Immortalis

If anyone would ever like to talk...don't hesitate to email or contact me on AIM [sn drac0nique].

i m m o r t a l i s

[one]

Immortal:

Adj. Having unending existence; deathless; enduring.

Noun.1 A person considered worthy of immortality2 In mythology, a God.

- the Immortals1…any band or group that has conducted itself with marked gallantry in the face of extraordinary perils (especially of war) [ < Latin immortalis ]

-
-The Webster Comprehensive Dictionary

“…O great creator of being
grant us one more hour to
perform our art
and perfect our lives…
… We live, we die
and death not ends it
Journey we more into the
Nightmare
Cling to life…
…We have assembled inside this ancient
and insane theatre
To propagate our lust for life…
…To dance and save us
With the divine mockery
of words…
…Where are the feasts
we were promised
Where is the wine?”

-The Doors, An American Prayer

Chapter 01: The Inevitable Conflict

[Begin Excerpt] from MagicRadio interveiw in 2026

Welcome to ‘Truth Today’. This evening we have on our show the eminent historian Madam Virginia Weasley, the world’s foremost expert on the Great War and currently Professor of History of Magic at the renowned Hogwarts School of WitchCraft and Wizardry. Thankyou for taking time to speak with us, Madam Weasley.

The pleasure is mine, of course.

Let me start off by asking about one of the most celebrated anecdotes about you, that in the year 2002 at a war council meeting ex-Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge claimed that the War had begun solely due to the machinations of the Dark Lord Voldemort…and you laughed?

Frankly, I was surprised nobody else laughed. They called it the War of Voldemort back then, you know.

It was hilarous to think that so many people could have died, so much destruction caused just because of one act on the part of one ordinary mortal man. Entire generations lost, children taking up wands and guns to defend an oath that they didn’t completely understand. The other historians told me that I should not have been surprised, that every event should logically have a beginning somewhere. I laughed at that too.

For those who have not read your stunning book, ‘The Immortals’, could you summarise?

Voldemort was just a red-eyed pawn in a game that we were all playing in. I suppose you could call him a trigger cause, his puny quest for singular immortality was just a convenient subplot of the kind the Triumvirate loved. It is said that ‘Through your children you live forever’, but Voldemort could not live forever in that fashion. He suffered a bad case of the mumps when he was a child- this is a Muggle disease which cannot affect Purebloods- and was rendered sterile as a result. This was one of the reasons for his great hostility towards Muggles and Muggleborn.

However, if Voldemort hadn’t been around, anyone else could have started the actual war. The seeds of the conflict were sown the second human beings walked the Earth…

The War wasn’t really about Wizards or Muggles at all- the real chessgame was played out by the hands of the Immortals. By that, I don’t mean Gods…you could call them the closest thing to Gods this side of the universe. What I don’t know if it was just an interesting game or something else altogether…

So what was it that made you decide to study this particular period?

Well…I had just graduated out of my sixth year when war broke out. Just a child, come to think of it. I thought I was old then, I felt older than any other seventeen year old that had ever existed. What I wanted most desperately was a way to make sense of it all; that’s what I’ve dedicated my life to. [muted laughter] Though I can’t claim to understand everything even now.

Madam Weasley, is it true that the infamous Voldemort himself once-…

[end Excerpt]

13.02.1980, Sunday 0807
Voldemort’s headquarters during his peak of power

The air was cold and damp- the stench of fear, pure and primal, hung about the castle. Moss grew hesitantly in the cracks between the dull grey flagstones. A huddle of black-robed figures moved back in a wave as their Master appeared. He was followed closely by two men, their heads bowed and properly respectful.

Finally, one dared to break the silence.

“My Lord…must we go through with this?” Lucius Malfoy’s voice, though hesitant, had it’s usual polished veneer. “Surely there is something else?”

The Dark Lord fixed his erring subject with a quelling gaze. “You should have learned obeisance by now Lucius. Are you questioning my actions?” He toyed with his wand idly, his fingers playing over the dark wood surface menacingly.

“Oh no, Master, I would never dream of doing such a thing,” he recovered quickly, bowing low. There was a glint of hatred in his eyes, hatred for the creature that brought him to this base level. Bowing like a servant. He was a Malfoy, and did not bow to any pure wizard, much less a Mudblood. Malfoys were also diplomats, and knew when to hold their tongues and dampen their emotions. Lucius was a master of the game- head down, eyes low, lips honeyed. “I was merely suggesting-,”

“It is not your function to suggest things to me. Your function is to obey me; do not tempt me to remind you of this fact,” his eyes turned back to the rough-hewn stone altar ahead of them. “My payment for the…services…I provided you was this. The Alterius Spell. Severus!” Voldemort snapped suddenly, his voice sounding like a whip. “Would you repeat the relevant information please?”

