#slithering oc

“And then? What happened?”

“Nothing,” The girl shrugged her shoulders as she sat on the floor of the greenhouse surrounded by growing vines leaning her back on a wooden table on which dozens of colorful pots which held some strange and most peculiar plants. “I told them about it.”

“My father will hear about this!” Daphne paced around the Slytherin Common Room late one night. “He’ll know what to do,” She said referring to the fact that her father was a fearsome prosecutor in the  Wizarding World.

Normally Tracey would’ve made a joke of Daphne sounding like Malfoy, but it really wasn’t the time or place. The Quidditch fanatic was sitting with her head ducked in between her hands.

“Don’t. There’s no point,” Nel let out a drained and exhausted sigh. “Ellar Lestrange is practically  ‘untouchable.’”

“Why is he?” Tracey suddenly snapped her nostrils flaring as she sat up erect. “Why is he so damn godly and untouchable? Just because he’s a Lestrange?” She spat out the last name with resentful bitterness.

“We have to do something,” Daphne insisted. “If not, he’s going to do the same thing- perhaps, something worse to somebody else,” she stressed the somebody and the importance of holding him accountable for his assault.

Despite Daphne’s insistence and Tracey’s frustration Nel remained silent. She had her knuckles pressed to her lips and she seemed lost in thought, head pessimistically shaking slightly  from side to side.

“What can we do?” She gave them both a defeated look. She really had turned ever nut in bolt in her head endlessly trying to think of a way to even things out – even a way to hurt Ellar Lestrange.

“Please,” Tracey scoffed, dark eyes rolling. “Everybody has a weakness. We just have to find out what his is!” She said determined, her expression mimicking her friend who was sitting next to her in the black leather sofa.

“Yes,” Daphne began murmuring. “Yes, yes, yes…” She anxiously paced over, and over which made Elowen dizzy. It seemed like the lightbulb went off when she finally stopped and clapped her hands together.  “I’ll write to my cousin in France. Perhaps she knows a thing or two.”

“I’ve also written to Professor Lupin. Maybe he knows a thing or two as well.”

“Lupin?” Daphne wrinkled her nose in distaste at the werewolf. Why? Her knitted brow said. Nel ignored it.

“A werewolf? Teaching?” Nathair interrupted. “Filthy,” He hissed. “I’ve seen them, lost packs hunting together in the Forbidden Forest. Formidable creatures.”

Irritated Nel lightly flicked the tip of the snake’s snout. The adder hissed at her in response flashing its large fangs. She seemed unfazed by this gesture. “Most creatures seem to agree with me.” It spoke to her as it coiled around her neck seeking the warmth of her human body.

“Professor Lupin is a good person. He could be a vampire for all I care.”

“Walking leeches,” The adder added to the bloodsucking creatures.

“What if I was a werewolf?” She mused more to herself with her arms crossed and resting on her knees. “Maybe then I’d have a pack to run around with,” her voice dulled into a pessimistic feeling as the waves of loneliness and missing a family that there never was came. “I also am already formidable.”

“Oh, I know what are,” The serpent whispered in her ear.

Upset, lost in thought Nel dusted the dirt of her clothes and left the greenhouse with the snake snuggly coiled around her neck. Her shoulders were pessimistically slung. She rounded behind the greenhouses and sat behind them on a small grassy hill that overlooked the Whomping Willow and Hagrid’s Hut and pumpkin patch. The Forbidden Forrest bordered in the distance. “What do you think I am?” She asked solemnly fisting some grass in her hand and ripping it up from the ground. She met the adder’s beady red eyes with a profound sadness. It seemed like the more she dug into her past, the more she questioned and wished to know who her family had been or if she still had one the worse things got and the uglier her past appeared to be. Perhaps… it was best this way. Perhaps there had been a reason for her abandonment at Wool’s Orphanage all of those years ago.

“You’re just a silly little girl who’s afraid of water with too much time to spare. Shouldn’t you be reading? Or doing somebody else’s schoolwork?”

“I hate reading,” She huffed humorously. Maybe Nathair was right, maybe she should use her time wisely and continue working on other’s assignments. After all the more financial cushion she had the better for the future. Inhaling a deep breath, she held it for a moment before ripping a strand of weeds rather aggressively and releasing the blades of grass for the wind to carry. “Maybe you’re right. You’re a snake and have always been a snake and I’m just a stupid girl and I’ll always be a stupid girl.” Nathair’s loud hiss made her head rapidly tilt to the side.

“Self-depreciation does not suit you,” it advised.

Rising to her feet again Nel rose and brushed the few strands of greenery in her hands.

“Terribly hiding spot if you ask me,” A familiar voice broke the momentary peace. The snake hissed slightly at it and hid its head and tail inside the student’s sweater and underneath her coat. “It’s that boy that looks like there’s something stuck up his-,” the snake whispered into her ear. She ignored it. “Maybe it’s all that cologne he wears. I can smell him from a mile away.”She ignored Nathair’s comment, no matter how humorous she found it.

“If I was hiding you wouldn’t find me,” She shot back at Draco without missing a beat.

He stood a couple of feet away with his hands sank into the pockets of his dark coat. Hair parted on the side, bangs falling across his forehead. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said his lips twisting into a frown.

Not a lie.

Her frown turned into a scowl as she marched past him. Or at least attempted to.

“I don’t understand why you’re so damn upset,” He followed his temper quickly flaring in frustration.

