Surpassing Danger
Chapter 19: The Slytherin St. Valentine's Soiree (Year 6)
By Anne B. Walsh
"The antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components."
"Well recited, Miss Granger-Lupin. Golpalott's Third Law, word-perfect from your textbook." Professor Black leaned against her desk. "Now, can you tell me what it means?"
"Yes, Professor," Hermione said demurely, her tone causing both Harry and Ron a brief, stifled snicker fit. Draco kicked Harry and elbowed Ron as Hermione continued. "It means that if you have a poison made out of other poisons, just mixing together the antidotes for the component poisons still won't give you an antidote for the blended poison. You need to add one final ingredient, something that ties them all together, that makes them work as one to counteract all the effects of the blended poison."
"Very good." Professor Black nodded. "Now, who can tell me why this is one of the more frustrating laws of potions-making, especially to someone in my other field of work?"
Draco had his hand in the air even before Hermione this time.
"Yes, Mr. Black."
"Because most poisons work fairly quickly, and even if you had the regular antidotes all ready, there might not be time to do the analysis you'd need to come up with the missing ingredient if you're going to save someone who's been poisoned. But if you did have some time…" Draco shrugged. "Some poisons work on a specific time limit. Like, say, twenty-four hours. That would probably be long enough to analyze the components, find out what pulls them together, and get the full antidote prepared."
"I would certainly hope so. All the more since you're not going to have nearly that much time in this case." Professor Black indicated the vials lining the front of her desk, each filled with a different dark and gruesome-looking substance. "Twelve blended poisons, ladies and gentlemen, no two alike. Come up and take one apiece, perform Arafinwiel's Analysis to determine the component poisons—we covered this process in November, if you need some help remembering—and then get your antidotes started. I expect, if not a completed brew, one well on the way, along with a detailed description of any remaining steps, by the end of the period. As always, you may help one another with the bookwork, but brewing must be done alone."
"I'll get them," said Ron, shoving back his chair amid the sound of the rest of their class doing the same thing. "Anyone want a special one?"
"Second from the right, please," said Draco, as Harry and Hermione shook their heads no. "Neenie, you have your notes on the analysis?"
Hermione sighed. "What would you do without me?" she asked rhetorically, pulling a scroll from her bag and unrolling it partway. Harry weighted down its bottom corners with a jar of red coral powder and Ron's copy of Advanced Potion-Making as Draco hit a spot on the table with a Temporary Sticking Charm, allowing Hermione to press the top of the scroll to it. "Arafinwiel's Analysis, Arafinwiel's Analysis, here it is." She laid her finger on a spot on the page and began to read aloud. "Step One: Using the incantation Incanesco and a motion consisting of two and a half clockwise swirls of the wand with a finishing counterclockwise twist, sensitize a scant handful of unicorn hair to degrees of Light and Dark magic…"
"Moony?" Sirius's voice echoed down the corridor outside the War Room. "You around here?"
Without looking up from the two parchments he was comparing, Remus sent a small spurt of red fire out the half-open door.
"Oh, there you are." Sirius's thumping footsteps came through the door, and a chair grated on the floor. "Doing anything you can't put off?"
"Give me a moment…" Remus scribbled down the last thought which had darted through his mind on the alluring differences between the two reports, then set them aside. "No, I'm free now. Is everything all right?"
"Fine—well, I'm fine. I wanted to ask about you." Sirius was leaning back in the chair, watching Remus. "You've hardly been out of the house for months. Something I should know about?"
"Not exactly." Remus interlaced his fingers behind his head to stretch his back. "You had a lot to think about through the fall, so I didn't want to bring it up then, and it isn't as if it's a problem. Just…puzzling."
"Puzzles and riddles are my specialty." Sirius scooped up a bit of scrap parchment from the corner of the desk and began to fold it back and forth. "How's it go? Rhyming like Danger's prophecies?"
