“beyond wandpoint” 065 by gingerbred
Mar. 21st, 2019 06:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beyondwandpoint“11 11e Tuesday - Poste Serpente”
Draco, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Harper Hutchinson, Ella Wilkins, Pansy, Tracey Davis, Alberta Runcorn; Narcissa, Lucius, Bellatrix, Norman Nott; Severus, Poppy; Rita Skeeter, Barnabas Cuffe, Maude
Originally Published: 2018-03-17 on AO3
Chapter: 065
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
A/N:
Yet another chapter with little mention of Severus and no Hermione. There is a method to my madness, but I appreciate your patience. :-) Next chapter we're back to Hermione and Minerva visiting Severus in the Infirmary.
On the off chance it needs saying, any convolutions herein were always intended and should not be taken as a swipe, left, right or otherwise, at Ailuropods.
On the far side of the hall, where the Slytherins sit, strange things have been taking place while all this was going on.
As the bonded couples - if one overlooks Professor Snape that is, not that that comes easy, but it's considerably more so in his absence - stem from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, the Howlers and attendant attention had been focused on their side of the Hall. It helps that the Ravenclaws act as a buffer between them and the snakes, and have thus far been exempted from the proceedings. The Slytherins, naturally, aren't quite so lucky, some amongst them having given rise to the whole miserable affair, after all.
Many parties would be very remiss were the boys to go without their slice of misery.
Slytherins are rarely remiss, and those in question even less so when it comes to misery.
They also almost never resort to Howlers.
First, they're considered déclassé. Vulgar.
Given the strength of their feelings on the matter, that should be more than sufficient grounds to avoid them, no second reason would be required.
Nevertheless, complicated creatures that they are, Slytherins naturally have more reasons. They always have more reasons. Lack of a multitude of reasons is practically grounds to be removed from their House. The shame alone... It hardly bears considering.
Howlers reflect badly on the senders and recipients, they air dirty laundry in public. They declare for all to hear who knows what and how they feel about it. Any of that could give others leverage. While it might not bother the senders to give everyone in the school such leverage over the persons who so outraged them, the fact of the matter is that outrage is necessary to generate a Red Howler in the first place, and that in turn provides all assembled with a toehold to worm their way through the senders' defences. No Slytherin in their right mind would resort to it, unless they were using it to make some obscure point. It's hardly worth it.
Instead they send Poste Serpente.
Paper Serpents, mail snakes. Suitably convoluted things. Rumour has it the magic stems from Salazar Slytherin himself, having recognised the need. They aren't opened in the Hall, never in front of outsiders. But the more of their own House the recipients can convince to attend a Serpent's opening, the less painful its bite will be, and all agree: it's still plenty painful enough.
Typically the Serpents arrive with the other mail at breakfast and immediately slither into position, wrapping themselves several times and quite... snugly around the addressee's wrist, then temporarily becoming as inert as a wooden shackle. Nothing more than bangles to look at. Innocuous enough. Virtually no one outside of their House has ever noticed them. There's an eight hour period of grace for word to spread, to try to convince as many of their Housemates as possible to come watch before those shackles tighten, constrict, and soon the letter must be opened. No one's ever made it even close to the ninth hour.
Eight hours certainly provides plenty of opportunity to reflect on the misdeeds that led to such measures. It sounds like a great deal of time, objectively, that is until one finds oneself with one of those things on one's wrist. It's frequently a very tight schedule that leaves the students running back to their House after the last class of the day. Merlin help the poor student stuck all the way out in the greenhouses for Herbology. And not by coincidence, the Slytherins' Quidditch team practice is rarely scheduled during that first hour after classes.
It really only leaves what remains of breakfast and the lunch period to try to beg, barter and grovel to sway the others to observe. Still, they generally flock to do so in great numbers, either to laugh or to help. Both ends of the spectrum are covered, and failing either inclination, there's always self-interest: do it for them, so they'll do it for you. It leaves little reason not to attend.
Once everyone is gathered, a single tap of the blighted student's wand is sufficient for the Serpents to uncoil and spring into action, hissing their accusations and grievances for all to hear before sinking their tiny vellum fangs into their victims. Generally, they go for the throat.
The sting is very... intense.
