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ON THE OTHER SIDE

Chapter 2: Master(mind) Madness

He begrudgingly owed his ass to Severus Snape, considering the man had saved it by killing That Old Coot for him. The Potions Master was undeniably extraordinarily brilliant and had been his mentor for awhile until he began to meddle in Draco's attempts to win back the Dark Lord's favor for his family. It was maddening and infuriating to have his own professor attempt to outshine his protégé, but Draco knew he was indebted to the man. Now, Severus Snape was Headmaster of Hogwarts. All he had originally wanted was to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and now he was the Headmaster—more power than he could ever desire! And yet, the man looked positively miserable. Draco looked around to see his fellow Slytherins sharing his confusion—there was nothing celebratory about the celebratory feast.

The Great Hall was too quiet as the first years were Sorted. There were so few of them, only a couple going to each House. Even though it was now mandatory for all magically-capable children to be sent to Hogwarts, the Mudbloods were weeded out at Platform 9 and ¾. It was a little pathetic to see them cry that they would not be able to go to school after all. Some of the Mudbloods put up a fuss and found themselves eating the platform—that is, if they were lucky. All the first years looked terrified with the exception of those Sorted into Slytherin, who sauntered over to the table and sat down with unmistakable Pureblood grace. They knew they would face no animosity because of their lineage. However, the older Slytherins knew that they were hardly invincible. It would take a month or so before this knowledge trickled down.

Draco looked around. There was not a Mudblood in sight. And although he wanted to victoriously smirk at the sight, he could not help but feel that Hogwarts felt a little emptier without their presence. It wasn't their presence in particular (Merlin no, like he cared about them), but there were so few students that it was slightly unnerving; also, the typical beginning of the year excitement that usually filled the air was completely absent. He saw the Carrows at the staff table and realized that the war had penetrated Hogwarts. No one was safe anymore.

The Headmaster stood and addressed the students, who grew quiet quickly, most afraid to speak in the first place.

"I am Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts. There are a few notable changes that all students must be advised of." (At least the man was straight-to-the-point…) "Professor Slughorn will step in as the Potions Master. Also joining us will be Professors Alecto and Amycus Carrow, the former teaching Muggle Studies and the latter teaching the Dark Arts." There was a low hush that filled the building. "Muggle Studies is now mandatory for all students. Furthermore, Mister Carrow's class on the Dark Arts will replace the former curriculum of Defense Against the Dark Arts." He said this all as if informing students of the obvious, like quills were helpful writing instruments. "There will be no Quidditch." There was another groan. "There will be no Head Boy or Head Girl." Silverware clattered. "Trips to Hogsmeade are now banned." Goblets hit the table. "Prefects who are not of Pureblood have been striped of their title and duties." Jaws dropped.

Draco looked out of the corner of his eye at Tracey Davis, who was in line to be Head Girl right behind Mudblood Granger. Now that she was missing—no doubt consorting with her boyfriends Scarhead Potter and Weaselbee (what a harlot)—Davis had a chance. But there would be no Head Girl. Furthermore, she was only half-blood and therefore completely lost her title and power as a Prefect. Her face remained stony and her jaw was clenched. A few sparks sputtered out of her wand and Nott, who was sitting next to her, grabbed her wand hand and shoved it under the table before anyone noticed.

"All student organizations, clubs, societies, teams, or groups are hereby banned. The former are defined as gatherings of more than three students." Draco realized this was Umbridge's Education Degree No. 24. "All students are expected to obey the rules of this school. Those found breaking them will serve detention with the Professors Carrow." There was a tangible shudder through the Great Hall as the two siblings smiled gleefully in unison. Draco grimaced down at his plate, knowing that like his dear Auntie Bellatrix, the Carrows liked to play with their food.

"That is all. You may eat."

With great hesitation and tainted appetites, plates were passed around and a low hum of whispers and clattering utensils created a steady drone in the Great Hall. It was still far too quiet.

"Draco, aren't you going to eat?" Pansy asked with concern.

"I am not hungry," he responded, shoving his plate aside.

"Draco, you really ought to…" Daphne began, also worried, but Draco snapped.