"We should be so lucky." Remus chuckled, sending a mental caress along Danger's sense in his mind as she 'looked up' from her preoccupations in the kitchen. She sent one back, then returned to what appeared to be three different dishes in various stages of preparation. "No, this is more along the lines of things that don't quite add up. Can you think of any reason for Lord Voldemort to have a personal onus against me?"
"Against you?" Sirius frowned. "You mean separate from your shielding Harry, or running the Pack?"
"Apparently." Remus conjured a small fireball to mold and flatten, as Sirius was doing with the parchment. "Albus talked to me about it over the summer. He was a bit cryptic, as he tends to be at the best of times, but from what he said he's gathered, and from some things the cubs told both of us, it would appear that Voldemort has a grudge against me personally." The fire flared up and went out. "Which makes less than no sense to me. I was a nonentity through the first war, the only reason my name's ever been in the news is either through you and Harry or because of Hermione's custody case—"
"And wouldn't that just burn His Dark Lordliness?" Sirius interrupted. "He wants the werewolves thinking they've got nowhere else to go, no options, no choice but working for him." He grimaced. "I understand he's got Malfoy giving them their orders now that Greyback's out of the picture. Hope they've scraped his face up for him again. But you're undercutting all of that, Moony, just by existing, by being who you are. And who you are is a man good enough that you got that panel of warlocks to agree, werewolf or no werewolf, you deserved to be your Kitten's dad. Legally, I mean—you already were every other way."
"True enough." Remus smiled, feeling again the awestruck, breathtaking joy of that moment in the small, stuffy courtroom when the verdict had come down that his lycanthropy no longer automatically disqualified him as a legal guardian for the little girl who'd held his heart from the moment she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder on his twenty-third birthday.
"Besides, does it really matter so much why he's got it in for any of us?" Sirius shrugged. "He wants us all dead, we knew that already. Dead or being his obedient little peons. We've declined that honor, therefore he hates our guts. What else do we need to know?"
Remus waved a hand, conceding the point. "How are things going at Hogwarts?" he asked by way of changing the subject. "I'm more jealous than I think you realize that you've got a reason to be there again—if I didn't know perfectly well how Severus would take any interference in his current subject, I'd ask Albus if I couldn't take over a few of the lower-level classes to give him a rest. He has to be exhausted trying to keep up with all of that and his, shall we say, other duties."
"Oh, and you haven't heard the half of it." Sirius snickered. "The DA's driving him berserk, especially the fifth and seventh years—they do everything perfectly while he's got his back turned, and then bungle all their spells as soon as he looks at them…"
Making the appropriate encouraging noises at intervals, Remus sat back in his chair, letting Sirius ramble on. His mind was, for the moment, elsewhere.
Because I don't think Sirius needs to know that Voldemort apparently believes I should be 'forever erased from the earth'. Or that I 'should have been his greatest triumph'. Or, if the new source Albus is cultivating within the Death Eaters is to be trusted, that any sign of me outside my usual protections is to be immediately reported to Mr. Riddle himself, no matter what else he happens to be doing at the time.
The only other person with that kind of standing order about him is Harry.
And if this source is to be believed, the order about me went out as soon as Voldemort had returned to his body—which was before Harry and I had completed our little blood bond…
Hermione trotted down the stony tunnel towards Sanctuary, her hand on her dagger's hilt.
I was getting all ready to be offended when Harry and Ginny told us that part of the mastery ritual for the daggers was being girded with it by the lady of your heart, because—for obvious reasons—I don't have one of those, and then I remembered. She grinned to herself. Female warriors are girded with their weapons by their fathers. And Moony did that for me the very first day we had these.
"Probably because girls can start training with real weapons younger than boys can, because we steady down sooner," she murmured, imagining that she could feel her dagger warming in response to her words. "So we won't have a…a lord of our heart? Is that even right?"