Whoever created them, whether it was Salazar or not, was no fool, recognising the advantages to public humiliation, group censure, while skirting the disadvantages. As there's no way of knowing until it's opened it what information it might reveal, the Slytherins all swear not to use anything derived from such post against one another, leaving sender and recipient similarly protected. It's an Oath every single one of them takes as a Firstie. The more present who have taken that Oath, the less vicious the bite. No one has ever tried opening one in front of an outsider. Logic dictates that would prove painful. They're quite right about that.
One of the obvious benefits of Poste Serpente encouraging the presence of spectators to its opening is it permits the students to learn from their Housemates' mistakes. That fact alone is argument enough that a Head of Slytherin had created the spell. It's proven quite effective over the centuries. But those lessons often last only until the affected students have graduated, or at most until everyone who was in the House with them at the time has done so. Generations upon generations of students seem drawn to trying much the same things, repeating the same mistakes. The Baron swears: there's nothing truly new under the sun.
Somewhat unusually, the spell seems to be concerned with... fairness. A Serpent can only be created by speaking the truth. But as any Slytherin knows, the truth is frequently highly... relative. All grievances hissed are true as the sender sees it. That doesn't mean it's objectively so, which is why there are little known safeguards against abuse.
There's an interesting side effect of forcing others to watch that usually only a very few of the upperclassmen have deduced. Generally the students don't learn about it until they're old enough and versed enough to try to send a Serpent of their own, and of an inclination to do so for specious reasons, and then they tend to keep the results to themselves to prevent... manipulations. Those observing serve as a jury. If they find the grievance just, the Serpent's fangs will strike home. If not, the sender will find him or herself on the receiving end of an inordinately painful hex the next time they're alone, all the more so as they haven't got the witnesses present that somehow magically mitigate the sting.
Vincent Crabbe demonstrated that for his friends most... distinctly last year.
He had taken Ella Wilkins, the sixth years' female Prefect, on a date once last winter, before she quite reasonably determined she'd really rather... not. It speaks for her that she was willing to give him a chance, and probably against her that she needed the date to determine they weren't suited. Any of her roommates could have told her that, which is almost funny, as she's a terribly bright girl, but seems not to have been sufficiently so to have avoided him.
Frankly, her kind heart got in the way, and she thought she shouldn't listen to the rumours, and she should give him a chance. Not one of the other seventh years didn't laugh when they heard her logic, but they probably liked her a little more thereafter. She really is a genuinely decent person, if perhaps a bit naïve. Considering she was only fifteen at the time, that might not be so unreasonable.
When Vince had asked her out for the Valentine's Hogsmeade trip, Ella politely declined. And she had already made plans to go to Madam Puddifoot's with Harper instead. Vince got his knickers in a twist and sent her a Serpent. Typically, everyone gathered for her to open the letter, in her case mostly to help. Out came the hissed accusations, all present stood around shaking their heads in disbelief at his gall, and then... nothing. The paper snake just fell to ash and then even that Vanished. Normally when it's finished, at least the pile of ash would remain. Most assumed Vince had come a cropper, which wasn't so far fetched, providing only further reason why a clever thing like her shouldn't have even bothered casting a Tempus for him.
That consensus held until after that evening's Quidditch practice when Vince was in the shower and finally alone again for the first time. The other boys heard his shrieks and came running, only to find him unconscious on the floor, the water pouring over him. Blaise turned off the faucets, and Draco Mobilicorpused him while Gregory had Transfigured something shapeless but thoroughly covering from a nearby towel.
As sartorial choices go, everyone would agree they should have left the clothing to Blaise, but he was busy making sure his roommate didn't drown, his priorities aren't completely worthless, and it wasn't exactly a fashion show after all. Still, Vince looked like a giant terry cloth Flobberworm when Gregory was through with him. Of course that's precisely when Harper reappeared, quite usefully with his camera, and oh so helpfully preserved the moment as they then sort of pushed Vince along to Madam Pomfrey.
He never said what happened, just pummelled Harper until he forked over the picture, after a subtle Geminio of course, and they still wouldn't know what occurred to this day if Draco hadn't performed a spot of Legilimency on Vince.
The Serpent had come back to bite him, apparently with a vengeance.