"Your insipid advise is not welcome, Greengrass," he lashed out and immediately she shut her mouth. However, another pair of green eyes appeared in his view. Little Greengrass had heard her name and peered down the table. (She had been Little Greengrass in his mind since he saw her on the train.) Seeing it was just Malfoy barking at her sister, she saw no harm was done to her sister and went back to pushing her food across her plate. When they were dismissed, he saw her plate was still full.

"You… yes, you there. Clean up your partner's mess," Amycus Carrow ordered Astoria in Dark Arts. The man had begun his lesson by demonstrating the Cruciatus Curse on a white bunny rabbit. The Hufflepuff who nearly came in late and had no other place to sit except for next to Astoria had vomited during the demonstration, much to Astoria's chagrin. But her, clean up vomit? No.

"She is not my partner, Professor," Astoria said, making her green tie more visible. "I do not partner up with squeamish Hufflepuffs." The class quietly stirred, surprised to see a Slytherin protest.

"Do it," Amycus hissed.

"I am a member of the House of Greengrass, not a House Elf," Astoria insisted with a proud sneer. "I am above such a degrading and disgraceful order and if you persist in your insistence that I clean up this girl's mess, my parents will indubitably hear about this." She straightened up in her chair and eyed her professor as if he was a piece of gum on the bottom of her shoe.

"Ah yes, Greengrass," murmured Amycus Carrow, seeming to be impressed by Astoria's lineage. "Pardon me." Astoria gave a little shrug as if deigning to accept his apology. "You, Hufflepuff, clean up your classmate. What the hell is a Hufflepuff anyway…?" the man seemed to muse. Astoria rolled her eyes as the helpful Hufflepuff aided their classmate. He looked at Astoria oddly, probably wondering what had gotten into the girl.

It wasn't like Astoria spoke much during lessons and she certainly had never pulled the family name card in class before. Her mother had raised her to never speak unless spoken to, but she always had a little trouble with that rule. However, she usually kept to herself and quiet. She felt she was above most of her classmates and so she did not condescend herself to speak to them, but she tried to never flaunt this superior air because it got her noticed. If anything, she adopted neutrality and invisibility—that way, she found out the most interesting things about people.

"What are you looking at, Hufflepuff?" Astoria asked dryly to the boy who was looking at her. He narrowed his eyes the slightest and coaxed the infirm girl up, cast a cleaning spell, and helped her to the Hospital Wing.

Class was a little gruesome to say the least. It was quite clear to Astoria that Amycus had no—how would her father put it?—finesse. It was all brute force, nothing clever or clean. Her father always said to never leave a mess behind unless it was necessary or unavoidable. Astoria certainly did not like his style, which left little room for any sort of classiness. When the lesson was concluded, she had only paid attention to half of the man's words because she thought so lowly of him, but he called her over before she could escape.

"Greengrass, a word," the man beckoned and Astoria sauntered over to his desk. "I didn't know there was a younger daughter." Astoria shrugged. "Your father does not say much about you." Astoria appeared to be more interested in her nails. "Is it because you are unremarkable compared to your older sister?" Astoria knew this was her chance to jump in and save her cover as the unexceptional Greengrass.

"The comparison is often noted," she said quietly. The truth was that her father did not talk about her in order to protect her; there no need for his smart, little girl to be Marked.

"Poor thing," he tutted, sounding hardly sympathetic at all. "The Dark Lord understands that a girl like yourself seeks redemption. Work hard and you may serve Him, Miss Greengrass."

"Thank you for the advice, professor," Astoria said with feigned gratefulness before leaving the classroom with her head bowed in mock humility.

However, she knew there was no way she would do His bidding.

Muggle Studies quickly grew boring with Alecto Carrow. The essence of the class was explained in a sentence: Muggles were vile abominations with sinful tendencies toward avarice and greed which they employed in their dirty, scheming attempts to steal witches and wizards' magic. Half-bloods and Muggle-lovers always tried to argue, but it only resulted in detention.

"Students, please, you must understand," Alecto crooned. "It is not your fault that you were not shown the true nature of Muggles. I recognize your indignation at being forced to suddenly have to process this information. But it is true: Muggles are like animals, filthy and dirty. It is their fault that we have had to keep our powers hidden and are unable to take our true, rightful place in society because of their covetous nature. Now, it is time that the natural order is restored."

"And by that you mean rounding up Muggleborn witches and wizards and taking their justly earned wands away?" Longbottom challenged the professor.

