- Rating:
- R
- House:
- Schnoogle
- Genres:
- Drama
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban
- Stats:
-
Published: 08/25/2001Updated: 12/24/2001Words: 95,561Chapters: 12Hits: 9,501
A Type of Revenge
Myst
- Story Summary:
- Draco returns from his 6th year at Hogwarts to find his world turned upside-down. Is it enough to make him change sides? Will this new trial make him stronger or will he collapse under the strain? A death changes everything, but whose? And why has Draco taken up the habit of playing the piano all hours of the night? In store for Draco over the year is much mental anguish and a number of suprises for everyone.
Chapter 07
- Chapter Summary:
- Someone close to Draco dies, and his revenge takes an unusual twist. Caught up in a tangled web of love and death, honour and betrayal, he and his beloved must fight in a war that could lead them to their ultimate destruction, or a new freedom for their world.
- Posted:
- 09/23/2001
- Hits:
- 472
Ummm. There’ll be a while to wait for chapter 8, ‘cause I’m having trouble with the next one, and I like to have that finished before I post a new one.
Apologies for taking so long to get it to Schnoogle. For some reason I take longer to post it here than anywhere else. I will endeavor to change that.
A formal welcome to my new beta’s, Slytherin Godess and Thurisaz. Thanks for you help, and thanks, as always, to Danette for the brillant job that she does. To my three constant reviewers: Thank you heaps, I love hearing what you think, and I have replied to everyone, haven’t I? If I haven’t, email me and I will reply. J
I think that’s everything I need to say.
Oh, I almost forgot the warning.
WARNING: This is a war story with slash and triads with everything that those involve. If these offend you somehow, please don’t read it.
Chapter Seven: Recruitment
Monday night found both Draco and Harry in the music room on the fourth floor. Draco had arrived first as usual, and was playing when Harry walked in. He lifted his fingers from the keys, but Harry gestured him to keep playing. He enjoyed listening to Draco playing. Maybe he should ask Malfoy to teach him? Nah. That would be too obvious. It was the only time that he could relax now, listening to the music, that dark and descriptive music. The days were taken up with preparing for the N.E.W.T’s, and the war, and the nights, when he was supposed to be sleeping soundly were fraught with dreams - nightmares really - that had silver eyes, and blond hair wandering through the fights with Voldemort and the dreams of his parents deaths. But the music relaxed him. He didn’t have to think, or worry about anything. He could just be.
Draco kept playing. He was relieved that Potter hadn’t asked him to stop playing. Playing helped to release the stresses and tensions of the day. But all too soon, the time he could legitimately play for ended, and he had to face reality again.
Harry stood up again, stiff from sitting on the hard floor. Maybe he should nick some cushions from the Gryffindor common room. They would be nicer to sit on, and it looked like he would be spending a lot of time in this room. "So, what was so important that you had to contact me?" He kept his voice as neutral as he could manage, as Sarai had advised.
"I needed to speak to you, Potter."
"I had rather gathered that, yes." Harry walked over to him, and sat down on the piano stool beside him. Draco moved over automatically.
"I have been contacted by Lucius." Now Draco stood up, and started pacing the room.
"Yes?"
"I am told that You-Know-Who has noticed that there are some promising future Death Eaters here."
"Call him Voldemort," said Harry sharply, "Fear only increases his power."
Draco’s mouth twisted, "But if one does fear him?"
"Call him Voldemort anyways," said Harry promptly, "If you already fear him, you don’t need to fear him any more than necessary. Besides if you act as if you don’t fear him, you’re less likely to."
"Riiight," drawled Draco. He wasn’t convinced that Potter was entirely accurate, and he certainly didn’t intend to start calling You-Know-Who Voldemort. "I was ordered to train one of the future Death Eaters."
"Indeed?"
"Yes. Pansy Parkinson."
Harry nodded, unsurprised.
"You don’t look surprised, Potter."
"No," agreed Harry, "I could see it coming."
"How?" demanded Draco, sharply.
"She’s evil," said Harry bluntly, "You’re not, however much you like to pretend that you are. You have some sort of a code of ethics, or you would have never chosen the revenge that you have. Pansy wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. She would look to gain the most advantage out of it."
"Pretty good assessment of her character," said Draco grudgingly.
"Thank you."
"There will be others, I am sure. But for now that is all he wants trained."
"Thank you for the information," said Harry, "Are there any raids planned?"
"I haven’t heard of any. They do a shocking job of organising them anyways."
"So I’ve noticed," Harry told him dryly, "But a number of them succeed regardless."
"True. But I could do a better job of them than that."
"You do have a high opinion of yourself, Malfoy."
"At least I have something to be proud of."
Harry sighed, "I thought we were leaving the bitching outside our arrangements."
"Really?" Draco arched a silver eyebrow in amazement.
"No. It was worth a try."
"Yes,’ Draco turned serious suddenly, "We need a better way of contacting each other, Potter."
