The Slytherin Redemption: Now Complete

The first portion of this chapter series is a one-shot written about how Pansy and Blaise spend their visits when he comes to see her at St. Mungo's on Sunday, the only day of the week he can get away. It is unbeta'ed.

Salvation Chapters 16 and 17 were beta'ed by Drusilla of Perfect Imagination.

Sunday

She exists in that half-life of madness and unreality between Sundays, a lavender-grey twilight. Most of the week the voices in the dark gibber and whisper foul things that she comprehends only too well, after that Night of Darkness. So long ago, in another life, she had been a girl and there had been no monsters. Only him. He was brown. She looks at her stomach. It's large with child and it moves. She wonders what it looks like. It feels like a polliwog. It moves again, and she wonders if it will be green when it comes out.

Then, he is there. The one she married to escape the Night of Darkness, and the twilight recedes. His skin is like the earth and he radiates light. She jumps to her feet, happy to see him, her husband. His smile warms her. His name is Blaise and he gave her the polliwog in her belly, and she loves him. She is Pansy and it is Sunday, the day she comes alive.

He scoops her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers, letting his breath mingle with hers. His eyes are brown and concerned, somehow these two are linked in her mind along with love. “Darling, are you having a good day?”

She breathes in his scent, one of excitement and brown. “Always when you're here.”

Her mind clears more when he brings out the shrine and they meditate in front of the Buddha and the Celestial Mother. He burns the joss sticks as he has been told, and she breathes, in out in out until her world is the breath and the brown and the little figure of the Buddha. Once done, they eat. It is Sunday, and he is the Brown that she loves. “I know, you know. I remember when we could love each other without the twilight coming between us.”

He smiles, truly happy at her pronouncement if she can judge by the strength of the light he radiates. “Yes, and we can have that again after you have the baby.”

It moves and she jumps, remembering how green it might be. “Do you think it has a tail?”

“Hmm?” He hums then grimaces, as if remembering the ugliness. “No, darling, remember when we talked last week? You are having a baby, not a frog. A human baby.”

“Oh.” She knows this as he says it, but teases anyway, “But if it is a frog, he might have a princess waiting.”

He knows the game now, and kisses her. “You're the only princess I need. Am I a frog?”

“Let me kiss you and see.” She uses the slyness of the mad to have her way. He slides his arm around her and soon more than their breathing mingles.

After they end, he whispers. “You know I love you.”

“I love you too. I always have.” Pansy is her name and she says it in her head. She remembers when he's here. They play at being married, little bickers, little annoyances, love and a child they both want, even if she can't remember what it will be when it comes out.

Then.

The afternoon wears to night and the lavender-grey twilight descends again. He is leaving and the madness comes. It is inevitable. It always does. Her Sunday is gone until the frogling is born.

Whether it comes out green or brown, she'll always love them both.


Salvation

Chapter 16

Lucius woke in the middle of the night while Draco sat at his bedside reading to him softly from one of the issues of Witch Weekly left in the waiting area. The mediwitch bustled into the room and asked Draco to leave. Lucius' hand clutched his son's painfully.

“Father, they need me to leave.”

Lucius moaned and began thrashing as he held onto Draco's hand with surprising strength. The mediwitch left the room, bringing back Dr. Patil.

The former Ravenclaw addressed Draco. “Do things make you squeamish?”

Draco leveled a glare at the woman, realising as he did that she probably had no idea of his history with Tish. He said, more calmly than he felt, “No.”

“Very well. Hold your father's arm down to the bed,” she said matter-of-factly. “We're going to take the tubes out of his stomach and his chest. It's not going to be a pleasant experience, so you'll have to be strong for both of you.”

