Chapter 22: Counterpoint: White Queen/Black Knight

To Hermione's mind, there was only one place in the school to take Blaise after what Malfoy had done to her friend.

The same place she'd gone after an encounter with the older generation of the same family.

She got Blaise out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and up through a series of side passages, up to the little bathing chamber near Gryffindor Tower. Her friend didn't protest, seeming completely numb.

Blaise did, however, wake up when they reached the door. "Hermione---"

"Hush; it's the safest place imaginable, don't you think?" And she got the door open and the two of them safely locked in.

For a moment after they got inside, Blaise just leaned against the wall, arms folded over her chest, shivering. Then she shook her head slightly--- and with swift, purposeful movements, began stripping off her robes.

Without a word, Hermione went over to the tub, turned on the taps--- clear hot water, none of the foam. Equally silent, Blaise, now wearing nothing but a thin (and Hermione thought rather provocative) slip, went to the other side and fiddled with the taps until she found several flavors of bubble bath that suited her--- something red and fluffy that smelled strongly of roses, a soft thin sheet of cinnamon foam, and an odd black ooze like oil that left the tang of leather in the air.

The tub filled quickly; Hermione turned her back as Blaise, apparently oblivious to her, finished undressing and slid into the water. She turned back to find her friend immersed up to her chin in foam.

Hermione watched in relief as the ball bearing hardness faded from her friend's eyes. Blaise closed her eyes, then--- "Hand me a scrub-sponge-- oh, never mind---" She opened her eyes--- the ball bearing look back but somehow more controlled--- turned in the water and held out her hand, purposefully, toward

one of the cupboards. For a moment, nothing happened, then, slowly, one of the doors came open, and a sponge struggled its way across the room.

"Wandless magic--- like Cousin Severus said." Blaise's voice was hollow. "Good."

Hermione perched herself on a cushioned seat along the wall, turning so that she could just see Blaise out of the corner of her eye, giving her friend privacy for her ablutions.

For a long time, there was only the crackle of the fire and the purposeful splashing from the tub. Then more running water, then--- "Care to join me?"

Hermione schooled her face not to show surprise--- or apprehension. What was her friend thinking of? "I wouldn't have thought you'd want company."

"Why not--- you're a girl, and a friend. Not someone I'd... have to worry about." Soft laugh.

But do I have to worry? Hermione had gathered

enough about Slytherin from her friends to know that most of the House was bisexual. "I'm not really in the habit of---"

Blaise laughed--- sharp sound. "So that's what's got you bothered." Another not-very-nice sort of laugh. "Believe me, even if I wanted to get under your robes, Hermione, after tonight I'd be damn and certain to ask first."

Which made sense--- though she didn't quite like the brittle tone and the odd flow of words. Blaise was shaken, and badly. Which she had every right to be, but Hermione wasn't sure what to do about it.

Well, one thing she could do was take her friend up on the invitation, she supposed. She skinned out of her robes and joined Blaise in the hot water.

The mixture of bubble baths felt decidedly odd--- the black stuff felt exactly like supple leather, the fluffy bubbles like silk and the thin cinnamon foam like cotton. Still, it wasn't unpleasant, and Hermione let herself relax.

"I thought I was safe." The whisper sounded hollow.

Hermione looked over at her friend. "Safe?" It seemed the safest thing to say.

"I was strega. That should have been enough. I never---" gasp--- "I never thought any wizard would---" her voice was rising to a shriek--- "I never thought any wizard would *dare* lay a hand on strega!"

Hermione gulped, nervously. This was rather a little too close to home--- given that her own goal in trying to reach the eighth square was to be safe from exactly this sort of thing. "Blaise, it could happen to anyone---"

"But I'm not anyone---" Her friend's voice had a manic quality to it. "I'm strega!"

"And you stopped them, didn't you?" Hermione felt obliged to point out. "They didn't get you---"

"They shouldn't even have been able to try!" It was a snarl.

Hermione rather thought that snarling was better than cringing, given her own experience. "I rather doubt they'll ever try again--- or anyone else for that matter. If they haven't learned the dangers---" sudden inspiration--- "if they haven't figured out that it's stupid to come after strega, then they'reidiots. And maybe you should teach them another lesson."

Blaise's eyes took on a fanatic gleam. "Yeah...." She looked over at Hermione. "You know where the word 'Mafia' comes from?" Smirk. "Means 'my daughter' in Italian. Some piece of filth did for a Sicilian girl like Malfoy and his goons tried to with me--- and her father got them back. Got them good." Her fists clenched. "Oh, my father won't like this... you know, our unofficial family motto is, 'There's no magical substitute for an Uzi. Nor any defense.'"

Hermione really didn't like the implications... but then again, it made a lot of sense that an Italian Slytherin should be a Mafia princess. Still, the thought of hits on the grounds of Hogwarts was more than a little upsetting. And she'd learned rather a lot about Slytherin thinking in the last few months.

"Wouldn't it be more fun to deal with Malfoy yourself?"

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to swear. Because Malfoy could very easily turn around and destroy her and Severus. And likely would.

But she couldn't not support her friend. That was all there was to it. And Severus was dealing with Malfoy.

Blaise's next words confirmed it. "Oh, I will... but Daddy and Mum can keep Mr. Malfoy from intervening on his precious baby boy's behalf." Twisted smile. "And believe me, they will. Oh, they will. Mum's strega---" She choked.

Hermione took a risk, reached out and grabbed her friend's shoulder. "Blaise, you did stop Malfoy. It's not your fault."

Blaise was breathing harshly. "Strega... it shouldn't have happened---"

"And maybe there's more to it than just being strega." Hermione took a deep breath. "Maybe that's what you have to find out. How to make it work. And maybe you just had to show Malfoy what you were capable of."

Blaise didn't respond, but she started breathing normally again.

And Hermione took a deep breath. "Blaise--- there's something I have to tell you. Maybe--- maybe it'll make you feel better---"

Harsh laugh. "Like what---"

"Like you're not the only one a Malfoy messed with. Like Draco got it from his daddy." Hermione took another breath.

And told her. Everything. About being kidnapped; about Malfoy stripping her and tying her up, leaving her in the darkness. About him and Snape coming back.

About what Malfoy wanted to do--- and what Snape did.

By the time she was done, she was shaking, queasy--- but it was a relief to say it. To tell someone who might understand.

Blaise was silent through it all, just looking at her quietly. Understanding.

Hermione told her about everything afterward--- their pact, the way Snape had been teaching her. She left out the part about Snape's recent meeting with Voldemort--- that wasn't hers to tell. But everything else was.

"And... you know what scares me?" she finished. "I liked it. I didn't want him to stop--- sometimes---" all-over shiver, she couldn't stop it---"sometimes all I want in the world is for him to do it again. And... it's so hard, because I know he was doing it to save me. But sometimes I get so mad---" she hadn't been able to admit this even to herself--" I just want... I just want him to know what it feels like. And... I don't ever want to be helpless like that again."

