professors moved to the edge of the room to watch the pair. As they danced, Snape's voluminous robes swept around to envelope the girl. She seemed to be floating in his arms. Minerva remembered a time when she had seen Snape dance with another redhead. To her knowledge, that had been the last time he danced.

After the dance, Dumbledore and McGonagall stepped forward to congratulate their 'performance'. Severus, however, had been distracted. His arm was burning.

Dumbledore frowned when he saw the younger man clutch his arm, patting him on the shoulder. Snape watched as Aislyn locked eyes with her uncle. Obviously, a silent conversation was taking place. The old man nodded to her sadly.

"I have to go. Now." Snape closed his eyes briefly.

"I understand, Severus. Do what you must, but be careful," the headmaster warned. He had never liked sending Snape on such trips, but they were necessary.

Aislyn had disappeared from his side. He looked about, confused. He felt Dumbledore slip something rather heavy into his pocket. As he walked out of the castle, he noticed that the mysterious object was still moving, but didn't give it another thought. It was probably some sort of odd protection talisman. Dumbledore was always attempting such protections. He apparated to Voldemort's call once again.

There was no one there. It was no Death Eater meeting. Only he, Voldemort, and Wormtail stood in the room together. Snape knew immediately that this was a trap. He was as good as dead. He was certain of it when he saw Voldemort send Wormtail out of the room.

"Sssseveruss, our little spy," Voldemort hissed. His eyes were glowing even redder than usual.

Snape was silent. He knew better than to protest the accusation. He was already surprised that he had lasted this long.

"Imagine my surprise, Severus, when one of my young followers tells me that she has seen you having friendly conversation with one who has betrayed me. That you visited him in the infirmary when he was ill. That she sees you buying a broom in Hogsmeade, and having the boy's name engraved on the handle. A gift for a boy who has not only betrayed me, but made very public his allegiance to none other than Harry Potter!"

Snape closed his eyes at that, realizing how careless he had been. But he had been extraordinarily careful around those students who he knew would become Death Eaters. He had to ask. He had to know.

"Who?"

Voldemort waved at a corner of the room which was hidden in shadow. Out stepped a fifth-year Ravenclaw girl. One of the most genuinely nice, decent girls he had ever had the opportunity to teach. Or at least he had believed so.

"Go ahead, my dear," Voldemort said. "You can play with him if you wish."

She raised her wand, her hand trembling, but her voice clear. "Cruciatus."

Snape's only thought as he fell to the ground was to wonder what he had done to make the girl hate him so much. Then, Voldemort raised his wand, and Snape found himself incapable of thought. This continued until Snape lost consciousness. Voldemort cast a spell to wake him, and began his torture again.

No one in the small house noticed when an emerald green serpent slithered out of Snape's pocket. It moved to the corner, turning back once to glance sadly at the man writhing on the floor.

She had a plan. If Voldemort believed that Snape was dead, he wouldn't have a chance to perform the Avada Kedavra. And so, with all her might, Aislyn Morrigan made it appear that the man was having a heart attack. When Voldemort bent down to check his pulse, she made sure that he believed that he felt nothing.

Voldemort hissed, disappointed.

"Well, I guess, my dear, that you will not get to try out another curse this time." He turned around and walked toward a high backed chair that sat before the fireplace. The girl sat beside him.

The next part would be the most difficult. Aislyn had to get Snape out of there, and she could not use magic in her animagus form. She would have to reveal herself. She changed and stood, pulling out her wand. Even if he had not heard the words "Accio Snape", Voldemort could not help but see the body of the spy shoot across the floor toward her.

"Don't know why you want his body, girl. The man's dead," he drawled. He advanced upon her with his wand out. She would have to get past the wards to Apparate. She cast a levitation spell on the 'corpse' and started with it down the hall. Unfortunately, she couldn't move very fast and guide the body.