"They stole magic, Longbottom. Professor Burbage did not teach you these terrible truths, did she? Did she, Mr. Malfoy?" the woman turned her eyes on Draco, who looked back at her with a stony expression. "Did she, Malfoy?" Alecto asked more forcefully with a sadistic sneer. Draco slowly shook his head. "No, she did not. It is a good thing she resigned, isn't it Malfoy?" Draco did not care to respond. The woman was tortured and murdered above his supper table as she weakly called out for Professor Snape to save her. Sometimes when a goblet was knocked over during meals, Draco would flinch, finding the sound sickening. "Now Longbottom, sit down now."

"They did not steal magic! They were blessed with it, like all of us!" he insisted.

"Longbottom, that's enough."

Draco sighed. Muggle Studies with the Gryffindors always resulted in one of them getting high and mighty and feeling the need to stand up and yell about Merlin-knows-what. It was getting old and a little repetitive, seeing how it always ended with the same result.

"No!" he protested. "I don't care! You're wrong! And to try and tell us otherwise is—" Longbottom never got to finish his sentence because he was thrown from his seat and blasted into the classroom wall. Amycus Carrow revived his unconscious form and spoke in a sinister tone.

"Longbottom, that is only a taste of what is to come. Do not think we are unable to resort to more… persuasive methods should you require it. I would even not mind using the same spell that sent your dearest mummy and daddy to St. Mungos, but I believe Mrs. Lestrange has already requested that privilege. You will learn, however, to watch your tongue. Detention, Longbottom."

From that day on, the Slytherins started hearing crashes and cries of pain in the dungeons, not far from their dormitories. They learned to block it out and accepted it to be what it was until Theodore Nott was called on to 'administer' a detention. When he returned, he yanked off his blood-speckled shirt and tossed it in the fireplace before he proceeded to scrub his hands for a half hour. There was never a week after that when his hands were not rubbed raw.

And after that, things were never the same.

The letter arrived in early October and looked like any other letter Astoria had received from her parents. However, it was the first time she had heard from them all school year and she was quite eager to read the contents of it. She was about to open it when it was ripped from her hands by Amycus Carrow.

"From your parents, Greengrass?" he sneeringly inquired.

"Yes, and you will see it's addressed to me," she insisted, reaching for her letter. Amycus jerked away and his sister snatched it from him.

"From your parents, Greengrass?" Alecto asked in the same tone as her brother previously used. Astoria gritted her teeth.

"The handwriting is my father's," she said, trying to maintain composure and patience. "And the letter is addressed to me. Does the school not have more sophisticated methods of assuring that unsavory letters do not pass into Hogwarts instead of prying them from students' hands? Not that my parents would send anything of a disloyal nature, naturally, considering their ties to Him," she scathingly reminded the Carrows.

"'Their ties'… pfft!" Amycus snorted. Astoria appeared offended but did not deny it.

"My dearest Astoria," Alecto began to read the letter. Astoria folded her hands under the table to keep herself from doing something drastic. "Sweden is a lovely country and your mother and I are enjoying ourselves very much. It is already growing chilly, but we are very excited to participate in the winter sports." This did not seem to be quite as juicy as Alecto was hoping for. Astoria thought of her as the smarter sibling, but she was not all-together too smart if she thought the Greengrasses would be so blatant to send anything of a secretive nature by owl. Alecto continued to scan the letter and touched her wand to it a few times before Astoria held out a hand to take the letter back. It was unceremoniously shoved into her possession and Astoria pocketed the letter with feigned disinterest. She slowly ate her meal and ambled back to the common room before she dared to take out the letter again.

She knew something was amiss when her parents started talking about Sweden. Her parents were both not fond of winter, snow, or winter sports. They would never go to Sweden at the end of fall. Was she supposed to be deconstructing the letter to find its true meaning? Was it in code? Or was the message hidden by magic?

It took her back to when she was a child and her precocious mind was too much for her mother to handle and she would simply hand over the little brunette to her father. Sitting still and not talking was tricky while Daphne was an angel, always good at following the rules and being perfectly loveable. However, Astoria was too quick and too observant, always suspicious and inquisitive, completely relentless in her pursuits and resourceful enough to do things on her own.