Blaise didn't say anything for a moment. Then, very softly, "I don't blame you. I don't blame you at all." She reached out and gripped Hermione's shoulder. "We'll get them--- I swear it. Both Malfoys, father and son."

Hermione looked up at her friend. And saw that it was true. She returned the shoulder clasp. "We will. Swear on the Founders Four."

"Me too." Blaise let her go and sank back in the water. She shook her head slightly. "Cousin Severus, though... damn. Never would have thought." Her friend, at least, looked more like herself now. "What d'you want to do about him?"

"That's just it--- I don't know." Hermione shook her head. "Blaise, he did it to save my life, to protect me---I know that. I know it was the best thing for him to do. It's just..." she took a deep breath. "I just want to even things up, you know? And I don't want to feel... helpless."

"Can't blame you for that." Blaise shook her head slightly. "But I don't know what to do, either."

"Don't worry---" Belatedly, Hermione realized that she had no business dumping her problems on her friend. "Shouldn't we be thinking about how to deal with Malfoy?"

Blaise's smile was hooded, frightening. "Oh yes...." Thin smile. "We should..." Sour look. "Except we have to wait and see what happens with Malfoy Senior, don't we?" The smile was ugly. "Once again, dear Cousin Severus intervening to save a damsel in distress from a Malfoy. How interesting."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that.

Nor did she know just how right Blaise was. Because that was exactly what Snape was doing.

*****

Snape swept into his office, hands shaking with a mixture of fury and apprehension.

The fury--- that the Malfoy-spawn would dare to attack strega--- particularly his very own cousin. The apprehension--- because he didn't dare show his rage to Lucius.

Much. He was... what he was. Son of strega himself. And even the Dark Lord hadn't thought it worth the trouble to attack those "queens of witches" directly. If he handled this correctly, he might be able to... manage something. He hoped. His cousin deserved no less.

He'd already brought the perpetrators to Madam Pomfrey, with strict instruction on how they were to be handled. Poppy hadn't argued; he had the feeling that the boys were not going to enjoy their stay in the infirmary.

And turned to the fireplace, the knot in his stomach tightening. He took a deep breath to loosen it, organized his strategy in his mind.

Grabbed a handful of Floo powder and spoke into the fireplace. "Lucius Malfoy."

After a long moment, the other man's head appeared in the fireplace. "What do you want, Snape?" Oozing scorn, of course.

"We have...." Beat. "A situation on our hands."

"What?" Coldly dismissive.

"Your son just tried to attack Blaise Zabini."

Lucius' reaction was more than Snape could have hoped for. The color drained from his face; he looked horrible. "Tell me."

"I don't have the full story yet---" Quickly he took Lucius through the bare bones of it. "I haven't informed the Headmaster yet," he finished. "I wanted to speak with you first."

Lucius nodded absently; to Snape's vast astonishment, Lucius' hands came up to cover his own face in a gesture of despair. "I taught him better."

Snape fought to keep from gaping; Lucius' next words, however, dispelled his half-formed hope that the other man might have had an epiphany. "To attack strega--- that strega, in particular... Merlin. When he's got Parkinson's daughter and half-a-dozen others he could play with, and their parents wouldn't lift a finger." Deep sigh. "The damned fool. The damned spoiled fool."

Ah. No conscience involved, just a question of political common sense. Restored his faith in the order of the universe, really. "What do you want me to do?"

Wave of one slim hand. "What you have to...." He looked up, eyes hollow. "You'll have to inform the Zabinis, of course---" Almost a frightened look. "D'you think there's any chance of keeping us out of a blood feud?"

This was perfect. Inwardly, Snape exulted. Finally, something was going a little right. "Yes--- I think I can convince my cousin and her husband that it's best if the children sort this out themselves---" He paused. "If that's acceptable to you?"

"Oh yes." Bitterness in the other man's voice. "My son... needs to learn from his own mistakes, Severus. Much as I hate to say it. And if the wisdom of centuries--- the prudence of the Dark Lord himself--- wasn't enough to teach him to leave strega well alone---" He shook his head. "No. Let him learn this one the hard way."

Snape couldn't believe his ears. "As you think best, of course," he said, as deferentially as he could manage, considering that he'd like to strangle the other man, just on principle.

Lucius buried his head in his hands again; Snape started to cut the connection.

"I tried, Severus." Snape stopped, hand on the grate. "I tried to teach him cunning and craft. Tried to make him a follower the Dark Lord would be proud to have. A son who would follow in my footsteps... who might even someday surpass me. A son I could be proud of. And---" was that a sob?--- "look how he's turned out. All he's learned is the privilege of being pure-blood, not the responsibilities. Not the cunning to use his birthright. Just the... entitlement." He shook his head.

Snape stared at the other man, astonished. He'd never thought to see Lucius in this state--- and was surprised to feel a distant stab of pity for the man.

He steeled himself. Well, it's his own bloody fault, isn't it? Not to mention Lucius' idea of "a son to be proud of." "I'm sorry, Lucius," he said, dialing gentle sincerity up into his voice. "I'm sure you did the best you could---"

"And that's what I got." The other man looked up; Snape was surprised to see a glint of tears in Lucius' eyes. "And now I have to tell Narcissa." He shook his head wretchedly. "Let me know what your cousin decides."

"I will." The fire went blank.

Snape sank back in his chair, feeling his lips twitch in a mirthless smile. Who'd have thought?

Well, at least that was one call out of the way. Now... Cousin Claire. Who wasn't likely to be nearly as easily handled.

He got her at once. Hard to believe they were cousins, he thought absently, as the sleek blonde head with the near-perfect features appeared in the fire. "Cousin Severus! What a pleasant surprise." Gracious as well--- and generous, as he remembered from his childhood. Hard to believe we're cousins.

"Hardly that." He told her, as gently as he could.

It couldn't be gentle enough. Claire's silvery eyes blazed with fury. For a moment, she said nothing, her lips compressed to a fine line. Then, finally, "I'm coming up to the school. Now."

"Claire---"

"Don't 'Claire' me! My daughter needs me---" The silvery eyes turned to steel. "And Lucius Malfoy had better not interfere." It was like her to cut to the chase--- no words wasted.

"He won't--- I've already spoken to him. He's most disappointed in his son's lack of cunning."

Claire pursed her lips. "He would be. Is he going to make any trouble?"

"No--- he's agreed to let the children sort this out themselves."

Sour look. "Well, that's one obstacle dealt with." Snape reflected how good it was to deal with Slytherin parents. Unlike what he'd seen of the other three houses, they believed in helping their offspring grow up. Claire softened: leaving the warpath for a mother's concern. "How is... how is she?"