She managed to dodge the spells sent her way by Voldemort, knowing him to be the greatest danger to her. Unfortunately, she had forgotten to watch the girl, who had managed to conjure something incredibly difficult to dodge. Several knives flew out of thin air towards Aislyn. There was no way to dodge them all and protect Snape's body at the same time. She certainly couldn't use her talents to stop them and concentrate on dodging Voldemort's more harmful spells at the same time. As the knives flew past, several caught her skin. One buried itself in her thigh. She stopped only long enough to pull the knife out, and limping past the wards, she apparated.

She was bleeding badly, but somehow managed to get Snape to his quarters. She hoped that he hadn't changed the password from the time that she had snuck in behind him. He hadn't. She sighed as she watched the door open. The password reflected the mind of the owner all too well. Immerito. Unworthy. She guided Snape's body to his bed before collapsing beside him, unconscious.

**********

Snape awoke several hours before daybreak. He was in pain, but it was no worse than he had felt before. He wondered why he was still alive. Then he noticed the other body in the bed with him. And the dark stains on the bedspread.

"Lumos"

The girl was deathly pale, the stains were obviously blood. Yet, with her dark robes, he could not tell where the blood was coming from. There were a few scratches on her face, but nothing dangerous. Hesitantly, he pulled her up and pulled off the robes. Beneath them, she wore traditional muggle clothes, a tight sweater and jeans. The majority of the blood was concentrated at one spot on her thigh. The wound was deep, and if it had been only a couple of inches in another direction, it would have severed the femoral artery. It was still seeping blood. He did not question what the girl was doing in his bed. The blood explained it all. She had been the one to save him, foolish as it was to try.

He touched his wand to the wound and murmured a healing spell. The wound closed, but Aislyn remained unconscious. She had lost too much blood. It would be a while before her body could replenish the supply. He summoned a couple of house elves who promptly changed the bed, despite the fact that there were two people laying on the blankets. Snape attempted to stand, intending to go sleep on the couch. Unfortunately, his legs had not yet recovered enough to carry his weight. He collapsed back to the bed, groaning. There was a potion on his bedside table, but it would take time to work. He downed the entire bottle and lay back down, exhausted by even that small task.

**********

When he awoke the second time, he found that Aislyn had curled her arms around him. She was beginning to get a bit more colour in her face. He attempted to move the arm draped across his chest, but Aislyn's hand only gripped his robes tighter. A tendril of auburn hair was curling against her face. He gently pushed it back behind her ear, enjoying the silky softness of it. He remembered what she had told him the night before, about her crush on Minerva. He was really beginning to regret that this 'annoying twit' preferred women.

But then, perhaps he was just being delusional due to the strangeness of having a woman in his bed with her arms around him. He would never have ordinarily entertained fantasies about someone as unattainable as the woman-child beside him. She was too young, and seemed fairly innocent. It would not be appropriate for a former Death Eater to entertain thoughts of seducing her, even if her uncle would allow it. No, it was too strange an occurrence for a woman to be in his bed. Clearly it was affecting his rationality.

He was watching her when she finally opened her eyes. Or rather, half opened them. They were still veiled by impossibly long lashes.

"I hate mornings," she blinked, yawned, and snuggled closer to him, as if to go back to sleep. Then her eyes popped open again. "It's Yule!" She sat up abruptly after her announcement.

"Surely, Professor Morrigan, you have outgrown such childish Yule morning excitement? Besides," he looked her over with concern, "are you well?"

"I'm healthy enough to enjoy a lazy winter afternoon, Severus. And I'll never be too old for Yule," she looked at the foot of the bed where several gifts sat awaiting them. "Look! They brought my presents down here too!"

Snape snorted, looking at the rather large pile on the end of his bed. "They're probably all for you."

"No, look, these are for you. It seems that there are people out there who like you after all." She shoved a rather large mound of gifts his way. Snape noticed the tear in her jeans was revealing quite a bit of skin. The wound was healed completely, thanks to the healing spell there was no scar. The only evidence was the blood that still stained the cloth surrounding the area. To avoid looking at that tempting bit of pale skin, he began opening the gifts that she had pushed his way.