Not wanting to engage she walked away from him. After being on the verge on an ongoing identity crisis that seemed to be reoccurring every couple of months, she really wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“Nel, come on,” He implored. He stopped following when he realized she wasn’t going to stop in her step. “You’re not a mudblood.”

Halting she turned and zeroed in on him with a deathly glare.

“I’m going to bite him.”

“Would it matter?” She snapped furiously at his filthy comment. “What?” He looked startled at her sudden rage. “Would it matter if I was?” She marched up to him. “Would it make any difference to you if I was a muggle or mudblood or whatever disgusting and prejudiced, racist, narrow-minded spat of a word you use to call these people?”

He looked startled at her question. “Of course, it would,” He admitted with narrowed eyes looking at her as if she had just grown a second head. She was questioning an ideology that was deeply rooted inside of him. The Malfoy family, like many others privileged wizard families, had reaped and sowed from with their elitism in the Wizarding World. It was a dangerous ideology that had been planted in his young brain and nurtured to grow into a toxic vine that seemed to both wrap and stretch to ensnare every aspect of his life.

She pursed her lips and slowly nodded her head understanding, “Right.”

“But you’re not,” He insisted arching his eyebrows. “You’re a Parselmouth, you’ve clearly got some wizarding blood in you.”

She opened her mouth ready to protest that the status of her genealogy was absolutely nonexistent.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry.” He was sincerely flabbergasted.

“I don’t understand why you hate them so much,” She shook her head just as perplexed. “What did they ever do to you?”

She stepped closer still looking at him in disbelief waiting for a logical reasoning to his rooted prejudice.

“Well, the other sort,” He scratched the edge of his nose before running a hand through his bangs as he fidgeted uneasily. “They’re just not the same, are they? They haven’t been brought up our ways.” He reasoned with ease.

“Just like you don’t know theirs,” She retorted sharply. “Draco, I was brought up with muggles. Wizards and muggles are more alike than you think.”

His eyes widened and eyebrows arched at what he took as a serious offense. “Nel, we’re biologically superior to them. You can’t argue with that.”

Okay, true. A muggle really was no watch for a wizard. The average wizard’s lifespan extended to more than 200 years while muggles only lived a fraction of those years. Her silence was her answer.

“Don’t be a traitor to our blood,” he spewed words hailed by pure blood supremacists.

“Please?” He added, his eyebrows knotting in the center of his forehead after hearing her silent response.

“Being with them, muggles,” He spat the word out with disgust. “It shows weakness in one’s character. They’re filthy. Brutal, uneducated in our ways- they use their hands,” He raised his pale hands in front of his chest and lightly waved his fingers “To do things. Like muggle-brawling. It’s barbaric,” He scoffed in disgust.

“Those aren’t your words,” She glared at him. He was sounding more and more like Lucius Malfoy by the minute. He stood in silence looking at her with pleading eyes. As he asked her to agree with the ways he was so sure of.

“I am my father’s son,” was all he said.

The two shared a silence. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t pleasant. It was heavy and lingering and allowed the other to know where they stood in this argument. “I see we’re not going to reach an agreement,” she said quietly now averting her gaze from his. The scaly texture of the snake hidden underneath her clothes a reminder her she had places to be. Sensing she was about to walk away Draco summoned every ounce of strength that he had, and once again spoke.

“Nel,” He attempted to catch her eyes with his. “There’s something I have to say to you.” One of his hands which had been nervously twirling the emerald ring his mother had given him was now pulling at one of the velvet black buttons of his coat. He tried his best not to fidget as he remembered the conversation, he had had with Theodore Nott what now seemed to be ages ago. He had insisted that he tell her whatever it was that had been keeping him up at night and always had him starring at her lost in thought in Transfigurations class. He tried to ignore his pounding heart. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to take whatever it was he was about to say well.

“Whatever it is- I don’t want to hear it Malfoy!” She barked eyeing him from head to toe as if he was covered in filth. His vulnerable body language completely going a miss to her.

“Give me a moment,” He demanded entitled reaching for her shoulder boldly stopping her from taking a harsh turn when it happened.

Draco let out a small yell and immediately flinched bringing his hand back to his lip biting down on the fresh venemous bite.

Nathair revealed himself from the inside of Elowen’s clothes and crept out resting like a diamond patterned scarf. The adder’s snout was open in a dangerous snarl as it bore it large fangs in a threatening snarl. Its body was still as it coiled aggressively sensing its master had been threatened.

“Your snake! It bit me!” Draco cried out. Eyes wide at the stinging realization.

‘Disgusting!’ Nathair spat out in a pronounced hiss. ‘And I won’t hesitate to do it again pretty boy!’ Nel looked at the snake in astonishment, sure she was upset but she wasn’t expecting her pet to attack!

“It bit me!” Draco cried out exaggeratedly. “I’m going to die!” He shouted dramatically holding his hand which was beginning to turn pink and swell from the venom of the adder.

Oh boy, this is the same person that had been kicked by a Hippogriff and had the ‘bloody chicken’ almost beheaded.

“Draco,” Nel began slowly and carefully inching closer towards him. “Get that damn thing away from me!” He looked at the snake with fear. The girl paused and picked up the snake from her neck before putting it down near the front of the green house. ‘Never put your fangs in the hands of the ungrateful,’ The snake sneered in disappointment at what it perceived to be a lack of thankfulness. Its master gave it a warning look that could be interpreted as an ‘We’ll talk later.’ The snake slithered away complaining about how disgusting human flesh tasted even tossed a ‘Swine’ somewhere in its rant.