"Holding on. One of her friends is with her--- Hermione Granger, she may have mentioned her---"

"Yes--- she's Muggle-born, isn't she? And a genius too. Blaise thinks she could be strega." Claire broke off, the natural flow of conversation apparently too much for her at the moment.

Snape felt obliged to break the silence. "Blaise didn't know about strega and wandless magic."

Claire started. "I rather thought it would be easier for everyone if she didn't know about it during her school days."

"Kind of you." He thought about what Slytherin House was going to be like, with one of its most powerful witches able to cast spells essentially undetected.... Oh, Merlin. Have mercy.

She gave him a sharp look. "She didn't--- was that a mistake---"

"No; she figured out on her own, as I said." Claire relaxed.

Snape steeled himself, drew a deep breath. You haven't got a choice, Severus. Not in good conscience. "Claire--- with your permission, I'd like to get in touch with Claudia Teasdale."

Another nice thing about dealing with Slytherin families; even under the circumstances, it didn't take her long to understand. "I didn't think the two of you were speaking."

Well, they weren't... and the reasons for that weren'tanything he wanted to think about at the moment. But even Cousin Claire couldn't know that. "Under the circumstances, I think she'll put aside our... differences."

Claire nodded. "As you think best. Blaise certainly adores her---" Her face crumpled; for a moment, she looked remarkably like Lucius had. "At least... at least they didn't succeed."

"Not at all--- there wasn't a scratch on her. Not physically."

"Exactly." Claire took a deep breath. "At least she knows her own strength now. That's something."

"Claire--- I don't know---" Now it was his turn to pause. "I don't think... she said she'd thought strega wouldn't be attacked."

"Exactly. Sometimes just being strega isn't enough. Most of us learn that before we are strega." She shook her head. "She was so young, when she found her power---" Haggard lost look. "Severus, did I do wrong in encouraging her---"

"No, Claire. You did right." He shook his head. "Come as soon as you can."

"I'll get Michael---" Her lips twisted--- the Snape family smile, he thought. "He'll want blood feud--- you do know the origin of the term 'Mafia'?"

"Only too well."

"Yes--- but this 'fia' is strega." Thin smile. "And so am I. This is her fight." She recovered herself. "Good night, Severus. I'll see you first thing in the morning."

The connection went dead.

And Snape turned back to his desk. For the last contact of the night. The hardest, logistically at least. His usual means of getting hold of Claudia were slow. And this couldn't wait.

Even as he thought the words, however, he heard a soft high trilling that sounded oddly like Muggle rock music---

As sung by a phoenix. He looked up to see one of the red-and-gold birds sweeping into his room.

And shook his head with some amusement. Claudia did have a talent for knowing when she was needed.

The bird perched on his lap, trilling at him in a friendly way. "Hello, Bennu." He pet the bird, then leaned past it so that he could scrawl a message on the nearest piece of parchment. The bird took the roll in its claws--- safer, with a phoenix, than tying it to the creature's leg--- and took off, still trilling softly.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, feeling a weight lift from his mind. If anyone could heal Blaise, it would be Claudia. She'd held together Slytherin House in the year after the war. He wouldn't have survived his first year as a teacher without her.

And more importantly, she was also strega--- who'd faced her own fallibility. In at least as intimate a way as Blaise.

Yes. Claudia would have the answer.

He got to his feet. He'd need to find Blaise and Hermione, work out the next step. Whatever that would be.

It was Blaise's decision. As it had to be.

In the back of his mind, the parallel began to form. Hermione... and now Blaise.

He wondered what Hermione would make of this. How she'd feel knowing that even strega wasn't safe.

It was very likely... that Blaise wouldn't be the only one thrown off her stride by the night's events.

And there was very little he could do for either of them. Except pick up the pieces.

Chapter 23: Queens' Wrath

After her bath, Blaise felt sane enough to go down to the Potions classroom and wait for Snape--- at least as long as Hermione accompanied her.

Which was fine with Hermione; she didn't particularly want to be alone at the moment herself. She had a great deal to sort out in her own mind... because all of this was bringing back the memory of that night in Malfoy's dungeon. Putting it where she couldn't ignore it. Shaking up the order of the world that she'd made for herself after that night.

It was Malfoy's fault. Like father like son.

She'd told herself that enough after that night, because it was true. But somehow, at the moment, it was Snape she kept thinking of, and Blaise's reaction when she'd told her....

It was different, she told herself. What had happened between her and Snape was different from what Malfoy had tried to do to Blaise. Less openly hurtful, certainly.

But that didn't mean it didn't leave its marks.

And at least Blaise had the luxury of hating Malfoy--- as Hermione did his father. She could plot revenge with a clear conscience.

But Snape didn't deserve to be hurt--- he'd only been trying to save her from something worse. Which didn't mean she still wasn't... angry, damn it. Angry, and at least half so because she didn't feel it was right to be angry with him.

What was she going to do about him?

Which thought got her and Blaise to the Potions classroom--- where they found the Teasdale twins waiting for them.

"Blaisie---" Catlin hopped off the desk---

"What happened---" Florian came toward them.

"When we got back to the common room---"

"Malfoy and his goons were gone---

"Parkinson---"

"That cow---"

"Said something about you---"

"And we put two and two together---"

"But we couldn't find you---"

Hermione was only half-listening, most of her attention on Blaise, to see how her friend would respond.

Blaise's eyes had gone ball-bearing hard. "Too bad you didn't find me a little sooner." She walked past them; Florian reached out a hand to her.

Blaise whipped around and stared at him, hard. He shrank back.

And she breathed a sigh of relief. "Nice to know it still works." And with that cryptic comment, she made her way over to one of the stools and sank down.

Hermione followed her. "Of course it works," she said in as businesslike a tone as she could manage. "From everything you've told me, you wouldn't stop being strega just because a piece of filth tries to grab you---" Gasps from the twins. Blaise smiled faintly.

"Blaisie---" Catlin again, coming hesitantly to peer over Hermione's shoulder. "What happened?"

"Draco Malfoy." In a couple of clipped sentences, Blaise told them everything. The twins exchanged glances.

"He's filth---" Florian looked ready to kill.

"Inept filth at that--- three on one, and he still didn't manage it---" Catlin tossed her head scornfully. "You beat him, Blaise."

"Yeah... but I shouldn't've had to." Confused looks from the twins. "Strega."

Again, the Teasdales exchanged glances. Then Cat spoke hesitantly. "Claws always says being strega doesn't mean being perfect...."

"Yeah, but it should mean being safe from filth." Blaise rested an elbow on the nearest table and her chin in her hand.

Again, a twin-glance. Then, "What are you going to do to him---" Catlin---

"And how can we help?" Her brother, looking almost puppyishly eager.

Another thin smile from Blaise. "That's what I'm down here for--- Cousin Severus is sounding out Malfoy's father...." The smile widened, no less fearsome. "Making sure he won't get in the way."