Draco turned his head to look into his father's eyes, attempting to project a calm that he did not feel. He had always hated this aspect of Tish's treatment. Just before the sucking sound of the tubes being pulled from his father's throat, Draco heard the Physician say, “You need to cough, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Fucking bloody hell, bitch!” Lucius rasped. Draco felt as if his heart had stopped. His father rarely swore and never did so around ladies. He knew Lucius considered such language common and below a Malfoy's high standards. Draco froze, waiting for the explosion he was sure would come from the doctor.

Draco's horrified paralysis was broken as Patil chuckled, saying to Lucius, “Didn't like that much, did you?”

Lucius' reply was cold-eyed disdain. He looked past the physician, as if she were beneath his notice.

“Well, now I can give you something to make you more comfortable if you'd like,” the doctor said to Lucius. Without waiting for a reply, she scribbled something on a pad and handed it to the mediwitch, before taking note of Draco's embarrassment. “Don't worry about what he says. The speech centres have been affected in his brain. The stronger the emotion he needs to express, the more understandable he will be. He simply has some problems choosing the right words at the moment. Just speak to him slowly and he should be able to understand most of what you say.”

Draco nodded numbly as she stroked Lucius' hand, her voice sincere. “I'll see you tomorrow, all right?”

“If... must,” came the older man's answer, his face now drawn in an odd half-mask of frustrated anger.

Draco made a move to leave, wanting to let his father rest. Tears formed in Lucius' eyes as he implored, slurring slightly from the paralysis of his stroke, “S-s-stay... here... talk... t'm-m-me. S-s-sorry.”

&*&*&

Liz roused herself as Drake entered the room. He had lowered the lights for her before he left the last time. Her friend, haggard from the day, sat and scrubbed a hand over his jaw absently. “They gave him some potions, so he's asleep for the night, kid. Let's go home for now.”

“Okay.” Liz began to gather her things as she stretched her aching muscles. “What time is it?”

“I don't know,” Drake sighed. “Maybe three?”

Liz stood, biting her cheek contemplatively. She straightened her blouse, fussing with the wrinkles that had been ironed into it by her sleep position. “I don't want you to be alone.”

“I won't be, if you stay.” Her friend's gaze sought hers shyly. “No funny stuff, though. You're spoken for until after the ball on Tuesday.”

&*&*&

Teddy was clearly beside himself with joy at the Gryffindor table at breakfast that morning. He waved wildly at Toby as the younger boy entered the Great Hall. Toby heard him shout, his voice booming over the din of the room, “Hey, Tobe, meet me by the staircase in the main hall after breakfast.”

Several older Slytherins sniggered, but refrained from comment as Professor Zabini strode by. Rose slid into a seat beside him, rolling her eyes expressively. “No wonder his House hates him. What was that all about?”

“Dunno.” Toby slathered a piece of bread with strawberry jam, and began eating it with gusto. He asked, “So, you and your brother are still staying at Hogwarts for the holiday?”

Rose's expression darkened. “Yeah, Mum's got a new boyfriend. She doesn't want us under foot.”

Toby felt sorry for his friend, but kept silent. She had made it clear that she would not tolerate pity. They ate in silence for a moment before Rose added, “S'all right though, I'll be able to finish my portion of that Potions project we're working on.”

“Yeah, that'll be good.” Toby finished his breakfast. “Maybe Easter break you two can spend at my Mum's house.”

“Maybe.” She turned her attention to an owl that was swooping down to the Slytherin table. It stopped in front of a surprised Rose. She had only received one owl post since the start of school. The girl removed the message from its leg and gave it a piece of bacon. She glanced down the table at her brother who was holding a similar missive in his hands. Rose ducked her head over the letter as she opened it. After quickly scanning it, she crumpled it and stood abruptly. Toby noticed tears streaming down her cheeks as she ran from the room. Her brother followed his face red.

Toby watched as Victoire followed her friend from the room. Unable to eat, he made his way to the staircase to wait for Teddy. He would find out what the bad news was later, when Rose calmed down.

“What was that all about?” the Metamorph asked as he approached moments later.

Toby only shook his head and shrugged. “What was it you wanted?”