In short, she was her father's daughter in personality and looks. She had the piercing Greengrass eyes from him and his dark hair, as well as his slight built and stubborn chin. Her father would entertain her mind's ramblings by giving her puzzles and riddles to solve. She was always bright and certainly brag-worthy, yet her father never commented about his youngest daughter at gatherings. She would be introduced as Astoria and if he was indulgent, he would say some uninteresting fact about her, for example that she managed to pick the winning winged horses at the races that weekend. When she was younger, she was always jealous of Daphne, who was constantly praised and adored wherever she went, but during the summer before her fourth year she had overheard a conversation with her parents that made her change her mind.

"A kind word at gatherings would not be too much to ask, Thomas. She is bright and knows when she is being unduly neglected. She simply can hide it well."

"Of course Astoria can."

"I simply want her to reach her absolute potential. It does not help that you keep her in the dark and make her out to be the unremarkable black sheep of the family!"

"It is best if she is viewed as such, Calliope."

"And how will that do any good, Thomas?"

"He is recruiting."

"You mean…?"

"It is different this time around." There was a beat of silence.

"There will come a time for us all to choose a side; you cannot expect them to be immune to all repercussions just because they are young! Just look at the young Malfoy boy…"

"He, I am sure, will find it out on his own soon enough. Daphne has a chance of gliding through this, but Astoria will get tangled. I refuse to let them use her." She heard her mother sigh in exasperation. "Oh, think about it, Calliope: a smart girl, Pureblood, quiet, talented—she is the perfect set of eyes to have inside Hogwarts. She can blend in and pick up the oddest things. In fact… Astoria, go to bed," her father had sighed, knowing that she was spying at the top of the staircase as she had done so often in her youth. She had snuck a peek at her parents' faces before going back to bed and realized that she would have to remain invisible—something she had deplored—in order to keep her family safe. But now, it was becoming increasingly difficult.

She read and reread the letter a number of times, searching for clues. Perhaps there was a password: she tried her full name, the Greengrass motto, her sister's name, and anything related to her family. She was about to give up when her eyes fell on a sentence: We greatly anticipate seeing you over Christmas and I already have tickets to the races. You are my good luck charm, after all—at your first race, you picked the winning horse! I do not recall the name any more, but I remember the day with fondness.

Astoria knew her father committed to memory the name of the giant, grey Granian winged horse that completely demolished the competition. It was not like him to forget details like that.

"Eyvindr," Astoria whispered to the letter and the words on the page melted away and revealed a new message.

Dear Astoria,

In light of recent events, your mother and I have been looking over our last will and testimony should anything happen to us. We have made arrangements for you and your sister to keep the estate and the surrounding lands. However, there is a matter of your inheritances. We have modified Daphne's inheritance to be a year of school and a year of living expenses. Yours currently covers three years of school and a year of living expenses. We believe this to be fair and should anything happen to us, you and Daphne will split the remaining money.

However, the Gringotts vault with this amount of money is in your name. Not your sister's name, but yours. The deeds to the estate and lands, should we die, are also in your name. Daphne will have control of her inheritance, but you will control yours, and if we pass, the remaining funds in the Greengrass vault, the estate, the lands, and the profits from our investments will all be passed to you. We know you will be able to handle this responsibility and make decisions wisely. Although you are younger than Daphne, we believe you to be more capable to take liability and appropriate the money accordingly. Please explain this to your sister.

Know that we do not do this to create strife between you and Daphne, but we wish the best for you if your mother and I are not able to watch over you. Be careful at school.

Love,

Father

P.S. Burn after reading

Without warning, it was settled. If her parents died, she would be the legal head of the Greengrass family. She was fifteen years old and was expected to be the adult of the family. Astoria already took care of her sister as it was, but managing an estate, extensive properties, and the family's various investments was certainly putting a stretch on it. Plus, the fact that her parents were concerned about an untimely death was extremely disturbing, considering the power that the Dark Lord had gained over the last year. Astoria took a few deep breaths to regain composure before walking down to the common room, where she knew her sister was.

Draco and the remaining seventh year Slytherins were in the common room when Little Greengrass crept down the stairs and asked for her sister.

"Daphne, a moment please," Little Greengrass quietly requested, seeming to not want to draw notice to herself.