Severus Snape jerked when his name was mentioned, nearly spilling the yellowish mixture he had been cradling to his chest. His dark eyes darted once to Lucius before settling on the hem of Voldemort’s robes. “It’s a piece of Dark Magic…similar to the Imperius curse, only administered in liquid form. Administered soon after birth, it ensures a strong tendency towards certain characteristics or a strong suppression towards other ones,” he recited, clutching the ladle in one hand.

“It’s control…my Lord, I must beg pardon for my forwardness, but this is my son. I cannot allow him to become a puppet, however worthy the wizard holding the strings may be,” familial obligation gave Lucius courage, but he seemed to shrink with each word, as if expecting punishment.

Instead, Riddle laughed. “My friend, your concern is so touching. It’s not control, Lucius- the spell cannot make characteristics that were never there in the first place or suppress very strong ones. All I want is loyalty and good sense. My recent activities have made me realise that there is a serious lack of truly loyal followers at my side. This night I will assure myself of at least one.”

"You are right as always, my Lord, I should not have doubted you even momentarily."

“True, true- but I am in a good mood. I give you my forgiveness,” Voldemort made a gesture towards another robed figure, who scuttled away immediately.

A thought seemed to strike Lucius Malfoy, and he lowered his voice before speaking it out loud. "Will the Triumvirate not be...upset at this?" He said the name with an amount of reverence. The Great Triumvirate were not to be invoked in vain. “A change of fate is a serious matter.”

"There are ways of repayment, Lucius. Many ways of repayment."

"You are most masterful, my Lord." Lucius bent and reverently kissed the hem of his Masters' robes. He was not born a servant- yet better to live as one than to die an aristocrat.

“Why thankyou, Lucius, you were always charming. Ah, what name do you intend for your heir?”

"Narcissa, my wife, she wishes to name him...Draco." Lucius Malfoy licked his lips. In his opinion it was an entirely unfit name for a Malfoy. There were specified traditional names for members of the Malfoy family, and tradition was not taken lightly. Officially, he himself was Lucius Tiberio Malfoy the Seventh. He had only been placated when his wife had agreed that he would take his great-grandfather's second name. "Draco Argentus Malfoy."

"The Silver Dragon...and you say Narcissa named him?" Voldemort seemed thoughtful, his red eyes glowing a deeper scarlet. He turned and glanced back at Karkaroff, who was holding the child in his arms. Wordlessly, Ivan placed the helpless bundle on the stone altar. "Draco Argentus Malfoy."

He held the child uncomfortably, like an object rather than a living being. Like ceramic- as if it would break if his fingers tightened. The Dark Lord looked back at Lucius' fearful face, hastening to add to his previous explanation. "There are beings and forces much greater than us at work her, my follower. Forces that exist only at the ends of Eternity can perform the task we beg of them. Reality itself will bend to our wills tonight, Lucius- fill your heart with that. Rarely does Creation allow such changes within it's womb."

Lucius’ electric blue eyes dropped to Voldemort’s outstretched hand. It was still as bony and skeletal as the day he had emerged from the cauldron. His fingers shivered involuntarily as he placed his own hand in his Master’s cool grip.

“Don’t be afraid, Lucius. You’ve gone through much more painful things,” he laughed nastily, drawing out a gleaming dagger from his inner pocket. With a smooth, practiced motion he sliced open the pale skin on Lucius’ hand, the blood blossoming from the red lips of the wound like dark wine. “Severus!”

The Death Eater stumbled forward and thrust the cauldron beneath the dripping hand, the blood sizzling as it touched the white mixture. Within seconds, the entire potion had turned a pale, buttery yellow and was giving off green vapours. Severus Snape looked up at Voldemort and nodded quickly. “It is ready, master.”

The Dark Lord took a ladleful of potion from the bowl in Severus hand and tipped it into the child's mouth. A weird, yellow-green tinge spread over the tiny figure.

"Slytherin qualities we require,

Of his Masters' service must never he tire,

He shall value greatly purity of Blood,

And never associate with veins of Mud.

Fate release it's iron grasp,

Allow the new future to come to pass.

Triumvirate bold and powers of fate, we ask permission

Exact your payment, as is tradition.

Alterio!"

The glow wavered slightly and suddenly it seemed like the child was on fire. A blinding yellow haze shone from him. It subsided a little and Lucius Malfoy watched with awe.

Outwardly, there was absolutely no change. From the gleam of triumph in his Master's eye, Lucius guessed that the Spell had worked. The Dark Lord looked confused for a brief moment before smiling with realisation. The Triumvirate would tell him the price to be paid when the time was right. They would tell him in his dreams, as they always did.