“Okay- you need to calm down,” She approached him with a wary look hands stretched out hoping he would become more appeased.

“Are adders venomous?” He asked with a panicked expression. All the blood seemed to have drained from his face. For a second she pondered if she should lie or not. “Yes,” Nel responded carefully hoping not to elicit an explosive reaction from him.

“I’m definitely going to die!” He wailed in desperation. She instantly regretted telling him the truth. Merlin, he was acting like a child. It was only a snake bite. Didn’t he worship serpents? His whole family being in a House with one in its crest, even wearing one engraved on one of his rings? “Adders are venomous, but their bite is rarely fatal. If anything, it’ll just swell up for a couple of weeks. The venom might cause some damage and discomfort, but certainly nothing fatal,” She explained calmly. Or at least she wished she could’ve completed that short explanation. Instead, halfway through Draco’s eyes seemed to go blank before his body tilted forward as he collapsed, his body going limp.

xxx

Madame Pomfrey walked across the Hospital Room with ease as she retrieved something from her cabinet of special potions and ointments.

Nel sat on a chair with her arms crossed a bored and unconcerned look on her features as she looked down at the pale boy in the hospital bed.

Hearing the sound of chattering enter the Hospital Room, Nel looked up and waved at her two friends that entered the room and immediately rushed towards the bed standing across from their sitting friend.

“What did you do to him?” Daphne asked her eyes wide in awe as she looked at the unconscious Slytherin in the bed.

“I love that you assume this was my doing,” Nel sniggered proud at the formidable reputation she had built for herself in her past 4 years at Hogwarts.

“A snake bit him,” She explained in brevity.

“Is he-?” Tracey asked as she looked down at her school mate with a concerned look. “Not that I’m concerned or anything, but- this means there’s a slot in the Slytherin Quidditch team!” She finished her sentence in an eager and upbeat tone.

“We thought something happened to you!” Daphne whipped up a note that had been sent by owl that in six words read: Come to the Hospital Room. – Nel. “Be more detailed next time, Stars,” Daphne shook her head irritated from the panic attack she had suffered from rushing to the Hospital Room. Nel apologized for the worry she must’ve caused the two.

It was then that Madame Pomfrey shooed the two Slytherins from the side as she walked behind them and poured what looked like pumpkin juice and placed a bar of fudge on the stand next to Malfoy’s bed. His hand had already been lathered with ointment and bandaged.

“Mr. Malfoy will be just fine; he can leave as soon as he wakes up. Nasty little shock is all,” Pomfrey explained before once again retreating.

Both Tracey and Daphne looked at the back of the Healer as she retreated and back to their friend.

“He fainted?” Tracey failed to hide her laughter. “He actually fainted?” She held her stomach as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. Even Daphne couldn’t stop her giggling. “Not before throwing a fantastic tantrum,” Nel added joining them in their laugh.

“How did that even happen?” Daphne asked.

Nel shrugged. “Accidents happen in the greenhouse all the time,” she said dismissively really not wanting to explain she had been venting to a snake.

“And you two were there – together?” Daphne’s eyebrows arched so high up they almost vanished into her hair line. Eyes wide. Tracey who looked like she hadn’t been thinking about the scenario now looked intrigued by the blonde’s question.

Nel felt like she was on the hot seat in the middle of an interrogation she really didn’t feel like answering.

“Malfoy,” She derided with an exaggerated overemphasis. “You know how he is,” She let out an irritated sigh. “Just wanted to torture me.”

“What was he doing in the greenhouse?” Daphne pressed heavily sensing there was a missing piece to this story.

“Looking for me,” Nel retorted sharply and much more rapidly than she intended. She bit her tongue rapidly switching topics before she could ask any more questions. “Anyway- I wanted to read to you two the letter I got from Professor Lupin.” She said digging a hand into her coat’s pockets and whipping up a wrinkled and crumbled letter.

“Right here?” Tracey asked wondering why she would read the letter to the two of them in the middle of the Hospital Room. Her dark eyes looked down at the sleeping boy.

“He’s passed out.”

“You know, you don’t have to wait for him to wake up, right?” Daphne asked her eyes squinting as the edges with heavy suspicion. She was observing her friend closely waiting for her skin to flush or for her to stumble on her words and reveal a glimpse of sincere emotion.  

“I feel obligated,” Nel responded cooly leaning back on her chair with her arms crossed. She pretended the hot flash that she felt behind her neck wasn’t really there.

“Sure,” Daphne responded with a satisfied smirk. Her suspicions had been right all along. Theodore had also slipped to her about a little talk he had had with Draco only a few weeks ago. Tracey appeared to be clueless to all this.

“Anyhow-“ Saintday cleared her throat and she brought the parchment paper Lupin had written to her eye level. She skimmed over most and simply read over the relevant parts of it.

‘Ellar Lestrange comes from an ancient wizarding family of pureblood fanatics. Many practice the Dark Arts and have been known to be vocal and the most loyal supporters of You-Know-Who. His father Rabastan has been in Azkaban for the violent torturing of two Aurors. His mother Cloelia, I believe it is rumored feigned being a victim of domestic abuse as a way of being coaxed into following You-Know-Who.’

Nothing they didn’t already know.

“Is that true?” Tracey asked sounding concerned. “If she lied that’s really messed up!” Daphne said in awe. “We should always believe victims but this-“ She hesitated to finish her sentence and instead decided to remain silent.