Champion, why don't we say, she decided after some cogitation. A female warrior may not know who her champion's going to be until she's a good deal older than when she gets her first blade. But she always has her father. She drew the dagger with one swift movement. And of course we went through with the rest of the ritual as soon as we learned about it—though that much should have been obvious a long time ago, from the way we made the Pack-pendants…
She sheathed the dagger again as she passed into Sanctuary.
Then she skidded to a halt, staring at the tops of the stone pillars in amazement.
Someone was very, very busy here last night.
"I know, right?" said Ron, loping over to join her. "I can't see the colors properly, and I'm still impressed."
"Would you like to?" Hermione elongated her pendant chain with one swift pull, and Ron ducked inside it. A quick twist of minds, and Ron shut his eyes and stood still, allowing Hermione to walk slowly around him, viewing every angle of the new additions to Sanctuary.
And I don't mean the theater and the practice rooms!
Half of the twelve stone pillars which were the primary decoration of Sanctuary's walls now boasted inset circular windows of elaborately stained glass. Hermione smiled to herself to see the school crest in the one directly over the entrance from the harbor cavern, and the familiar towers of Hogwarts itself across from it.
Like twelve and six on a clock dial, Ron said, superimposing this vision momentarily on a view of Sanctuary from above. Which puts the Gryffindor crest at two o'clock, Ravenclaw at four, Hufflepuff at eight, and Slytherin at ten…
It's beautifully done, whoever did it. Hermione peered more closely at the details of the Hogwarts crest. And it was all one person—the artwork, anyway. She smiled. I might even know who.
Luna, you think? Ron removed the pendant chain, opening his eyes. "She always did love to draw," he continued aloud. "But how did she get it all in place without anyone noticing? How'd she do the magic, for that matter? Transfiguring stone into glass, that's high-level stuff, and I know it's her O.W.L. year but that's well beyond anything we were covering last year at this time…"
"I suppose it'll have to stay a mystery for now," Hermione said absently, her eyes roving over a small knot of yearmates at the other end of the cavern. "She'll tell us eventually, or we'll find out some other way. For now, I just want to enjoy how beautiful it is."
She took a few steps forward and tilted her head back, basking in the green-tinted sunlight pouring through the Slytherin crest, which topped the pillar hiding the blocked-off entrance to the mysterious tomb about which she'd heard from Harry. Vaguely, she was aware that someone's eyes were on her, but only smiled and shook out her hair.
Here, in Sanctuary, being watched over was not an occasion for fear. Elsewhere, it might be, but that time was yet to come.
"Thank you," Luna said softly to Fred and George, watching Draco watch Hermione. "It was such a beautiful idea Fox had that I couldn't stand for it not to happen, even if neither of us can do that level of magic yet."
"Not a problem, m'lady." Fred bowed, hand over his heart. "It struck us that we had been a bit derelict in our duties towards the year."
"Being off doing Red Shepherd things may technically count, but we thought we ought to do our part for Sanctuary," George added with a bow of his own. "We just weren't sure what."
"So when you contacted us with this request…" Fred drew his wand and blew imaginary smoke from the tip, smugly. "Match made in heaven."
"Or at Hogwarts." George glanced up at the outline of the glass castle's towers above them. "Some might argue they're the same thing."
"With Snape teaching Defense?" Fred shuddered theatrically. "Luna, tell me the truth, now—has my beloved twin run mad?"
Luna laughed. "What would you do if he had?" she teased.
"Hmm." Fred appeared to give the question serious thought. "You know, I'm not sure. What would I do without you around?" he asked George.
"Blow up the shop because I'm not there to remind you how much doxy venom goes into a batch of Puking Pastilles?"
Fred slumped. "You are never going to let me live that down. Once. Once I get the proportions wrong, and he's still on my back about it!"
George raised an eyebrow. "Given that you put me on my back in bed for three days, and got us in trouble with both our girlfriends—"
"Yours was just angry we hadn't let her watch us brew it!"
Luna stepped back to let the twins have their argument, her eyes roving across them, across Draco, across Graham Pritchard, who was laughing with Natalie and Meghan as they ducked in and out of the various colors the Hogwarts crest made on the grass. For one moment, she bowed her head, pressing her lips together tightly.