*

30.08.1997, Tuesday 1017
The Slytherin Common Room

Draco Malfoy shrugged deeper into the crushed green velvet chair. The blazing fire afforded him no warmth, for the coldness he felt was not physical. The virulent green decor seemed to hurt his eyes. A vein throbbed in his temple, purple-blue through his pale white skin.

It felt like some shadowy figure was throttling him, pulling the very life out of him...and as it came closer as the feeling intensified. A wave of hatred passed over him like an icy tsunami, burying him by it's very brute strength. His throat constricted, a feeling of nausea rising in the depths of his stomach. Bits of life flashed past him like jigsaw pieces all out of order. He saw a pale boy identical to him with a cold sneer on his face- the scene whirled out of focus until he saw the image of a dark-clad figure surrounded by others, muttering enchantments over the head of a baby. His vision was tainted emerald as he heard his own distinctive voice speaking the dreaded two words...and the endless, hollow laughter. The shadow-figure lowered his head and clamped it's rotting mouth to his, sucking out his emotions until all that was left was all-consuming self loathing. His eyes opened with startled quickness, breath coming to him in short gasps. Slowly he caressed his lips, running slender fingers over the unbruised skin.

Another nightmare about the Dementors...

Draco went over the visions he had seen, allowing a puzzled look to cross his features. Were they images of his future? The boy could not understand the intense fear and hatred that he had felt on watching himself commit these acts. He did not hate himself, he did not fear the Avada Kedavra...he did not dislike his attitude. It was always the same nightmare, it had been recurring ever since the Dementors had entered into his compartment on the train a few years previously. He had experienced the same visions then, and had been just as at a loss. For some reason, he had gone running to the Weasley Twins' compartment. It was a mistake. He could not convince himself, he had gone to them for a reason.

Draco shook his head and pulled the blanket around him tightly. He didn't understand what was happening to him. There's a history of madness in the family- Uncle Marcus is in St Mungos...maybe I'm going mad?

A cold laugh fell from his lips at the absurdity of that thought. He was anything but insane. Draco paused for a moment, wondering what his father would have him do. It's time to find out what this is all about.

*

30.08.1997, Tuesday 1120
The Library

"By Gryffindor's great sword!" Hermione Granger cursed, muttering an erasure spell yet again. Her Arithmancy was just not coming right, she knew she was going wrong somewhere in the potions aspect. This particular equation had to do with the lunar phases of the moon in conjunction with Mars, related to the life cycle of the flaming sparkbug. Despite all her talent, she just couldn't get it right. She had felt so distracted of late, ever since she had broken up with Viktor Krum.

There were muffled footsteps approaching behind the shelf in front of her, and Hermione could hear someone muttering expletives. "Could you keep it down, it is a libr-" Draco Malfoy stopped in his tracks, an expression of distasteful annoyance on the pixie-like features. "Oh, it's you."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she put down her quill with a click. "Oh my, the great Draco Malfoy is actually in the library. What's the matter, Draco? Daddy can't fix your grades anymore?"

"I would hit you, but I've been brought up better." The boy's cheeks flushed slightly, but there was no change in the unhurried drawl. He glanced over at what she had been trying to do. "Having trouble with your homework, Granger?"

It was her turn to flush, redness spreading up her cheeks and down her neck. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Draco turned, running his fingers through his hair. He stopped midstride, a thought striking him. Father always said that it was the end and not the means. With slow deliberateness, he walked over to her. "Listen up, Granger- I'll make you a deal."

"Bugger off, Malfoy."

"It could be mutually beneficial..." Draco let the sentence hang, continuing hurriedly when he received no response. "Unless, of course, you want to fail at applied Arithmancy? Tch...and I thought you were the smart one, too..." He made a pretense of walking away, keeping his speed slow.

"Malfoy- wait!"

Draco smiled, ignoring the look of disgusted defeat on Hermione's face and sitting down next to her. "Here it is- I need some help with some research. Some discreet research. I know you're good at that-" At the surprised look she gave him he shrugged. "Just because I dislike you doesn't mean I think you're an idiot. Father always said, never underestimate your en-" He stopped, realising that it was a most inappropriate thing to say. "-fellow folk. Anyway. In return I'll help you with your Arithmancic hiccups."

"You don't take Advanced Arithmancy- how in Magic's name can you help me?" Hermione was suspicious, her eyes glancing around for any intruders. Whatever would Harry and Ron say if they saw me talking to Malfoy?

"Just because I'm not taking it, doesn't mean I can't do it. So are you in or not?" He flashed a disconcertingly suave smile, showing that he could be charming if he needed to be.