Harry nodded, "I know. I was talking to my contact earlier in this week, and it was suggested that we set up a weekly meeting, or something of the sort. I kinda figured that we could keep meeting here at night. Neither of us sleeps very well, and we may as well make the most of the time we have awake."
He nodded thoughtfully. Potter was actually making sense. Draco sat down on the piano stool besides him, just close enough to touch. "That actually sounds like it might work, Potter. But what about emergency contact? I know we put off this meeting, but that was allowable. We had the time to do that. But what if we don’t?"
"I’ve actually discussed that with my contact too," said Harry, "They suggested that we use a Vibrating Message Crystal."
"Too obvious," frowned Draco.
"Really?"
"And what if we lose them?’
Harry shrugged, "Guess we have to replace them."
Draco stared at him, "Do you have any idea how expensive those things are?"
"Not really."
"They’re bloody expensive. Even Lucius wouldn’t go about carelessly losing one. They cost too much to replace."
"Well what do you suggest then?" demanded Harry.
"I think I can adapt the Crystal a bit, so it’s attuned only to us, and make it harder to lose. It may involve some of the Darker Arts though, since if what I’m thinking of works, it’ll involve some blood magic."
Harry frowned "I’ll have to ask my contact about that, when you’ve worked out the details. And speaking of details, what day do you want to meet?"
"How about Thursday night?"
"Can’t, quidditch practice."
"Tuesday then."
Harry thought over his schedule. "That should work."
"Good. I’ll work on the Crystal thing."
"Thank you. It will be more convenient, if you can get it to work, and I won’t have to listen to Ron or Hermione think up ways of getting you back."
"Oh, how sweet," sneered Draco, "You let your friends fight your battles for you."
"Now, look here, Malfoy. I managed to stop them from hexing you, the least you could be is grateful."
"Not bloody likely."
"That’s what I thought. Was there anything else that you wanted? ‘Cause if there’s not, I’m going to bed, so I don’t have to listen to you insulting me and my friends."
"Well... there is one thing, Potter."
"Oh?"
"I was wondering...."
"Hurry up, Malfoy, I don’t have all night."
"DoyouwanttoknowmoreaboutSalem?" This was said very fast, and Draco steadfastly refused to look at Harry the entire time that he was speaking.
Harry took a minute to digest what Malfoy had said, and shrugged, "All right, I don’t have anything better to do anyways."
Draco glared at him for the insult to Salem, but started talking regardless, the need to speak about her so great that if the wall had said it would listen, he’d have started telling it about her. Harry put the top back down on the piano, and leaned back against it. Malfoy had a very nice speaking voice, he mused abstractedly. Then he started paying attention to what Draco was actually saying to take his mind off that particular topic.
"Mr Weasley," said Sarainail the following day, after they had had Defence Again the Dark Arts, "Could you please stay behind for a few minutes? There is something I would like to speak to you about."
"Uh, sure, Professor."
"Do we need to stay too?" asked Hermione.
"Not at the moment. I will need to speak with you at a later date though."
Harry and Hermione left, to go and do some revision in the library before tea.
Sarai turned to Ron gravely. She wasn’t sure quite where to start, and was utterly convinced that either Remus or Sirius would have done a better job than she would, but they were gone now, and so she was the one who had to do it. "Mr Weasley, I was wondering if you had made a decision concerning what you will do when you finish school?
"No, not really, Professor. Why?"
"I and a group of people are part of a League that fights against Voldemort. We have seen how you, Miss Granger and Mr Potter have fought against his minions, and even escaped him before. Therefore, we were wondering whether you would care to work for us when you leave. You will be provided with training of course, if you choose to join us."
Ron looked at her, feeling kind of dazed, "Wait, why me? Why not Harry, or Hermione? I mean, Harry’s the Boy Who Lived, and Hermione’s the cleverest witch to come to Hogwarts for years. Why not them?"
Sarai raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think they don’t already work for us?"
His mouth dropped open in shock. "They work for you?"
"You may be right," Sarai shrugged gracefully, "Or you may not be. Is there a reason that I would tell you?"
"They’re my friends."
"Yes," agreed Sarai mildly, "And Peter Pettigrew was one of my friends too."
"Are you comparing me to him?" demanded Ron angrily.
"No, I’m trying to point out need for security."
"Security?"
"We learnt our lessons a bloody hard way last time," said Sarai, remembering all those years of exile, and belief in betrayal because of a lack of security, "We won’t make them again."
"You mean in the last war against You-Know-Who."
"Call him Voldemort," said Sarainail irritably, "Fear of the name only increases his power. We don’t need that."
"He might hear us."
"Have you learnt nothing all these years?" demanded his teacher, "Have I taught you nothing? He can’t hear you of you say his name. The only ones that I know of that can do that are the Old Court Sidhe. And whatever Voldemort is, he is not Old Court Sidhe." Ron looked vaguely traumatised still, so Sarai sighed impatiently and said, "I’ll call him Voldemort as little as possible, and you can call him You-Know-Who as little as possible, and then we’ll both be happy. All right?"