“You know your Mum's going to be here tomorrow, at the ball?” Teddy said, brightening. Toby nodded, still wondering about the drama of moments before. The older boy forged on. “Well, you're to come home with me tonight. You and Scorpi get to spend Christmas Eve with us, and Uncle Harry's family will be there too.”

“That's brilliant, Teddy!” Toby exclaimed, finally breaking from his reverie. “We'll be able to get the mistletoe in place.”

“You sure it's fixed?” Teddy asked dubiously. “We can't have your mum and uncle shagging in front of everyone. That would be disgusting.”

Toby grimaced at the thought. “Yeah, it would be.”

&*&*&

Liz awoke disoriented, struggling against a restraint. It took her a moment to realise she was in Drake's bed and it was his arm holding her down. She moved slowly so as not to wake him. He asked, his voice a sleepy growl, “Where do you think you're going?”

“The toilet, and unless you want to have a water bed, you'll let me up.” Liz pinched his arm playfully.

Draco pinched back. “Don't take too long. Too much coffee last night.”

She returned after washing the sleep from her eyes and rinsing her mouth with mouthwash. “Get up slug-a-bed. We have things to do today.”

Drake, never a morning person under optimal circumstances, moaned and covered his head with his pillow. Liz sat next to him, playing with his hair. “Don't, you'll snarl it,” he said sleepily.

“You really are so vain, Drake,” Liz said, laughing as she contemplated his prone body. She had never realised how much a person could enjoy the male form until that moment.

Drake put his arm around her waist, pinning her against him. He lifted his head, his hair tangled on the side he had slept on and smooth on the other. “Come back to bed.”

“Are you propositioning me?” Liz slid down, coming to rest next to him.

Drake groaned. “Is that all you have on your mind? I'm bloody exhausted, Liz; the office is closed for the holidays, and I just want to have a lie-in with a gorgeous woman.”

“I'll go see if I can find one,” Liz smirked.

Drake sat up, releasing Liz from his arms. “Goddammit, Liz, I'm tired of you saying things like that.”

“What,” Liz asked, locking her gaze with his, “the truth?”

Drake grunted, and then grabbed her arm, pulling her up roughly. “I want you to look at yourself.”

He propelled her in front of the mirror that hung from the back of his bedroom door. He stood behind her, one hand lightly holding her waist and the other cupping her chin. “Look at yourself.”

She met her own gaze reluctantly in the mirror. As Drake spoke he ran his hands over her body lasciviously, his expression full of dark longing. “You are slender, not skinny. Your eyes are like melted chocolate, not mud. Your face could have been painted by Michelangelo or Da Vinci, it is not homely.”

He paused, dipping his lips to her ear as his hands opened her borrowed night-shirt to the navel. He cupped her small breasts, the nipples achingly hard at his touch. He rubbed himself against her, the evidence of his attraction causing the arousal she felt at the erotic image she observed to spread like languorous fire in her belly. Drake whispered, “These are perfection and every time I feel them pressed against my chest, I become aroused, knowing that I will be the only one touching them or kissing them. Now, I hope you're convinced, because I really have to piss.”

He dropped his hands, pushed the night-shirt together and headed toward the bathroom. Liz exhaled, “Fuck me.”

&*&*&

Professor Zabini was in the Common Room, directing the students who were going home for the holidays. Toby hung back, waiting for an opportunity to speak to the man about the Alstons. The Professor spied him and turned from the second-year girl he was instructing. “Mr. Cowell, I assume you are packed for the break?”

“Yes, sir.” Toby backed away from the Professor. He had not felt as easy around him since the mistletoe incident. A fleeting expression of pain crossed the man's face before he turned once more to the waiting student, and Toby slipped away. He looked for Rose's brother, Robert, in their dorm, and did not find him. He slipped back out of the Common Room and went to the Gryffindor portrait. Toby sat down, waiting beside the Fat Lady, who smirked unpleasantly at him, but said nothing. He did not have to wait long for Victoire to come out with Teddy after two older students had entered the Tower.