Hermione was slightly thrown by the different treatment from him, pausing to collect her thoughts. "What's the research on?"

"Dementors."

*

29.09.1997, Saturday
The Library

"Right, so what you do is, you swap the point of conjunction with the variable 'q' and insert it into Madrowski's Planetary Theorem and use the answer as your base calculating point for the stellar positions."

Draco Malfoy's fingers clutched the pencil tightly as it moved with fluid ease over the paper. He had been leaning over Hermione's shoulder, and had to brush strands of her brown hair from his black robes after he straightened. Her expression of incomprehension melded into sudden understanding as she smiled. It made her look worlds different, that smile.

"Thanks, Malfoy." Hermione said, sounding truly grateful. She looked up at him, her large eyes questioning. "Why don't you take Arithmancy- I mean, you're so good at it."

"It's not important."

Hermione made a disgusted noise and raised one eyebrow. "And where did you get that idiotic idea?"

Draco's pale cheeks coloured. "Father." He said shortly, sitting down and edging away from her.

"Oh- I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"You did." He waved it away with a haughty gesture. "It doesn't matter. Father says that Arithmancy has no practical value for the future. He's very aware of the future."

Hermione couldn't be sure, but she thought that she could detect a trace of mockery in his tone. Still, she felt it was best to change the subject. "Anyway, I've done all that research on Dementors you asked for- along with the, uh, special conditions."

"And?" The gleam in his eye bespoke of something more than mere academic involvement. It was the first time she had seen his stony countenance come alive.

"There are a whole lot of possibilities for seeing visions of the self, except in a different light, under the influence of Dementors." Her voice took on a brisk, professional timbre. "The first being, of course, that the Dementors bring out the subconscious. It is a little known fact that Dementors were originally created by Mortragen Daemersgrale, otherwise known as the Sorceror. He created them not to leech emotion, rather to peel back all the layers of the psyche- his followers had to pass the Dementor test which revealed everything about their true self before they could become part of the inner circle. The Kiss was administered to those who failed." Hermione repressed a shudder at such brutality. "That means the visions are the truth of what you think subconsciously."

Draco gave a dry laugh, not catching the fact that Hermione had realised that the research was about himself. "Madness. There has to be another explanation."

"There are loads." She said, crossly. "I was just giving you the most probable one."

"Sorry- I was just saying that that's not it." He quickly amended his mistake, mollifying her somewhat. It had been an entire month and Draco had come to know and fear Hermione's stubborn streak. "Trust me."

"Trust a Slytherin?" Hermione snorted derisively, her eyebrow raised. "Give me a reason."

"Oh, for the Fate's sakes!" He expostulated, a grimace twisting his elfin features. "Just because I played pranks on your beloved Potter when I was in my Fourth year you assume that I still might? He isn't my favourite person, but why the bloody hell should I go looking for trouble? Face it, Hermione- we're all grown up and we're in our Seventh year. Back then, I was the immature one. Now you need to grow up- Slytherin and Gryffindor aren't who we are." Draco's face was flushed from such a long speech, and Hermione could see his knuckles whiten. "Just because I don't fawn over you and inquire how your family's doing when I see you in the hallway doesn't mean that I'm just waiting for a chance to back-knife you."

"I'm s-sorry. I just said what came to mind." She stammered out, a little ashamed of herself. What Draco said was quite true- there had been no more Slytherin-Gryffindor pranks and rivalry had been reserved for Quidditch. They were in their seventh year. "It's a new experience, having a civil conversation with you."

"Oh, and it's just ever-so-usual for me." Draco drawled sarcastically, crossing his arms. "I'm always having fluffy little snippets of talk with MudBlood Gryffs. Look- we're here 'cause we had a deal, and father always said 'Keep business, business'. So I won't take it badly if you don't say hello in the hallway, but any more Slytherin jibes and I will hex you." There was the ghost of a twinkle in his eye, but Hermione wasn't sure if he was joking or not. Something told her that if she pushed him, he would most surely shove back.

A movement behind the shelves indicated that someone had heard the last part of Malfoy's statement. Dean Thomas emerged with a concerned expression on his face, closely followed by Seamus Finnigan. "Hermie- is he bothering you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at the fact that his girlfriend and Draco Malfoy were seated at the same table. Despite being a Slytherin, Malfoy had an annoyingly long record of stealing other boy's girlfriends...of every house. And there was also the fact that Lavender had so recently left him for Harry.

"Dean!" She flushed a little in surprise, having not told him about their arrangement. "No, he's not bothering me." She chuckled at the suspicious look on his face and tilted her head. "Really, I'm fine- just doing some Arithmancy."

"What's the matter, Thomas? Jealous?"