Nel thought about all of the mental and physical abuse she had endured when living under Cloelia’s roof. She liked to think that a victim would never do something so monstrous to another person, much less a child. However, maybe she was more than familiar with torture methods having picked them up from her husband. Still, with the Lestrange’s one never knew.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him,” Nel responded in a dull tone, her expression pained as she continued to read. The possibility of Cloelia being a victim of a life of domestic abuse no matter how far-fetched was possible. “Like I said- they were known to be some of You-Know-Who’s most loyal followers. I can’t help but get an ill feeling when I think about the strange reason, they must’ve had to adopt you. I wish I-“ Nel stammered and soon lost her voice.

Again, nothing they didn’t already know.

Tracey and Daphne asked her to continue. When she didn’t and they noticed her glassy eyes, they became concerned. She kept the next part to herself.

‘I wish I could do more for you Nel. I would be proud to be your guardian, but due to my condition I’m afraid it is not safe and would make the adoption process impossible in the eyes of any court.’

“Sorry,” The girl mumbled weakly as she wiped the inside of her eye with her thumb fighting back the tears that had threatened to spill.

The thought of having an adequate guardian. Somebody as kind as Professor Lupin. Someone that didn’t scream, yell, lock you in a room, or hurt you – It seemed like such a far away ideal. A dream the girl had long accepted would never become a reality.

“I would advise you to do everything in your power not to return to them this holiday.”

She lowered the parchment down to her lap and sucked the inside of her lip in deep in thought. The majority of information was useless. If anything, it only confirmed what the three already knew, that the Lestranges were in fact very dangerous people.

“So, what are you going to do then?” Tracey asked. “You could come home with me for the holiday if you’d like,” She offered kindly willing to provide a sanctuary to her best friend. Nel’s face lit up. That would be ideal! The two would have the best time going to Quidditch matches and staying up late talking about the best and worst flavor of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Jellybean or watch Muggle films

“Really?” She answered loudly grinning broadly.

“Wait-“ Daphne interrupted the moment the two were sharing. She also didn’t offer her home. Knowing full well what would happen to her and her guest if she even dared bring home somebody whose surname wasn’t listed in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. “That doesn’t tell us anything about Ellar. Nothing we didn’t already know,” She said returning to the focus of the conversation.

“I heard back from my cousin in France,” she began. “She used a very colorful language to describe Ellar. Said he’s a – what was the word she used? ‘Manipulative snake,’ that he can be downright foul. Apparently, he event went a far as assaulting a muggle-born witch that worked in the same Department. It got so bad she eventually quit.”

“Like- sexual harassment?” Tracey squinted.

“Does it make a difference?” Daphne arched an eyebrow. “Not that my cousin ever did anything to stop it-“ She admitted regretfully. “But this is exactly what I am trying to say!” Daphne slapped her hand on her thigh as she continued to speak her tone becoming louder and more passionate. “You’re clearly not the first girl he’s done something like this to – and you’re obviously not the last. Who knows how many more survivors there are-“ Greengrass didn’t realize the shift in emotion in her friend’s whose face twisted into a confused expression? “Survivors?” She coughed with disdain. “-If he did this to you, and to this girl, he’s going to do it to someone else!” She finished with a concerned look. “We have to do something about this.”

“What do you recon we do?”

“I also heard back from my father,” She began to explain. “He said this is very serious. However, he says conviction cases for these types of crimes are very low. The success rate of a conviction in England is 5.7%.”

“5.7?!” Tracey’s mouth went a little slack.

“And that’s coming from an even smaller percentage of victims who actually speak up.” Again, Nel lightly flinched at the word ‘victims’ it wasn’t something she would ever wear as a label. If anything, it was something she saw as a branding to her identity. She wouldn’t allow Ellar, Wool or whoever to have that type of power in her life. Daphne took in a deep breath before continuing. “He also said it’s going to be even harder to prosecute considering we have no physical evidence including your memories which most Wizarding courts consider to be unreliable, and even if we did - The Lestranges have too much power in the judicial system.”

“Bunch of crooks,” Tracey shook her head disappointed biting down on her thumb as she appeared to be deep in thought.

“You have to do something about this Nel,” Daphne insisted. Her friend looked at her with a pure look of negation. “As much as we hate him, you have to tell the Headmaster.” She looked between the two girls. “Tell Dumbledore?” Eyes were wide in disbelief at what the Slytherin had just suggested.

“I can already tell you what would happen if Dumbledore knew,” Tracey leaned back on her chair. “Absolutely nothing,” She said pessimistically. “We’re Slytherin. He hates us.”

Daphne’s shoulder’s slumped in defeat.

Going to Dumbledore had also been Nel’s first instinct. Something Snape had strongly advised against. His reasons unknown as the old bat kept his agenda so cleverly hidden. Regardless, there had to be a valid reason. Either Snape knew no good would come from it or he was protecting Ellar Lestrange. There was no in between and Elowen wanted to find out which it was. “Trace is right,” Nel admitted sadly. “He was already expelled from Hogwarts once. What are they going to do him? Expel him from Beauxbatons?” It was a hard pill to swallow but people like Ellar Lestrange – privileged entitled, monsters – more than often got away with only a slap on the wrist.

“The least he can do is protect you,” Daphne continued pressing.