Here, in Sanctuary, those she watched over were happy and free from fear. Elsewhere, at other times, it would not always be so.
"Do you know what we've never done?" said Selena Moon in a normal conversational tone, standing center stage in the "open air" theatre space of Sanctuary. "We've never tried out this spell we're trying to break. I think we ought to give it a go, at least once, before we can't anymore. What do you say?"
"I say the sound check is good," said Lindsay Jordan from the back of the seating area. "And I also say that sounds like fun. Anyone else?"
"Why not?" said Dean from a few rows over. "See if it's really all it's cracked up to be. Not that Sanctuary's a bad idea no matter what, but it'd be sort of funny if it turned out we never had to do this at all!"
Maya sighed from her place on Lindz's other side. "Some people's idea of funny," she said, tossing Selena a thumbs-up. "All right, gather 'round."
"Do we even know the incantation for this thing?" Dean inquired as he came down the stairs, meeting Lindz in one of the aisles midway and accompanying her to the edge of the stage where Selena was now sitting.
"Aperio sanguinis," said Maya promptly, joining them. "One of those things you learn if you grow up a certain type of pureblood." She grimaced. "Not that I ever truly thought I'd use it. Less, since…" She smiled around at them. "Well. Since everything."
"Since you and Lee," said Lindz, grinning at Maya's flush. "Since the DA. Since the Pride. Since, since, since."
"Exactly." Maya drew her wand. "Who wants to go first?"
"How about me?" Selena held out a hand. "I already know I'm pure—well, pureblood," she added at Lindz's incredulous snort and Dean's stifled snicker. "As if you two were any better!"
"Excuse me?" Lindz drew herself up in indignation. "We're not the first ones in a hundred and fifty years to have a child while attending Hogwarts! And how did you manage that, anyway? There's a general spell over the castle that's supposed to stop that sort of thing from happening…"
Maya and Selena avoided each other's eyes carefully. Dean was edging away, clearly unsure he wanted to have any further part in this conversation.
"Well?" Lindz demanded.
"Er," said Selena finally. "Let's just say…the spell's only supposed to apply to students."
"So?"
"So it's only cast on areas that students are supposed to be in."
"So?"
"So…" Selena's blush looked positively painful. "So it's possible Zach was conceived somewhere that maybe Roger and I weren't supposed to be."
"Like?"
Selena mumbled two words. Maya was looking determinedly in the opposite direction.
Lindz blinked. "I did not just hear that correctly. Did I?" she asked Dean.
Dean backed up several more steps. "Oh, no. No. You're not pulling me into this."
"Some Gryffindor you are," Lindz grumbled, turning back to Selena. "Repeat that?"
"Um." Selena ducked her head. "A professor's office."
"That much I got. Which professor?"
One of Selena's slender fingers touched the Slytherin crest embroidered over her heart.
"That's what I thought you said." Lindz shook her head in mingled disbelief and admiration. "The things you find out building a Sanctuary with people."
"The things you never needed to know in the first place," Dean muttered. "Can we please get back to blood status? Please? Before my head explodes?"
"Right. Blood status." Lindz held out her hand. "Try me first, Maya. That should give us a proper reading for half-blood. Then we can try you or Selena, for pure…" She eyed her Slytherin Pridemate warily, receiving a glare in return. "And Dean's Muggleborn, so that's all three. Unless it goes down finer than that…"
Harry looked up from the diagram Lee had been showing him as half of Lee's Pride came trooping out of the theater area, looking bewildered and all talking at once. Lee turned to follow his line of sight and frowned. "Wonder what that's about?"
"Only one way to find out," said Harry, letting the diagram roll up into its scroll again. "Shall we?"
"…could be, but I thought it was an all-or-nothing shot," Dean was saying as the four came into Harry's earshot.
"Why don't we test it a bit more?" Maya suggested.
"Good idea. Who on?"