The Teasdales exchanged another set of glances... and very carefully did not look at Hermione.

Who couldn't resist a slight dig, for no other reason than that she was feeling unsettled herself. "Blaise told me about her family," she said coolly, and the twins jumped, looking decidedly unsettled. Blaise shot her a pale sort of amused look.

At that moment, the door to Snape's office opened, saving them any further conversation. Hermione felt an odd sort of twitch in her guts as he entered the room. Haven't felt like thataround him since the first night.

Yet it wasn't the same, because mixed up with the sense of him bending over her in Malfoy's dungeon were memories of another night, and him helpless and pale and whining under her touch....Oh dear.

His eyes flickered over her--- sadness in their gaze?--- and the Teasdales. "You lot have heard, I assume?" As one, the twins nodded. Snape barely acknowledged their response, his eyes coming to rest on Blaise. Who met his gaze coolly, almost challengingly.

Snape's voice, when he spoke, was kind, almost deferential. "I've spoken with Malfoy's father," he said quietly. "Lucius has... agreed not to interfere---" Twisted sort of smile--- "I gather he's not too pleased with his son's... lack of cunning, not to mention common sense."

"Too much to hope---

"---he'd not be pleased with his morals."

Ghost of amusement in Snape's eyes as he regarded the twins. "Far too much." He looked back at Blaise. "I also spoke to your mother---"

Blaise jerked upright, her eyes on his mingling desperation and apprehension. "Mother---"

"She's coming tomorrow morning--- wants to be sure you're all right." Blaise's eyes pleaded for something else from him. Snape stared at her for a moment, then added, more gently yet, "She doesn't blame you, cousin."

Tense silence, Hermione wishing she could melt into the floor and the Teasdales, from their expressions, wishing the same--- then Snape crossed the room and gripped her shoulders. "This is not your fault."

Blaise stared up at him. "Yeah, right." Then, without warning--- she pulled on the power of strega.

Snape stepped back at once; Hermione could see that he was shaking. And remembered what he'd said about his mother. Strega--- and a vicious hag, apparently. Oh, no.... Poor Severus.

And below that thought, something else, a nasty little sense of exultation. Strega can do that to him. If I were strega... I could do that to him.

Maybe the eighth square still wasn't without its benefits.

Blaise, meanwhile, was regarding her cousin with a rather nasty sort of triumphant look. "You know, it's a good thing I never thought of using the power on you before this," she mused. "Wonder if it'd work on Flitwick---"

Snape shook himself slightly. "You don't need to... impress your teachers that way, cousin," he told her, the humor in his voice shaky.

"But if I ever needed to," Blaise said with a rather ghastly sort of cheerfulness.

"Indeed." Snape seemed to be having trouble getting a breath. Hermione was torn between a desire to go to him... and a very strange desire to join Blaise in gloating. Oh, dear. He cleared his throat. "Will you be all right to go back to your dormitory, or would you rather we found another place for you tonight?"

Blaise's smile was poison. "Oh, no... I rather think I'd like to go back to Slytherin House..." The smile widened. "Malfoy and his goons being in the infirmary, it'll give me a nice chance to... get things ready."

Snape held up a hand. "If you're breaking school rules, I don't want to know about it."

"Not unless the Headmaster's added a no-gossip rule to the list." Blaise sat up suddenly. "Have you... talked to him yet?"

"No--- I wanted to speak with you first." His voice gentled again. "Would you like to see him--- or would you rather I took care of that part?"

Blaise actually gave the question some thought; for a long moment she was silent. Then, "I think you'd better--- I'd rather see him tomorrow, after--- Mother's--- gotten here." Her voice shook a little, then she steadied it and added, too brightly, "Besides, I've got some things to do in the meantime." She pushed herself off the stool, as if to leave.

"Oh--- one more thing---" Snape's gaze included the Teasdales--- "I've... been in touch with Claudia Teasdale. I rather think she'd like to speak with you."

Hermione looked at Blaise, wondering how her friend would react to the imminent arrival of her idol under the circumstances. Blaise went very pale, but composed. "Why?"

"Because..." Snape seemed to be considering his words carefully.

The Teasdale twins had no such scruples. "Because Sirius Black---"

"---tried to do to her---"

"---what Malfoy tried to do to you---

"---and she blasted him like you did!"

Snape regarded them wryly. "That's the essence of it." Blaise relaxed, marginally; the look Snape turned on her was gentle as he said, "She'll likely be here in a few days."

Blaise shook herself out a bit. "All right then." She moved away from the desk. "Thank you, Cousin Severus." Her tone was oddly formal. She turned to the twins. "Coming?"

The Teasdales looked at each other... then did an odd thing: they dropped in behind Blaise, flanking her, even with each other. Guarding her back, Hermione realized with a shiver. Like Ron and Harry did for me... only Blaise knows how to work it.

Blaise moved toward the door, then stopped by Hermione's side. And to her very great surprise, embraced her. "Thank you... sister." Again, that odd formal note that Hermione didn't know how to read. But she understood the "sister" part just fine.

Strega. If not now, she soon would be. And Blaise understood why she wanted it--- needed it.

Suddenly Hermione thought that Blaise's display of power with Snape might have been for her benefit.

Blaise drew back, holding her at arm's length. Smiled slightly. And Hermione knew she knew.

Her friend held the pose for a moment, then let her go, turned, and swept out the door with the twins flanking her.

Leaving Hermione alone with Snape.

Who asked, ever so gently, "Hermione... are you... all right?"

Hermione trembled at the sound of his voice, fought it down. I've seen this man helpless. I've seen him when he needs me. She made herself meet his eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"After helping your best friend deal with an attack by the son of a man who attacked you?"

Hermione felt her lips quirk in a slight smile. "Point taken." He was standing some feet away from her; she wasn't sure how that made her feel. "I... probably need to think for a while, before I answer." She folded her arms across her chest, looked away; trying to find something to say, she lit on the twins' comment about their sister. "What happened to Claudia Teasdale?"

"Exactly what the twins said--- during her first year here, which incidentally was my last." She looked back to see that his eyes were hard, haunted. "It's not my place to tell the whole story--- suffice it to say that her best friend, Bill Weasley, came to find me after it happened--- Claudia had hidden herself in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and was hexing anyone who came near her."

Hermione stared as the implications of that statement sunk in. It must have been like reliving the whole experience for him, tonight. How awful. She gathered up her emotional strength, reminded herself of how vulnerable he could be, and crossed the distance between them to lay a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry."

He started, shivered a little at her touch, looking down, though the fingers of his other hand twitched, as if wanting to hold her. "You did nothing wrong---" his voice sharpened--- "nor did Blaise. It's Malfoy's fault, all of it."

"And Blaise is going to make him pay." Of that, she was certain. "Severus---" the words came tumbling out--- "I'm going to get Lucius Malfoy. Blaise and I swore on the Founders Four."

