The Slytherin Redemption: Now Complete

Salvation

Chapter 5

Saturdays were always Liz's favourite day of the week. She loved the day because the bustle of the streets in London was like nothing else in the country. She enjoyed the street vendors from so many nations hawking their wares. She enjoyed the lost-looking tourists, asking for directions in their stilted English, or their puzzled Yank counterparts who could not understand how two peoples who spoke the same language, could not transcend it. Today, she was enjoying the bustle of London with Ginny Potter and her friend Hermione. Well, maybe she was not enjoying the Hermione slag as much as the ever-fascinated Mrs. Potter was.

Hermione was familiar with the Muggle world, so Ginny had talked her into coming on Liz's grown-up-clothes-buying spree. Ginny had seemed mystified by the tension between Liz and her oldest friend. Liz could not have told her the reason the bushy-headed hag was a bitch to her, anymore than she could explain why one end of a magnet would not attract to the same pole of another. They just repelled each other. In Liz's philosophy of life, sod her if she did not like her.

Ginny was paused in front of a shoe shop, one that specialised in shoes that were not Doc Martens or Birkenstocks. Liz mistrusted the strappy, stiletto-heeled delicacy of the shoes in the window display, and hung back, biting the inside of her cheek with nervous anticipation. The Hermione bint entered the shop, babbling on about how delightful the store was. Liz wanted to check her pocketbook, to see if she had enough money. Ginny rolled her eyes at Liz. “Come on, Liz. Half the fun of shopping is the hunt. It's an evolutionary imperative.”

Four hours and a severely lightened bank account later, and Liz was ready to rollover for the next generation of shopping mutations. Her genes were definitely more suited to the consignment shops and vintage markets of the East End. Ginny was flagging too. Liz juggled several bags as they headed to the Underground. Ginny had consolidated her purchases into a small bundle from the stationer's shop that she tucked in her purse. She had offered to do the same for Liz, but Liz demurred. She would not have a way to unshrink them once she got home, and she was strangely reluctant to have Drake look at some of the things she had purchased. Hermione, who had warmed to Liz appreciably since she found out that Drake was not her lover, had an ingenious evening bag that shrank everything until she pulled it out. That was magic worth working in Liz's opinion.

They headed to Diagon Alley, where Ginny had promised Liz lunch. Her husband, Harry, was to meet them there with their children. Hermione's husband was on duty, so she begged off. “I have to rescue Molly from Hugo and Rose, or the Burrow will be in shambles. It was nice getting to know you, Liz.”

Liz's non-committal nod was all the Muggle felt Hermione deserved. The two women watched as the bushy-headed woman Disapparated. Again, Liz felt the cognitive dissonance of reality and unreality. She did not think she would ever get truly used to magic.

Ginny pulled a reluctant Liz into the dark interior of the Leaky Cauldron and the redhead greeted the ancient proprietor, Tom. He peered frostily at Liz and grunted a reply. Liz did not think he liked having her in there, much. They made their way across the crowded room to a table occupied by four small children, Harry and Drake. The two men looked uncomfortable in each other's presence, even though the children were happily chatting about things talked about by children of a certain age. Drake stood at their approach, and Harry hastily followed his lead, scowling. Her friend gave her a piercing look, one that set Liz's pulse fluttering, unaccountably. His grey eyes were stormy today. Liz surmised that Scorpius must have been a pain this morning. He greeted her with a brush of his lips on her cheek, his expression warming, “Hey, kid. Did you buy all the shops out?”

Liz grumbled as he pulled out her chair, while squinting at the menu board, “I hate shopping.”

Once everyone was seated, Harry laughed heartily. “Did you hear that, Angel? A woman who hates shopping!”

Liz's eyes shot to Drake's at the utterance of his pet name for Tish. He took her hand under the table, and squeezed it. Potter cleared his throat, aware of his unintended blunder. Drake shook his head slightly, as if warning the dark-haired man not to apologise. Turning to Liz, her friend said, “I've asked someone to meet us here today. I hope you don't mind. She's an old school chum.”