Toby stood, rubbing nonexistent dirt off his trousers as he stood. “Weasley, where's Rose?”

“You haven't found her yet?” Teddy asked. “You said you were going to look for her right after we talked. That was an hour ago.”

Victoire hunched her shoulders and leaned against the wall. “She said she didn't want to see anyone. She's upset. The last time I saw her, she was heading to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.”

That bathroom had become infamous after Harry Potter's defeat of the Basilisk, and every successive generation of students had heard the story. It had become the stuff of legend, even though its primary inhabitant was so annoying. Toby nodded and tore down the stairs, his friends sprinting after him.

Toby reached the door of the bathroom moments later, out of breath. He burst into the room, and began calling his friend, peering under the closed stalls. He found her in the last one. Sinking to his knees he implored, “Rose, come out. Please.”

“Go 'way,” came her muffled reply. “I don't want to see anyone.”

Teddy and Victoire entered the room, and Toby motioned them to silence. The two Gryffindors sat down next to Toby uneasily. Toby said, “Okay, don't come out, but at least talk to me.”

A snuffling noise sounded and then Rose answered in a watery voice, slipping into the vernacular she had tried to lose over the term, “It's me mum. She's getting married to a Muggle and she don't want us around anymore. Says he won't understand us.”

Toby did not know what to say, so he reached under the stall door, his palm turned up. Rose twined her fingers through his. She whispered, “She don't love us. No one does.”

Toby leaned his head against the wooden door and whispered. “I do.”

&*&*&

Lucius was eating when Draco and Liz entered the room; he grasped a spoon clumsily in his fist like a child. He let the spoon fall with a clatter and turned his head to view his visitors with his good eye, frowning slightly as he came to Liz. He raised his head imperiously, commanding, “Who... s-sshe?”

“Father, this is Liz Cowell. I think you've met her before.” Draco pulled a reluctant Liz forward.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy,” Liz said, hesitantly. “It's nice to see you again.”

“'Gain?” Lucius spat. “Bloody fucking Muggles. Thought I was through with you lot.”

Lucius scowled at her a moment as she lifted her chin imperiously. The older Malfoy seemed to recognise her after a moment. “Black... man... Bah! Snape. Not... d-dead. Bastard.”

“No, father, Uncle Severus is dead. He died during the Battle of Hogwarts, remember?” Draco spoke placatingly, alarmed at his father's change in demeanor as the man threw his spoon.

“Not. Saw... your woman. Said he's... got a duty,” Lucius shouted. “Could have saved us.”

Liz murmured something about getting some help. Draco sat on the edge of the bed. “Father, you must calm down. If you don't, your doctor will tell me to leave and I won't be able to return.”

Liz returned with Dr. Patil, who carried a syringe. Lucius slapped the physician's hand as she began to administer the Muggle potion in the plastic vial. She narrowed her eyes, but continued to depress the plunger, until the entire contents were in the IV line. She replaced the plastic tip on the needle and turned to Draco with an expression of compassionate concern. “I'm sorry; I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

Lucius howled wordlessly as the doctor walked with the couple to the door. Draco's hands shook as Liz took his. The Ravenclaw said in a hushed, professional tone, “I know it's distressing, but emotional volatility is to be expected with a stroke. Right now, I suspect your father is extremely frustrated at his inability to communicate. You may return in a few days, but let him rest for now.”

Draco watched the woman as she went back into the room. She sat on the bed, stroking Lucius' hand, speaking softly to him. He seemed to calm noticeably as she spoke, his expression softening as Patil continued her ministrations. Liz followed Draco's gaze. “Bloody hell, Drake, he looks like he's in love.”

“You have love on the brain, kid,” Draco scoffed. “Don't tell me you're one of those women that want everyone to be in love when they are.”

“I just said I might love you, prat,” Liz said sharply.