“I’m not telling Dumbledore. Why are you being so pushy?” Nel scowled bothered on how much her friend had been insisting she tell the truth to Dumbledore. Daphne looked greatly frustrated. “This is such bullshit!” The Parselmouth angrily kicked the hospital bed making the boy in it let out a deep brown and the sudden disturbance. She seemed to ignore this.

“You need to do it Nel,” Daphne again insisted, this time her tone stern. “You’re a victim.”

“I am not a victim,” The other snarled in denial. “I refuse to allow this, or any other sad incident define my life!” The girl said terribly upset speaking through gritted teeth. “Do you know what would happen if I told on every single person that’s ever-“ She brought herself to a halt before emotionally shutting down. Both Daphne and Tracey saw the distant look in her dark eyes. “This is my battle to fight.”

“We’re here to help you. You don’t have to do it alone,” Tracey said gently. The tension increasingly growing between the two parties. “Alone. This is my battle to fight alone,” She corrected defensively isolating and building high emotional walls around herself. Her head hurting and suddenly feeling hot as an incoming migraine began to set in.

Tracey looked wounded. Daphne’s nostrils were flaring. “I can see we’re not going to agree,” She retorted flatly.

“I guess not,” was the other’s answer, her tone made it seem as if her mind was many miles away in some distant faraway place.

Daphne stood up and angrily walked away without looking back. Tracey called after her. Her eyes darting between her blonde and brunette friend. With one last woeful look towards her friend, with a tucked tail she followed after the blonde.

Sitting alone in the Hospital Room the orphan pinched the bridge of her nose in great frustration and lowered her body to bury her head on her knees. If only life were as easy as Daphne made it seem. If she told on Ellar odds were, he would only receive a slap on the hand and he and his terrible mother would come after her with a blind wrath. It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. She was betting this was what Snape was afraid would happen.

She fought back the tears that were threatening to spill and sucked in an exhausting breath as she tried to think of nothing.

“You can’t tell Dumbledore,” A throaty voice interrupted. She didn’t move an inch but heard Draco’s sheets moving as his body shifted positions. “It’ll only make things worse. My father always says he was the worst thing that ever happened to this place.”

She could hear him drinking the juice that Madame Pomfrey had left out for him.

“You heard everything?” She asked meekly.

“You wanted me to. If not, you would’ve left,” He rationalized.

“Touché,” She said sitting up using both of her hands to comb all of her hair and bangs away from her swollen face. Not wanting to think about Ellar, the drowning or her awful fight with her friends she looked at him with a lopsided grin and instead decided to bully him. “Is it true you fainted? Like- actually fainted?” She joked mocking him just like he had done to Harry the year before.

However, he didn’t laugh.

“You sent your pet after me,” He ignored her jab and downed the rest of his juice.

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it myself,” She answered her voice returning to an unfriendly tone.

“Right,” He agreed. Afterall, she wasn’t the type to shy about this kind of thing. Considering he wasn’t freaking out about the snake bite Nel assumed he had also overheard everything that Madame Pomfrey had said about his condition and the status of his health.

“That git,” The words rolled out of his lips in a dangerously angry voice. She looked at him confused and noticed how his hands were tightly clenched into balling fists. “I’ll make him pay. I promise.”

She knew that if Draco was anything he was determined. She had no question he meant what he had just said. Yet she couldn’t help but be confused by his words.

“You don’t have to do that,” She squinted perplexed. “Not for me. I can take care of myself,” She said lowering her head, her voice dropping to a whisper as her hair once again came down hiding her emotion. After all this was her own fight, one she wanted to win or lose alone. She sat with her head lowered and her shoulders tensed when she felt a soft hand gently press against her forehead. Keeping her gaze lowered, she allowed him to push her brown hair out of her face and comb it over her forehead.

He let out a small chuckle. Nel wasn’t sure whether it was at the strange expression she must’ve been wearing or at the thought of whatever evil plan he was crafting to hurt Ellar. “I’ll enjoy this,” He said maliciously.

Something about the way he said it embarrassingly made her heart skip a beat. Draco was now sitting up still wearing his weekend clothing. He had brought his uninjured hand to his chin and was twirling one of his rings with fascination as he looked deep in thought. The slightest of growing smirks on his face as he concocted the fatal details of his vengeful plan.  

“Wait-“ She paused snapping out of his charming behavior. “Let me get this straight. You can do this for me- but you can’t learn to accept muggles as your equal?”

“Muggles are dangerous,” he began to explain lowering his hand and relaxing in his bed.  Hadn’t he just said wizards were superior? “I’m not contradicting myself. What I mean to say is-  haven’t you paid attention in History of Magic?”

Obviously not. Merlin’s beard it was the most awful class in all of Hogwarts with Binns mindlessly lecturing which seemed to go on for hours and hours. “Muggles used to persecute our kind, burn us at the stake, drown and torture us.” Nel visibly recoiled at the mentioning of the word drowning. “They singlehandedly almost destroyed our kind and forced our world into hiding. It shouldn’t be like that.”

She pondered on his words for a moment. “You have a point,” She finally agreed with him. “But I know muggles. They are more scared of us than us then we are of them. They fear what they can’t understand. I don’t blame them for-“ “For what? For massacring hundreds of our kind!” She wasn’t expecting him to raise his voice.

“How many of them have we killed?” She shot back just as loudly. “Hundreds? Thousands? How many did You-Know-Who kill? Or your father?” She spat coldly.

Ouch.

He grew silent at the mentioning of his father’s illicit activities as a Death Eater. His icy eyes were hard when he looked at her. For once Malfoy didn’t have a snarky comeback or any colorful words to throw at her.