The door from the Diagon Alley side opened, admitting a group of grey-clad MLE agents. Drake stood and went to a square-built woman with shiny, black hair. Ginny sniggered, “Is that Millicent Bulstrode? I'm glad Hermione's not here.”

“Yeah, it might be like bad old times, then.” Harry answered his expression sardonic. Attempting to wave the waitress over, he said, “How long have we been sitting here?”

Mystified, Liz asked, “Why didn't any of you get along in school?”

Ginny laughed. “Oh, Malfoy and Bulstrode were in Slytherin. We were Gryffindor. Those two houses traditionally don't get along. Slytherin has a bad reputation, you might say.”

“Sure,” under his breath, Harry added, “for evil.”

Ginny hissed, “Harry!”

“My Toby's in Slytherin.” Liz felt her jaw jut pugnaciously. Her eyes narrowed. “I hope he doesn't suddenly start spewing pea soup, or asking for a spare crucifix.”

“What does...? Oomph.” Harry began, and then caught his wife's glare. “I'm sorry, I didn't realise.”

The adults fell into an uncomfortable silence, as Drake approached with the Officer. Harry stood, hastily. “Officer Bulstrode, please have a seat.”

The woman grimaced, and chose the chair closest to Liz. The woman's blue eyes swept Liz's form expectantly. Drake smiled, as if he had a highly exciting secret. “Millie, I'd like you to meet Liz Cowell.”

Liz knew ‘come-hither’ looks, and she watched in dawning horror as the woman gave one to her. After a moment of near hysterical panic, she stood. “I've got to go to the bathroom. Where is it?”

Ginny pointed the way, giving explicit directions as Liz nearly ran to the corner she indicated.

Liz entered the door marked Witch and began washing her face with shaking hands. She moaned, “Oh, bloody hell. Oh, bloody fucking hell... “

The mirror tsked and in offended tones, said, “Language, dear. The gent's is next door, if you want to exercise your tongue in that manner.”

A few deep breaths later and Liz still did not know what to do. She closed her eyes against the invasion of the soft light in the area. A voice from behind the door caused to her to wince. “Liz? Is there something wrong?”

Liz shot the bolt on the door and admitted Ginny. Smiling a little shakily, Liz said, “I've really put my foot in it.”

Ginny listened quietly, issuing a few monosyllables of support, as Liz explained the reason for her flight. When she was through, and less visibly agitated, the auburn-haired beauty burst into tinkling peals of laughter. “I'm sorry, Liz, I know it's not funny, but... it really is. I mean, this has got to be the best kept secret since Snape was a spy.”

Groaning, Liz sank down on the cabinet top. “What do I do?”

“Well, first, you let me get Bulstrode, and you break it to her,” Ginny began. “Then you've got to tell Malfoy, but let Harry and I leave before you do. That blond has a nasty temper.”

“Shite.”

Ginny smirked. “You said it, sister.”

&*&*&

Millie strode out of the back area, laughing at something Liz said. The Potters had cleared off already, at Ginny's insistence. Draco had perceived an uncharacteristic tension in the woman as she whispered into her husband's ear. Harry had guffawed loudly, but made his polite excuses.

Millie made her way to the table, and Draco stood. She smiled, her eyes dancing with suppressed mirth. “Malfoy, it’s been an interesting date, but I think you should leave matchmaking to the professionals.”

She kissed his cheek, and laughed as she sauntered out of the pub. Liz stood back, her hands clasped together. He drew her to the table where Scorpius sat colouring quietly in a Muggle colouring book. He pulled her seat out for her, and leaned over her shoulder. Her hair brushed his cheek as he asked into the shell of her ear, “Liz, have I missed something?”

“Can we talk about it after we eat? I'm starving.” Draco's gaze drifted to her cheek as she bit it. She shook her short hair down into her eyes, avoiding his pointed look.

The waitress drifted by and he caught the slatternly blonde’s attention. “Miss, we'd like to order now, please.”

The girl took their order of fish and chips for Liz, and roast beef for Draco to share with Scorpius. Draco did not like being made to look a fool, and there had been entirely too much mirth at his expense today. He settled into his seat, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Liz, tell me what's so funny. I think I'd like a good laugh, myself.”