Dean deigned not to answer. "Okay. I'll see you upstairs later, Hermie." With a warning glance at Malfoy, Dean kissed Hermione rather pointedly and left.

Seamus gave both of them one last incredulous glance and followed.

“Poor Deanie…he’s such a suspicious boy.”

“He's just afraid of a Lavender-repeat," she replied, softly.

"That's right- Harry cuckolded him good with Lavvie, didn't he?" Draco mused. "I didn't expect it of Red and Gold boy."

"He didn't steal her."

Draco looked up with an expression of feigned pity. "Oh yes, you always stick up for your friends, don't you? Look, I'm heading back to the Dormitory- I don't fancy my name being bandied about in romantic conjunction with yours."

"What do you mean!"

"Oh, puh-lease. Your sweet Deanie might have kept his mouth shut, but I doubt Finnigan will- he’s probably told the entire Gryffindor house about seeing you within ten feet of me and at dinner the entire school is going to think we’re involved. Good luck, Granger, but I'm not hanging around to reinforce the rumours."

Saturday, dinnertime
The Great Hall

Hermione tried to eat her lamb chop in peace, ignoring the whispering voices all around her. Finally, it was just too much. "He was helping me with my Arithmancy!" She yelled, clear enough for the entire Gryffindor table to hear her. "That's right- he's better at Arithmancy than I am and he was helping me out. Are you happy now?" Blushing with embarrassment and anger, Hermione stood up and walked out of the Great Hall.

Chatter resumed slowly, as Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "She was getting help from Malfoy?"

"Git." Ron mumbled, looking over to the Slytherin table. "He's not at dinner."

"Maybe we should check up- it's probably some Slytherin trick. You know how trusting Hermione is." Harry whispered, irritated at Malfoy for no definable reason. "Anyway, at least that explains where she's been in the evenings."

"Malfoy." The lanky redhead shook his head in disbelief. "Anyway, you don't think that they're actually....you know-"

"Snogging, going out, making it?" Harry laughed. "Nah, Hermione's not an idiot, Ron. She's a Gryffindor and he's a Slytherin. It just doesn't work. Besides, she seems to like Dean a lot."

"Right." Ron rolled his eyes just the way Lavender did. He turned back to the Slytherin table and caught a flash of long golden hair as Sycorax Lestrange held the entire Slytherin table's attention. It wasn't hard to imagine why- she was easily the most beautiful girl in school and the cause for many jealousies since she had transferred from Durmstrang in her fifth year. "Wish I could hear what they're saying…" Ron muttered, trying not to stare at her..

The Slytherins wished no such thing. Sycorax smirked lazily, her perfect features taking on an a sensuously malevolent look. "Why it's utter silliness. Draco probably needed something from the MudBlood- despite her rather obvious physical shortcomings she is disgustingly proficient with magic." The others nodded their agreement at her mellifluous tones. "Besides, who in their right mind would choose her over me?"

Sycorax's little barb was rewarded by a round of laughter. While Hermione Granger was not ugly by a long shot, Sycorax's unearthly beauty was definitely out of her league. It was a heated controversy within the Slytherin commons who was more beautiful- Sycorax Lestrange or her cousin, Fleur Delacour. Draco, who had dated both, had remained carefully impartial since he was currently dating Sycorax. It was common knowledge that Fleur did not get along with any of her cousins, even though the Ophelia Lestrange, Sycorax's elder sister, had powerful contacts in the Dark side and Blaise McAllistair, her only male cousin, was the guitarist of the hottest new Wizarding band- Violet Fire.

With fluid Veela grace, she lifted herself from her seat. "I'm going to go talk to Draco. Give us a little time, eh?" She winked, her question toned more like a statement. Pansy Parkinson glowered a little, but there was a general bustle of agreement. Sycorax undulated off in the direction of the Slytherin common room as the other boys stared rather wistfully at her departing figure.

She turned a corner and barely avoided bumping into a similarly tall girl. "Watch yourself!" Sycorax hissed, looking up and meeting annoyed brown eyes. "Well, well. Hermiown Granger."

"Her-my-oh-nee."

"Whatever." The witch dismissed it with a graceful wave of her hand and Hermione was once more struck with how distastefully alike the cousins were. "Anyway, it is good that I saw you."

"You don't say?" Hermione's hand was on her wand, just in case the Slytherin tried something.

"Oh, indeed." Sycorax reached out her hand and tightened her fingers around a twist of Hermione's robe, pulling the girl towards her roughly. "Listen carefully, MudBlood. I've kept my boyfriend through Pansy Parkinson, one of the Weird Sisters, Parthenope Czyren and Fleur Delacour. Fleur tried me and ended up having to carry that gorgeous hair of hers home in a bag. And she was my cousin. Don't get any ideas or you might end up a little, shall we say...missing, the neck up." She made a slicing motion over Hermione's neck with her finger and smiled slowly. "Your powers are measly compared to those who have tangled with me and lost." That done, she shoved Hermione against the wall with surprising strength and walked on.