"Ah, sure."
"Okay then," Sarai told him crisply, "Since we had that nice sidetrack discussion about Voldemort, and security, we don’t actually have enough time to go over the details now. What time would you like to meet to go over them?"
"Details?"
"For the League of Light." She grimaced, "It’s an awful name, I know, but its the best that we could come up with."
"Why did you need a name?"
"What? You’d prefer that we were referred to as the Side that Fights Voldemort, or the Light, or the Good Guys or something like that? And we needed one for the accounts."
"You keep accounts?" said Ron incredulously.
She shrugged. "Some of this is run as a business after all. And we do support our people monetarily too."
Ron looked like he was going to say something else, but Sarai interrupted him, "I can’t make Wednesday evening, but anytime else should be fine. What suits you?"
Ron thought hastily, "Thursday, Harry has quidditch practise then, and I can sneak away from Hermione easily enough - since we’ll be in the Library, and you could set a bomb off under her if she’s reading."
"Right. Thursday evening after dinner."
"Yes, Professor."
It was only when he was nearly back at the Gryffindor common room that Ron realised that she hadn’t answered his question about Harry and Hermione at all.
Draco studied the books on Message Spells intently. He was trying desperately to avoid talking to Pansy. More than that, he was putting off the time when he revealed himself to her as her contact. She was going to be furious, although what else you could expect in Slytherin, he wasn’t quite sure. Pansy was viscous and vindictive, and Draco was quite sure that she was unbalanced mentally. Now that he thought on it some more, it seemed that most of the people that Voldemort has serving him were at least slightly unbalanced. Maybe that’s a prerequisite for being a Death Eater? He was good example. Joining the League of Light to avenge his sister? That was not normal for a Malfoy. [For that matter] whispered that annoying voice in his head, [Neither is being attracted to Harry Potter.] And Lucius was hardly more sane than he was. The way Salem had died showed that someone, or several someones had a taste for necrophilia. And he rather suspected that it was Lucius. There had been a few such deaths on the Manor before Draco started caring a bit about such things. And that Pettigrew fellow didn’t seem sane either. Why would he abandon the good guys just to be defeated when Voldemort tried to kill Harry Potter? And what about Crabbe and Goyle’s parents? They didn’t appear to be any smarter than their sons, so maybe that was why they were accepted. They had so little brains that it counted as a mental disorder. Draco shrugged and closed the book. There was stuff about Message Spells in the book, and the easily accessible ones in the library, but he wasn’t able to access the restricted ones, and he doubted that any of his teachers would give him a note for him to access them. No, he would have to think up a plausible reason for writing to Lucius, and asking for books that had information about blood ties in spells. Perhaps he could think of a way that Voldemort could contact all of his Death Eaters without requiring them all to get together or something.
Maybe.
Tuesday seemed to come slowly, even though it was only the following day. He had seen Potter during that time of course, in the classes that they had together, but that wasn’t nearly as satisfying as their midnight talks. Because during the day, Potter looked at him with that awful neutrality that he had shown all his former enemies that year. It was as though he wasn’t there for Potter, as though Potter’s mind was elsewhere, and he didn’t care what happened to him, didn’t care what he, Draco did to him, it just didn’t matter any more. He didn’t matter any more.
But at night, that pose, that facade was dropped. Potter had put his arm around his shoulder before, and it had felt nice and warm, when he was so cold. Potter looked at him with increasing care in that newly beloved face.... What the hell am I thinking? I don’t care about Potter, honestly I don’t. I’m just using him to get Salem off my mind, and out of my dreams, and so that those goody goody twoshoes that he works for know that I am also working for them.
He got through the day somehow. The teachers gave them more and more homework. It was good to have Professor Grey back again. She knew what she was talking about and could actually teach it to them - even if she, like the other teachers did give too much homework.
He was playing as usual when Harry walked in. Their eyes met briefly when Harry walked past the piano carrying some old cushions, and Draco kept playing. Potter seemed to like the music for some reason. He wasn’t playing anything deep and meaningful at the moment, just fiddling. He stopped playing, feeling remarkably contrary. He felt like annoying Potter. Wanted to see if he could break through that wall in his eyes, the one that blocked his thoughts from the rest of the world. The glasses were part of it, but no one could make their eyes and face that neutral without training. It had taken him a while to get the hang of it - even with Salem’s coaching, and Lucius’ training. Salem had been the harder taskmaster of the two, since she had insisted that he be at least partially able to conceal how he was feeling around her, as a Bard. That had been hard because he had to suppress his emotions or something, and change his pattern. No one really understood Salem when she started talking about Bardic stuff, it was just too confusing.
"Why d’ya stop?" asked Harry, "I was enjoying it."