"What is it, Tori?" Daphne asked impatiently, seeming otherwise preoccupied talking about clothes with Pansy.

"A letter from Mother and Father."

"May I?" she held out her hand for the letter.

"Daph, I think it would be best to…" Little Greengrass began, but her sister snatched the letter out of her hand and began to read it. The color disappeared from Daphne's face as she searched through the contents and began to reread it in disbelief. Now all eyes were on the Greengrasses—the elder seemed to look appalled and the younger one was frighteningly stoic except for her nervous tick of spinning an emerald encrusted ring around her finger.

"And that's that?" Daphne asked shrilly.

"I was not given a choice," Little Greengrass calmly replied.

"You bitch," the harsh words rang in the common room, all taken aback by Daphne swearing. "This is what you wanted all along and now you've got it. I hope you're happy now."

"Daphne—"

"Some sister you are." The letter was crumpled up and tossed to the ground. Tears filled Daphne's eyes as she dashed up the stairs. Little Greengrass seemed too shocked and dismayed to go after her. Draco had a feeling that Daphne's words were more crushing to Little Greengrass than she let on. The fifth year lowered herself to the ground to pick up the letter. She carried it over the fireplace and all watched her as she tossed it into the fire and waited until it turned to ashes. Draco looked over to Nott, who seemed to be eyeing Little Greengrass and thoughtfully rubbing his chin. Maybe he had his suspicions what had just passed between the Greengrass sisters.

Daphne refused to talk about it; for a long while, that day became one of Daphne Greengrass' only secrets that she managed to keep hidden. She did not speak to her younger sister for nearly a month.

When Daphne did speak to Astoria, she cornered her in the library and made herself at home among the stacks of books at Astoria's table.

"I thought you would be here," Daphne said, moving one of the books as if it was a used tissue. Astoria was unsure how to respond and simply looked at her older sister. "Alright, I really need to talk to you and I didn't know who else I could confide in, so… I slept with Blaise Zabini." Astoria's jaw opened. Why her sister felt the need to tell her these things was beyond her.

"Please tell me you are not pregnant," Astoria muttered, looking around to see if anyone had overheard.

"Oh, I'm not, don't worry. I've got a potion to take care of that. Give me a little credit, sis," Daphne smiled, tossing her blonde hair over a shoulder. "I mean, he really has been quite elusive this entire school year."

"He has?"

"All the blokes have! Well, not counting Crabbe and Goyle, but since when do they ever count?"

"Daphne, I actually think they are—" Up to something, Astoria tried to say. Daphne was right: Nott, Malfoy, and Zabini had been uncharacteristically quiet and keeping their noses out of things. They had been doing what Astoria had made up her mind to do: attempt to remain unnoticed and unremarkable, but obey orders just enough to keep one's neck unscathed and shirtfront clean. Astoria had seen them talking to each other in the common room and they would all go silent when she or anyone else entered. They still went to class and administered detentions without a fuss, but it seemed to Astoria that they had something up their sleeves. They were plotting something and Astoria was too nosy to put it out of her mind.

Things around Hogwarts were growing worse with the Carrows in charge of discipline. Almost all of the seventh year Slytherins had been called to administer a detention—in other words, brutally hex their classmates—and now the Carrows were beginning to call on sixth years and students from other Houses. Astoria had heard of students having to perform the curse on friends and Housemates. Madam Pomfrey was constantly running out of beds, it seemed. Apparently, even a few second years had gotten themselves in detention for putting up signs saying 'Dumbledore's Army: still recruiting!" The Slytherins heard them scream for an hour. Astoria resented the group for involving the younger kids and plotting such fool-hardy schemes—obviously, the Gryffindors were in charge because there was no real cleverness to their tricks. Their cause was futile, considering they were trying to spread hope within the dismal walls of Hogwarts. The castle had become a Dementor's Kiss. Even the younger children understood the gravity of the situation.

"It's been so difficult to talk to them. I really hope they are not in trouble."

"Daphne—"

"But Blaise—I mean, you know how Blaise is with the ladies. He's so…" a dreamy look appeared in Daphne's eyes. "…fit," Daphne finally decided on. "It is quite odd he hasn't been around the block too much lately." Astoria grimaced, not wanting to hear about Zabini's sex life.