As they left the ward, Draco kissed her cheek. “No one can resist a determined Malfoy.”


Salvation

Chapter 17

Liz had been poked, primped and prodded all afternoon by a twittering Ginny Potter and an equally giddy Hermione Granger. The two had smeared her face with Madam Merrifoot's Magical Mud Masque, tweezed her brows until she almost screamed, glopped horrendous amounts of moisturiser on her eyes and lips and now she sat in a tub in the Potter's house at 12 Grimmauld Place, up to her neck in bubbles, milk and some sickly-sweet potion that was supposed to exfoliate her skin and give it a healthy glow, according to Ginny. She felt ridiculous yet pampered at the same time. The two witches had said she had to soak for at least half an hour and had not allowed Liz to take anything to do. There were names for women like them, but Liz refrained from using them. They were, after all, only trying to help.

Liz did wonder at the change in the Hermione bint's attitude. Ginny had been quite open about the fact that Liz and Drake were practically dating. Instead of the same scorn the woman had shown when they first met, or at least dismay for her friend, Neville, Hermione had giggled and blushed, saying cryptically, “I guess he always did like brunettes.”

Ginny had guffawed at the comment and would not meet Liz's questioning gaze.

Liz sloshed the water on her chest for what seemed the thousandth time when she heard a knock at the door. Ginny said, “Liz, it's time to get out. We have a few more things we need to do before you can get dressed.”

Liz rolled her eyes. Just how much was there to wizarding beauty preparation? She ran the water out of the tub, and switched on the shower, scrubbing her face until it felt clean once more. Once she had washed her hair, using the products provided by Hermione, she stepped out of the tub and retrieved the fuzzy green dressing gown that she had brought for the day's preparations. The two witches had taken the underthings she had brought. She did not care how things were done in the wizarding world; she was not going starkers under her dress.

Liz stormed indignantly out of the bath. Surmising the best way to get the witch's attention was by use of the direct approach, she shouted over the balcony railing, “Ginny Potter, give me back my knickers!”

Hermione's bushy-head poked out of a room just down the hall from Liz's position. “Liz, do be quiet. Neville's here early.”

Shite. Liz slunk down the hall to the open door where Ginny was having a grand laugh at Liz's embarrassment. Liz stuck out her tongue at the redhead. She could not help herself, even if the act was childish. Ginny saw her and laughed harder, holding her sides. “You should see your face.”

Liz did not need to see her face to know she was beetroot-red and scowling like Scorpius on a bad day. Hermione took pity on the Muggle, drawing her to a chair. “Shut up, Ginny. Sit down Liz.”

The bint pushed her into a waiting chair and began to cast a drying spell on Liz's hair. In seconds her hair was dry. The witch cast another spell and Liz's hair was styled perfectly. Liz said, a little wistfully, “I really do wish I was a witch when I see you do things like that.”

The woman refrained from comment as she ran her fingers through Liz's hair, tousling it slightly. Liz was amazed at the change such a simple gesture wrought. Ginny approached, her mirth contained at the moment. “Step aside, Hermione, I need to render my assistance.”

After artfully applied cosmetics and a few spells, Liz was allowed to look in the mirror. The sight that greeted her took her breath away. Liz looked good, even to herself. The mirror started to speak and Ginny levelled a wand at it. “Not a word, if you don't want to be melted down and used as a bowl.”

“This house, and its furnishings used to belong to a pureblood family.” Hermione explained as she stepped back to the fore. “Sometimes the mirrors aren't very kind. Here, these are the underthings we chose for you.”

The silk drawers were constructed to look like they laced up the back and would show an obscene amount of flesh if viewed from behind and the brassiere was two sticky, latex cups held together by a thin band of clear plastic. Liz held them up, scandalised. “I can't wear these”

“You have to. I already Vanished those... What did your American friend call them, Hermione? Oh, I already Vanished your granny pants.” Ginny said, triumph written in her stance. “So, as you can see, it's these or nothing.”