Snape looked up at that, his eyes haunted. "I've no doubt of it." His fingers came up, brushed hers, leaving a slight tingle behind. Then, very softly--- "Thank you."

Hermione understood what he meant--- and shook her head. "Don't thank me yet."

Because she hadn't forgiven him. Not in her guts. Not when she could still twitch like this at the slightest touch of his hand. Not when the sleeping anger inside her had started to wake up.

She pulled away from him. "I'd better go back to Gryffindor Tower," she said.

Snape looked up at her--- and her heart wrenched a little at the sight of those liquid eyes. "Hermione, please--- if there's anything I can do for you--- please, you've only to ask."

She shook her head. "No... I'm... I'm all right." For now.

She turned away from him and headed out the door.

What am I going to do about him?

*****

Word traveled fast at Hogwarts; by the next morning at breakfast, the entire school knew what had happened to Blaise. Since it was universally known that Hermione had been the first person to find her friend after the attack, she had to field a torrent of questions from three of the four Houses--- only Slytherin seemed willing to wait for its own members to get the story.

Ginny in particular was keen to hear what had happened. To Hermione's surprise, her younger friend was less afraid than angry. It had taken all of Hermione's persuasive powers to persuade her not to head off for the infirmary to finish what Blaise had started. And in the end, the only thing that convinced her was Hermione's insistence that they had to let Blaise decide the course of events. If she wanted it kept quiet, then it would be up to her friends to do so.

Though, as Ron pointed out, even if the rumors hadn't been flying since midnight, everyone would have known that somethinghad happened when Blaise and the twins walked into the Great Hall that morning. The twins, as they had last night in the Potions classroom, had taken up positions behind and to either side of Blaise, openly guarding her.

Not that they needed to; as the trio neared the Slytherin table, there was a soft scraping of chairs that drew the attention of the other three Houses; at least half of Slytherin House had risen to its feet. Freddie Scarlatti held Blaise's chair for her.

At the Gryffindor table, several of Hermione's housemates were looking decidedly puzzled. "What's going on?" asked Parvati, frowning. "I thought all of them would take Malfoy's side---"

Hermione, however, had sorted it out at once--- but she wasn't sure how in the world she could explain the concept of strega to Parvati Patil. Finally she settled on the simplest answer she could find. "Slytherins respect power, and they hate weakness. And Blaise just showed herself to be more powerful than Malfoy."

Seamus Finnigan snickered. "Wonder how long that'll last, when Malfoy's father gets wind of it---"

Hermione sniffed. "Oh, I think Blaise's parents are likely to be a match for Lucius Malfoy." Not saying, of course, what she'd found out about that family the night before.

Ginny grinned. "I'll bet--- Florian's always saying that Blaise gets her chutzpah from her mother." Though the younger girl had gotten her temper under control since the night before, she was obviously still hoping to have a ringside seat at whatever Blaise and her family did to Malfoy.

Lavender gave a little shiver. "Well, good for her--- Malfoy's a creep."

"Hear, hear," Harry said darkly, looking at the Hall door. "Reckon he and his goons are still our cold from what Blaise did to them?"

"Let's hope," Ron said. "It'd be nice to have a Potions class without them bothering us, for once."

The rest of the meal passed without incident, until the end, when the Headmaster stopped by the Slytherin table to exchange a few words with Blaise.

Hermione exchanged a pass of glances with her friends; as one, they pushed back their chairs and headed over to the Slytherin table. "What's up, Blaise?"

Up close, they could see that she looked even paler than usual, but there was a dark hardness to her eyes, a depth, that was only slightly more reassuring than the ball-bearing sheen of the night before. "My mother's here," she explained, then smiled slightly. "Mum wanted to come down to the Great Hall, but apparently the Headmaster persuaded her to wait up in his office for me."

"What about your dad?" Ron asked; the girls in the group traded glances. Just like a male, especially a Gryffindor.

"Oh, he's here too," Blaise said dismissively. "But this is Mum's show--- strega's show." Nasty look in her eyes then. She got to her feet, the Teasdale twins following suit. "I'd best be off." And, as she had the night before, she hugged Hermione.

Then she and the Teasdales strode off, with the entire school for an audience as they moved under the sunlit ceiling of the Great Hall.

*****

Blaise had to fight the urge to set off at a dead run the minute they got through the Hall doors. She wanted, desperately, to see her mother. Her mother, who could make sense of this if anyone could.

Who could tell her if she'd done right. If she was right.

She'd thought she'd known the answers to that herself--- wasn't she strega? But being strega hadn't been enough. And it took every ounce of self-control she had to hold a stately pace up to the Headmaster's office.

The Teasdales paused behind her at the gargoyle. Blaise turned to them, uncertainly. "I suppose you two had better head off to class---"

"Nothing doing." Catlin folded her arms. "We're waiting---

"For you, until after---"

"Your meeting with the Headmaster, then we're---"

"Walking you to class, and---"

"We'll meet you after." It was said like a statement of fact.

Blaise blinked. "You two don't have to---"

"Yes we do." Florian's eyes were liquid hardness on hers; Catlin nodded assent.

Well, there wasn't anything to do about friends like that. "All right, then---" Impulsively, she hugged Catlin... then steeled herself against the slight twitch and leaned in to kiss Florian on the cheek. He handled it exactly right, relaxing slightly, not moving toward her: willing surrender of control to strega. Blaise gave him the best smile she could muster and turned toward the gargoyle---

"Ah, Miss Zabini." All three of them turned at the sound of Snape's voice. He glided up to them. "Right on time--- though the two of you---" he turned his gaze on the Teasdales--- "are likely to be late for class."

"Begging your pardon, sir---"

"But there's things more important." Both twins looked meaningfully at Blaise.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Your loyalty is commendable--- however, at the moment, it is also superfluous. I believe Miss Zabini will be quite safe in the Headmaster's office--- and I think it rather likely that this... meeting... will take at least until noon. You can stop back at lunch time."

The twins exchanged glances with Blaise, who couldn't fight a sense of vertigo. Until lunch? Why? Snape's hooded gaze gave her no answers.

He waved a hand gently. "Off with you both, now--- I'll have a word with---" slight pause--- "Flitwick as to your tardiness." The twins started off, albeit reluctantly; again, Snape's voice made them turn. "Oh, and twenty points apiece to Slytherin for your... display in the Great Hall this morning. Most effective."

The twins traded grins and set off, and Snape turned back to Blaise.

Who raised an eyebrow at him. "Until lunchtime?"

His expression gentled--- something only his favorite students ever saw. Though after what Hermione'd told her last night, she reflected that she might not ever feel quite the same about that distinction. "I wanted you and your mother to have plenty of time together, that's all." Slight flicker of sarcasm. "I've settled it with your teachers--- all of them are... most understanding."

Blaise nodded absently, wanting more than anything to get this done and go up to see her mother.