"It’s just mindless fiddling," said Draco, bored. "Was there something that you wanted, Potter?"
"Have you come up with anything on the Message Crystal that you said you were going to work on?" asked Harry, who needed something to say that Draco wouldn’t take offence at.
"No," snarled Draco, "I haven’t had enough time. It’s been one day, Potter. And I have to do something about Pansy."
"That’s right, you have to train her, don’t you? Is there any chance of converting her?"
"Converting Pansy?" asked Draco in shock, "Not bloody likely."
Harry laughed, and Draco thrilled to the sound. "You’re right of course, I wasn’t thinking. But are there any Death Eaters that you know of who would be willing to change sides?"
"Not that I know of."
Harry sighed, and came and sat beside Draco on the piano stool.
"You do that a lot."
Potter looked startled. "What?" he asked.
"Sit by me on the piano stool," Draco replied. "Do you have a thing for me or something?" Potter nearly fell off the stool in complete amazement, which would have been a pity, since Draco was enjoying having him so close. He started spluttering, and Draco laughed, amused. "Oh come on, Potter, do you really mean to tell me that you’ve never thought of it?"
Harry glared at him, and tried desperately to catch his breath, or at least form a coherent sentence. All that came to mind was: "Well, I don’t see you objecting."
It was Draco’s turn to go an interesting shade of pink, and try to find something to say. But all the witty comebacks he would usually use had deserted him, and he had nothing to say.
Harry couldn’t help it. For some strange insane reason, he wanted to make Malfoy lose his cool, and explode or something like that. The pink cheeks and vague look of shock were very interesting, but something was missing. The inarticulate rage that was often in Malfoy’s eyes during the day. Maliciously, he continued to taunt Malfoy. "What’s the matter, Malfoy? Are you trying to say that you like having me sit next to you?" Harry ignored the contrary feelings ripping through him. Part of him was saying that Malfoy was the enemy, was dangerous, and needed to be defeated, and the other was saying that the way the his cheeks were coloured emphasised his delicate bone structure, and the silvery hair gleamed very nicely in the moonlight.
"Surely," Draco snapped, almost pushed beyond his limits. How could Potter just sit there, and taunt him like that? "I love sitting next to you, won’t you please marry me?" He saw Potter’s lips quirk endearingly.
"Oh don’t be daft, Malfoy. Like I’d marry you. Anyways, as far as I know, same sex marriages aren’t legal here yet."
"They are in Holland. Won’t you please run away with me?"
Harry considered it, and wished for one breathless moment that they weren’t just teasing each other. "Ah, I don’t think so. Too much work to do here."
"Like what?"
"Oh, only the N.E.W.T’s and all our homework. Nothing that important really. They’ll only be our major qualifications when we leave school."
Draco flinched unintentionally.
"Sorry," said Harry hastily, "I didn’t mean to bring up bad thoughts."
"It’s not just that, Potter. How am I meant to train Pansy, do the research you need, and my homework, as well as these oh so fun meetings?"
"I don’t know," murmured Harry eventually, "I’m sure that you’ll find a way."
"And there aren’t any useful books here, Potter. How am I meant to make up a new spell without anything to research?"
"Ask your father for some." Harry suggested, summoning a cushion and leaning back against it.
"And tell him what precisely? ‘Oh Lucius, I need the blood ties books, and the message books because I need to contact the League of Light without being caught by you and yours’?" demanded Draco mockingly.
Harry shrugged. "I’ll think about it, and let you know next week if I come up with anything. Do you need any help with Pansy?"
"No. I know how to handle Pansy."
Harry peered at him suspiciously, green eyes bright through his glasses. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Potter, I’m sure," said Draco impatiently, nowhere near as convinced as he sounded.
"All right then. Let me know if you need help, though. The League supports its own, and you do a valuable job for us."
"Whose in the League?"
"I can’t tell you that." Harry gave him a brief apologetic smile, and Draco felt a shiver run down his spine, "Security, you know."
"Yes."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Draco had had enough of the silence because it gave him too much time to note how Potter’s messy hair was sticking up, and the way his scar was partially concealed by an errant lock of that same hair. He started to talk about Salem. And Harry just listened, and enjoyed the sound of Draco’s voice.
Thursday came too slowly for Ron. He had kept studying Harry and Hermione all week, to see if he could work out whether or not they worked for - what did she call it again? The League of Light. She was right. It was an awful name. They hadn’t been acting any differently. Harry was still a law unto himself, and wandered around Hogwarts at strange hours of the night when he had the nightmares. Ron didn’t know what they were about, but anyone who dreamed about things that were so bad that their screaming went through a silencing spell had his sympathy, and he didn’t blame Harry in the slightest for going for a walk. Hermione was still reading a lot, and forcing them into studying - especially just when they thought they had escaped her. He left Hermione in the library, saying that he had gone to get a drink. She hadn’t even looked up from behind the piles of books on the table when he had gone, but merely muttered something about him not being too long. Ron sighed as he neared the classroom. The N.E.W.T’s were next term. They had plenty of time yet, although their teachers disagreed with him, and sided with Hermione. Even Professor Grey was giving them more homework than she used to.