The food was brought to the table and the two friends were silent as the waitress placed the plates before them. Draco cut his roast into small bites for his son, and placed them on a separate plate, along with a small helping of potatoes and carrots. Scorpius began wolfing down the food, and Draco admonished him, “Slow down, son. You'll choke.”

Draco shot an accusatory look at his friend, as if it were somehow Liz's fault that his son was hungry. “Well? We're eating, tell me.”

Liz was picking fitfully at the fish, removing the batter from the white flesh with her fork, and fitfully smashing the chips. “I'm not a lesbian. I never have been.”

Draco's hand arrested the motion of her fork. He said sharply, “I thought you said you were hungry.”

“I'm sorry Drake. I should have told you, but you were... you know, one of them. And then there was Tish and Scorpius. And we got on so well... then I didn't know how to tell you.” His friend looked down at his hand, which still held hers, tears glistening on her blackened lashes. “I just didn't know how to tell you after so long.”

Draco fought the urge to take her in his arms. He never could stand a crying woman, and his friend never shed tears. “It's okay, kid. Just don't do it again.”

She snuffled once, and smirked. “What, tell you I'm a lesbian? I don't think you'll believe it twice, even if you are a natural blonde.”

He shoved her good-naturedly with his shoulder. “Shut up and eat.”

&*&*&

Sunday at Hogwarts was Toby's least favourite day. He felt odd not going to Mass with his grandmother, mother, Uncle Drake and Scorpius. He usually went to the lake to pray, but it was not the same as hearing Father Cavanaugh say Mass. It was not the same when he could not take communion or serve as altar boy. He missed the rituals and incense, and he missed the closeness of his family after the service as they all piled into Grandma's kitchen for her after-Mass feast.

Today he headed out to the lake, as usual, rosary in hand, and sat, skipping stones across the water towards the giant squid. His thoughts were too scattered for prayer. He missed home so much. He felt the tears that had been so close to the surface all week, drip down his nose and land with a plop on his lap. He was not even sure if he was a good Catholic anymore. Could he be a wizard and be a Catholic at the same time? Would God still love him, if he could work some of the same miracles as Jesus did? Uncle Drake was, but that was different somehow. He had always been a wizard; he became a Catholic afterwards, so he did not know any different. Maybe. Toby did not honestly know.

He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He hastily dashed the moisture from his cheeks and looked up into the handsome countenance of his Head of House.

“Mr. Cowell, is there a problem?” Professor Zabini asked as he lowered himself onto the ground next to Toby. The older man looked at the rosary clutched in the boy's hand. The Professor looked at him expectantly.

“No, sir, there's no problem.” Toby said, finally acknowledging the concerned man. “It's just that I miss going to Mass.”

“I see,” the Professor said, but Toby did not think he did. The boy looked out at the giant squid as it waved its tentacles in the cooling breeze. The Professor finally added, “If it would help, maybe you could contact your priest. I would be glad to post it for you when I go to London next weekend.”

“That would be nice, sir. Thank you.” Toby ducked his head, feeling the tears begin to form again.

The Professor smiled, his handsome face lit by the expression. “Compose that letter, and I will see he gets it. Now, I believe Miss Alston is waiting for you in the Common Room. You missed your study group session this week because of your detention, and she's kindly offered to assist you.”

Toby blushed. Rose Alston was the prettiest girl in Slytherin, with her black-brown hair, changeable hazel eyes, and cute freckles across her nose. She did not like him much, because of the difficulty of the previous week, but Toby liked her plenty. “Thank you, sir.”

Toby waited a moment for the older man to join him, but when he did not, he walked back up to the castle.

&*&*&

Mass was over, and the family dinner at Mrs. Cowell's house was well underway. Draco sat in the cramped parlour area, reading his copy of the Daily Prophet. He always read it front to back, as his father had taught him to do. Lucius was always well informed from whatever source he had before him. Draco was nearing the end of the Society section when a picture caught his eye. Parvati Patil and a beaming Justin Finch-Fletchley were posed in front of a Muggle manor house. The caption stated that the parents of Parvati Patil and Justin Finch-Fletchley were pleased to announce the engagement of their children. Draco sat, stunned, crumpling the paper between his fists. She had said nothing on their last assignation on Friday afternoon. Yes, their coupling had been brief and rough, but that was nothing unusual. They both just met for sex, and until she had made him party to this cuckolding of her fiancé, he was fine with that.