"I really do not care, Daphne. Why can you not talk to Pansy about this? I am a little busy, as you can see."

"But I can't tell Pansy!" Daphne explained with wide eyes. "I only trust you." Astoria closed her book. "Besides, Pansy already knows that Blaise is super-fit, while you are completely oblivious to these things."

"My apologies," Astoria murmured dryly, opening her book again.

"Please tell me you have seen the way Nott looks at you!"

"Nott?" Astoria asked incredulously.

"You are a lost cause," Daphne sighed dramatically.

"What about Nott?"

"I think he fancies you."

"Is that so?" Astoria deprecatingly asked, not really interested.

"He has seemed very interested in watching you whenever you are around."

"That is because Nott, along with the rest of the 7th years, did not seem to realize I existed until the beginning of this year. And Nott watches everyone—he makes it his business to know useful things."

"So you fancy him?" Daphne asked hopefully.

"No," Astoria insisted.

"Good, because Tracey—even though she won't admit it—is getting a little jealous."

"Why would Davis be jealous?"

"You really are completely oblivious to this stuff, aren't you?" Daphne mused, resting her chin on her palm.

"I am not very good at noting these sorts of relationships, so no," Astoria said rapidly. "Now what is your point? You do not say a word to me for three weeks and five days and now you want to have a little tête-à-tête about blokes?"

"You counted the days?" Daphne breathed.

"Of course," Astoria responded stiffly. "You are my sister." Daphne launched herself across the table to pull Astoria in for a hug, sniffling how she was a terrible sister and really sorry and that she knew it wasn't Astoria's fault and it was all probably for the best. Astoria patted her sister's back awkwardly, but was glad that she had her sister's forgiveness. "Alright, so what is it that is so important?"

"So, I slept with Blaise Zabini…"

"You may have mentioned that once."

"And I saw something," she leaned in closer. "He's… Tori, he's taken the Mark." Instantly, Astoria shut all of her books, grabbed her bag, and dragged her sister out of the library and into the nearest empty classroom.

"Daphne, you cannot just say those things in a library—"

"We were alone, no one could have heard us—"

"There is always a chance. This is much safer," she insisted, putting a number of spells around them to keep them from being heard or disturbed. "So… are you sure it was the Mark?"

"I know sometimes I don't really understand things," Daphne said sheepishly, "but there is no mistaking it, Tori. It's… it's truly terrible. It's more than just a tattoo. It's almost like it's alive," Daphne shivered.

"And it was on his left forearm?"

"It was," Daphne nodded her head. Astoria's mind was whirling with new conclusions. In accordance with her sister's observations of Zabini, he must have taken the Mark that summer; since he had returned to school, he had been noticeably different, especially around women, probably because he had to keep the Mark a secret. He was always trying to get in someone's knickers, but this year, it had only been her sister (ew), which must have been some sort of record for him.

So, Zabini had taken the Mark. Malfoy already had it. Maybe Nott had it too. Perhaps, that was what united them. They were all trying to keep a low profile. Maybe—it was a dangerous thought and Astoria felt wary of even entertaining it—maybe they wanted out. But that was futile, because there was no way to get out of being a Death Eater—only death or completely falling off the charts by going underground was a way out. Now, Daphne was not the smartest girl, but she could still put things together and had an eye for understanding people's body language. It was only a matter of time before she drew the same conclusions Astoria had made. It was also only a matter of time before Daphne would not be able to keep the secret to herself. "Isn't it tragic? He's too young… Tori, what are you thinking?" Daphne asked warily, seeing the wide-eyed look on Astoria's face when faced with a terrible truth.

"Daphne, I am so, so sorry," Astoria said, drawing her wand. "This is for your own safety. Obliviate."

He saw Little Greengrass in the common room the night before Halloween, sitting at the hearth of the fireplace and staring at the hot coals. Her green eyes looked ready to kill with the way the light from the fire reflected in them. She jumped when she heard him enter, as if he had interrupted her most private thoughts.

"Jumpy much, Greengrass?" he asked, his sneer only a shadow of what it would have been two years ago.

"Intrusive much, Malfoy?" she retorted. Daphne was right: Little Greengrass was a bit of a terror when angry. It was obvious that something was seriously troubling—no, disturbing her. He knew that look. She turned back to the fire, a surly expression on her face. Screams could be heard from the dungeon.