"Mr Weasley," said Sarainail as she he entered her office, "Thank you for coming."
"It’s all right," said Ron nervously, "But I probably shouldn’t stay too long, it might be noticed."
"Ron," said Sarai patiently, "If you accept the job, you’ll be spending long periods of time with only one or two other people. I am not concerned about reputations. Besides, no one who knows me will believe it."
"To do with your triad?"
"Precisely." She favoured him with a bright smile. "Now, these are the details that I wanted to go over with you."
Half an hour later, Ron sat back in his chair, mind reeling. There had been a lot of information for him to take in, and he was trying to comprehend it all. "So you’re saying that the basis for this League of Light -"
She grimaced at the title. "Call it an organisation or something, or just the League. It’s not a name that I like."
"The League, then, is based on your organisation in the last war?"
"That’s right. I completely restructured my department, while I was sick, so you would be one of the first under the new form."
"What do you do."
"Oh, I organise things, and help Remus, and that sort of stuff," said Sarai vaguely.
Ron nodded, "So you think that there will actually be a full blown war when we leave school?"
"That’s what all our calculations indicate. We think we will be able to hide our traces from the Muggles until the very end," she explained, "And after that it won’t really matter anyways."
Ron nodded. If You-Know-Who won, the muggles would die, and if the League won, they would continue on as before. "What would happen if I chose to join you?"
"You would get basic training with one other person while you are still here, most likely over the Easter holidays. This would include some charms and hexes that are compulsory for our agents to know, and self defence."
"But hexes and charms are self defence," said Ron, puzzled.
"Physical self defence, Ron. Without a wand."
"Do we need to know that?"
"Yes," Sarai said firmly, "You do."
"Okay."
"If you end up deciding that you want to be neutral, I will put a memory charm on you, so you can’t reveal this conversation, and endanger my people."
Ron thought about it. Sarai remained seated silently, while he paced. She watched him with complete patience, while the sun sank lower in the sky, and cast interesting shadows. It also turned his hair to flame, and Sarai admired it, red hair being uncommon amongst the Sidhe. For that matter most hair colours were not common amongst the Sidhe. Only those with a human parent had darker colours in their hair or skin. The Sidhe were, almost without exception, a shade of blond in their hair colours. Some were born so pale, that it was silver instead of gold, while others were a true dark gold. Very very occasionally there were Sidhe with redgold hair, but there were none with the true red of the Weasley family. There was the occasional throwback, like Lord Zadrian of Rockholme, who had human blood in the far distant past, and only now had the dark hair come through in the bloodline. But such cases were as rare as the red hair, and were either admired or despised amongst the Sidhe. Green eyes thoughtful, she turned her attention to the work she was supposed to be doing. Ron came back to the desk, as she opened the large folder with a seal ring, and started checking one list against another. The quill scratched lightly over the page, and then stopped, as she noticed him leaning over her. The book closed, and Sarainail looked up at him patiently.
"Can I ask a couple of questions before I say yes or no?" asked Ron abruptly.
"Of course. I do not promise to answer them though."
"It’s really very simple," he told her, "I just want to know if Harry and Hermione are part of this or not."
"Ahh," said Sarai in comprehension. "What happens if I say no?"
"I need to do some more thinking."
"And if I say yes?"
"I still need to do some more thinking."
She studied him for a moment, head tilted to one side. "Actually, the answer is both yes and no. Harry works for us, and has for a while, and we are yet to ask Hermione. She in the next one on our list, and if you both accept, we will be training you together over Easter, and once you leave school."
"What about the other people in my year?"
"I imagine that they will either work for us, or fight us."
"Have you approached any of them?"
"That’s none of your business, Mr Weasley."
"What?" Ron looked somewhat shocked
"I told you about Harry and Hermione because they are your close friends, and it is likely that you will be working with them. You will be working with others, of course, but they are all that you need to know about at this time. The less you know, the less you can betray."
"Could I not work for you, and go freelance?"
Sarainail winced visibly. "We’d really rather you didn’t."
"Why?"
"It makes for a really random factor in the calculations. If you did, we’d try and hire you, so we at least knew what you were doing, and had decent information."
Ron dropped ungracefully into the chair opposite her. There had never really been a choice about what he would say. Harry was his friend, and that made Voldemort his enemy twice over. "All right. I’ll work for you."
"Thank you, Ron." She still looked calm and professional, even though the news pleased her greatly. Sarai got up, and reached into the bookcase behind her. She pulled out two large volumes, and Ron winced. "We were thinking that you would be good in the Strategy department. That means that you need to learn strategy, and this is the best book for that."