Hermione watched her leave with an expression of surprise on her features. Her back ached a little from where she had been thrust against the wall and she could feel a trace of warm blood just below her collarbone where the Slytherin's nails had scratched her skin. The girl had been quite effective in scaring her, Hermione's heart was beating much faster than normal. Wincing, she pulled herself to her feet and straightened up her robes. Slowly, the surprise melted into amusement at the fact that Sycorax had taken her seriously enough to expend all that energy...especially when there was absolutely nothing going on.

"Domus Serpentia." Sycorax muttered the password- House of the Snake- and pulled herself into the common room. Draco was sitting by the fire, in his favourite velvet-upholstered chair. She glided over to him and folded gracefully into his lap, her arms around his neck. "Hello, darling..." Her grey-blue eyes sparkled brilliantly.

Draco didn't even looked surprised, he simply reached out and traced her cheek. "Why, hello there, beautiful." He whispered, leaning forward and capturing her mouth with his. The vehemence of his kiss surprised the both of them, and she drew away with an expression of satisfaction. The kiss had obviously been genuine enough.

"I knew there was no truth to it!" She exclaimed, running her fingers through his silky hair. "I am infinitely better suited for you than Granger could ever be!"

"My dear Sycorax, the question never entered my mind." Draco pulled himself higher and kissed her neck, moving upwards and finding her mouth once more. "I doubt Granger is as good you at this." He mumbled against her lips, crushing them with his own as his hand pulled aside her Hogwarts robe to expose the bare skin of her leg.

Sycorax pulled out her wand and raised her hand above the chair, aiming towards the door. "Atrium Nix." She locked the door magically and turned back to Draco with a sensuous grin. She unclasped his robes and caressed his chest, moving lower down with her slender fingers. "Give me fifteen minutes and I can show you something else that I'm better than Granger at..."

*

30.11.1997, Saturday
History of Magic Classroom

Draco strode into the classroom five minutes early, glad that he had managed to ditch Goyle. In his haste to get away from Granger the previous evening, it had slipped his mind to get her research on Dementors. Bending underneath her desk, he fixed a note underneath it with a spell that made sure only Hermione could remove it. That was the good thing about being in Seventh year, classes were no longer split House-wise because only few people took each subject. That done, he settled back into his seat as the class filtered in, looking as innocent as a Hufflepuff first-year. Draco noticed Hermione give him a glance as she entered, but made no move to talk to him, sitting between Sylvoren Trelawney and Dean Thomas since neither Harry nor Ron took the class. Sycorax Lestrange slid in next to him with a smile as Goyle found his familiar places behind his own.

"Settle down, everyone." Professor Alex "Skidmarks" Ramsey, who had taken up the post ever since Professor Binns had decided to quit his job and opt for the quieter life, walked in. As usual, he was dressed in a loose pastel blue robe which he wore open, ostensibly to display his Muggle clothing. That consisted of a t-shirt with 'Skidmarks Ramsey, no 1-2001 BroomRacing Championships' printed in bright blue and the image of a Firebolt racing broom right below. Privately, Harry thought of him as Gilderoy Lockhart the Second, and the retired racer certainly had the female fan following to prove it. "Today will be revision for the upcoming NEWTS. I trust that everyone is studying hard."

There were a few nods and yes's from both sides as the Professor smiled, displaying his row of what Hermione swore were celluloid teeth. He was a different from Binns- for one, Alex Ramsey was very much alive.

"Okay, Miss Lestrange, why don't you tell me about non-human magical peoples from the ancient to modern times?"

Sycorax did not look amused her grey-flecked eyes narrowing slightly. "I find it offensive that you chose me just because I have a Veela grandmother and do not have as human blood as yourself."

"Oh, Miss Lestrange, magic forbid. I simply believed that you would be more well versed in the matter and more capable of giving the class an interesting lecture. One with a few more words and a lot less stuttering." Ramsey could not help a glance at Neville Longbottom, who had completely dissolved when he had asked him to summarise the Goblin wars the previous class.