“Unless that was your idea?” Hermione added, mirth tingeing her expression. Liz almost choked on her negative response, as the brunette witch added, “Now, we'll just leave and let you get ready. You don't want to keep your dates waiting.”

As the door closed on Liz, she muttered, “Barmy cows.”

&*&*&

Draco noted sourly that Blaise looked dashing in his dress robes as he sprawled in the chair watching his friend pace in front of the Floo. The blond stopped, glaring at the timepiece on the mantle. Zabini attempted to hide a smile behind the glass of pumpkin juice he sipped. “So, what has you so upset, Draco?”

“Don't be daft, I'm not upset,” Draco scowled. After a moment he added, “Those two Gryffindors wouldn't even allow me to see her dress. How will she know if Weasley designed an abomination for her? I should have at least been allowed to see it.”

“Don't worry, Malfoy, Mother has had occasion to dine with Mrs. Potter at various Ministry functions, and she has commented on the girl's good taste now that she no longer lives in penury,” Blaise drawled. “Surely you don't still give credence to that blood feud between your father and Arthur Weasley?”

Draco turned his back on the dark wizard. “Of course not.”

“Then let Liz have her surprises,” Zabini stated, his tone even. “Now, sit down. There is a matter I need to discuss with you. I believe it falls under the purview of your office.”

As the Defence Professor spoke about the day's events concerning the Alston children, Draco grew solemn. He had hoped the parents who kept the offspring of the rapes were like Liz, strong-minded and loving. It seemed that Toby's young friend and her brother had not been so fortunate in their upbringing. “So, the woman wants to relinquish custody of the children?”

Zabini nodded; his face drawn and sorrowful. Draco cursed softly. “We'll need to keep this out of the Muggle courts, of course, but you know I don't have the authority to just waltz in and take the children,” he said.

“Certainly,” Blaise answered. “I was thinking of offering the woman a compromise.”

Malfoy waited politely for his old friend to elaborate, his head inclined. Zabini took the gesture for what it was, and continued. “I thought that I would offer to be their guardian in the wizarding world, if she refrained from filing documents in the Muggle system.”

Draco opened his mouth and shut it, finally saying, “Are you sure that's wise, given Pansy's condition? Two extra children, especially ones with problems, are a great responsibility, and given that you have yet to even have the one...”

“Did you know that Pansy has always envied the Weasleys?” Blaise said, his husky voice low with the timbre of sadness that Draco had come to expect at the mention of his wife. “She always wanted a big family. I just don't see how that's going to be possible, given her medication and the way it affects her pregnancy. I've already spoken to her and she's agreeable. She's actually looking forward to it.”

Draco ran his hand over his dress shirt, smoothing the unwrinkled surface. “Have you spoken to Lepidus about it?”

“He was the second person I spoke with.” Blaise flashed a white-toothed smile, his eyes shining. “He thought it a marvellous idea.”

Draco wondered what the old Headmaster would have said about Snape adopting two children. “Things certainly have changed since Dumbledore's days.”

“They have.” Zabini raised his pumpkin juice in salute. “They most certainly have.”

&*&*&

Liz made her grand entrance from the Potter's second floor landing. She saw the heads of Harry and Neville bent in earnest discussion. Ginny, the wench, cleared her throat as Liz walked down, balancing on the strappy little shoes that the redhead had forced her to buy only a few months ago. The men looked up at her and gaped. Liz did not know if she felt like a glamorous model or a great, gawky bird. She smiled to give her mouth something to do, and knew it must have looked sharper than she intended.

The Herbology Professor was the first to find his voice. “Ms. Cowell, you look... Uh...”

The man looked at Harry as if he were a fish left on the quay too long. Then, as the lines around his mouth grew white, he looked like he might faint. Harry recovered enough to lift his brows and say, “Wow.”