"What are we testing now?" Lee asked, tugging lightly on one of Lindz's earrings and nodding to Dean and Selena before sliding an arm around Maya.
"This spell we're supposed to be breaking," said Selena, drawing her wand. "It works just like it should on me and Maya, and on Lindz, so probably on you too—here, let me show you. Aperio sanguinis!"
Lee blinked as a bright purple light appeared around him. "Was it supposed to do that?"
"Purple seems to mean half-blood, so yes," said Lindz as Selena ended the spell. "At least, we think it does. It doesn't appear to be working properly on Dean."
"Not working properly?" Harry looked over at his dormmate. "How do you mean?"
"Well, it came up red for Maya and Selena, and then purple for Lindz, and now Lee." Dean shrugged. "I'd think it ought to have showed blue for me, wouldn't you? Unless blue's for just plain Muggle, not Muggleborn. Or could we be breaking it partly already?"
"Try me," Harry suggested, as his own Pride and the remainder of Lee's who were present began to drift over. "Does it do different shades, or just all one color of purple?"
"Don't know yet." Dean tilted his head to one side, studying the light which appeared around Harry as Selena repeated her incantation. "Looks about the same as Lee's, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, but not the same as yours," said Lindz, frowning in concentration. "Yours was more bluish. So maybe all the way blue is for Muggles…" She shook her head. "But that doesn't make sense, not if it was meant to tell the difference between witches and wizards. We already know how to tell the difference between wizards and Muggles—Muggles can't do magic!"
"What about me?" The question was quiet, but nowhere near as shy as it once would have been, as Natalie stepped forward with a smile. "What color will it show for me?"
"Let's find out." Selena swung her wand down into line with her smallest Pridemate and performed the spell once more.
"All right, now that's blue," said Lee in satisfaction, regarding the light which now surrounded Natalie. "No two ways about it."
"But that still doesn't make sense of mine," Dean objected. "I'd have to be…" He trailed off, as though he'd just thought of something. "Suppose I could be at that," he said slowly, his eyes far away. "Mum never talks about my real dad, but I remember she didn't seem all that surprised when my Hogwarts letter arrived."
"You think she might have been expecting it?" said Ginny.
"Might've been." Dean flexed his fingers, staring upwards at the cloudless blue sky mirrored in Sanctuary's ceiling. "Weird. I never thought…but it makes sense, it does. If she already knew…if she thought I might be…weird."
"I can make it weirder." Draco grinned. "We're probably related."
"What?"
"That's true!" Hermione laughed. "The Blacks cross somewhere with just about every pureblood family there is—a lot of them within the last three or four generations! So unless your dad was a Muggleborn…"
"I thought I was a Muggleborn!" Dean groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "How did I get into all of this anyway?"
Lindz tapped him on the elbow and smiled sweetly when he looked up at her. "Hello," she said, wiggling her fingers at him. "Remember me?"
Dean regarded her for a few moments. "This is one of those trick questions, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Good to know."
"So Dean's a half-blood, but he never knew about it," said Neville later. "I wonder what happened to his dad?"
"Dunno." Ron shrugged. "Depends on how nice a bloke you want to make him out to be. If he was a decent sort, he was probably hoping Dean's mum and the baby would be safer without him—there was still a war going on, after all. And if he wasn't…"
"And we'll never know in any case, so there's no point in taking up a lot of time thinking about it," said Hermione briskly. "Dean's no different than he was yesterday, and we have homework to get done, because the Soirée is tomorrow and the second half of the party is probably going to run very late, which will mean we won't want to do anything at all on Saturday, and then you," her eyes indicated Draco, "are probably going to want them," Harry, Ron, and Ginny, "out on the Quidditch pitch most of the day Sunday because I know the match with Hufflepuff is coming up soon, and—"
Meghan leaned forward and tapped Hermione on the arm. "Breathe," she advised when her sister turned to look at her. "It helps."
Several members of the Pride muffled grins or snickers in their sleeves.