The girl shook out her blonde hair and smiled, seemingly pacified. "Very well. In the middle ages, Wizards were a secretive community, living in hiding. It was in these times that Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and Hogwarts were created and flourished. Due to anti-Magic feelings on the part of the Muggles, all magical creatures came together. Elves, trolls, Veela, werefolk, vampires, erivalli, goblins and dwarfs walked hand in hand with humans. Codes about violence towards humans applied to non-human magical creatures as well. Soon, human knowledge of magic grew less and more abstract. Finally came the age of technology, and people stopped believing in magic. The Dilution effect started seriously affecting magic. To compensate, human Wizards began interbreeding with the Muggles. Soon, Wizardkind stopped living in shadow, and instead started living in Muggle areas and settlements using cover stories. Other Magical creatures could not follow, as many could be easily identified as nonhuman. The races grew apart during the late 1800's and early 1900's and bigotry kicked into high gear. Then, the Dark Lo- I mean, You-Know-Who-" Sycorax corrected herself with a shake of her pert head.

"-he rose, and magical creatures were divided. Elves faded into the background, retreating to their native Unplottable forests and glades. The werefolk, trolls, giants and some Veela sided with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named because they were tired of the inter-magical bigotry the humans practiced. The Dwarves decided to remain impartial, as did the empathic Erivalli- both took sanctuary in their native homes." Her notes were open in front of her and she glanced down at them every now and then as the others in her class scribbled her words down furiously. The treatment of non-magical creatures was the only thing she actually felt passionate about and Ramsey knew she was extremely adept at making their case. "The last Erivalli sighting was in 1894. Because the only Magical creatures who weren't impartial were in the service of the Dark Lord, the Code of Wand Use was amended in 1953. Clause three now reads 'No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand'." Sycorax paused to take a deep breath and looked around to make sure everyone was listening.

"Due to their dual nature, werefolk were officially exempt from the rule. However, the Ministry encouraged the Magical schools to refuse admission to their kind. Hogwarts, I am glad to say, has not completely closed it's doors, as the case of Mr. Remus Lupin last year shows." She mentioned her step-uncle with a smile, despite the fact that he was a bit of a Muggle sympathiser. "After the defeat of You-Know-Who by my classmate, Mr. Potter, in 1981, the entire structure of the his army crumbled and created varied social problems. The Veela returned to their native Brazil and have been discouraged from breeding- to the point where there are only sixteen pureblooded Veela left. Werewolves have once again been shunned, and they are receiving no aid whatsoever from the ministry. The trolls joined the goblins and began the extremely lucrative banking business- the largest endeavour is Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Vampires simply faded away, and apart from the occasional sighting or bloodless corpse, we have seen nothing of them." Sycorax finished with a flourish as her spell over the class was broken.

"Well, Miss Lestrange, thankyou for that extremely informative session." Professor Ramsey spoke a little distractedly. "Ah- homework. A foot of parchment detailing your veiw on the amendment of the Code of Wand Use. Be prepared to defend yourself next class- we'll be having a debate." The bell rang shrilly in the distance. "Dismissed!"

*

11pm, the same day
Abandoned Transfig Classroom

"Malfoy?" Hermione was unsure whether she should light her wand, hugging her school bag close. She strained her eyes in the darkness, trying to discern any shape.

There was a glint of light on iridescent blond hair and Draco slid out from behind a musty desk. "The one and only." He drew out his wand with an enviably quick flick of his fingers. "Lumos. Glad you could make it."

"Oh yes, very glad. If nothing else will convince the school that we're not running mates in a snog marathon, sneaking around in a deserted classroom will. Why don't we just run up to the Astronomy tower and stick neon signs on our clothes?"

Draco resisted the impulse to smile at the sarcasm in her tone and the way her lip trembled when she was angry. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you. And I am not meeting you in the library any more."

"Whyever not? We're in a study group. By avoiding each other we'll just look awfully guilty."

"Because-" If Goyle tells my father then I'm screwed "-this is Hogwarts, Granger. Rita Skeeter's column is truthful and unbiased compared to the rumours that spread around here. As I'm sure you know." He subtly implied her experience during Third Year, where everyone had believed that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin. A fact which, in Draco's opinion, was utterly laughable. "Anyway, my girlfriend's the jealous type and I'd like to keep her pleased, if you know what I mean."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Draco's slow smile- Sycorax Lestrange wasn't exactly on her favourite persons list. "Anyway, what did you want?"

"I never got around to getting that research about Dementors from you." He drew out a chair and motioned for Hermione to seat herself, slipping in beside her.

"Hygenium." Hermione muttered, cleaning the table to spotlessness.

"Nice spell." Draco extended his hand slightly so that she was included in the halo of light his wand was casting. Almost unconsciously, he noted that she was wearing a pastel dressing gown over a cotton nightdress. Despite being physically mature, somehow she had an air of innocent naiveté that Draco found quaint- it was like the horrors of the world had somehow left her untouched. As if His Rising could leave anyone unscathed.