Snape must have understood, for without any further comment, he turned to the gargoyle. "Lemon drop." The door opened, and they went up the spiral staircase to the headmaster's office.

Blaise had never been up here, and she was sure that it must be a fascinating place--- but when the door opened, all she could see was her mother. "Mamma---"

Claire Zabini had turned as the sound of the door opening; now she held out her arms and Blaise went to her, for the moment not caring that she was sixteen and normally quite conscious of her dignity. Her mother's arms enfolded her and she smelled the soft apple-spice-and-myrtle scent of her soap and felt something unknot inside her.

Only to be replaced with a different sort of knot. She pushed back from her mother. "Mamma---"

Claire put a hand to Blaise's face. "Cousin Severus told me, love," she said gently. "You did fine. Better than fine." She drew Blaise back into a hug, murmured into her hair. "Some men just need an extra-strength lesson, that's all."

"Only too true," came the familiar voice of the Headmaster, and Blaise looked around, blushing. "You've nothing to be embarrassed about, Blaise--- I assure you, you are not the only parent and child to have an emotional greeting in this office."

"Rather the opposite, I'd imagine," Claire said, stepping a little back from Blaise, though she kept an arm around her shoulder. "Shall we sit down?"

Blaise had to smile a little, at the way her mother could just casually take over any situation; there she was, acting as if she owned the Headmaster's office--- and doing it so gracefully and naturally that no one would question it.

Once, she'd thought that being strega would be enough to let her do that....

"Mamma," she blurted, unable to keep that question back, "why didn't it work on Malfoy? Being strega should have been enough---"

"You come right to the point." Claire gave her shoulders a squeeze. They sat down; Blaise was only peripherally aware of the men hovering around the edges.

"Shall we leave you two in private?" the Headmaster asked tactfully.

"I think that would be best," Claire said distantly, her eyes focused on Blaise. "We can deal with... other matters... later. This is more important."

The men departed through a side door, leaving Blaise and her mother alone.

"Mamma---" Blaise knew she sounded like a frightened child, but damn it, she was frightened, and if she couldn't lean on her mother, then the world just didn't make sense any more.

Claire took a deep breath. "Blaise--- I hardly know where to begin." She sighed, and Blaise thought suddenly that her mother looked somehow, well, older than usual.

"At the beginning?" Blaise suggested flippantly, as her mother sometimes did to her, and Claire laughed.

"That's the best place to start, isn't it?" She squeezed Blaise's shoulders, looking down at her gently. "Except that we're already somewhere in the middle."

Blaise looked up at her. "Mamma, why wasn't... it... enough to stop Malfoy?"

Claire sighed, looking seriously at her. "Well, dear... there are several reasons why you mightn't have been able to control Malfoy--- chief among them the fact that his family don't have much respect for strong women--- yes," she said at her daughter's surprised look, "attitude has something to do with strega's effect---" She smiled thinly. "Not that you can't still influence a man who despises you and looks down upon you, just that it takes a great deal more, shall we say, force behind your efforts."

"Force?"

"Force of will, certainly, of personality--- but sometimes, and your father would laugh to hear me say it, it comes down to brute force." She gave Blaise a knowing look--- which Blaise returned, because she was starting to see where this was heading.

"Exactly. Sometimes, really, the only thing you can do is what you did--- magic, with the full force of your power and personality behind it: prove to the pigs that you are no one to be trifled with." She hugged her again. "And knowing when to do what is just a matter of experience--- and now you've got a better scale of it, haven't you?"

It was like her mother had said a spell over her: Blaise felt the weight lift from her shoulders and her gut. "You mean--- that's normal?"

Her mother nodded. "Perfectly. Most strega have had to teach that lesson the hard way to a man or two in their time---" She pursed her lips, then smiled conspiratorially at her daughter. "Any guesses as to who one of mine was?"

Blaise didn't have to think very long: it had to be one of her father's Muggle associates, many of whom didn't quite... understand... strong women. She pictured them each in her mind's eye, remembering how they acted around her mother--- "It was Albio, wasn't it? That fat sod---"

"Language, dear." But her mother was grinning almost impishly. "That it was--- just before your father and I were married; Albio got 'fiancee' confused with 'fair game'. Your father would have handled him, but I got there first." She smiled reminiscently. "Had to use a topical Silencing Charm on him--- he literally can't talk about it, but at least he knows better now."

Blaise giggled... then felt her mirth subside as the need to be certain came back. "I was---" the worst of her fears came tumbling out--- "I was afraid that Malfoy being able to put on me meant that I wasn't... wasn't really strega."

Her mother looked surprised. "Not really strega? Goodness, no, sweet--- that bit of wandless magic was classic strega--- most wizards, or witches for that matter, aren't able to pull off those moments after they start training; their powers are too controlled."

"Cousin Severus---" slight hitch as she said his name, thinking of what Hermione had told her--- "said I'd want to learn to control it."

Her mother looked thoughtful. "Probably so---" She smiled reassuringly, with another little squeeze to her daughter's shoulders. "It's not really that hard--- strega can do it because of the confidence factor, you know; that sense of knowing how the world ought to be is enough to make a wand superfluous, at least within our moira."

Blaise nodded. "I've already tried a little. It's all worked fine for me."

"Thought as much." Another reassuring one-armed hug. "See, you're strega--- if nothing else, have a look at your necklace." Blaise drew it out--- as usual, at her touch it glowed. "There, you see?" For the first time that morning, her mother's expression held just a hint of rebuke. "Did you even think to look at it?"

"N-no." Blaise blushed. "I... didn't want to know, if I wasn't."

"Well, I can't blame you for that." Yet another bit of a hug. "Now, take a good long look at it, my daughter--- that's a talisman made by Aspasia Clemens herself; it wouldn't lie to you."

Blaise looked at the brightly gleaming pendant, embedding it in her mind, feeling the warm weight of the metal in her hand and the warmer sense of her mother's regard. Feeling better than she had since last night--- feeling whole again. She was strega, unquestionably. And what had happened to her said nothing about her powers and only a little about her experience. And now she did know what to do. It was like being reborn.

Her mother's expression grew grim. "Now, the next step--- settling accounts with little Malfoy."

Blaise grinned. "That I'm looking forward to--- showing him what it means to tangle with strega."

Her mother gave her an appraising look, a gleam in the silvery eyes that matched Blaise's own. "Yes... I believe you will," she said quietly, a small smile twitching the corners of her lips. She looked around. "And in that case, I think it's time to let the men back in--- that is---" piercing look--- "if you're feeling steadier?"

Blaise looked her mother in the eye. "Oh, yes."

And for just a moment, the connection between them--- mother and daughter, strega and strega--- flared--- and Blaise felt suddenly and for the first time in her mother's presence, like an adult. An equal. Strega, who'd faced a threat to her moira--- and defeated it, as strega should.

