Mindgames - Chapter Six
Endgame
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Disclaimer - see Chapter One
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She held out one of the bottles, and Harry gave her a last look before reaching out to take it. The second his hand touched the bottle a familiar voice spoke. "That will be quite enough, Harry."
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Lavender's head jerked around, her face blanching as Professor Dumbledore appeared behind her, an expression of deep sadness on his face. "Miss Brown, I cannot begin to say how disappointed I am at this moment."
"What-what do you mean, Professor?" she asked, though she already knew what he meant…or thought she did.
The headmaster reached out and gently removed the two bottles from her unresisting fingers. "I believe we should continue this conversation in a more private location. Come with me, Miss Brown, Harry."
Lavender was only dimly aware of her surroundings as they made their way off the stands and headed for the castle. She'd failed, she'd failed; she'd been so focused on how perfect things would be after she succeeded that the consequences of failure hadn't even occurred to her. Now, when it was too late to change her mind, her imagination finally kicked in. She would be humiliated, she would be held back, she would be expelled, they would break her wand, and they would send her to Azkaban and all because she fell in love! It wasn't fair! This shouldn't be happening to her!
Her dithering lasted until they arrived in the Headmaster's office, when the sight of the three people awaiting their arrival shocked her attention back to her surroundings. It was only to be expected that her head of House would be present for her punishment, but why was Professor Snape there? And why was she present?
Her last question was answered first as Hermione flung herself into Harry's arms, and Lavender bitterly realized that none of her machinations had worked. Resolutely she turned her gaze away from the embracing pair and spoke to the headmaster. "What-what's going to happen to me, sir?" she asked.
"That still remains to be seen, Miss Brown," Dumbledore answered her gravely, his normal twinkle almost completely absent. "Much will depend on your answers here today." He approached the Potions master and extended the two altered bottles. "Severus, if you would be so kind?"
Snape accepted the butterbeers gingerly, raising each to his aristocratic nose in turn and giving a long sniff. Still expressionless, he set them down and extracted a small bottle from his voluminous sleeves, and carefully added five drops of a brilliant sapphire colored potion to each, watching narrowly as the contents of the bottles swirled and changed colors. "Odd," he muttered. "I haven't seen that reaction since…is the original phial still available?" he asked, his gaze pinning the scheming girl in place.
Lavender quailed under his piercing, black eyes, but still tried to cover her tracks. "Um, no, I threw it away," she mumbled, and then flinched as Hermione spoke up.
"It's in her left pocket, Professor; I watched her put it there after she spiked the bottles," she finished, glaring at her Housemate.
Professor Snape extended his hand, snapping his fingers impatiently when she hesitated to produce the bit of damning evidence. Finally she relinquished it, and watched as he went through several more steps of adding reagents and cataloguing the potion's reactions. Finally he set everything aside and turned to the headmaster. "You say Mr. Malfoy produced this?" At the headmaster's nod his expression became almost proud. " I must say I am quite surprised, and more than a little annoyed; if he is capable of this, he should have much higher marks in my class than he is currently maintaining. I wonder if that was deliberate," he mused.
"But Draco didn't make that for me, Pansy Parkinson did," Lavender objected, so stunned at the suggestion that Malfoy had been involved that she failed to realize she had just confessed.
"Stupid girl," Severus sneered, "Miss Parkinson barely passed her O.W.L. in Potions. There is no possible way she would have the skill required to produce Capulet's Tears; that is N.E.W.T. level work, or beyond."
Lavender and Harry both looked blank at the name, but both Hermione and Professor McGonagall gasped, the latter looking pale while the former looked horrified. "Are you quite certain of your identification, Severus?" Professor Dumbledore asked, his voice tired.
"Quite certain, Headmaster. It's a shame, actually; if Mr. Malfoy has the ability to produce this," he said, gesturing to the phial that had turned a poisonous green under his ministrations, "he very possibly could have served as my apprentice and had a fulfilling career. As it is, I suppose this will earn him the harshest punishment possible…even if the intended recipient was Potter," he couldn't seem to resist adding.
"I don't understand," Lavender mumbled. "What are Capulet's Tears? What do they do?"
Snape began to reply, but the headmaster held up his hand, forestalling him. "First, Miss Brown, what did you think you were giving to Harry…without his permission, I might add?"
She had the good grace to stare at her feet as she replied. "Pansy said she knew of a betrothal potion, one that was used by Purebloods to ensure that marital alliances never fell apart because of unfaithfulness. She said once something from each of us was added to it and we drank, it would bind our souls together forever, and nothing would be able to keep us apart." Her head jerked up at the sound of a growl and she found a pair of emerald green eyes blazing at her in hatred. "Please, Harry, you don't understand, I just love you so much, I had to…"
"You don't know the meaning of the word--!" he snarled, but once again Dumbledore interceded.
"I understand your feelings, Harry, but please restrain yourself until we are finished here." He turned his gaze back to the stricken girl. "And what reason did Miss Parkinson give for aiding you? Slytherin students are not normally noted for their willingness to help Gryffindors…your pardon, Severus, but you know that is true," he added as Snape bristled.