Draco shared that with their other roommates, and the boys learned from the experience. Not one of the other four in Vince's year has sent a remotely questionable Serpent. That slightly excessive caution leaves them sending almost none.
And they gained some insights into their workings.
For Draco, that's made a real difference.
Realistically, the Malfoy heir's life hasn't been great since the Dark Lord returned. Truthfully, it's been hellish ever since his father... disappointed You-Know-Who at the Department of Mysteries and landed in Azkaban a year and a half ago. Not that Draco would ever admit as much; he's not quite suicidal. Yet. And the reintroduction of his aunt into his life has been a very mixed blessing that on balance has done more harm than good.
As direct result of all of that, he's been receiving Serpents with some regularity all this year. Not a week goes by without one, usually more. That was hardly surprising considering the lack of progress he's made on his... task, or the characters of his father and aunt. His father, in fact, has sent far fewer of late, not that it was occasion to celebrate as the reasons for that decline were frankly worrisome, and unfortunately his aunt feels more than entitled to pick up any perceived slack.
But as Bellatrix is far too cautious, even despite the Oath that protects the Serpents' secrets, to ever disclose any details of what she considers to be Draco's transgression, all that her snakes divulge week after week is that he still hasn't done as he was charged. It was never much to go on, and frankly it's gotten somewhat... old, and his Housemates have a difficult time mustering any righteous indignation to find him guilty of much of anything.
With each passing week, in correlation to their growing apathy to his aunt's unvoiced... issues, the bite has become less painful. Additionally, he's thought to mimic the expected results, twitching and crying out, and that just seems to make his Housemates even less inclined to see him punished for the very same poorly defined thing the next week. It doesn't hurt that he's willing to stand them all a round of Butterbeers or a selection of Honeydukes' finest when they're through for having assisted.
Further improving his situation, as a result of Vince's experience last year, Draco's learned to carefully select his audience. For one thing, he's taken to avoiding having fellow seventh year Alberta Runcorn join their other Housemates when he opens his Serpents. She loathes him with a passion. There is no claim than can be made against him that she won't find completely justified on principle.
He suspects she had liked him initially, but when he started dating Pansy a few years ago, her feelings had been hurt. His instincts are correct, but he often doubts them. Then again, her dislike of him is so pronounced as to make the possibility she had ever felt differently seem exceedingly far fetched.
Likewise he avoids having anyone else present with whom he's at odds. That can be hard to keep track of. Still, it's proven well worth the effort.
But Draco's a Slytherin through and through, and he is careful not to allow those exclusions to become too conspicuous. When he's unable to arrange it organically, he couches it as a conscious decision to accept more pain by having fewer observers in order not to be indebted to certain individuals. That's an explanation all have accepted, except the very few who know better, and as he fakes the difference, even they don't suspect... Much.
It enables him to appear more loyal to the Dark Lord than he is, and simultaneously keeps anyone from thinking too closely about the fact those he chooses to have present must therefore be less loyal to 'the cause'. And of course the Oath keeps them from discussing it adequately amongst themselves and discovering otherwise.
Unfortunately for Draco, after tonight, there will be no more leniency to be found in his approach. Not for him or any of the other boys. It won't matter what they're accused of, everyone will assume they more than deserve it.
They're probably right.
Gregory and Vince have only just made it back from the Infirmary, where Nurse Wainscott gave Vince an Itching Antidote and a Teregeo that left his nose feeling turned wrong-side out. Brutal. His nose, never his finest feature, is fairly swollen and now every bit as red as his eyes, which could almost give the Dark Lord's a run for their Galleon, and he keeps shooting Harper dark, rather reddish glances the Chaser can't fathom in the least. But then how could he? His cat hasn't left his room.
They've begun helping themselves to breakfast when the Howlers start arriving. Unlike Draco, they have no idea what's probably in store for them, or why, and Malfoy's hardly been in any shape to tell them, nor would he have been able to do so thanks to the Oath he gave Severus. As a result, they're taken quite by surprise when the Serpents follow soon after.
Draco receives one first. His father's owl. The Serpent hasn't finished wrapping itself around his wrist when one from his aunt follows suit. Owls bearing Serpents for Goyle and Blaise come next. No less than three people had Flooed Blaise's mother from the Manor last night to be sure he wouldn't be left out; it did the job. By now the rest of the table is on high alert.