To Harry's satisfaction, Hermione's magical needlework had been equal to the task of lengthening his dress robes to keep pace with his growth, so he hadn't needed new ones as he'd feared he might. The Hogwarts house-elves, punctual as always, had all six robes belonging to the sixth year Gryffindor boys pressed and ready by mid-afternoon of the fourteenth, and Harry returned from Arithmancy, his last class of the day, to find most of his dormmates already dressed.
"How're Apparition lessons coming?" he asked, peeling off his day robes and tossing them onto his bed. "Anyone else been able to get it down?"
"I'm almost there, but it's not like it matters," said Draco, straightening his hair with the help of the mirror (which was humming what sounded suspiciously like "All I Ask of You" in between making helpful comments). "I'm not seventeen until the end of July. No more are you or Neville."
"Being able to do it's what counts, not getting licensed," Ron put in from the end of his bed, where he was assembling something small and round. "I'll take a citation or a fine from the Ministry any day over not being able to get away from Death Eaters."
Harry, settling his dress robes into place, frowned at the item in Ron's hands. "What is that?"
"Puzzle bracelet for Hermione." Ron held it up. "The runes on it spell out different messages depending on which way you put it together. Fox tipped me off to it. Thanks," he said over his shoulder in Draco's general direction.
"You're welcome." Draco stepped aside, letting Seamus have the mirror. "What'd you get Ginny, Harry? Anything fun?"
"Earrings," Harry said, pulling the small velvet box from his pocket and opening it to display the complex twists of silver. "They match…" He gestured to his left hand. "You know. That. What about you?"
"What did I get Ginny for St. Valentine's? Are you sure that's the question you want to be asking me?" Draco grinned at Harry's rude reply in hand-sign. "I got Luna a hand flower. She'd said she wanted one."
"A what now?" said Dean, looking up from the small package he was wrapping in gold paper.
"Hand flower." Draco pulled a complex tangle of silver links from his pocket and untwisted it to reveal a triangle of open-work chain mail, set at each juncture with a translucent red bead. "See, the loop at this corner goes on her finger, and then the other two corners clasp around her wrist like a bracelet, and the whole thing sits on the back of her hand." He glanced up at Harry. "Apparently she's wearing red for May Day, so this'll match."
Harry nodded, surprised to find the thought of the next holiday on the yearmates' calendar, and what it meant for him personally, less panic-inducing than it had been.
Maybe I'm getting used to it. About time!
"Captain?" he said in the direction of Neville's bent head where his friend was kneeling between two beds. "I hope you didn't forget, Pearl's been known to throw silverware if she doesn't get presents when she's expecting them…"
One of Neville's hands rose above bed level, displaying the item on which he was clearly placing the finishing touches.
"Well, then." Draco returned Luna's gift to his pocket and brushed some imaginary dust off his shoulder. "Nothing like playing into her ideas of herself, is there?"
"It could be worse," said Seamus, removing a hand-sized bundle from his wardrobe. "I've got this one aunt, Aisling—she dresses a bit like Professor Trelawney, acts a bit like her too, and she swears up, down, and sideways getting a Hogwarts education 'stifled the natural expression of her magic', so the only time we see her anymore is when she comes by once a year to shout at Mum for 'inflicting such a horrible experience on your poor son'…"
The high-pitched screech in which Seamus rendered these final words brought a round of laughter, and the boys descended the stairs in good humor.
"Think they know what's coming at the after-party?" Ron murmured to Harry as they left the dorm, the last ones out.
"Doubt it." Harry let his eyes rove over the common room until he spotted Hermione and Ginny, Hermione wearing her red velvet again but with a gold collar and matching belt this time, Ginny in a misty shade of green set off by her sparkling silver necklace and shoes. "Would you have believed it, if we hadn't seen them bringing everything in yesterday?"
"I'm not sure I believe it even with that. How did they get Snape to agree to this again?"
"You know, that's a good question. We'll ask once we get there. But first things first."