Ron looked at the titles, Tactics and Strategy in the Wizarding World throughout the centuries, and Tactics and Strategy in the Muggle World throughout the centuries. "I have to read those?" He didn’t bother keeping the dismay out of his voice.
"It would be greatly appreciated. No doubt you will have to read more military texts at a later date, but for now, these give the best overview."
"Why would I have to read military texts?"
"You’re good at chess. Chess is strategy and tactics. Therefore you are likely to apprentice in the Strategy department, as opposed to any of the others. This would not mean that you won’t get to go on missions, merely that you would help plan them."
"Oh."
She smiled patiently at him. "I know this requires more work of you, on top of your N.E.W.T’s, but it will be necessary by the time that you leave. Now, there are a few forms to fill out, and then I’ll let you get back to your studying."
"Right. What are the forms for?"
"Next of kin," she said briskly, "Any medical information, contact address and sign, legal identification of you as a member of the League, qualifications, strengths and weakness, the relationships you’ve had with the Dark... that sort of thing."
"Sounds like you want to know everything."
"Not quite."
Draco got up from where he was sprawled lazily in a armchair in the Slytherin common room at the end of the week. He lightly touched Pansy’s arm as he was leaving, and she followed him obediently.
"Draco?"
"Pansy." He acknowledged her presence, but kept walking.
She followed him, getting increasingly annoyed. "What do you want?" she demanded, going up to him, and putting her hand on his shoulder. He turned around, and she leaned into him, before she saw the look on his face.
"Pansy, I know how much you like touching, but could you refrain from it around it around me? Thanks, darling."
"Draco," Pansy pouted, "Where are we going?"
"To a disused classroom that I know of."
"Where is it?" she demanded. "I thought I knew of all of them."
"Well, you would, wouldn’t you?" Draco sounded so calm, and polite, that it took Pansy a minute to work out what he had meant.
"How dare you say something like that?" she cried. "I’ve never...."
"You’ve had practice though, Pansy-love."
She started spluttering with rage, as Draco turned a corner, and entered a classroom.
"In here, Pansy."
"How could you say something like that to me? I’m saving myself for the man I admire above and beyond anything else. I wouldn’t sleep with anyone here - except maybe... no. They’re not experienced enough for me."
"Quite easily."
"I hate you," Pansy wailed.
"Does that mean," asked Draco coldly, "That you do not wish me to train you?"
"But you said you weren’t my contact."
He just looked at her. "I lied."
Pansy flushed, and Draco walked around her, and grabbed a handful of her hair. "You expected me to tell the truth? When you asked me in the Great Hall, and Dumbledore was in the room? I though you had more brains than that." He yanked hard on her hair, and she cried out. "Now, my dear," he said, making a mockery of the endearment, "Do you still hate me?"
"No," whispered Pansy.
"Truthfully, now." He tugged on her hair, and she winced, tears coming to her eyes.
"No, I don’t hate you."
"That is good."
She whimpered something, and he ignored her, bending his head down, and taking her mouth in a hard bruising kiss. She arched up into him, pulling the hair that he still held in his hand. Draco broke the mockery of a kiss with an abruptness that made her cry out.
"Why did you stop?" gasped Pansy, "I was enjoying that."
"It wasn’t necessary to continue."
"I hate you."
"I believe that we’ve already covered this point before, my dear, and you decided that you didn’t hate me after all." Her lips quivered. Draco recognised the tactics. Guilt trip the person, make them feel sorry for you, and distract them. Then you get what you want. "Enough."
"What?" Pansy looked at him in surprise.
"That may work on someone like Crabbe, or Goyle, or even Blaise Zabini, but it won’t work on me. You might as well stop trying, and let us get started on your training."
"How good are you?" asked Pansy assessingly.
"That doesn’t really matter. I am the only one who will train you."
"I want proof," she insisted stubbornly, "It might be a trap."
"And who would dare to impersonate me?"
She shrugged uncomfortably. "I don’t know. I am assuming that you have the Mark. I want to see it."
Reluctantly, Draco rolled up his sleeve, and displayed the Dark Mark for the first time.
"Oh," sighed Pansy, "It’s wonderful. I can’t wait until Easter.... I’m ready to start now."
Draco nodded coldly and unemotionally, and pulled his sleeve down again. Then, without any change in expression, he activated the wards he had set up previously, and pointed his wand at Pansy. "Torturo."
She screamed, and Draco was glad of all the wards that he had put up. They prevented magical use from being observed, and if anyone wanted to spy on what was happening in the classroom, they would see a normal conversation, rather than Dark Arts training. The wards also sounded proofed the room, in much the same manner as the music room here, and the one he had at the Manor. But the greatest thing about them was their strength. It had cost Draco much to learn these wards. They were Dark wards, somewhat since they were made with a type of blood magic. It was his blood, so they were linked to him. He didn’t see what was the trouble with blood magic anyways. It added power if you were prepared to put your own blood in, and other people’s blood didn’t work nearly as well, since it meant whatever you were doing linked to them, not you. He supposed that it was too close to the Dark Arts for most people.