Albus had given him a pair of socks, just as he did every year. Minerva had renewed his subscription to Apothecary Today. Hooch had sent him a rather rude novelty item that he immediately tossed in the trash and a copy of the revisions to the Quidditch rulebook in case he had to referee again. Hagrid gave him a bottle of Ogden's Own. In general, he was neither surprised nor particularly pleased by any of the gifts from the professors. Until, that is, he came to Aislyn's gift. It was a first-edition copy of Spenser's The Faerie Queene.

"How did you know that I enjoy Muggle literature?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Lucky guess." She wasn't about to tell him that she had already perused his bookshelves.

Snape laughed. "You must have it easy. You can't get anyone a bad gift, because you can read their minds to find out what they want."

"I would never do that!" she exclaimed, aghast that he would suspect her of such.

"A Slytherin would."

"I am a Slytherin, Severus," she smiled. "I just don't want to spend that much time in someone else's brain. Ugh!" She wrinkled her nose. "There are some things I don't want to know."

"You can't be Slytherin, I know the names of every Slytherin that has come through since I was a student. Your name was nowhere on my lists," he looked at her closely. He didn't remember her from either his school days at Hogwarts or from his early years spent teaching. As far as he knew, she may not have attended Hogwarts. It was possible, he supposed, that she had been at school here while he was working for Voldemort. However, her name would still have shown on the roster. "How old did you say you were again?"

"Twenty-Nine."

Snape looked her over again, closely. He'd have been nearly two years out of school when she was sorted. Yet, he still should have taught her during her seventh year.

"I don't remember you," he said, still suspicious.

"You wouldn't, but I'm not going to tell you why," she pushed a box toward him. "You have another present there to open first, Sev."

He glared at her due to the unauthorized nickname, but moved to open the gift anyway. He knew that she was trying to distract him, but didn't mind this time. He'd get the information out of her eventually.

He hesitated before opening the package. The package had small holes in the lid. He wouldn't put it past one of his students to send him something dangerous. Or for that matter, for Hagrid to send him something he thought cute. Noticing the elegant writing on the card, he relaxed and pulled the lid off to find a small snake inside.

"Draco seems to share your talent for gift-giving."

"He had some help." With a small pop, she turned into the emerald serpent that he remembered. She hissed at the other snake, who promptly hissed back. Another pop, and she was human once more.

"His name is Tanzle."

"Thanks for doing that. I was afraid that I would have to ask Potter."

"He's not evil incarnate, you know. He's just a boy."

"He's a Potter," Snape snarled.

"James wasn't so bad either. Harry looks just like him," she said, thinking. "Acts just like Lily, though, most of the time. Always trying to save people from themselves."

Snape looked a bit pained. He knew all too well that the boy was much like his sainted mother. "How did you know them?"

"Lily was a friend. She helped me out once when I needed it," Aislyn answered, a brief shadow crossing her face.

"She helped everyone out at some point," Snape said. He waited for her to continue. He would get the story.

Aislyn sighed. She knew by the look on his face that Severus would not let her alone. She reached for his hand, needing something to hold on to if she were going to do this. He seemed surprised, but made no move to pull back.

"Okay, I'll tell you then," she said. "But you have to stop glaring at me like that."

Snape carefully softened his expression. It was difficult to do so. He'd been wearing the mask so long.

"Do you want to administer Veritaserum?" she joked.

"Quit stalling."

"Oh, very well," she continued. "It has a great deal to do with my abilities. Even in muggles, telekinesis can be extremely dangerous. In a witch, it was even more so. When I was young, if I ever got angry or frightened, I was quite capable of causing serious injury. Things went flying. Inevitably, others found out. Some were frightened. Others wanted that power for themselves. Voldemort wanted me. He thought that he could take the ability from me."

Snape tightened his hold on her hand. The girl smiled sadly and kept talking.

"For most of my early years here, I was courted by the junior death eater squad. They wanted me to join up. I was having difficulties controlling my abilities. I had voices in my head constantly. It was terrible. I got hooked on dreamless sleep. It was the only thing that would let me sleep," she sighed. "Eventually it quit working. One Slytherin boy was able to provide something that worked better. I began to hang out with his group of friends. They convinced me of certain ideals. I came very close to joining Voldemort."