"She said…that she didn't like Harry, and that he was wrong about a lot of things, but that it wasn't all his fault," Lavender replied, trying to make her accusers understand. "She said it was because of the way he was raised, without proper Pureblood values." She could feel the anger radiating off her intended victim in waves, and rushed to finish her excuses. "Pansy said that he needed someone besides a Mud-a Muggleborn to show him what it really meant to be a wizard, and that I could be the one to do it." She felt a spark of her earlier resentment rising and raised her head defiantly. "And I would have, too, if you hadn't stopped me! I would have made Harry happy!"
"You would have made Potter dead, you little idiot, and you along with him," Professor Snape answered her. "Oh, you would have been together, certainly, but only on a bier awaiting internment!"
"What? I don't believe you! She promised me…"
"She lied to you, Miss Brown, or rather, she only told you a fraction of the truth," Dumbledore said quietly. "Capulet's Tears date from a much more formal, custom-bound time in our history. They were the escape young lovers used when they were trapped in arranged marriages and refused to be separated. The addition of a part of the deceased to the potion was supposed to ensure that their souls would be bound together in the next world, since they could not be together in this one."
"Deceased? Next world?" The meaning of the words finally pierced the confusion swirling in Lavender's head, and with a small moan she collapsed to the floor in a faint.
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Draco raced through the halls of the castle, his mind full of panic at the sudden turn of events. He'd been standing in the shadows of the Slytherin House seats at the Quidditch pitch, watching with anticipation as the last stages of his plan unfolded. Once Potter and Brown were dead in an apparent suicide pact, it would be a matter of small effort to tarnish his image in the public's eye; at least that's what his mentor had told him, and he saw no reason to doubt Lestrange's estimations. And while she would claim the lion's share of the credit for destroying his foe, Lord Voldemort was still sure to reward him for his part in the plan. He might even have been able to take his father's place in the Death Eater ranks, and visions of power, wealth and glory had intoxicated the young Slytherin.
Now, though, all his plans were crashing into ruin. He'd watched in horror as Dumbledore escorted Potter and Pansy's dupe off to the castle, and then had raced on a different route, desperate to gather a few essential things before fleeing the school. He didn't know if his part in the plot had already been revealed, but even if it hadn't it would be the second any pressure was put on Parkinson. He had to hurry if he didn't want to share adjoining cells with his father in Azkaban.
Draco spent all of five minutes in his chambers before rushing back out of the dungeons. He'd grabbed his broom and his cloak, along with his Gringotts key and a sackful of Galleons he kept handy for bribes and other small expenses. Once he was outside he'd be able to fly to Hogsmeade and its connections to the Floo network, and once there he could disappear from sight, perhaps even get out of the country. The Malfoys owned property abroad, and so long as he wasn't immediately arrested he could stay free indefinitely, until time and some greased palms made it safe to return…
"Going somewhere, Ferret Boy?" a familiar, hated voice asked. He stopped as Ron Weasley stepped out of the shadowed alcove Draco was just about to pass. "You wouldn't be thinking of leaving school grounds without permission, would you?" he continued, the smile on his lips belying the burning anger in his eyes.
"Not that it's any of your business, Weasel, but I have urgent business that needs attending to," he replied haughtily. There wasn't much chance he could bluff his way through, but if he could keep the fool talking long enough, maybe he could get his wand free and hex the blood traitor out of his way.
"Yeah, I suppose saving your own neck would fall in the category of 'urgent business' wouldn't it?" Ron agreed as Draco flushed. "Afraid I can't let you leave, though. Against the rules, leaving the school without permission, and seeing as how I'm still a prefect, and you aren't…"
"Just get out of my way, Weasley," Draco blustered. "You don't want to face me in a wizard's duel; you wouldn't like the results."
Ron shrugged, shifting as if to step aside before pivoting forward on the ball of his foot. The sound of breaking cartilage as Malfoy's nose crumpled under his fist was music to his ears, and he grinned as the Slytherin slumped unconscious against the wall. "Using magic in the halls is against the rules, too, Malfoy; nothing in the rules against pummeling Ferrets, though, I checked." He patted his prisoner down and plucked his wand from the holster in the top of Draco's boots, and then pondered whether or not to wait for someone to come collect his prize.
He recalled one of the passages in the prefect's handbook that (despite Hermione's concerns to the contrary) he had read: 'Prefects are granted dispensation from the restrictions against using magic outside of class when dealing with situations involving disciplinary issues or medical emergencies.' "Well, this falls under the heading of a disciplinary problem, and I suppose the ferret would think his nose was a medical emergency, so…Upsy-Daisy!" He cast the levitating charm on Malfoy's unconscious form and headed for the headmaster's office, humming the ditty Luna had composed before the last Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match:
"He floats through the air with the greatest of ease,
That Bouncing White Ferret we all love to tease…"
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Next - The Epilogue - Loose Ends and Reassurances
AUTHOR'S NOTE - I know I promised to finish this with one more chapter, but I didn't want to rush through it. At least this time I didn't leave you with a Cliffy. Thanks again for all the great reviews, they've really kept me at it.
And thanks to andain, who was kind enough to nominate me for the Reader's Choice Awards. Make sure you stop by the forum and nominate your own favorites (other than mine; I'm not pimping my own work). It's also a great way to track down good fics you might have missed…