Her mother saw it too. And nodded. "All right then," she said. "Let's let the men in, shall we?" Slight smile. "You're father's been having a psychotic episode since last night."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "He's not planning on taking all the fun out of my hands, is he?"

Her mother's slight smile was feral. "Oh, I doubt that very much. He knows better, after all."

And Blaise couldn't help but smile. That was what it meant to be strega, after all.

As if on cue, the side door opened and the Headmaster poked his head around the doorframe. "Are we allowed in yet?"

Claire's smile was feral. "Yes Albus, you're welcome in your own office." Blaise smothered a grin; her mother didn't like being upstaged, even by the owner of the space she was in.

The Headmaster came out, followed by Snape and--- "Pappa!" Blaise smiled up at her father: a small man--- the other two men towered over him and even her mother capped him by several inches--- with dark hair just beginning to silver and a face that could only be described as having character. She and her mother had decided a long time ago that he looked very much like Al Pacino, which all things considered was not inappropriate.

"Daughter." Her father came over to her, holding out his arms. Blaise, after getting an encouraging sort of look from her mother, got to her feet and hugged him. He held her back from him after a moment, seeming speechless, then said softly, "I'll take care of him, daughter---"

Blaise twitched; her mother intervened adroitly. "That's what we were just about to discuss, Michael."

Her father stepped back, looking mildly disgruntled; but you didn't, as he'd said often, marry strega to argue with her.

Claire patted the couch beside her, and her husband sat down. The other two men did likewise. Quick exchange of glances between Claire and the Headmaster--- settling who was in charge of this discussion; Dumbledore ceded wordlessly and gracefully to Blaise's mother.

Who turned back to Blaise. "I spoke with Cousin Severus last night, Blaise; he said that he'd... settled things with Lucius Malfoy."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you have a free rein to handle Draco as you please---" Claire glanced over her shoulders at the men. "Unless--- Headmaster, Cousin Severus?"

"As long as she keeps it within the limits of school rules, I certainly don't see fit to object." The Headmaster's wrinkled brow belied his casual words. "I would, of course, prefer to see him punished through more conventional procedures---"

"From which he'll only learn not to get caught the next time," Snape said sourly. "Slytherin politics, Headmaster. This is... the most effective method of handling all the associated problems."

Blaise regarded him soberly, thinking about what Hermione had told her about him. Former Death Eater... capable of.... She smothered a shiver. Had that been the same sort of decision? "The most effective method"? Hermione thought so too. Slytherin thinking, that: you did what you had to, when you had to, and damn everything else.

Well, she was going to do what she had to as well. "What are you telling me?" she asked quietly, and everyone turned to look at her. "I want to know what my options are."

Exchange of glances all around; this time her mother deferred to the Headmaster... and Cousin Severus. Wonder if she... knows... about him?

"What we're saying, Blaise," the Headmaster said gently, "is that you are... free... to handle Mr. Malfoy as you please, within the limits of school rules."

Her father looked rather disgruntled at that. "And what about his family? What about that filth who---"

"Michael," her mother said patiently, "I think everyone in this room agrees that the world would be a better place without Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, to say nothing of their poisonous little spawn. However, a blood feud would be counterproductive at the moment, to say nothing of costly--- and it would not accomplish what must be our primary objective, namely allowing our daughter to learn to handle her life on her own terms. She's nearly of age, Michael, and she's strega. This is her business; we'll support her." Claire's tone indicated that the subject was closed; it was the usual pattern in their family. Though Claire deferred to Michael on things involving the "family business" of the Muggle underworld, and though they shared decisions about their wizarding businesses, where her daughter was concerned, Claire's word was law.

Blaise regarded her mother with delight. An adult in her mother's eyes, that's what this meant. And the freedom to show Malfoy the power of strega. Suddenly the moment's fright in the South Tower seemed a rather small price to pay.

Who knew, by the end of this little game, she just might end up Queen of the Slytherins herself!

And by the slightly shadowed twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes, and the genuine and matching light in her mother's and Cousin Severus', they thought so too. Her father didn't quite agree, but then she almost had to feel sorry for him. He was Muggle-born, from an old Italian family; the whole concept of strega had taken a bit of getting used to. He'd adapted wonderfully, but it still sometimes took him by surprise.

"Well, if that's settled," Dumbledore got to his feet, still looking a tad unhappy. "I suppose we may as well send Miss Zabini back to her classes---"

"Headmaster, I took the liberty of having her excused from her morning lessons," Snape said smoothly. "I thought she might appreciate a little time with her mother---"

The Headmaster nodded smoothly. "Quite right, of course, Severus--- very thoughtful of you. If the three of you would like the use of my study until lunchtime, you'd be more than welcome, or you may walk the grounds if you like."

Blaise exchanged a glance with her mother. What she really wanted was a chance to plan strategy with Claire--- and she rather thought the grounds would be more private than Dumbledore's office. She suspected him of having some means of knowing everything that went on around here. Certainly he knew what had happened between Snape and Hermione....

She shook her head to clear it. "The grounds, I think, sir."

"Very well, then." The Headmaster shook hands with both Blaise's parents. "It was good to see you, Claire, and you, Michael, though I wish it could have been under other circumstances---"

And within a few minutes, they were out on the grounds... and discussing how best to handle Malfoy.

She didn't ask about Snape. That was Hermione's story, after all.

*****

The door closed behind the Zabini family. And Dumbledore turned to look at Snape. "Well, that's that."

Snape took a deep breath. "There wasn't any other option, Headmaster, not with that family---"

"Oh, I understand your reasons, Severus--- you've explained them, at length." The Headmaster sighed, sinking back into his chair. "That doesn't mean I have to like it. It's perilously close to abrogating discipline."

"You can take fifty points off Slytherin if that would make you feel better," Snape retorted. "Never mind that it would penalize Blaise herself and her friends---"

"Oh, I know," the Headmaster said wearily. "Severus, how do you do it?"

Snape blinked, taken aback. "Do what?"

"Balance the... internal politics of that house?"

Snape stared. Albus Dumbledore, one of the wisest wizards he knew, seeming impressed with his own manipulations? "Sir, I---"

"Never mind, Severus." Dumbledore buried his head in his hands. "At heart, I suppose I'm still a Gryffindor. Though frankly, at the moment, I can't blame Arabella Figg for her draconian policies toward her House."

"And look where that got us." Snape's voice was harsher than he'd meant for it to be. "A House of students so disaffected, so enraged at the world, that half of them sided with Voldemort out of sheer frustration."

"I know." A tired whisper. "We tried to uproot the seedlings of the Dark, and instead they grew more twisted." He shook his head. "Not that I like the other course, either. Softening up children like lambs to the slaughter."