“Don’t. Bring my father into this,” He sneered out in drawled out sentences.

“He’s cruel and vile and I will be bringing him into this as long as he continues to poison your mind. Go out there into the real world and once you’ve seen what it’s like I’ll let you make up your mind about it. Because you know what-“ She hadn’t meant for it to happen but her eyes began to water, her voice cracked at the emotional exhaustion of the day something he had not been anticipating happening. “As of right now,” She broke, trying her best to hold it in together, to not allow the stinging tears from spilling. “I have met many, many more cruel wizards in this side of the world than in the other and that’s from someone that was raised by Cordelia Wool,” She let out a doleful weak laugh.

“Who’s Cordelia Wool?” Malfoy asked after a moment as he racked his brain for any instance in which she might’ve mentioned it. He remembered her saying Wool’s more than once. Maybe this is what she meant.

One hot tear followed by another which meant it was time to go into hiding being the recluse she was.  “Forget it,” She said rising from her chair wiping her tears and walking away without bidding him goodbye or good riddance.

Draco tossed his head back and looked at the ceiling feeling a great frustration. Why was it that something always come in between them and royally fucked things up? Perhaps it was better to leave things the way they were, spare her the pain as Theodore had once suggested. However, looking up she was horrified to see Professor McGonagall standing in the entrance of the Hospital Room. The look in her eyes severe, lips drawn into a thin line. It could only mean one thing.

Fuck.

“Ms. Saintday, the Headmaster has requested to see you.”

Xxx

Dumbledore’s office was warm and welcoming like it always was. McGonagall escorted Elowen into the office keeping a close mistrustful eye on the student.

Walking in she crossed paths with Daphne Greengrass whose gaze was hard and did not meet her friend’s as she brushed past her on the way out.

Fucking Daphne.

Nel felt the pits of her stomach bubbling with rage. Looking at her. Tracey following behind with an apologetic look and then back to Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore who gravely stood before a fireplace both wearing solemn expressions on their faces. It was obvious Daphne had croaked.

Elowen was livid. How dare she. This was her story to tell, NOT HERS. Nel was the affected one, NOT golden haired, precious, privileged, beautiful, Daphne Greengrass. A deep scowl formed in her features as she shot a chilling glare to the girl’s retreating back.

“Ms. Saintday,” The Headmaster acknowledged her momentarily seizing her attention. “It’s been a while since our last visit,” He said smiling at her softly. The man stood tall as he usually did, wearing his half-moon glasses holding both hands resting on his lap.

Snape looked at her with a condescending look.

Nel remained silent at the greeting ignoring it.

“Ms. Greengrass and Ms. Davis have just come to me with a most serious concern,” Dumbledore began. “Perhaps accusation is a better word of choice.”

Her mouth felt dry. McGonagall was still standing behind her. Snape’s bottomless eyes carefully fixed on her. Dumbledore looked as if he was attempting to pry into her mind with his twinkling blue eyes. “Before any actions are taken, we wanted to hear the story from your own account as it happened.” He stretched out a hand signaling for her to take a seat before the fireplace. She did no such thing and remained standing looking at the two with hard eyes.

The silence was deafening with the exception of Fawkes combing over his feathers and the fire softly cracking in the background. She could also feel the eyes of the many former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts’ looking down at her in judgment.

She could feel him now physically attempting to pry into her mind. She emptied her head out of all thoughts and the vision of a safe shut tightly and the dial spun hiding away her thoughts and secrets.

“Your master has taught you well Elowen,” Dumbledore commented at her growth in occlumency. Wait- how did she know that word? Occlumency, the art of magically closing one’s mind against Legilimency, or mind readers. She didn’t know how, but somehow, she knew what the word meant.

Again, she did not say a single word. His eyes moved over to Professor Snape who uncrossed his arms and from inside one of his sleeves pulled out a small vial containing no color and bubbling slightly. “Know what this is?” He drawled out; his voice emotionless.

“Bubble bath soap?” She retorted with dripping sarcasm.

Snape did not seem amused.

“Veritaserum,” He responded. “Three drops of this and You-Know-Who himself would spill his darkest secrets.” She looked at him incredulously. Certainly, they weren’t hoping to use it on her. “The use of this on a student is regrettably forbidden. However, seeing as Mr. Lestrange’s involvement in this anecdote cannot be ignored and since he is no longer part of this institution my hand might just slip on his pumpkin juice and we might have to hear his version of the events.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She lied flawlessly as if her life depended on it maybe it did.

Snape exchanged a look with Dumbledore.

“Elowen, Ms. Greengrass claimed that Ellar Lestrange lured you into the docks some time ago. There he not only threatened you, but he also made an attempt on your life mocking and attempting to drown you in the Black Lake. Is this true?” Dumbledore leaned forward as if attempting to pull the truth out from her.

“It’s a lie.” She answered flatly.

“Elowen,” He pressed again this time taking slow strides around her almost like a shark rounding its prey. His eyes looking for any sign of betrayal. “This is a safe space. This institution does not tolerate the harassment of others. Much less if it endangers the life of one of our students.”

‘Rich coming from the same people that allowed Slytherin House and others to bully me for the majority of my time in this institution,’ she thought with bitter resentment.  

“Ellar Lestrange is my adoptive brother. Why would he hurt me?” She probed in her best reasonable logic. “I’m just as aware of his reputation, sir, but tell me- this being true, what reason would I have to protect him?”