"It is quite bothersome, is it not?" he asked dryly, gesturing over to the dungeons, but her back was turned toward him, putting his motion out of sight.

"Your incessant, undesired prattling?" she quipped.

"You are so clever Little Greengrass," he dryly snorted, ignoring her insult and situating himself in an armchair. She turned around to face him, appearing to be disgusted by the pet name. "I meant the screams."

"I am used to it. We are all used to it," she responded in a monotonous, resigned tone.

"We do what we must to survive," he observed and suddenly she was on her feet, marching toward him with unconcealed malice.

"It is all becoming quite obvious, Malfoy, that we all are doing what we must to survive, but some efforts are a little more clandestine than others. You, Nott, and Zabini are up to something and just because you have some master plan does not mean you are allowed to involve others."

"What are you talking about, Greengrass?" Malfoy asked dryly, rising to his feet in hopes to intimidate her. She was so tiny, only a scrawny little fifth year. He tried sounding disinterested, but his heart was pounding… what did she know? She swished her wand around the room, seeming to cast some spells that made it soundproof or checking for intruders.

"Zabini has the Dark Mark. You have the Dark Mark. I can only assume that Nott has the Dark Mark, with the way you lot have suddenly become best mates," she spat. Draco tried to maintain his composure.

"When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me," he recited.

"You already are an ass, Malfoy."

"Now that is really uncalled for. You do not even know me," he said with feigned innocence.

"Daphne saw Zabini's Mark when they were… intimate. She told me," she announced, not content with dancing around the point. Draco immediately sobered up.

"And no one else knows?"

"Not even her."

"Pardon?"

"I Obliviated my own sister," Little Greengrass said and Draco was taken aback. Nott said that she appeared to be smart, but the fact that she was cold and capable enough to take her own sister's memories was astonishing. She sighed, shakily sitting down. "It is common knowledge that Daphne cannot keep a secret. I did it for her safety. It is better that she remains ignorant; that way, she will stay out of everything. She… she will not survive this war otherwise," Little Greengrass said quietly. "So, keep an eye on your mates. Zabini was careless and selfish—no surprise there, Blaise is blasé as they come—but whatever it is you lot are planning, keep my sister out of it," she barked the order.

"And what of yourself?" Draco asked coolly, knowing that Nott (who was the real mastermind) was not going to be pleased when he heard about Little Greengrass' meddling. The Greengrass Debacle was a factor he had not anticipated on taking seriously.

"I am trying to protect myself, my sister, and my family. I could care less what happens to the rest of you. I want nothing to do with your plan."

"It is a bit late for that Greengrass," said a figure at the bottom of the stairs. Draco knew by the voice that it was Nott. He was hidden in the shadows and must have sauntered down after Little Greengrass performed the spells around the room. She had been too angry at him to notice Nott lurking in the shadows and eavesdropping on their conversation. He was uncannily talented at doing that. Little Greengrass' eyes grew wide and she flinched in surprise. "You Obliviated your own sister? That is cold, Greengrass, even for a Slytherin," Nott crooned.

"Whatever it takes to survive," she said, eyeing Draco out of the corner of her eye. He was starting to really not like her.

"Cold, but cunning. Thank you for cleaning up our little mess," Nott said with a slight smile.

"So, we have an accord? This never happened?" she asked.

"Oh, no no no," Nott shook his head.

"Nott," Draco began warily. They did not need more people. It was difficult enough already and it was Little Greengrass for crying out loud! Little Greengrass, Ickle Greengrass, Itty Bitty Greengrass! It did not matter if she was smart or cunning, she was a bloody fifth year and far too young… hell, they were all far too young. Nott seemed to think she was 'useful,' but he had a feeling Nott had ulterior motives. Well, they were Slytherins, they all had ulterior motives. "We cannot afford to fold her in."

"She knows too much," Nott shook his head, no longer wearing a smile.

"That can be remedied," Draco hinted.

"It is too late," Nott decided. "Astoria Greengrass, you're in."

Little Greengrass looked up at Nott with startled eyes. Once again, Draco was too familiar with that look. She, undoubtedly, was wondering what she had gotten herself into. What she did not know, however, was that they all were wondering the same thing.