"Surviving a big formal romantic dinner." Ron grimaced. "And how's it supposed to be romantic if we're all crowded into the Great Hall same as always?"
"If anyone can pull it off, it's the Slytherins." Harry started down the stairs. "Let's go find out what they've put together."
Neville waited to one side of the common room, watching the girls' stairs as pairs and clusters of his Housemates descended them. Meghan, he knew, would be ready in her own time.
Which is usually a little after everyone else's. But I don't mind that. He smiled to himself. Not with the way she always ends up looking.
Natalie Macdonald, dressed in a cheerful shade of sky blue, slipped out of the third years' dorm and caught his eye, nodding at him before she started down towards the common room. Neville glanced down at what he was holding, sending a quick pulse of magic through it to make sure it was at its best.
When he looked up again, Meghan was standing on her dormitory's landing, smiling down at him.
An answering smile spread across his face. He didn't even try to stop it. Instead he held up what he had made her.
Her hands flew to her mouth, imperfectly muffling a squeal of glee. Then she scooped up her skirts in one hand and bolted down the now-clear stairs.
He met her at the bottom and ceremoniously set the crown of roses, their petals of palest pink just matching her robes, atop her braids.
"How do you always know?" she murmured, taking his arm. "How do you always, always know?"
The Slytherins, much to Harry's relief, had decided on a distinctly understated scheme of decoration for the all-school portion of the evening. Silver was the primary note in the draperies along the walls, set off by abstract designs done in a light green not unlike what Ginny was wearing and a soft pink similar to Meghan's robes. The House tables were missing, but they had been replaced not by the small round ones Harry had seen before but by slightly larger ovals, each with twelve chairs grouped around it. Formal place settings, complete with all the silver and china he remembered from the lessons Padfoot had conducted with the Pack's cubs in pureblood-style table manners, were topped by—
"Place cards?" said Draco, standing on his tiptoes to try to get a better look over everyone's heads.
Harry put his hand up to his glasses, rubbing along one side of the frame. They obediently magnified his current field of view, giving him a better look at the elegantly written slips of parchment standing up on top of each tower of plates. "Place cards," he confirmed, taking his hand away, which released the magnification spell and returned his vision to normal. "I suppose they don't trust us to pick our own seats."
"No, they're just trying to replicate a truly formal pureblood affair," said Hermione, turning her new bracelet on her arm. "A proper hostess makes sure she knows where everyone at her table is sitting, so that they can have enjoyable conversations."
"Is that code for keeping the ones who'll wind each other up far, far apart?" Ron asked.
"Somewhat." Hermione smiled at him. "But it's also about keeping your guests entertained, finding people with whom they have things in common. And in this case, I would imagine it's about keeping as many couples together as possible."
"Also about finding a way to see that the students who aren't dating yet will still have an enjoyable evening," said Blaise, coming up to the Pride with Colleen, on his arm, wearing her favorite dark green. "We've been gathering information to make this work for the last two months." He shifted on his feet, an unusual sign of nerves for him. "I hope it goes the way we planned it…"
"You worry too much," said Colleen, shoving his arm lightly. "You'll like what they put together," she told the Pride. "It'll be fun even for the first years."
A soft chime sounded, which modulated into words as the chattering of the students packed into the entrance hall started to subside. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming, and welcome to the Slytherin St. Valentine's Soirée. Your servers will be escorting you to your tables momentarily. Thank you, and enjoy your evening."
"This is clever," said Luna to Draco, peering over the edge of their table's section of floor. "I wonder how it's done?"
The information the Slytherins had been gathering on their fellow students appeared to include who had been raised in a traditional pureblood household and who had not, who might have friends or relations who had taught them something about pureblood traditions and who might not, and who was and was not afraid of heights. Those students who fell into the former category on the final listing had been drafted to serve as judges for the evening, seated at what was usually the teachers' table. The rest of the school was engaged in cutthroat competition.