Vince scans the ceiling, waiting. He's honest enough with himself that he knows those three won't have gotten Serpents unless he will, too. In an unhealthy combination of masochism and ambition, he'll even be dissatisfied when Draco gets more Serpents than he does. He'll see it as a personal failing on his part. Sure enough, his father's owl soars in next. It's probably not a good thing given the severity of his allergy attack the previous night and the lack of sleep he'd had, but he's twisted enough to welcome it just the same.
Theo logically isn't all that surprised when he sees his father's owl come flying towards him shortly after, but it's not the given that it is with the other four. When they're up to their ears in it, he's frequently the odd wizard out. They all pretend it's because he's the only one not on the Quidditch team, but truthfully, he's a softer, gentler person. Those less fond of him might go so far as to call him timid.
Perversely, he's almost relieved to receive an owl, because it means he hasn't disappointed his father again by not taking part in whatever mischief his roommates have been up to. That his father is disappointed with him is a given, he wouldn't be getting a Serpent otherwise, but that's pretty much the rule of things. He always disappoints him. He just prefers to have disappointed him through his actions rather than his inactions. Or at least, that's what he thinks. By tonight he'll have changed his mind.
It comes as a complete shock, then, when his father's owl drops a scroll in his lap instead, before continuing on to Draco. Norman Nott's owl then proceeds to give the blond his third Serpent of the morning. The only good thing about it is Draco won't have to lobby to get the others to show up for the Serpents' opening. They'll be far too curious to want to miss it.
Three! Merlin's beard! Many of their fellow Slytherins hiss in apprehension when they see it. How appropriate, really, given the subject matter.
Severus would hate that they hiss. It just draws more attention to the proceedings. He'd think they need to work on their subtlety. In truth, with the three Howlers currently howling in the Hall, almost no one is paying them any attention. And they certainly can't hear them hiss.
A seventh owl approaches and with a shudder Draco recognises that it's his mother's eagle owl Mercury. He mumbles something that could almost be a prayer, not that Merlin listens, hoping against hope the bird isn't bearing what would be his fourth Serpent. None of them have ever seen anyone handle more than three at a time, and that hadn't gone well. He's not sure he's remotely up for it. After Sunday's accident and yesterday's Crucios...
Although it could have been far worse. Theo's Antispasmodic last night had helped greatly. He was incredibly lucky his friend had some and was willing to part with it.
With a sinking feeling, he watches the bird draw closer.
"Merlin, Draco," Theo whispers. "What did you do?"
Draco still has an Oath guaranteeing he can't answer that, and he just shakes his head. He's luckier than his Gryffindor counterparts are - not that the number of Serpents on his arm would lead him to believe that - in that his friends are quicker on the uptake that he probably can't tell them what happened. Theo just claps a reassuring hand to his shoulder. It's a nice gesture, but it won't help with the Serpents.
When Mercury settles before him, Draco can hardly contain his relief to see he's only bearing a scroll for him. It's probably better than he deserves, and he knows it, and the sensation is so acute, so overwhelming for a moment that he feels his eyes begin to tear up.
There's a fundamental drawback to the Serpents. The messages they contain are either exclusively those hissed, or - if there's additional information intended only for the eyes of the recipient - once they're done imparting the Stinging Serpent Hex, they Transfigure into a simple scroll of parchment that can be read... upon recovery. The obvious problem is that it generally leaves no one the wiser about whatever is going on for a good eight hours or so, and few think to send a regular scroll along with them to clarify things earlier. They've been communicating this way for so long, they forget to question it. In a society where so many people still correspond almost exclusively via owl, it probably doesn't strike them as a problem.
Narcissa, it must be said, has more brains than the vast majority of the people hidden under her roof, and possibly fewer life threatening distractions. She also knows the people around her very well. As Severus had reported that Draco is the only one of the boys left with any memory of the events from Friday, and it will most likely be hours before anyone else has any information from their Serpents, she had taken the liberty of writing to let him know what was said last night. She also assumed it might not be the... entire truth. As such, her letter to Draco will allow him to behave in a manner consistent with the facts... as presented.
Narcissa is also far too smart to put potentially sensitive information in an owl for just anyone to see.