She nodded and patted the bag she had been carrying. "I have it in here." She leaned down and unclasped the hooks, placing a few sheaves of parchment on the desk and rummaging around for something else. Draco glanced over the research- it was all hand written in her own distinctively even hand. With a sigh, Hermione straightened up, the sleeve of her dressing gown slipping off her left shoulder.

"How did you hurt yourself?" Observant grey eyes had noticed the raw scratch mark just below her collarbone. It was quite obvious to him that someone had scratched her, there were distinctive fingernail bruises around the wound. But then again, some people liked that sort of thing...though from his estimation they were female. Doesn't mean that it's forced. Maybe she and some other Gryff girlie are having a bit of rough and tumble every now and then- you never know....

A smile curled on his lips at that particular thought, and Hermione chose to interpret it as an affirmation of his knowing about the incident. "Well, I never!" She stood up, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glinting in the dim light. "Don't you have any decency in there?"

"What?" Draco asked, surprised by her sudden flare of anger but refusing to show it.

"I should have known this was all a sleazy Slytherin way for you to get off!"

Now Draco was thoroughly befuddled. He sleeked his hair back with one hand and regarded her levelly from his chair. "What the bloody hell are you on about?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes and clutched her wand tightly, looking on the verge of giving him a nasty hex. "Stop pretending- go ask the wonderful Miss Lestrange if you don't know. And you can forget about getting your research!" With a sniff of indignation, she turned and flounced out of the room, leaving behind a very confused eighteen year old.

01.12.1997,
Slytherin Common Room

"Sycorax?"

With a pert nod of dismissal to the young girl she had been speaking with, Sycorax turned towards Draco. "Good morning." She whispered, managing to make even that innocent greeting sound like an invitation to dalliance.

"I need to speak with you." He took her arm and pulled her towards a quieter corner of the common room a little roughly.

"Don't." Her tone was clipped and firm as she pulled her wrist out of Draco's grasp. "What do you want?" The soft allure in her manner was gone, Sycorax was too annoyed to pretend. Besides, if he didn't want her for that, then she had no clue what else he could possibly desire.

"Did you do something to the MudBlood?"

"Which one?"

He repressed a sigh, disliking the snap to her tone. "The Granger one, genius."

"No."

Draco crossed his arms and leaned back, his eyes moving down to her hands. There were telltale bruises on her delicate Veela skin which said she had been up to something rough of late- and Draco knew that he certainly hadn't done anything to cause the purpling on her fingers. "I can see the bruises on your hands...don't lie to me."

"What do you care?"

Draco took her by the wrist again. "She has some research that I need. And she's not going to give it to be if you go shoving her around."

The expression on Sycorax's face would have made a less arrogant man quail. "Get someone else to do it for you."

"Granger's the best at this kind of thing." His voice was low and warning as he pulled her closer. "And I say I want her research. Are you questioning me?"

"By the hair from the head of my grandmother! They're right...you do have feelings for her."

In the rush of one moment, Draco realised what a delicate glass house his life was. Everything could collapse if he made one wrong move or allowed a single crack to grow. A glass house, so perfect and sparkling that if he pretended it could almost seem like there was no barrier between himself and everything else. Sooner or later the windows would stop sparkling and grow opaque and the illusion would be that much harder to keep up. But he was the king of pretend, and illusion was just as real as reality...only not.

"Don't be annoying, Raxie...she's doing an important job for me."

She tried to pull out of his grasp only to find he was holding her tighter than she had thought. "My name is Sycorax, not Raxie."

"Do I look like I care?" Draco hissed, twisting a lock of her beautiful gold hair. He leaned closer, locking eyes with her. "I don't take any bullshit from anyone, Sycorax. I've been indulgent with you, but don't think I'd hesitate to open your eyes if you flout my authority. Your beauty is pleasing, but we Malfoys are not slaves to it as others are." He jerked her hair and she let out a soft cry of pain.

"You're hurting me, Draco..." She sounded like she was giving him a reminder rather than pleading.

He released her and smoothed his hair back. As usual, everyone was pretending that they hadn't seen a thing. Draco took a deep breath and quickly regained his cool. "I apologise." It wouldn't do for her to run and tell father, now would it? He could almost hear the lesson on chivalry that Lucius would be sure to give him. "Try not to try my patience so, Sycorax."

The Veela-blooded girl was as gracious in victory as she was in defeat. "I shall not venture near Granger. I hope this pleases you?" She asked, gently tending her frayed lock of hair. She seemed to have forgiven him, but there was a hard edge to her eyes that told Draco otherwise.

"Indeed it does." With a small nod of his head he gave her tacit permission to leave. He watched Sycorax go, wondering whether she was his greatest triumph or most horrendous mistake.

Sycorax Lestrange was exactly the kind of girl that would throw stones at her own glass house just to watch it shatter.

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