Dumbledore nodded his head slowly. “Ms. Saintday, if you confide in us. I can assure you that no harm will come to you. The steps that would follow would be taking Mr. Lestrange’s witness, then contacting his parents, and then-“ She had to interrupt. “And then what? He’d be expelled from Beuxbaton and transfer to Durmstrang? Just like he did from here, right?” She responded with snark.

Dumbledore allowed her to continue.

“I think the real question here is why Ms. Greengrass and Ms. Davis would make up such an elaborate lie.”

Again, silence as the three professors exchanged knowing looks.

“Saintday has a point,” Snape suddenly broke the silence. She tried her best not to look at the Professor with surprise. So, he was siding with her. She was holding up her end of the bargain and keeping her mouth shut to what had happened. Her suspicions were correct. If anything, Ellar would only receive a slap to the wrist, get away with it and then she’d have to deal with Cloelia’s blind wrath. To her it seemed like they were in the same page.

“I assure you I keep a close eye on my House Headmaster. Specially on Saintday who seems to have the keen ability to surround herself with... trouble. I can assure we would not be standing here having this hopeless discussion, if I had caught wind of this rumor before.”

Dumbledore stopped now holding his hands behind his back as he gazed at the fire deep in thought as he marinated on the Potion Master’s words. “For as much as you persuade Ms. Saintday, I don’t believe you,” He looked back at her with a mistrusting gaze.

“But you believe Professor Snape, sir,” Nel shot back her body language mirroring the Headmasters.

Behind her McGonagall looked at the interaction with concern.

Snape gave Dumbledore a look that seemed to say this conversation was over. After all, they had no arguments if they didn’t have the main witness admitting to the events. However, unknowingly to the student all of this had been pre-rehearsed and already discussed amongst the two men.

“Very well,” It seemed like Dumbledore had given up. “But do tell me Elowen, and I hope you are truthful. How do you fancy your new guardian Ms. Cloelia? Real nit-picky student from what I recall.”

It was lie, after lie, after lie. Nel had never lied so much to a person before. She was surprised at how easily the lies slipped from her mouth. She wasn’t aware that Dumbledore didn’t seem to believe a single word that came out of her mouth and if she did, she didn’t care. Instead, the Headmaster was looking at her moving mouth and edging grin with a fearful eye. It wasn’t the first time he was witness to it, but the shadow of a lonely orphan boy from a familiar background who also possessed the affinity to speak to snakes and the ability to flawlessly lie was instead standing before him.

His assumptions, as always had been correct. Despite Severus best efforts to protect her. Nel Saintday was beyond salvation. The evil within her louder and bolder than ever. It was then that Dumbledore decided that “The Girl Who Died” would have to return and die at the hand of her creator.

Professor Snape walked Nel down the stairs of Dumbledore’s office and lead her down to the dungeons and to his office. His hand in the form of a C was angrily pressing on the nape of her neck as he quickly  ushered her inside of his office.

“Let go off me!” She slapped his hand away and looked at him with a furious expression. “I am not a child anymore!” She heaved drained from the restless day she had had.

“You insolent, stupid, dunder-head, foolish, girl!” He exclaimed and whipped his wand behind him to lock the door of his private office. This spew of insults and verbal abuse coming from the Professor was sadly not unfamiliar to her. She wasn’t expecting him to be so upset.

He was acting as if she had signed someone’s death sentence.

“Shut mouths catch no flies,” He raised his want in offensive. Triggered she did the same not blinking afraid the professor might strike her. After all, it had never stopped anyone before. Putting on a brave face, she attempted not to show the fear she felt or how her knees were trembling as she expected to be gravely wounded. There was no way she’d be able to take on a Hogwarts Professor, much less somebody as ruthless as Snape.

“Foolish girl. You had to open your damn mouth and babble to Greengrass, Davis and Merlin know who else.”

“What Lestrange did was fucked up and you know it,” She spat vulgarly not minding she was speaking to an adult. Neither lowering her trembling hand or stance. Jaw clenched tightly as she hoped her focus would be of an advantage to her. Snape’s body mirrored her own.

Just looking at her made an emotional wound on his chest soar with painful heat and a burning guilt. Dumbledore felt Elowen was beyond reason. That her nature had long ago sealed her fate. That, that awful curse that branded her face had also sealed this same destiny.

But he liked to believe otherwise. He liked to believe she could be good. That she had a choice.

There was no use in beating around the bush when it came to discussing why it was best not to take any action in punishing Ellar Lestrange with the juridical system involved. Both saw the bigger picture and were in the same place. Snape wasn’t protecting Ellar, he was protecting her, but why?

“He can’t kill you,” He said directly.

“Why?” Her sharp tongue followed suit.

“You serve a very specific purpose for the Dark Lord and have been placed under the custody of the Lestranges because of it.”

“Right,” she answered with a deep canyon forming in between her brows and a tightly clenched jaw. “That I gathered. A Parselmouth orphan taken into the home of one of Voldemort’s most loyal followers I could hardly expect it to be charitable.”

“Good, you’re catching on. Perhaps you have matured since last time we met.”

She ignored this. Whatever he meant by saying last time. This conversation. This scenario it almost felt like it had happened before as if they had already had this conversation, but something had gone awry wrong. It was almost like dejavu.

“You’ve been teaching me occlumency, not how to control my emotions or whatever bullshit that was.”

Snape remained silent. It was true.

“Why?”