At first glance, it appears to be a thoroughly inane recounting of a recent shopping expedition. She'd ordered new dress robes at Madam Malkin's and encountered Mrs. Greengrass there. They really must take tea with her and her daughters some time, so pleasant. (He silently wonders if she's ever met Daphne.) She saw some robes at Malkin's she'd like to order for Draco as well, and wants him to have himself measured on his next trip to Hogsmeade. He resolves that he just might do that. It would probably be the only positive thing to come of all this...
But Draco recognises the magic on the scroll instantly, a very old Charm passed down in his family, on the Malfoy side it should be noted, that hides the true text of the message until the intended recipient opens it and casts the proper Revelio. It will have to wait until he gets some privacy.
He gives Mercury a couple of rashers of his bacon, that's how glad he is to see him only bearing a letter, and tells him to wait in the owlery for him to send a reply later. The other owls have departed. In their experience, no one rewards them for delivering Poste Serpente. But they're clever creatures. They also know if they stop by the owlery before returning home, they'll be fed regardless. There may even be a mouse in it for them.
That leaves Theo as the only one of them who apparently has a scroll that might shed light on things.
Everyone watches expectantly as he tears open the seal on his owl to reveal just a very few lines. Given Norman Nott is one of the escapees from Azkaban still being sought - not that official quarter admits there even was an escape - and owl mail is notoriously unsafe from tampering, both from the Ministry and the staff at school, the scroll says next to nothing. Norman is no fool, and he wouldn't put anything incriminating into an owl. But what it does say is something Theo is sure he's never seen before.
His father tells him that there was an incident at the school. That Theo had apparently shown good sense and intervened, keeping the situation under control, averting disaster, until his Head of House had been able to get there and resolve the matter once and for all. That the Headmaster in a fit of madness, panic and ill will had then had Professor Snape bonded to a Mudblood. (He leaves it open whether it was a punitive act of retaliation or perhaps for proof of his loyalty.) That Theo should support his Head in any way possible as best he can in this difficult situation...
And that Norman Nott is proud of his son.
Theo doesn't think he's ever seen or heard those words in his life.
His eyes are now just as damp as Draco's.
It's an incomplete picture, extremely so, and that's a little inopportune in as much as Draco's rather uselessly the only one with any more information. In the absence of further details, the others boys are left wondering if they received the Serpents for not helping Theo or not demonstrating equally good sense.
Neither is exactly... incorrect.
If only they knew.
It won't be until late this afternoon that anyone will learn more, and by then a few decisions will have been made about how to handle the situation that, had they been in possession of the facts, might have had very different outcomes. Pride naturally will then demand that they stay their course. Instead they'll seek justifications for their actions, which probably works as well as any other approach.
And peer pressure will more than compensate where pride fails.
Every member of their House down to the very last Firstie will be present for the opening of the Serpents that afternoon. Strange things are happening in the castle, and those raised in wizarding society are a good deal more aware of that fact than the Muggle-born and -raised. The absence of either of those in their House means more cumulative unease, and they've succeeded in making each other still more nervous in response to those events than the students of the other Houses.
The involvement of their Head of House in those goings-on naturally only exacerbates that reaction. And that the politics of many of their families may somehow play a direct role is a matter for some concern...
The concentration of Serpents this quickly on the heels of yesterday's announcement definitely gets their attention... And the fact Malfoy received three... Merlin, many of them have never seen anyone get so many at once before.
Flitwick will be surprised to have one of his fourth years run out on him when he tries to provide him with individual assistance after class for a troublesome Charm this afternoon. Hooch will be even more shocked to have the Slytherin half of her class of first years drop their brooms as though synchronised and run from the field at the end of the lesson. And Pomona simply won't know what to think when a number of her students make a dash from the room before the period is even over. Their mumbled excuses will overlap so thoroughly, she won't be able to understand a word, although some of that might be residual tinnitus from the morning's Howler. Those things are almost as bad as young unearthed Mandrake roots. Without the earmuffs.
By dinner every single Slytherin will be left with the awareness that whatever happened Friday - details won't be provided, and the boys won't be able to supply any - it's entirely the seventh year boys' fault that their Head of House is now bonded. Bonding is a life sentence. There's no way out for the man. Nothing could have been worth that price. And the boys hadn't been the ones to pay it.