Each course was a round, and each table of twelve, generally a mix of three or more Houses and a number of different years, was a team. The subject of competition was the correctness of the team members' manners as they consumed their food and made light conversation. Coaching was both allowed and encouraged, though no physical contact was permitted (a Ravenclaw second year had already been reprimanded for snatching the incorrect fork out of his dinner partner's hand), and the teams which scored well in each round were rewarded with high marks.
More literally than is usual even at Hogwarts. Draco waved to Hermione, whose table, half the Hall away, was hovering a few inches higher than his and Luna's. Who'd ever have thought those once-a-month "good dinners" we used to have at the Den would pay off like this?
Turning back to his portion of baked fish, he sliced off a neat forkful, listening intently to the discussion between a Hufflepuff seventh year and a Ravenclaw third year over which of their Quidditch teams had a better Chaser squad. As soon as his mouth was clear, he'd be putting in his own two Knuts' worth. Beside him, Luna was happily explaining her father's theories on the habitats of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks to a pair of Slytherin fourth years.
And I could be imagining it, but I think we're catching up with Neenie's table…
The first half of the soirée, to his mind at least, was a definite success.
Now to see the looks on everyone's faces when they find out what the second half is about!
"Mum's never finding out about this, right?" Ron muttered as he and Harry descended the stairs towards dungeon three, one of the largest of Hogwarts' underground classrooms. "You know what she'd do."
"Laugh?"
"No, if it was just you and me, she'd laugh. But it's not. It's Ginny." Ron pointed to his sister, giggling with Hermione and Luna just ahead of them. "And she probably wouldn't be too happy that Meghan's sneaking in either—"
"Who said Meghan's sneaking in?"
"Do you really think she's not?"
"Point," Harry acknowledged. "All right, I'll work on keeping it from getting to your mum if you work on keeping that part from getting to mine."
"Deal."
The boys shook hands, then followed the girls up to the door of dungeon three. Luna knocked three times, and the door creaked open a cautious slit. "Yes?" breathed a voice from the other side.
"Joe sent us," Ginny whispered.
The door slammed. A moment later, it opened just wide enough for the girls to slip inside, one at a time. Ron had to turn sideways to fit through.
The dungeon beyond had been transformed. The desks and chairs were gone, the stone walls were hung with dark curtains, and a circular stage occupied the center of the floor. And set around the stage, far enough apart that no contact could be made by anyone using them—
"How did they get Snape to agree to this?" Ron wondered aloud, surveying the trio of slim, silvery poles.
"What makes you think he wanted to know?" asked Draco, coming up behind them with a pair of butterbeers hanging from his right hand. "Something to drink?"
"Thanks." Ron accepted a bottle and uncorked it with his wand. "Think I'm going to need it."
"Anyone been up there yet?" Harry asked, taking the other butterbeer from his brother. "Or are they waiting until more people get here?"
"Artemis Moon tried it out. Hung upside down for a little while, got some of the boys whistling at her. I think most of them want to wait until the music gets started, though. Then they can tell themselves it's just dancing." Draco shrugged. "Which, it is. Only…"
"It's not the sort any of our mums need to know about," Ron finished. "Ever."
"I'll drink to that," said Harry, opening his own butterbeer.
Three bottles clinked together as three knocks sounded once again on the dungeon door.
Author Notes:
And I think I will leave the rest of this particular scene to your twisted little imaginations. Though I should probably add that despite the most common name these items go by, there will be no clothing removed tonight. First scene of the next chapter may shed a bit more light on things.
Sorry for the wait on this chapter, everyone. Life gets awkward at times. In any case, this is more or less the end of the fluffy sections of this year—from here on out, it's all a run-up to the Final Battle.
Yes, you heard me right. We are less than nine months, story-time, from Harry's final meeting with Voldemort. It's been a long time coming, so I hope it's going to meet your expectations. Leave me lots of encouragement to keep it flowing, and I shall try to get the next chapter out on the weekly schedule like before!