Snape frowned, but pulled the girl closer.

"Lily found me one night, collapsed in Diagon Alley. She never explained why she was there, but I'm glad she was. The boys had underestimated me. They decided to throw some sort of initiation, I think. They tried to rape me. I completely lost control and nearly killed them. I think I may have killed one. Neither Lily or Dumbledore would tell me," she said, studying their clasped hands.

"You shouldn't feel guilty. It was self-defense. I've done much worse," Snape told her gently. She just looked up at him and shook her head.

She began again after taking a deep breath. "Albus took me in. He decided that it was a good idea for me to go undercover, of sorts. He disguised me. Over the summer, I sobered up and learned to control my abilities, with his help. I learned not to use them. I became an ordinary witch, a transfer student from America. Albus thought it would be fun to make me look like Vivien Leigh."

Snape remembered her. There had been the most annoying American girl during his first year teaching. It was before he'd been made head-of-house. He hadn't been able to believe that she could possibly be a Slytherin. Somehow, the image doesn't fit. Yet, thinking for a moment, he realized that it did. Manipulative, conniving, willing to go to any means necessary. Yes, he thought, it definitely did.

"Is this really you, or a disguise?" he asked, gesturing at her body.

"Yes, for the most part. There's a glamour covering some scars. I'm no beauty queen, and I've been a fighter for a long time," she sighed. "I did up like a veela once, all fair and pretty. I got too much attention. Didn't like it."

Snape nodded. He could see her point.

"You should remove all of your disguises," he said.

She looked at him briefly before picking up her wand and removing the glamour. She had two scars across one eyebrow, one crossing both lips, a couple on her chest. Fewer scars than he had, certainly, but then he could not see beneath her clothes. She was already gathering her gifts into a bundle, wrapping her torn robes around them and shrinking them.

"I've got to go, Professor. Sirius will never let me hear the end of it if I don't show up soon."

"You can't go into the hallway like that!" Snape yelled.

"Like what?" she asked. She had her hands on her hips. "The students are asleep, and the pups have already seen my true face."

"Your pants are torn," he took his wand from the table and quickly repaired them.

"It took you that long to figure out that I was showing my arse?" She grinned. "Or did it just take you that long to tell me?"

***********

Draco awoke to find a rather large pile of gifts on the trunk at the foot of his bed. It seemed that the entire Gryffindor population had chosen to give him something. He supposed that he had either Hermione or Harry to thank for that. He could just picture the little hero-boy telling them how everyone deserves a good holiday, no matter what. He even had a rather hideous sweater and collection of baked goods from Weasley's mother! It was nice of her, but honestly, that wool would just destroy his sensitive skin.

Most of the gifts consisted of sweets. He eyed the contents of Ron's package rather suspiciously. It looked all too much like some of his brothers' trick candy. He put that aside to try on someone else later. He wasn't about to eat it himself. He opened Hermione's gift. It was a broomstick servicing kit. She had caught him admiring Potter's one afternoon. He smiled and put that away beneath the bed. Harry had given him something that looked like a snitch. However, when he let it go the object just hovered a few inches above his bed. He opened the letter that came with it. Harry explained that it was a radio transfigured to look like a snitch. All that he had to do was say "musica" and the type of music he preferred to listen to, and the radio would tune itself automatically.

"Potter definitely has a thing for gadgets," he said to himself softly as he placed the snitch-radio on the table beside his bed and turned toward the largest package. It was very obviously a broom. A brand new Cirrus. And Potter was still on the old Firebolt from years ago. Draco picked up the broom, intending to go thank Snape and then head out to fly. However, there was a small package that lying beneath the broom that he had nearly missed. It was wrapped in green and tied with silver string. There was a letter beneath it.

I am risking much by even attempting to give you this gift, but I wanted you to know that, despite your father's insistence that you are no longer our son, I will always love you. You will always be my boy. This ring has been passed down through my family for generations. It will protect you in times of trouble. Take it and wear it and think of your mother.