“It's good to know I married such an articulate man,” Ginny said, her expression a mixture of tart good-nature and gratified appreciation.

Neville recovered enough to step forward and offer his arm. He swallowed audibly. “Shall we, Ms. Cowell?”

Liz laughed a little hysterically. “What happened to just plain ‘Liz’?”

“I don't honestly know.” Neville answered, his tone awestruck.

&*&*&

Liz and Neville Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. It was a first for Liz and she really did not want a repeat of the mode of travel. She felt like she had been both squeezed and pulled apart at the same time. Her date waited a moment for her to get her bearings. He smiled softly in the moonlit night. “I know what I felt like the first time Gran Apparated me. It takes a while to get used to.”

“Thanks.” Liz squeezed his arm, glad that the discomfort her appearance had caused earlier was gone. “Professor?”

At the same time Longbottom said, “Ms. Cowell?”

They both laughed, their self-consciousness returning. “You first, Neville.”

“I just wanted to thank you for being my escort for the evening.” The gentle man blushed. “I just came out of a relationship.”

“The librarian?” Liz asked. “I know.”

The Professor's face fell in consternation. “I suppose Ginny told you about that?”

“I have my sources, but don't blame your friend,” Liz answered, feeling like an outrageous flirt as she clutched his arm. “I heard it may not be over between you two.”

“Zabini.” Neville’s eyes narrowed and a blush crept up his cheeks, staining them darker in the wan light. Liz thought he looked adorable and hoped that the woman in question thought so too tonight. “I just wanted you to know that while I appreciate...”

“Don't worry about it Neville, it's just a date between friends, if I can call you that?” Liz said, shivering in the Scottish night.

“That would be brill.” Neville's face underwent a transformation from slightly troubled and drawn to relaxed. Liz liked him better for his concern. “Shall we?”

The night was clear and cold and Liz was thankful for the velvet cloak that Ginny's mother had insisted on making for her. Professor Longbottom resumed his ill-at-ease demeanor when they entered the confines of the building, but held her arm at his side nevertheless. Liz felt like a true lady for the first time in her life. She smiled shyly at the students that lined the hall, mostly the younger ones that were not allowed to attend the Yule Ball. Several girls whispered behind cupped hands, eyeing the freakish Muggle, no doubt. Liz straightened her shoulders, and lifted her head in conscious imitation of the most posh wizard she had yet met, Lucius Malfoy.

The hall was crowded already. Students and teachers alike milled about talking and creating such a din that Liz almost retreated. It was quite a crush. She looked around as Professor Longbottom relieved her of her cloak and noticed several audible gasps from the females in the room as he did so. A sweet-faced, blond-haired woman made a beeline for Neville as he took Liz's outerwear to the cloakroom. Liz grimaced as she thought of the trouble the Professor might be in.

The room was decorated in ways that Liz could only describe as magical. The charmed ceiling met a room decorated as an icy forest glade. Soft lights winked in and out of the branches of the trees, and a soft non-melting snow lay on the floor in great drifts. Liz almost expected to see a family of deer or a fox and her kits pop up out of the scene.

She was aware of the interested stares around her, mostly the older boys. She assumed an air of indifference, but was discomfited by the attention she was drawing. She edged towards a small copse of trees nearby, and began studiously watching the lights. To her horror, as she drew close, she could see little people trapped in the lights. No, she corrected herself, trapped to make the lights.

One of the creatures, surrounded by a sullen red glow, gave her a sorrowful look and Liz reached to touch the poor thing, worrying that it might be in distress. The creature bit her, drawing blood with its tiny, but sharp teeth. “Hey! What'd you do that for?”

The creature responded with a tiny snort and a definite do not touch air. Liz responded, “I'm sorry, I just wanted to see if you were comfortable. Why did they trap you here?”

The creature scowled, and then shrugged. It waved its long fingers and the pain in Liz's finger went away. “Let me see if I can get someone to free you. It doesn't seem right to keep you trapped here, even if you are pretty.”