Liz exited the kitchen area with a flour covered Scorpius. “Drake, your son has been such a help this afternoon, but could you... What is it? Is it word of your parents?”

Draco stood, “It's nothing. My parents are as fine as they can be in prison. Come, Scorpius, I think we need to do a little repair to your Sunday clothes.”

The rest of the afternoon, he passed in a haze of anger and hurt. What was it to him if she acted a faithless bitch? He was getting what he wanted. However, he was not alone any longer. He had Scorpius to consider, and Liz and Toby's reputations. He would break it off in their next meeting, he promised himself, before he could hurt anyone else, as he had been, by the announcement.

Liz kept giving him odd looks as he brooded his way through luncheon and their normal Sunday afternoon stroll, but she said nothing. Scorpius ran ahead, to the park screeching with joy as he saw the playground equipment for the thousandth time. Liz sat on a park bench as Draco monitored his son's play. She did not press him to talk, for which Draco was truly thankful.

The bitch! He thought with each sound of the swing as it flew forward then back, propelling his young son through the air to the boy's delight. Draco decided he would contact Patil at the hospital, and have it out. Then he decided he would wait and shag her into submission before he dropped her.

The bitch! The thought echoed in his mind. Images of her slender body, riding him as he guided her to their completion; her black hair splayed across a pillow and kohl dark eyes bleary from spent passion; her hands as they worked him, expert in their ministrations.

The bitch! As he remembered her scorn of him, and how he accepted it as the currency he paid to shag her.

It was best of he called it off before he shagged her. He would break it off in the most brutal manner, and then heap the same scorn on her for fucking him, a former Death Eater. His mind swirled with scenarios of all the ways he could hurt her, or make her want him, while he pushed his son through the air, the boy's lithe form flying away from the stigma with which his father and grandfather had stamped him. It would end, no matter what Draco had to do.


Salvation

Chapter 6

Draco waited in the room, their room, while Patil showered down the hall. It had been four weeks since his discovery of her engagement, four weeks since he had resolved to break it off with her. Yet, here he was again, shagging like a stag in rut. He told himself that it was the Slytherin thing to do, taking what was offered. Yet he had remained a virgin until he had met Tish, well after he had left school, well after his days serving Riddle. October was here and Patil was to be married by the end of January.

Liz. Thoughts of her came unbidden and unwanted almost constantly since her little announcement. He was almost constantly assailed at night by images of her long limbs wrapped around him, her smallish breasts under his tongue, her moaning compliance as he slid into her, claiming her. Tish had never evoked the strong carnal images that Liz did. He was as much a beast a Rodolphus because now that he knew she was available for his lust, he lusted. Hence, the real reason he came to Patil every week. If he was going to spend his animal passions, he would rather it be on someone he hated than someone like Liz.

Her new wardrobe and such were not helping him ignore her either. She had gone from adolescent to polished woman in a month. Her movements, always graceful and languorous, reminded him of the best of the pureblood women his mother had entertained when he was a child. Her subdued makeup and softly coloured brown hair made him remember the confused fantasies he had once had of Granger after she slapped him third year. Draco felt himself damnably responding once more to the images she evoked.

He ran his hand through his rumpled, dandelion fuzz coloured hair, trying to smooth it so he could tie it back in the elastic band he usually wore outside this room. Once his hair was under control, he cast a Cleansing Charm on himself and attempted to heal the scratches with which she had marked him. He could not afford for his son to mention them around anyone. The boy was still young enough to sneak into Draco's room when he had a nightmare. He dressed in the Muggle clothes he wore under his robes, and donned the light outer robes he wore for his work. Lunchtime was over, and Liz would be wondering where he had gotten to. Next week he would definitely break it off with Patil.