He opened the package. The ring was platinum, with an emerald set into it and several words in Latin engraved into it. He would have to ask Snape to translate them for him. He slipped the ring onto his hand, thoughtfully. It immediately shrank to fit his slender finger.

A familiar snowy owl flew through the open window and sat on the bed. Draco greeted her and took the note from her leg.

Draco,

The portraits were great! I can't believe you can do that! I've just spent an hour talking to my parents. Thank you so much. Hermione and Ron liked theirs too. It's rather funny. The Portrait Ron keeps attempting to molest the Portrait Hermione. I'm just waiting for the slap.

Harry

Draco smiled. He would have a happy Christmas for once.

*******

The Great Hall was full. Only the night before there had been so few students that everyone had eaten at one table together. Today, there was barely room for everyone. It seemed that the Gryffindor table had been completely taken over by redheads. Draco counted quickly. Nine redheads where normally there were only two. He groaned, and turned to walk back out of the Hall. He could get food from the kitchens easily enough.

He ran straight into Harry.

"Oh, no you don't!" Harry grabbed Draco by the collar of his robes, pulling him to the table, "You're going to go in there and meet the Weasleys and the Grangers."

"Why do I have to do such a thing?" Draco complained.

"Because I told Mrs. Weasley that you're really a nice guy. You have to prove me right."

Draco was pulled into the room and immediately enveloped in a massive hug. He peeked through Mrs. Weasley's arms to see Harry sniggering behind him.

"Oh you poor darling! Harry told me all about it," Mrs. Weasley kissed him on the cheek, and then immediately took a handkerchief and began wiping lipstick from his face. Draco silently vowed that he would hurt Harry as soon as he got the chance. This was the world's worst form of torture.

He shook hands all around, but Arthur Weasley barely looked up. He was too busy discussing television with Hermione's parents. They looked a bit overwhelmed.

He wound up squeezed between the twins. As much as he admired their mischief making abilities, sitting between the two of them was impossible. It was like attempting to carry on a conversation in stereo. A sentence would begin on his left, and end on his right. He had no idea where to look when answering them.

"Alright there, Draco?" A long-haired Weasley who introduced himself as Bill asked him.

Draco's jaw dropped. This man was cool.

"Perhaps you should let them sit together. Gets a bit confusing otherwise. Dangerous too." Bill winked and moved over to make room for Draco on his side of the table. Draco quickly moved himself across, relieved. He didn't think he would have trusted anything on his plate if he were sitting that close to those two.

"Of course," a girl spoke from behind him, "It may be just as dangerous to sit on this side of the table. Bill has a weakness for blondes." The girl was blonde herself. She sat down in Bill's lap, quite simply because there was nowhere else to sit.

"'ello, dear." Bill smiled at the girl in his lap.

"Hi, cutie." She held a hand out to Draco, "I'm Sara, by the way. Bill's fiancée."

He shook the girl's hand. Harry sat beside him, grinning.

"You do know you're dead, Potter," Draco threatened.

"Oh yes. Absolutely. Feel free to kill me anytime," Harry nodded in agreement, looking rather giddy and more than slightly tipsy.

Fred and George were looking rather pleased with themselves.

**********

Snape, having finally gotten rid of the girl, decided not to go to breakfast. He rarely did. He was sure that he could count on her to inform Albus that both were safe. The serpent, Tanzle, wound itself about his arm. He truly wished that he had Potter's gift, so that he could speak to this animal. Snakes had always fascinated him.

The girl had revealed her animagus form to him. A snake. The snake that he recognized from that night on the couch. He was rather puzzled that a Gryffindor would have had such a form. But then, for all of her fun-loving, disgustingly honourable nature, she had shown a rather calculating side of herself at times. Perhaps every Gryffindor had an inner Slytherin. It was something to consider.

There was a knock at his door. Only a few people actually knew that the hidden door was there. It blended perfectly with the stonework of his office wall. He waved a hand, and the door opened.

