The Mystery Wife

The cram session had been long, and coffee-fueled, and every bit as grueling as promised. It had also been strangely wonderful. Nostalgic, Draco supposed.

Here he was, after all, surrounded by the last of the graduating Slytherins, the ones that had been too vicious, clever and/or fundamentally self-interested to die. They'd spent all night together, drilling, studying, soaking in everything Professor Snape could cram into their heads in those few short hours. They were reduced to the size of a Quidditch team, seven to stand against an entire school, and reclaim the tattered honor of Slytherin.

Professor Snape was floating back and forth in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, looking at them all with a fierce and possessive pride, as if they were an army of demons, he was Hell's General, and Draco was his chosen Lieutenant, all waiting to be unleashed on an unsuspecting school.

"You're ready," he said. "I have taken the NEWTs myself, I have, Merlin knows, put sixteen graduating classes through them, I know what's going to be asked on them. They have not changed in a century and more. You have all spent the night preparing specifically for precisely those questions and challenges. You have a better idea of what's coming than any of the others will. Use that. And always remember you are Slytherin."

His eyes glittered, sharp as blades, and his students couldn't help being mesmerized, as always. Millicent looked like she wanted to burst into tears again, and Pansy looked like she wanted to join her.

"For yourselves, for your families, for your futures, for each other, for glory, for the honor of our House. I want you to look at each other, at the ones who came back. You're an army. The magnificent seven."

Millicent, who was a halfblood, barked a watery and surprised laugh at that. She got it, if none of the others did. "Snape's Army," she said, sniffling.

Draco nodded sharply, an appreciative smirk taking possession of his face. "Too right, we are." He got out of his chair and looked around at everybody, scattered across the common room with their various piles of books. "Professor Snape's given us the best chance we could possibly have at passing the NEWTs. Our job is to survive long enough to take them. So these are the standing orders for Snape's Army. While we're at Hogwarts, nobody goes anywhere alone. Not even to the bathroom. I nearly joined Moaning Myrtle in one, so I know what I'm talking about, thanks very much. And while we're not going to be driven off, we're also not starting any fights. No accidentally bumping into people really bloody hard in the corridor, no innocent observations of the 'I never said I was talking about you' sort. For now, we walk softly and stay ready to hex. Agreed?"

Blaise snorted, visibly wanting to argue, but he managed to put a lid on it.

"If they want to mix it up with us," Pansy said belligerently, "I'm not going to just stand there taking their shit."

"Did I say to stand there and take it?" Draco demanded. "I said don't start it. Just make sure you've got witnesses that will say you didn't start it. A portrait, a teacher, anything. And I'd be careful of what you say in response to insults. Personal remarks are fine. Political aren't. Unless you feel like going to Azkaban, and I bloody well don't."

"Stay together as much as you can," said Snape. "I am still the Headmaster, and can afford you considerable protection. It is extremely unlikely that any of you could possibly get in trouble without my knowing of it. I will be there on the instant, if you do. That said, Draco's point is well taken. Choose your battles wisely, and always make sure the battleground favors you. This one does not."

Pansy sighed, and gave ground at last with a nod. "I wish you could have told us, Professor. That you were working against Voldemort all along. We left the school because you did. A lot of us joined the Dark Lord's side because we thought you were on it."

"I did not tell you because I could not," Snape said quietly. "For obvious reasons. But I will admit to regretting the necessity."

Draco personally blamed whoever Seva-- Seve-- Professor Snape was spying for in the first place. Probably Dumbledore. Let him do all the dangerous dirty work and then let him take crap for it, even from the side he was risking his life for... That sounded just like Dumbledore.

Plus, Draco hadn't forgiven Dumbledore for sticking his pseudo-avuncular nose in last night and laughing at the two of them about the Snog That Didn't Happen Because Draco Had to Go to Sleep.

"You couldn't tell us," Draco said almost desperately, shoving that thought in with the little voice of hormones in his mental cabinet before he completely lost it. "And there was no way any of us could have guessed. I told McGonagall so. She had the decency to be broken up about it," he told the other Slytherins. "So if you get in trouble, and Professor Snape's busy pulling another of us out of the fire, you can try her-- she might call off even a Gryffindor mob."

"McGonagall?" Pansy sniffed. "You can't be serious. Draco, she hates us!"

"She does not hate you," Professor Snape said firmly. "She has merely been acting on the same unfortunate dearth of information as the rest of you. Now, enough of this. Let me handle the school; you worry about passing your NEWTs. We might as well make our spectacular entrance this morning at breakfast, to give the inevitable furor a chance to die down before the exams begin."

"What time is it? Can we fit in a nap before then?" Draco asked, one corner of his mouth quirking faintly. "Somebody told me I should get some sleep before my NEWTs. Can't remember who, but I remember thinking that I'd better listen."

"Sleeping Draughts," Snape nodded, sending seven vials floating over to his students with a wave of one hand. "Timed to let you sleep for an hour. That hour will be equivalent to a night's rest, and will work its way out of your system after that. I'm sure I don't need to remind any of you that any potion found in your system during the exam will be taken as evidence of cheating, and that you will likely come under closer scrutiny than any of the other Houses."

Draco sighed in a exaggerated fashion, closing his last book. "So I should go scrub off all the crib notes before going to bed, then. Oh, for the golden days when Slytherins could cheat, as is their birthright," he bemoaned, eyes dancing.

"I was pretty much counting on having some besotted sex slave available to take my NEWTs for me," Blaise shrugged. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"Go the hell to bed already," Snape drawled. "Take your medicine. Sleep. No turning each other into nifflers or besotted sex slaves. Go."

There was laughter at that, as they broke up and headed for bed.