There also won't be the least question in their minds that this was meant to punish Professor Snape in the harshest way imaginable for what the boys had done. The longer they think about it, the harsher it will seem, and far more creative than they'd ever given the Headmaster credit for. A few will wonder - just as a mental exercise - if a stint in Azkaban, thoroughly undeserved, of course, but then so was this, would have been kinder. Insistance on bonding the man was bad enough. But to a student? A Gryffindor?
And a Muggle-born at that?
No matter their personal feelings about blood-status, and that varies a great deal more within the House than outsiders think, every last one of them knows that's... problematic at present. Some, obviously, will phrase that as 'Mudblood', but that only makes that unspecified transgression of the boys greater in their eyes. They'll be the ones to make assumptions that the death of the bondmate won't be an... option, much to the horror of some of the others, both at the thought and the ramifications. That will make the sentence, the bonding seem even worse.
Regardless what they think about the Gryffindor's blood status, all of this will make them far more sympathetic towards the Professor, more tolerant of his situation, and when he demands their respect for his bondmate, she will get it. He's owed that much.
And conversely, they will have no sympathy whatsoever with the boys. Their lives are about to become a great deal less pleasant.
Blaise will be the first to discover that when he opens his Serpent. Draco will be desperately postponing things. Vince will want to hear the accusation first to try to judge if he should open his in front of everyone, or a smaller group. Gregory won't give it much thought either way, which will leave Blaise welcome to take the lead.
Zabini will correctly reason that if the others are put out of commission by their Serpents, that will be fewer onlookers for him. He couldn't have anticipated how bad it would be, but even then, his logic still holds. Possibly the shock of hearing the Serpent's news the first time will make his punishment worse, but not by much.
The complete mortification of his Housemates when they hear he's somehow responsible for their Head's predicament... When the Serpent strikes, it will hit with the full intensity. Maybe even more so. That will certainly provide his roommates with food for thought. For another day.
After Blaise is almost flattened by his snake, Vince will desperately suggest he open his only in front of the remaining boys from his year. They'll accommodate him and withdraw to their room. His hope will be that they won't blame him as much as the others do. Draco, in fact, blames him more than they ever could, and the three Serpents around his wrists won't make him more sympathetic. Had that potion of Crabbe's never come into play, Severus wouldn't be bonded and none of this would have happened.
When Vince's Serpent further hisses that his father had had to endure multiple Crucios, although the man's own stubbornness may have more accurately been the cause, but still... Coupled with the fact Vince's request to do this in relative privacy risks exposing one of the key secrets of the Poste Serpente...
When his snake strikes, it will go for his nose with an intensity heretofore unmatched. Rather unfortunate in light of his recent allergy attack, but those Crucios appear to have angered his father, and hearing about it will just make the others feel he deserves whatever is coming.
The secret of the Serpent will remain uncompromised, as the Stinging Serpent Hex will prove strong enough to render Crabbe unconscious, and the rest of their House will assume that was due to having too few witnesses, and he'd only insisted upon it to hide his shame. Naturally they'll speculate as to what that could be, which won't improve his situation in the least.
Theo will have to Mobilicorpus Vince back to the Infirmary. He won't be thrilled when he wakes there, especially as he'd only just been thanks to last night's allergic reaction. But for the moment, they'll leave him floating in the Common Room until they're done.
Gregory will turn apologetically to Draco and ask if he minds letting him go first. The thought that Draco will surely succumb and leave one spectator less will remain unspoken. As lackeys go, the boy has some heart. Draco won't be able to fault his logic and still won't be in any rush to open his. The Serpent's sting will prove on par with Blaise's. The pain will rock Gregory, but as a Beater he's rather used to that. He will remain upright. Barely.
None of which will be encouraging for Draco. They each will have only faced one Serpent. He'll still have three to look forward to.
The first two will go for his neck. By the second Serpent, Theo and Harper will have to brace him knowing he can't afford to lose consciousness before the last one is opened. It will continue to constrict; no one knows of any way to stop it. With a bit of panic they'll realise: no one is sure that wouldn't cost him a limb.
Only half conscious, which will be something of a feat, Draco will get some more help from Theo who guides the blond's wand to touch the final Serpent. His aunt's.