The creature preened for a moment, then waved off her suggestion. It seemed to be saying with its body language that nothing could be done for it, and it would just endure until the wizards let it free. Liz did not like that attitude. She knew very well what it was like to be entrapped and helpless. Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned as she turned and crashed right into the chest of Drake.

His hand found her back, rubbing soft circles as he steadied her. “Do I know you, Miss?”

“What is the meaning of this?” Liz demanded, ignoring his obvious pleasure at her appearance. She pointed at the trapped creature and scowled at Drake, the nearest wizard to which she could express her ire.

“Liz, they're fairy lights. Muggles have them too.” Drake answered, his bewilderment obvious.

“We don't have them,” Liz said hotly. “Well, we do but they're electric and not living things. They're trapped there, aren't they?”

“I don't know, I never asked. My father hired people to decorate our house for Yule,” her friend answered. “I don't think they mind though.”

Liz hissed between clenched teeth, noticing their argument was drawing a small crowd, “Did you ever ask them?”

“Oh, for pity's sake, Liz, they're fairies. I doubt they have a brain between them. They just live to look pretty.” Drake ran his hand over her back again, his eyes warming as he did.

Liz shoved his hand away. “Don't try to distract me, Drake. Where is the person in charge of the decorations? I have a thing or two to say to them.”

Neville returned at that moment. Liz spat, “I suppose you knew about this too?”

The Herbology professor's look of surprise was genuine as he stepped back. “What... Has Malfoy done something to you?”

Drake's expression closed for a moment as he leveled a look at Liz's date. “Ms. Cowell has expressed her concern for the well-being of the decorations. She thinks the fairies are being held against their will.”

“It must be a Muggle-thing.” Neville muttered.

Liz braced her hands on her hips. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, yes, Granger and the house elves.” Drake supplied. “What was it called? Spunk or Spree... Something like that.”

“Spew. S.P.E.W.” Neville said blushing. “She made me become a member. I couldn't get the house elves at Gram's to clean my room for two years.”

Liz spluttered, her volume increasing with each word, “You mean those ugly little things that showed me around are slaves too? That's horrible.”

Professor Lepidus approached the group with a small man in tow. He began, “Ah, the lovely Ms. Cowell. Is there a problem?”

Drake rolled his shoulders, as if attempting to dispel the dark looks being cast at their group by students and staff alike. “Not really a problem, sir. It's just that Liz doesn't understand how we wizards celebrate Yule.”

“You don't either,” Liz snapped. “I just got bitten by one of those things because it doesn't want to be here. It's sad.”

The small man stepped forward. “You actually conversed with one of the fairies?”

'Well, not so much, it just let me know it wasn't happy with its body language.” Liz said, realising how much of an idiot she sounded. “It just looked so sad, so I tried to touch it, and it bit me. When I told it why I tried to touch it, it healed me.”

A collective gasp rose from the group surrounding them. The small man exclaimed, “I'm quite impressed. The fairy not only interacted with you but used its magic to Heal you? That's quite a boon you were granted. Ms. Cowell, would you be so kind as to show me which creature draws your concern?”

Liz showed the little man the dully glowing creature. “See? It's right there. Can you set it free?”

“Oh, that's quite a gravid little beauty. No wonder she wants to be set free. Next time, little lady, let me know about your condition before volunteering,” the little man said to the fairy sternly. He then flicked a wand and with a small pop, the fairy was loose. It hovered near Liz for a moment, waving its attenuated fingers over her head making Liz feel slightly dizzy for a moment. Then the fairy pantomimed its gratitude and flew away.

“I am Professor Flitwick, Madam. Might I ask you for a dance, later? You are a most remarkable woman.” The little man bowed, and withdrew from her presence as Liz assented.

She turned her attention to Drake and Neville who were standing closely together, struck to silence by the scene they had just witnessed.

Liz thought, with a shake of her head, wizards were an odd lot.



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