"Hi, Sev." Draco said, leaning against the doorframe with his new broom in hand. "Thanks."

"Perhaps you can best Potter on it." Snape smiled. The expression was beginning to feel almost familiar. "You certainly have always had the potential."

Draco grinned. "Perhaps you could give me some pointers."

"Perhaps," Snape answered. "And thank you for the new pet."

"I'm going to go try the broom out. The Weasley's want to play a pick-up match," Draco smirked, "And Potter's drunk off his arse."

"This early in the morning?"

"Thanks to the twins. They did a spell on the milk, or so they say. Apparently only Harry's milk, though." Draco's grin widened. "I heard that you had a guest last night. Are you going to give me details?"

"Shouldn't you be headed toward the pitch?" He threw a pillow at the boy.

Draco nodded, but he wasn't about to let Snape off on this subject. "I'll be back. I want you to translate something on this ring mum gave me." The light flashed green as Draco held up his hand, then the boy spun around and left.

Even from this distance Snape had recognized the ring. It was a simple Slytherin class ring, but this one had a strange glow to it. Perhaps Narcissa had enchanted it somehow. He would definitely have to take a look.

*********

Harry flying drunk was a sight to behold. It was all Draco could do to keep from falling off his broom, he was laughing so hard. The two were playing Seeker as usual, but both teams were made up of the Weasleys and their various significant others. After some coaxing, they had actually managed to get Hermione on a broom. She wasn't a bad flyer, but it was fairly obvious that she believed that she was terrible.

Ron hit a bludger his way, grinning happily when it came within only a few inches of Draco's head.

"Sorry there, Malfoy."

"I'm sure," Draco drawled as he watched Harry do a rather clumsy loop-de-loop. "Your friend's gonna fall off his broom."

"Nah. Even drunk, 'arry's a great flyer."

Draco arched his eyebrow dubiously, but Ron was already flying away. He continued to watch the game, not really actively looking for the Snitch. He was having too much fun watching the family competition. For people who claimed to love one another, it was pretty brutal. Apparently Gryffindors had no problem harming one another if it was for the sake of a sport. Fred had already cursed Charlie, and the older man was flying in circles, frantically scratching and yelling, "You'll get yours, Gred!" at the top of his lungs. Bill had flown by Ginny and lifted her off of her broom. He deposited her on the ground, leaving her to search for the runaway broom. Ron grabbed Hermione by the waist and pulled her off to the corner of the pitch for a quick snog. Percy was hovering, rather stiffly, beside his beau, Oliver Wood, who obviously was taking the role of Keeper far too seriously.

In short, it was Quidditch chaos. Completely without rules.

George flew up to Harry, grabbing his head and turning it toward the left. Harry got a manic grin on his face.

"I see the snitch! I see the snitch!" he sang, sounding like a child singing "Na-na-nah" and zoomed off.

"Ah, hell," Draco answered, smirking, and chasing after him. Ron had been right, however. Even drunk, Harry could fly well. He caught the snitch and grinned, doing a little dance on his broomstick. Draco hovered below him, shaking a fist. Then Harry fell. Straight onto Draco.

Draco was, needless to say, surprised to find that he had an armful of Harry.

"So now who's the hero?" Harry asked, blinking up at him. His glasses were slightly askew.

Before Draco could think of a thing to say, Ron pulled up.

"Malfoy, you will put down my Harry, NOW!"

Hermione pulled up and smacked Ron on the back of the head. "Your Harry? He's our Harry!" She smiled sweetly at Draco. "And yes, you can put him down now."

Harry was watching the two of them in amusement. He looked up at Draco, his expression full of mock seriousness, "Wow. I thought I was Harry's Harry." He turned around to straddle Draco's broom in front of him. "And yes, Draco, you can put me down now."

Draco was wondering when he had walked (er, flown) onto a set for the Three Stooges.

It didn't help that, when he got to the ground, Bill once again whispered into his ear, "It rather looked like he was Draco's Harry."

Draco pushed Harry off of his broom.