When the paper snake springs to life and delivers the now expected accusations, no one will be surprised. Still appalled, but not surprised. That doesn't come until the snake tells him he's responsible for her being Crucioed and then, disappearing into his trousers, slithers into his pants. The thrice damned thing goes straight for his bollocks.
The room goes quiet at Draco's scream. All teasing stops. He sinks into unconsciousness in Theo's and Harper's hold, and they lower him cautiously to the floor.
"Merlin's hairy ballsack," Gregory will hiss and then realise what he's said and blush.
"I've never seen one do that before," Harper will add, highly discomfited, shifting reflexively to cross his legs. "I didn't know they could."
"Yeah," Theo will agree quietly. "His aunt isn't your average witch."
With the dearth of details provided, Theo and the other Slytherins will neither understand what exactly the other four seventh years did to cause all of this, nor what Theo could have done not to deserve a Serpent too, never mind his father's praise. His father's a clever man, he could have calculated on throwing everyone off Theo's scent with false words of praise, but his Serpent to Draco had to have been truthful...
It will all leave Theo feeling out of sorts and the other students a little unsure how they should see him. He'll try to make himself useful until they come to terms with his role in the affair. Perhaps Professor Snape will provide them with cues...
Tracey will perform a Rennervate on Draco and Theo will then ask him if he wants them to take him to the Infirmary. "We're taking Vince anyway..."
Draco will feebly shake his head, 'no'. Pomfrey clearly has it in for him, and there's no Pain Relief to be had. Severus can hardly have found time to brew any...
Pansy will offer a Cooling Charm that Draco will find himself desperate enough to accept, and she and Theo will help him to his bed, where she will remain applying Charms while Theo and Harper drag Vince to the Infirmary. In light of the news they've just heard, Harper will be sure to clip a few corners with his unconscious teammate. A few knocks to the head are only likely to improve him.
When Theo returns to his room, Pansy will be gone, and Draco, Gregory and Blaise will be trying to sleep off the effects of Serpents' stinging bites. Theo will be quite puzzled to find the letter from Draco's mother lying on his pillow. It'll be deciphered, clearly legible for him, and detail the things Professor Snape had reported the evening before on the events of Friday. He's Slytherin enough not to question its presence, and he'll read it.
When he does, his world will come crashing down.
It's just as well Severus missed the arrival of the Serpents and will be otherwise occupied at the time of their opening, not that he's usually invited to that. The students generally haven't the nerve to approach him.
Had he seen the Poste Serpentes, Severus would argue that certain Slytherins, the majority of those currently housed at Malfoy Manor, for instance, are far more remiss than they believe. But then he'd amend that. It's hardly negligence when one simply lacks the capacity to understand the idiocy of one's actions. They aren't careless, just blazingly stupid.
Where would he begin?
The Howlers had understandably arrived this morning, because the parties bonded were bonded Sunday. They'd soon sent word to their families and had quite predictably received word back by Tuesday morning. Equally predictably, considering the parties involved, that 'word' had come shrieked at a volume that was enough to leave one's ears ringing, and presumably everyone else's within a quarter mile radius, just as surely as if every one of Nell's Bells were rung all together.
Gryffindors are most prone to sending Howlers. Hufflepuffs are a distant second, generally too good natured to do so and less deserving of receiving them than the residents of the other Houses. The Smith family are an obvious exception to the rule on both counts. As such, the response was effectively a given. Predictable though it may have been, Severus will still be sorry to have missed Pomona's Howler; the fact his students' parents never send him any is one of the few clear advantages to his position.
Ravenclaws are a close third on the screaming mail front, their awareness of the shortcomings of the system - corresponding rather closely to that of the Slytherins' - tending to moderate any flare of temper and their intrinsically sharp tongues. The essential difference in this regard between the eagles and snakes most likely amounts to the Slytherins being in complete agreement: Howlers are naff.
Most of the students had dutifully reported what transpired Monday. Or tried to. There'd been quite the rush on the school's owls last night. But given the announcement of the bondings wasn't made until yesterday evening, with the exception of individuals in possession of their own well trained owls - so sensibly in times of war, apparently few and far between - no one else had been able to get word sent home in time to have a response this morning.