"Finite Incanteum."
Pansy collapsed on the floor, crying, and gasping for breath. "I hate you," she sobbed.
"And I care?"
Pansy stood up slowly, aching in every bone of her body, "Is this in the initiation?"
"No."
"Then why did you do it? I’ll hurt for ages now."
"Are you not prepared to suffer for the sake of our Lord?" asked Draco dangerously.
Pansy dropped her eyes. "I am prepared," she answered softly.
"Good. Will you learn?"
"I will learn."
"Then learn."
Sarainail hated being away from the rest of her triad. She couldn’t wait for the end of the year, when they could be together again for longer periods of time. Sure, the war would get in the way a bit, but at least Sirius wouldn’t have to sneak into Hogsmeade and the surrounding areas. She still couldn’t believe that he had stayed around here for months three and four years ago. But that was the price you paid when you were an escaped convict, and your godson was the hero of the wizarding world. Poor Harry. They all had expectations of him. He was needed to be a symbol of the Light. The triad saw him as Lily and James’ son, who they were bound to protect because they had failed the parents. But there were contrasting images within that idea. She saw him more as a capable young man, who would do well in the League. Remus saw him more as the boy he had taught four years ago, although the events of the last summer had done much to change that. Sirius - Sirius saw him as whatever he chose to be. In part it was because the only extended contact they had had with each other was over the last summer, and in part because Sirius had given up planning for people after Azkaban. Sarainail thanked the Powers That Be for Dumbledore and her parents, before turning her attention inwards again for that treasured moment of contact with her beloveds.
Hello?
Sarainail, beloved.
Remus, dearest, how have you been?
Well. The full moon is not for another two weeks.
I know. Is Sirius around anywhere do you know? Sarainail felt that something was missing. A triad could not be made up of two parts, after all.
He said he would be later than usual.
Why?
Not sure. Probably organising something.
He likes it.
I know.
It’s probably a hangover from our exile.
We can handle it.
So long as we are together.
Are you talking about me, beloveds?
Would we do that?
Yes
How right you are, our Sirius. We were talking of you.
Sarainail added because there was no room for anything but honesty in this mind meld, It wasn’t bad, beloved.
I know. You two couldn’t be mean to me.
Are you sure about that?
It would break your hearts, beloveds.
It was warm, and comfortable within the mindlink, and only thing which would have made it better was the lack of physical contact between them. But if they had been together physically, the passion that was always present would have flared up, and they wouldn’t have gotten any work done. Here, there was not that option, so they could relax for a time. Then Sirius broke the warm comfortable mood, and while the ease between them remained, they were aware that their was work to be done, and that was why they were risking such long distance contact.
Anything to report?
Ron Weasley has agreed to join us.
Strategy? asked Remus sharply.
Yes, and I gave him those ridiculous books to read too.
They’re not ridiculous.
The one about the muggles is, said Sirius firmly, If you must use muggle strategies, at least get them from the source.
I didn’t want it to be too much of a shock for Ron
I think getting two books to read, both of which are thicker than my arms was enough of a shock.
Mayhap. Sirius sounded dubious.
I have not yet spoken to Hermione Ganger, although I will before the end of the term, as she and Ron will need to be trained together.
Why are we training them as a pair? They’re nearly a triad, in and of themselves.
But they are not balanced, as we are.
So, you will train them over the Easter break?
Yes, I know it means that we won’t be able to meet....
It is worth the sacrifice, I am sure.
Mmmph. Sarainail made a noise of disgust. So I will train them then, and give tutoring for their N.E.W.T’s, and after Easter, I will speak to others in their year.
Will you speak to any of the sixth years?
Maybe. But all the prophecies indicate that the Final Battle will be in a couple of years at the latest, and Dumbledore protects Hogwarts well enough. I haven’t decided yet. Some, like young Ginny Weasley, will be easy to contact, through her family.
True.
Have you thought more on using code names?
Some. I know that I will always sign myself as the Spymaster when I give orders.
But you’re a female, beloved.
That’ll be more confusing to the enemy then, won’t it.
Agreed.
To confusion to the enemy, said Remus wryly, sending them an image of him raising his glass in a toast.
To confusion to the enemy, echoed the other two.
As senior leaders, my beloveds, you will also need a work name. Preferably based on your job description.
Like Tactician?
Or Strategist?
Something like that. Dumbledore hasn’t chosen his yet. Let me know when you choose.
You will set up a system with checks and balances, and truth test, won’t you?
I am in the process of doing so.
I still think Harry should be my apprentice, not yours, complained Sirius.
He needs to know what is going on. Our world needs him to know. It’s not enough for him to be a good fighter for the League, he has to be seen to be so, and be a symbol for the community. He’ll still work for you.