&*&*&

Toby, Victoire and Rose made their way out of the Potions classroom on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts. They were talking animatedly about research the three were conducting for the improvement of a headache Potion. The idea had been Victoire's, but Rose had come up with the procedure to infuse more willow bark into the Potion, while decreasing the overall volatility. It had been Toby's idea to attempt to improve the taste, so he was in charge of rendering those details. He was stumped, so the three planned a trip to the library this evening after dinner. Victoire walked a little ahead of them as she made her way to the stairs, still speaking about their concerns for their additions, when an invisible barrier physically stopped her. Toby moved towards her, but was hit by a Jelly-Legs jinx. He lay writhing on the floor as two older, hooded students in Gryffindor robes hexed Rose. She began dancing uncontrollably. Toby shouted, “Don't! She's got asthma!”

One of the boys laughed, “So? The ickle Death Eater's bastard can't handle a little magic? Let her go back to her Muggle-whore of a mother.”

“Expelliarmus!” Victoire screamed, only to have the spell rebound off the shield that held her. It narrowly missed her before whizzing up the stairs. Toby pulled himself along the floor, watching Rose become more winded, and paler. He cast Finite Incantatum as one of the Gryffindors pummelled him with hex after hex. Toby struggled to remain conscious so that he could cast an effective Protego for Rose, who was had collapsed against a wall, wheezing and turning an alarming shade of grey.

The other attacker aimed a kick at Toby's side, and the young Slytherin felt a painful snap. “There you go, you little Death Eater. Tell yer Daddy we said hello.”

As the two attackers fled up the stairs, they cast a full body-bind on Victoire, who slid down the steps she had been standing on. Her head struck the hard stone of the floor and she looked dazedly up at them. “That's what traitors get for associating with Death Eater spawn.”

For Toby, the world went black.

Toby woke sometime later as Professor Longbottom levitated him grimly through the Infirmary doors. Madam Hasselnuss, with her soft accent and rosy cheeks, exclaimed him. Professor Zabini followed with Rose, who seemed to be breathing easier. Victoire and Teddy trailed behind them. Victoire's nose was bloody and she clutched her temples as if she had a headache.

Toby hurt all over, and his stomach was less than settled as he tried to sit up after being placed on the clean-sheeted bed. Professor Longbottom stayed his motion with a gesture, “No, you need to stay still until Madam has a better idea of your injuries.”

The young Slytherin stole a look at Professor Zabini, trying to gauge how much in trouble they were for missing his class, and being involved in a Duel. The man seemed quite angry as he administered first Rose's Muggle medicine for her condition, then the potion that Headmaster Snape had developed for asthma, years ago, before Uncle Drake had even gone to school. Toby closed his eyes, willing the tears to stay behind his closed lids, while Madam Hasselnuss ran diagnostic spells on him. He felt a cool hand laid against his cheek, then the gentle Gryffindor Head of House said, “Professor Zabini has contacted your parents. They should be here shortly.”

He listened as the Mediwitch catalogued the hexes that had been used on him. Most were ones a student would not learn until their fourth year. As she worked, she began removing the rib that had broken, then handed him a vial of nasty smelling potion. He read it carefully before downing it. The directions said he would have his bone back in ‘one day guaranteed’. She then handed him another potion, “It's a sleeping draught. Please take it so you can sleep well tonight.”

Toby did, and drifted almost immediately to sleep.

&*&*&

Drake was tense as he entered the office. Liz looked up at the clock, and gave a sniff. He had been with the mystery woman again. Liz was beginning to hate Friday afternoons because of Her, whoever she was. Not that she begrudged Drake his fun, but he was in such a damned bad mood after his visits with Her. She looked up at the clock. He was barely in time for his two o'clock appointment and he reeked of sex and expensive perfume. She cleared her throat as she began typing again. “You might want to freshen up a bit. You smell like Her.”

She fluffed her newly dyed hair self-consciously. She had gone to an actual salon to have it done to match her new professional look just last week. If she had hoped to elicit a response from Drake, she had been disappointed. He had withdrawn all approval of her efforts to better herself. Several blokes from down the hall had given her appreciative looks, however, so sod Drake and his... What? Inattention?