That makes it rather glaringly obvious whose families had special knowledge of the events from the weekend. Whose parents are in the inner circle and were present when Severus reported in last night.
Severus would roll his eyes. No, no he wouldn't, he's just not that careless, but he'd be hard pressed not to at that bit of stupidity. Were any of the others even remotely more alert... When he discovers what had happened this morning through a bit of casual Legilimency in a few hours time, Severus will be more than passing annoyed. It will be enough to make him question how he had ever thought the Death Eaters worthy of joining.
Yet again.
That's a fairly regular occurrence really. He generally consoles himself by reminding himself, repeatedly, that the Order has regularly demonstrated a nearly equal, and occasionally surpassing, degree of stupidity, and then ignominiously paired it with a lack of pragmatism he finds bleeding shameful. And then he thinks about it further and realises that's really no comfort at all.
Were one not able to argue that Severus had briefed the boys' families Monday evening, they should also very much have to worry about certain people drawing the connection between the attack Friday and the boys' receipt of several terribly stern looking owls. Not to mention those strange stationery snakes the owls were bearing.
It's perhaps not surprising, but it serves as confirmation that the Malfoys, Notts, Crabbes and Goyles were 'in the loop', so to speak. It does cast an interesting light on Mrs. Zabini's associations, however.
Fortunately for them, the Headmaster's obfuscations have muddied the waters plenty, and Ron is absent and Harry's never been particularly observant or good at drawing the right conclusions.
It goes largely unnoticed.
Poppy, however, as the School Nurse has remarked a correlation through the years between the students who receive those strange bits of animated mail and the individuals who appear in her Infirmary later that day suffering the effects of a hex no one seems able - or perhaps that should be: willing - to identify.
She also notices that it's a group of five boys with the Malfoy lout at their centre to receive owls. That number bears more than a little significance in her mind, and she resolves to keep a watchful eye on them in the future.
Growing nervous at the advent of the Howlers, disquieted by the Slytherin mailings, and still eager to have a word with Minerva on Severus' behalf, or perhaps just to provide some support - moral or otherwise - for Madam Snape, Poppy leaves without finishing her meal.
It has the added benefit of allowing her to escape from Professor Taylor, and she can always have Polly bring her something.
Far away, on the South Side of Diagon Alley, in a small and rather annoyingly murky office in which papers are stacked precariously on top of one another reaching to just under the ceiling and presumably held in place by magic, Rita Skeeter is fielding her seventh Floo call of the morning with a parent of a student at Hogwarts eager to secure a reward for tipping her off to a story about still more strange goings on at the school.
The reports are jumbled. Unsubstantiated rumours and innuendo. That doesn't pose a problem in the least; that's her bread and butter. Merlin knows, in the absence of facts, she simply makes her own. It almost makes things easier. She has at least a dozen different promising quotes she can use to underscore virtually any narrative at this point just from those conversations alone. Her Quick-Quotes Quill had seen to that.
But she's torn between several potential stories, and grabs her Self-Inking Quill and a parchment to make a few more notes. Perhaps she'll do a series...
Should she run with the Headmaster seeming to have coerced students to bond? Dumbledore was always good for a headline or three. Or perhaps the reintroduction of bonding itself to wizarding society? Merlin, she's never personally known anyone to get bonded. The last she'd even heard of had been maybe two decades ago... She'll need to check the records. If memory serves, it hadn't ended well.
Or should she look into the hints at improprieties between staff and students instead? A bit of the old rumpy pumpy. Sex certainly sells.
'Sexcapades!'
Hmm. Maybe not. She'll need to work on that.
Perhaps this will be enough to get her back to the front rooms. And possibly even knock that tosser Smudgley down a peg or two. Give a man a few bylines, and he becomes unmanageable.
Meanwhile in the antechamber to the substantially better lit office of Barnabas Cuffe, editor-in-chief, someone was pushing their way past his beleaguered secretary Maude and hadn't even bothered to make an appointment. Via neither Floo, owl nor vibe. Really!
When Barnabas sees who it is and happily throws open his double doors, barking at the poor girl to cancel all appointments for the next hour or two and fetch tea and biscuits, 'Straightaway!', Maude grumbles she's no house elf and swears for the fourth time that morning alone that she really needs to find a new gig.