"It has to happen." Snape paused, then couldn't hold back. "That's what you said about me, wasn't it?" The Headmaster looked up, stricken, and Snape backpedaled. "I didn't mean---"

"Yes, you did, and you're within your rights." Weary smile. "though weren't you the one who told me that the hallmark of Slytherin is one who sees what must be done, and does it, regardless of the cost?"

Snape could only nod in silence.

Because he'd seen the look in Blaise's eyes today--- after Hermione had told her what he'd done. What he'd been. And was. And knew that this, too, was an irrevocable change. It would come to a head in its own time, and all he could do was wait for Blaise to decide.

He could only hope she wouldn't react as Claudia had.

As if reading his mind, the Headmaster asked, "Speaking of Slytherins, do you know when--- or if--- Claudia's coming?"

"In her own good time, if at all," Snape replied. "That's how she is."

"Indeed." The Headmaster got to his feet, moved past Severus, gripping his shoulder as he passed. "Severus--- I don't say this often enough--- but I'm very proud of what you've accomplished."

Snape shivered. It hurt when someone said something like that. Fortunately, no one did very often. Or maybe it wouldn't hurt if he were used to it. "It's what must be done," he managed, keeping his eyes averted, holding onto the dignity that wanted to collapse with the tremors.

The Headmaster kept the contact for a moment, then moved away. "Still," he said. Snape didn't look up. A moment later, he heard the door close.

When he got his breath back, he shook his head and headed down to the dungeons. He had a class to teach. What must be done.

Chapter 24: Black Knight's Pawn

Blaise's parents left after lunch, and Snape breathed a sigh of relief. Not that he wasn't fond of Cousin Claire... but her presence complicated things immeasurably.

And he had one more parent-child chat to oversee.

The night before Draco was to be released from the infirmary, Snape called the boy down to his office.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Snape said nothing for a long moment, just studying the boy in front of him. Amazing, the difference a few days could make. The arrogance was cracked around the edges, replaced by a sullen defiance that spoke of a shattered sense of faith in the world.

Which could either be a very good thing or a very bad one. If this little experience caused Draco to decide that emulating his father wasn't the best path to a long and happy life, then it was all to the good. On the other hand, if it embittered him.... Very bad. And he had no choice but to give Blaise free rein. Hopefully she'd use it well.

"Not I," he said finally, in answer to the boy's question. Draco looked confused. "Your father," he clarified.

Draco's expression was for a second so heartrendingly miserable that Snape felt a stab of pity for him. He hardened himself against it. That's no more than the boy deserves, after what he's done. "Do--- do you know what--- what---" Draco's voice failed him.

Snape saw no reason to soften the blow; it would do no good. "He's not pleased with you. Reckons you shouldn't have tried your luck with strega--- not by violence at any rate." He hoped that some of that notion would sink in; Draco was enough in turmoil that a little suggestion might well go a long way.

Draco, however, didn't seem very conscious of much of anything. Snape sighed, threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fire. "Lucius Malfoy."

After a moment, the other man's face appeared in the fire. "Severus."

"I have your son here."

"Ah. Yes. The fool I call my offspring." Lucius' voice reminded Snape uncannily of his own mother's. "Come here, boy." Draco shuffled forward, his pale face parchment-like. "Professor Snape told me of your... stupidity." Draco said nothing. "Well? What have you got to say for yourself?"

Audible gulp from the boy. "I... I just wanted to have some fun," he managed. "and I thought... thought she'd go along with it. When she didn't... I... I lost my temper---"

"Lost your temper? With strega?" The sneer with which Draco habitually favored his classmates was but a pale imitation of the one his father gave him. "When even the Dark Lord left strega well enough alone?"

Draco hung his head. "I didn't think--- she's so young--- how could she be---"

Lucius snorted. "She's young for it, true enough, but strega is strega, no matter what her age. And she's not a witch to cross. That fear, my son, that knowledge that the queen of witches is no one to be trifled with, that's one of the things that sets us apart from filthy Mudbloods and Muggles--- you know our House's history; Salazar Slytherin would have burned you to a crisp himself if you'd touched strega that way; half the witches in his family were such."

By now, Draco was shaking at the implications; Lucius was his pitiless self. "And that family--- you know what the Zabinis are, don't you? They've no scruples about dispatching their enemies---" Bit rich coming from you, Lucius, Snape thought--- "and even less respect for purity of blood. You can thank your lucky stars that Professor Snape managed to talk his cousin and her husband out of wiping out our family entirely."

Another gulp from Draco. "What--- what are you going to do?"

"Do--- about you, you mean? I'm not going to do anything," Lucius said coolly. "I'm just going to let nature take its course--- and let you, my son---" the words spoken with heavy irony--- "find out why no wizard in his right mind crosses strega." Snort. "Just be grateful you're still at school, and that Blaise Zabini will likely have to keep her vengeance on you within the limits of school rules---" Snape nodded affirmation--- "and that she's not free to do what, say, her mother would do to a male who crossed her." Lucius voice softened, but not with any kindness. "I'm very disappointed in you, Draco. A follower of the Dark Lord has to have more sense than you, and far more cunning. Being pureblood and loyal may earn you an invitation to the inner circle, but only wit and cunning and wisdom will keep you there. I thought you had those qualities in quantity. Now...." He shook his head. "Now I see that I was wrong. You've put a blot on the family name, boy--- I only hope you have the strength to face up to the consequences of your actions." Lucius looked past him, at Snape. "He's yours, Severus. May you have better luck with him." The connection went dead.

For a long moment, Draco stared into the fire; when he finally turned around, his eyes were filled with tears. "Is... is he going to disown me?"

Snape's heart wrenched, remembering as he did another boy who'd lived with similar fears. He made himself reply coldly. "I doubt it--- you are, after all, his only heir." Draco twitched.

Snape regarded the boy thoughtfully. A thin line, here, a delicate manipulation: too far in one direction, and he'd reveal himself as a spy; too far in the other, and he'd only reinforce the ideology that Lucius had implanted in the boy. But this was a better chance than he'd had in years--- to do more than simply soften up the worst of the Slytherins for the Aurors to kill. "Draco--- listen to me." The boy looked up. "You needed to learn this--- needed to learn that...." He struggled to phrase it correctly. "That your father's way isn't the only way." Draco frowned. "Yes--- he knows just enough to be afraid of strega--- not enough to respect her."

"And you do?" Slight sneer.

"I was raised by strega," he said quietly. "And around her. She's not a creature to be trifled with--- but she is worthy of respect. And it's worth the effort to earn hers. You would have been wise to cultivate a true alliance with Blaise Zabini--- which, with strega, means on her terms. Your own actions have made that impossible... but I advise you to learn from this experience. Treat it not as punishment, but as a lesson." There. That was as much as he could say. He had to trust that Blaise would likewise handle the situation with wisdom and just the right level of sadism to mold the boy in front of him.

But she was strega, and she shared his ideology. He could trust in her to accomplish the same goal.