No, Liz knew he was looking. She caught him sometimes through the opened office door, his gaze intent, his sensuous mouth slack, but he always looked away with a scowl.

She had begun dreaming of him sometime since he had taken up with the Whore he was shagging. Funny, her thoughts had rarely run towards him that way, until he came to the office the first time, smelling of Her musk. One whiff and Liz began tingling, thinking of how he got that smell. Shite, she was a perv. And lonely. And in an odd way, still innocent of the ways of a man and woman. She knew the only reason she wanted her friend was that he was familiar and she knew him to be kind... Not like the one who made Toby.

Her friend flushed and hurried to his office, slamming the door behind him. Liz hated the change in their relationship since her admission of a few weeks ago. Gone was the easy camaraderie, the gentle touches and small kisses they exchanged as friends. It was as if he had withdrawn from her and left the shell of her friend in his place. She sighed gustily. She missed him and did not know what to do to get him back.

The door opened and a young Nigerian couple stepped through, bringing exotic scents and a feeling of warmth. Liz smiled up at them. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Sola. If you'll fill out this paperwork, I'll inform Mr. Malfoy you are here.”

The man took the papers and began filling them out, looking around the office nervously, as if waiting for magic to happen spontaneously. Liz had seen that reaction a thousand times before.

She made her way to Drake's office and knocked. Hearing Drake's abrupt, “Enter,” Liz stuck her head through the door. “Your two o'clock's here,” she said.

Drake must have taken care of his problem, because the air in the room smelled nothing like he had when he blew into the office earlier. Her friend nodded and said, “Show them in, please.”

Liz escorted the two to his door, and sat back at her desk to resume the catch-up work she had set for herself today. The Muggle Liaison office had been busier than anyone ever expected. Muggle-born births had increased since the end of the war, and cases of accidental magic were on the rise because of it. Liz was working on a report that would help alleviate the workload for the already strained workers in the Department of Reversal of Accidental Magic. Drake and she were proposing the first primary schools for Muggle-borns in the U.K. based on the model used in Germany, Japan and now the States. She turned back to the report, typing with painstaking care on the old manual Underwood typewriter that she had bought at a jumble sale five years ago. Even though their office was not located in a magical area, they had found that Drake's magic alone was enough to fry any computer system in the room.

She worked steadily through the next hour, stopping only to let the couple out of the office. Drake kept his door firmly shut; a new thing on Fridays. Liz did not like that either. At four o'clock, as she was winding down her day, Draco entered the room. She did not bother looking up. Things were strained between them now. When he stopped before her desk, she glanced up and was arrested by the white look of fury on his face. Tiredly, she asked, “What is it, Drake?”

“There's been an incident at Hogwarts. They've asked you to come.” He placed a steadying hand on her arm. “Toby's been injured.”

Liz felt the edges of her vision blacken, and she staggered as she stood. “Draco, go with me. I can't face this alone.”

He nodded sharply and began arranging for Ian Cavanaugh to care for Scorpius.

&*&*&

They Floo'ed from their office to the Headmaster's Office, Draco holding his shaking friend tightly in his arms. Professors Lepidus and Longbottom were waiting in the room along with Harry Potter and Seamus Finnegan, who were dressed in the robes of the Auror's office. Draco made an effort to slow his breathing. Even though he had been in the office before, the portraits of Dumbledore and an unmoving Snape always rattled him. He nodded politely at all assembled, introducing Liz in the process.

Finnegan scowled at Draco, but Potter greeted him, his eyes solemn. Longbottom stepped forward. “Ms. Cowell, if I may escort you to the infirmary?”

Liz allowed the Gryffindor to pull her from Draco's protective embrace, and followed. As the warmth of her body was taken from him, Draco's anger mounted.

After they absented themselves, Draco turned sharply to the youngish Headmaster, a man in his seventies, rather than the wizened one hundred and fifty of Albus Dumbledore. “What the hell did you do to my Godson?”

Lepidus had the good grace to flush slightly before he gestured for Draco to sit down. “Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure in your position as Liaison Officer you've been made aware of the problems of last term between Gryffindor and Slytherin.”