I know. They all work for all of us.
Yes.
Has Harry told you who his contact is yet?
No.
When will he?
I’ll send some instructions to the contact after Easter. They’re in the process of setting up a system of easy contact. Apparently, the contact is quite good at that sort of thing, and once they work something out, it’ll be submitted to me for a final judgement call.
There’s something that you’re not telling us about it.
What makes you think that?
You’re didn’t deny it.
Do you honestly think that you can hide anything from us, beloved?
No. All right then. I have been told that it may involve some blood magic.
WHAT?
THAT’S BLOODY DANGEROUS!!
Oh, calm down, my loves. Blood magic isn’t that bad. And it’s not like either of you can talk about legalities or danger involved. .
Only a Sidhe would see it that way.
Others do too.
But within Faerie, the Sidhe are the main ones.
Maybe. But how was our link formed, if not through blood magic?
Love?
That’s not enough.
There was silence in the link for what may have been a few minutes or a few hours. Time was relative here. Then Sarai broke it by laughing.
You really must get over those prejudices of yours, my loves. Blood magic isn’t all bad. It’s when it gets into using other people’s blood, and death that it gets into the realms of the dubious.
The other two made no reply, and Sarai laughed again, caressing their minds with rainbow colours, and warmth. They leaned into it, and she relaxed into them, thanking all the Powers That Be once again for allowing this contact to be resumed between them after the long years of exile.
We don’t need to discuss it now. What of you, Remus, dearheart? Do you have ought to tell us?
Very little I am afraid, our Sarai.
Is the no news is good news saying applicable here?
No, I’m afraid not. All the sources have Voldemort in an untraceable place, and until I know more about the training of the Death Eaters, and their recruitment tactics, there is little planning I can do for the long term. On the short term scale however, I have nearly worked out that charm which should suppress the Change.
Are you sure that’s wise? It’s not like at least one of us won’t be with you during the Change.
Okay. When do you plan to test it? What trials are you running? Should we be there?
I don’t mind the Change, protested Sarainail, It’s fun running with the Wolf, and it’s the only time that I do run like that. And you can’t harm Padfoot, and even the Wolf knows that if you bite me, you’ll have an allergic reaction to my fey blood.
The running is fun, agreed Sirius.
But it’s too dangerous. What if I try to hurt somebody?
Then we stop you, Sirius replied promptly, You don’t run where Muggles are, and we teach the League members to defend themselves against werewolves.
It’s too dangerous.
Remus. We like the Wolf. It’s a part of you, even as Faerie is a part of me, and Azkaban is forever now a part of Sirius. And all the suppressant’s that I’ve ever heard of are really debilitating.
And the Change isn’t?
The Change puts a stress on you that we can’t understand. Not fully.
Whatever you do we will support you, beloved, you know that.
Yes, but I can’t help but feel that you don’t want me to go through with this.
We worry.
You worry.
We both worry, Sirius.
You worry. I look on with the face of a concerned citizen.
Are you sure you’re our Sirius? Concern is such a mild word.
All right. I fret.
I knew it!
Shut up, dearest. I wonder if you should wait some, beloved. School is over in a few months, and we will have time together at the Tower, and time to do this small research before we are needed elsewhere.
I wasn’t going to use it yet. You interrupted me before I could say that. I said it is finished. Now is the time for testing.
You relieve my heart.
Anything else to add?
There are the raids, only Sirius can speak about them more accurately than I.
We ran some raids on some suspected Death Eaters.
And? Did you kill anyone?
Bloodthirsty wretch. No, I didn’t kill anyone. Neither did the others. You’ll get all the details in my report, of course, but we confirmed one, and now we have to convince that idiot Fudge that they need to be checked on.
You’d have a better chance of convincing Moody.
Moody’s so bloody paranoid, that he’ll kill me before I can say anything.
No. You were an Auror. Are an Auror in all that counts. He’ll bring you before a court to be tried. Or give you straight to the Dementors.
You reassure my heart.
That’s what we’re here for.
There is always the soultesting option.
I am not going to let anyone rummage around in my head. Especially not when they can go into your minds from mine, and damage them. I will NOT let that happen.
It’s an option, Sirius. We’re not forcing you into anything.
I know. So that’s about all that’s happened lately.
Were you wounded?
No.
Good. If someone hurt you...
I would kill them... finished Sarainail
I know. The sentiment is echoed here.
Oh, Sirius.
I had best go now. I think I have visitors.
I have to do some marking.
And I have to write a report.
Go you safe, and keep you safe, and come safe home to me. They all spoke at the same time. Remus laughed somewhat sheepishly, and they disengaged their minds. Sarainail got out the marking that she had to do, and fully relaxed now that she had felt the mindtouch of her loves. With only half her attention on her marking, she analysed what had been said, and what hadn’t. Then she started to think of how to approach Hermione Granger, as a member of the League of Light.