“You will find that just like today the ability to hide one’s thoughts is a useful one and I haven’t the slightest doubt that others, witches and wizards more dangerous than the Headmaster might even rely on sadistic methods of torture to pry the truth from your big mouth.”

“Who else knows about the incident with Ellar Lestrange?” He questioned.

“No one,” She lied without hesitation. Snape whipped his wand, and a red spark stung her arm like a pinch, she winced at the sensation. “Dare you use my own spells against me.”

“Draco Malfoy,” She spat truthfully with a look of concern. “He won’t open his mouth. “I trust he won’t,” Snape added swiftly knowing well that Draco Malfoy had more on the line than Elowen did. Being directly related to the Lestranges he wouldn’t raise any hell towards them. Nel decided to keep what Draco had promised her to herself. Snape slowly lowered his wand and guard. Elowen didn’t. “He’s got more bidding on the line than you do if he spreads your precious little secret.”

She bit her tongue standing angry and frustrated. “Why does he want me? What does he want from me? What could I possibly give him? I have nothing. NOTHING! I am nobody,” She heaved as her emotions came crashing like waves and spilled like tears. Like broken risks, recordings of Wool telling her she was worthless, locking her in the Chokey, Lucy going missing. Not having a parent, a name, a single galleon owed to her worthless life. This life that Elowen had been given… She didn’t want it. It was numbing moments like this that made her feel like it wasn’t worth living.

“Same reason he wants Potter,” Snape cleverly lied to hide the Dark Lord’s true intentions and motives.

“To kill me,” Nel nodded and lowered her wand slowly as the horrible realization sank in. The only reason Ellar hadn’t killed her that one night or Cordelia had all summer long was because they were saving her like a pig for slaughter. She thought about the way most of the Purebloods looked at her, the way Mr. Malfoy always so strangely looked and fixated on her. He obviously knew this – How many more people knew? Did Draco know? “He need not bother, at this point I’ll do him the favor myself and give up on this miserable existence.” She wasn’t expecting her wand to fly out of her hand or for Snape to look at her with such fury, in his eyes was reflected a broken look. Again, Snape was haunted by the dark flashback of the night Elowen came to be during that obscure evening all those years ago. The guilt of the atrocious things he had done still rocked him to his core.

“I do not take threats such as suicide lightly Saintday,” He warned her. “I still expect many things from you, cowardice, is not one of them,” he glowered with cold contempt.

Snape again pointed his wand at her and Nel flinched expecting him to wound her instead a chair behind her crashed into the back of her legs forcing her to sit down. Emotionally defeated she complied and sat, wiping away the numb tears that slid down her emotionless face. She now felt a burdening guilt at the words that had just left her mouth. Where had that venomous thought come from? The terrifying thought made her body violently shake as the tears continued to spill.

“I will not apologize for my tone or harsh words towards you,” Snape began harshly now speaking in a collected and calmer voice. Hands behind his back as he stood tall looking down at his student. “Life is hard. We learn and we grow and I’m afraid I will not allow you to have a choice in this or leave us behind to pick up the broken pieces of your short, sad and pitiable life,” He soothed in his own twisted way. Words which didn’t alleviate her pain or made her feel any better about the horrible thought she had just had.

“It is her purpose,” Dumbledore said coldly with much indifference. “As I’ve told you before, it does not matter where Elowen Saintday resides, the Dark Lord will find her. How many more lives must be lost?”

Snape swallowed hard displaying the slightest glimpse of emotion. Be it his guilt, he always felt a sense of responsibility to protect the creature sitting before him. He had brought her to this world and because of that this monster was his responsibility. Burden or not. His alcoholic muggle father had once walked out on his mother and him, be of relationship to this child or not, would he be able to do the same? Was this something he had inherited from his bastardic nature?

No, that wouldn’t be him. He wasn’t his father. With a deep sigh he approached her and stood before her. She sat deep in thought, miserable, friendless having pushed everyone who cared about her away. She was so lost in thought she didn’t hear the Professor clearly saying her name until he knelt on one knee meeting her eye level.

How many times had he had the poor girl crying her eyes out to him? How many times had he failed in his ways to show her the smallest glimpse of humanity?

“Nel,” She stopped sitting with a surprised look on her swollen, red face. She couldn’t remember if he had ever addressed her by the name, she considered to be her own. “Look at me,” his voice was softer than his typical nasal tone. She obeyed, nastily sniffing and wiping the snot that was coming down her nose.

Seeking the bits of humanity that were left in him Severus chose to look inside his heart. What would Lily say? What wisdom would she provide to the broken girl sitting in the Potion Master’s office chair. “I understand,” He spoke in brevity. He chooses not to divulge any details about his personal life. “Perhaps I was out of line,” He admitted regretfully. “I’m aware that I can be rather harsh, but I want you to understand it comes from…” He paused for a moment masterfully and very carefully picking the words he would say next. He’d never vocally admit to it coming from a place of care. “I want you to be strong. Life isn’t easy. We both know yours hasn’t and it is not going to get any easier.”

She didn’t respond to his unfamiliarly kind words.

“Just know,” He said placing his large hand on her upper arm in a familiar way hoping to comfort her. His brown eyes zeroed in on her dark ones and maybe from up this close Snape looked human and not like a giant sulking bat. He smelt of salts and other potions ingredients. Even the middle of his forehead was sunken in genuine concern.

It took great will power to make the following promise. A promise he intended on keeping. “I will do everything in my power to protect you.”: