Blaise made his way down the train carriage, checking for the one containing his Slytherin compatriots. Finding it, he slipped inside, greeting the other sevenths with a sharp nod as he closed the door behind him. “Draco, Pansy, Vortigern, Mordred.” As usual, he ignored Crabbe and Goyle. They never thought anyway, so they did not deserve even nominal courtesy.
“Any news?” Pansy leaned forward slightly,
blue eyes gleaming with malice. As always, Pansy had a silver ribbon tying back
her golden blonde hair in a deceptively innocent style. Blaise smiled slyly as
he settled himself in his seat, crossing one leg neatly over the other. “You
know something, don’t you?”
“Well, I saw someone I thought was
insignificant send Marcus Flint retreating in terror. I saw a meek and mild
pussycat grow claws of steel.” Draco looked up sharply from his Potions text as
Blaise continued on. “I saw a mouse roar at a serpent, and send the serpent
away in shame.”
“Is there a name to this riddle?” Draco asked
quietly.
“We know of her. In her first year, she made a
rather startling splash into our awareness. She went into darkness, and nearly
was devoured mind, body and soul.” Blaise watched Draco slowly come to an
understanding of his thinly veiled riddles. Pansy was pouting because she
wasn’t. That was some pout, that was. It made her look all little girl winsome.
. .pity it didn’t work on him. He knew her too well. Blaise could see Vortigern
quietly laughing to himself, and Mordred was about ready to snarl. Lovely. “We
have all laughed at her. We have all tormented her, but I would not advise it
this year. She’s changed.” The carriage fell into silence as the intelligent
Slytherins contemplated what Blaise had said.
“Stop talking in riddles, Zabini, and tell us
her name,” Pansy hissed finally as her patience snapped. Blaise smiled
mockingly at her and closed his eyes.
“She burns, a dark flame. Her name? She is
Artemis, Hecate, Morgana, Lilith, Keridwen, she is the dark side of the moon.
Ah, her name now is what you wish to know. . . Beg me, Pansy.” His eyes slid
open almost lazily to watch her outraged reaction. “Beg prettily.”
“He’s dropped enough hints, you blonde,”
Mordred snarled as he uncoiled himself from his seat. “Ginny Weasley, the
little red haired girl who sank and swam and survived.” He glared at Pansy, who
glared back, neither backing down. Draco shut his text with a decisive snap.
“Stay out of it, dragon.”
“And let you rip her to pieces, wolf?”
“If I was truly as you name me, she would be
dead by now.” Vortigern ran a hand soothingly through his twin’s jet-black
hair. “Brother, do not attempt to calm me.”
“An if I did not, thee would be cast out. Thou
knowest thou art too rage filled. And thee would regret it later.” Vortigern
continued his soothing motions, chocolate brown eyes fixed on his black leather
bound book.
“Oh bloody hell, she isn’t worth it.” Mordred
desisted with a sullen scowl and leant back into Vortigern’s side. “Why do you
always talk like a bleeding romance?”
“Why dost thou speak so uncouth? Thy mother
tongue deserves better then the ill usage thee puts it to. This quarrel we are
bound to repeat, brother mine.” Blue eyes meet brown, sooty black hair against
golden sun, and Mordred laughed suddenly.
“We are a pair. I’m glad I don’t havta be the
pretty boy half at least.”
“Hold thy tongue, packmate,” Vortigern chided
gently. “And let me return to my reading.”
“So, what are you reading this time?” Pansy
asked, getting a nail file out of her bag and starting to absently do her nails.
“The Prince, by Nicolae Machiavelli.” The
twins replied in unison.
“When you two do that, it gives me the
shivers. And not the good kind.”
“We are two halves of the same being. You talk
to one of us, you talk to both of us,” Mordred said disdainfully. “Honestly,
you are such a stupid bitch.” He rose supplely to his feet, shaking off his
brother’s restraining hand. “I’m going hunting for this fiery kitten. Coming,
dragon?” Draco nodded in response to Mordred’s question and stood, placing a
bookmark in the pages of his book.
“I find myself intrigued by Zabini’s
description,” Draco admitted as he put his book down. He ran a hand through his
silver blond hair, and a slow smile spread across the aristocratic planes of
his face. “And I have been most bored.”
“I had better come as you won’t recognise her
otherwise.” Blaise stood as well, and the three made their way down the
corridor. Draco smirked as they reached the Prefects compartment.
“I should just check in with my fellow
prefects.” Draco opened the door and looked in. Harry and Hermoine looked up,
her Head Girl badge showing prominently against her black school robes. Harry
scowled at Draco.
“What do you want, Malfoy?”
“Well, let me think. . .world domination, a
Porsche, oh, and at the moment, your best friend’s sister. Been told she’s
changed her image, and by Zabini’s description, I am most inclined to be
interested.” Draco raised a thin eyebrow as Harry’s face flushed with anger.
Oh, this was fun. Getting the precious Boy-Who-Lived all het up and annoyed. .
.very nice.
“So, Potter, ready to lose at Quidditch again?
Vort and I will be waiting, Bludgers all ready for you. Which limb do you want
broken repeatedly this year?” Harry got slowly to his feet as the Slytherins
needled him. His green eyes were sparking with anger, and his face had gone
paler then usual, making the thin trace of scar visible under his scruffy
fringe stand out more.
“Harry, sit down.” Hermoine grabbed Harry’s
arm and yanked him back down onto the seat. “Either be nice, or get out,
Malfoy.”
“Hermoine, sweetling, do not rend us so with
your cruel, harsh words!” Blaise jumped in, rolling his eyes melodramatically.
Hermoine frowned at him. “Ready to leave that vagrant Weasley, and join me in
delicious debauchery?”
“Oh, Zabini, control your emotions,” Draco
deadpanned.
“Why you do this every, every time, I just do
*not* bleeding well understand,” Mordred said in disgust.
“That’s because you’re gay, Mordred,” Blaise
said helpfully.
“Yeah, but she’s a gryff. Can you ever imagine
her taking it up the arse?” Mordred gave Hermoine a disdainful stare, and left
abruptly as she spluttered in disgust and shock.
“Good point,” Blaise said thoughtfully, and
then the two Slytherins left the Gryffindors to try and recover. Mordred
stalked ahead of them, quickly checking through apartments. Blaise got ahead of
him, looking for that blood red mop of hair and angry tawny brown eyes. He
found her and quickly beckoned the other two to his side. They watched in
silence until she noticed them, and looked up.