“No,” Draco drawled, casting darkling looks at Potter and Finnegan. “I must have missed that memo.”

“I'm sorry, truly. I informed the Board of Governors and was assured that all Hogwarts adjunct staff would be informed.” The Headmaster's scowl fell to a stack of parchment on his desk, making the sandy-haired man suddenly look older and more careworn. “Well, ah, there was some unpleasantness between some pureblood students whose parents fought on either side in the conflict. The Aurory was informed due to the identities of the participants and their family ties. Several students were disciplined. Professors Zabini and Longbottom have put several restrictions on their respective houses this term, and we had thought the problem was alleviated to a certain extent.”

“Until today.” Potter broke in, his voice cool. Draco turned his scathing attention to the former Gryffindor. “We have taken two fifth Year Gryffindors into custody for the attack on Toby, Rose Alston and Victoire Weasley. They will be held by our office until a hearing can be arranged on the disposition of their case.”

“Weasley? How did that one get in Slytherin?” Draco's voice sounded harsh even to himself.

Potter's look of utter horror was quite satisfying. “She's not. She's in Gryffindor.”

Draco smirked as the Headmaster interrupted with an almost Dumbledorean quelling gesture, “Gentlemen? The fact of the matter is, it seems that Mr. Cowell and Miss Alston were singled out for special treatment because of their heritage.”

“Let me guess, Alston’s mother was a victim of Muggle-baiting too?” Draco wondered if Snape saved her also. So many victims had been. Draco really did not know how the man had time to work evil for the Dark Lord, act as Hogwarts’ Headmaster, and sleep, on top of saving Muggles from Uncle Rodolphus and his cronies. There were only so many hours in the day. “I don't recall the name coming through my office. But there were so many weren't there?”

Lepidus looked uncomfortable, Finnegan snorted and Potter stared ahead. Potter knew Draco's story, and thus Liz's. The Golden Boy was, after all, Scorpius' godfather.

&*&*&

When Liz came to the Infirmary, a heavily scarred man and a gorgeous weeping woman were sequestered with a beautiful blonde girl behind a screen. The girl was alert and speaking softly to her earnest-looking father who was consoling the woman. A boy with rainbow coloured hair and the sweet, sad features of a saint stood outside the warm glow of the magical lighting. Liz recognized him from the train station, but could not recall his name. The Professor who had escorted her to the Infirmary, stopped behind the lone boy, and spoke softly to him. The boy hung his head and the Longbottom fellow pointed his wand at two chairs, transforming them into facsimiles that were more comfortable.

A round little woman in an old-fashioned nurse's costume greeted Liz softly, “You must be Mrs. Cowell. Your son is this way.”

Liz followed her, not having the energy to correct the assumption that most wizards made about her marital status. Her son lay frail and tousle-haired on the ubiquitous white sheets of all medical facilities throughout the world. A darkly handsome man sat beside his bed, reading. When he saw Liz, he stood, reminding Liz of Drake's precise and posh manners.

“Ms. Cowell,” he said, laying the book down on a table and extending his left hand. The sleeve on the arm rode up, and Liz was sure it was an intended consequence, so practiced was the gesture. He looked down at the exposed limb, and then swept his expressive chocolate eyes up at her face. Liz knew he wanted to put her more at ease, so she took his warm brown hand and shook it firmly. So, he was telling her he wasn't a Death Eater. He was as smooth as Drake. She nodded tersely as he continued, “I am Mr. Cowell's Head of House, Professor Zabini. I am sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. I'm sure you have quite a few questions.”

With a flick of his wand that had slid down from his sleeve, he drew a chair towards the area. He swept his hand towards the seat. “Please?”

“My boy's never been sick a day in his life,” she started as she sat. “He's never broken a bone or been hit by me or anyone else. He's a good boy, and when I allowed him to come here, I didn't expect him to have to go through this. So, my question is: Why?”

&*&*&

A screaming Mediwitch summoned them to the Infirmary. Draco and Harry took the familiar route to the facility at a dead run, both exclaiming as the Floo's green-flamed flare died, “Liz.”

The Headmaster and Seamus were not far behind.


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