The Black Queen | F. Weasley

37. The big day

"I still can't fathom that Snape was a Death Eater," George exclaimed suddenly and threw his hands up in emphasis.

Salem merely raised an eyebrow. They had spent the remainder of their walk up to the Gryffindor Tower discussing different kind of tactics for her to use during the First Task, but also Snape's involvement with Voldemort. The boys had been even more shocked when they found out that Salem was in on that particular piece of information all along.

"As I said, it makes complete sense considering that him and my father were friends during their time at Hogwarts. I mean, it was common knowledge that Regulus Black was a Death Eater, I just don't understand how you two never suspected Snape to have been one as well."

"Well, I didn't expect Dumbledore to appoint an ex-Death Eater as a teacher at Hogwarts, I'm sorry for having such faith in the man. It's not like he beat one of the most powerful and dangerous Dark Wizard of all time, not to mention that Voldemort is afraid of him too." Fred butted in quickly, the sarcasm dripping off of his reply.

"Dumbledore may have done great things, but it shouldn't automatically mean that we carry him on a silver platter. He's done some real shitty things as well, like not interfering with this Tournament for instance... Besides, Snape's not all that bad, he's on our side. Dumbledore explained to me during one of my private lessons after he showed me my father's memory that Snape worked as a double agent and therefore wasn't viewed as one of Voldemort's Death Eaters."

The three of them mulled over her words for several minutes, basking in the silence of the hallway as they made their way up to the Gryffindor Tower. In the end, it was Salem once more who spoke up.

"I still can't believe that I have to beat a fucking dragon."

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Salem spent the rest of the week in the library, doing as much research on the five dragons Charlie had brought with him as possible. She got more and more nervous as the days passed and the 24th of November came nearer and nearer.

"Salem Maia Black," Fred said sternly on the night before the big day. He loomed over her as she was sitting on one of the sofas in front of the fireplace in the common room. "You've done more than enough research, sweetheart. You've read every book about dragons Madam Pince owns, not to mention that you've been nagging Hagrid's ear off about them. Everything's going to be alright!"

She simply glared up at him from the sofa and let the familiar feeling of her vocal chords bubbling and adjusting wash over her. With the deep voice of Fred she mocked him right back. "Fred Gideon Weasley–"

"I don't sound like that!"

But Salem continued on as if he hadn't interrupted her. "–better to be prepared than to get my head snapped off by one of those fuckers. You can never do enough research, ask Hermione."

He snatched the book out of her hands and she shouted out an offended 'hey!'. He held it up high above his head when she stood up, taking advantage of the fact that Salem was much shorter than him. "Exactly my point, wasn't Hermione the one who almost had a burnout in third year because she took too many courses? There is such a thing as doing too much and you having read every book about those damned dragons is just that."

She stared up at the book he held up in the air with a disgruntled look. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and her lower lip was jutted out slightly in a pout. Her eyes flicked between the book and Fred and an idea sprang to mind.

Fred saw the change in her demeanor and noticed how something flashed through her eyes. With a sly smirk Salem stepped closer to him, making his heart skip a beat at their close proximity. It almost stopped beating altogether when her hands started to crawl up his chest. Wherever her fingers touched goosebumps were left in their place, his throat went dry as he looked at the grey eyes he had drowned in so many times before. They were looking up at him mischievously, but he was too entranced by the fingers which were playing with the hair at the nape of his neck to really notice. He gulped almost audibly when she closed the distance between them and he had to steady her with a hand when she tipped forward slightly on her tiptoes. But instead of feeling her lips press against his he felt them grace the shell of his ear and she softly whispered his name with her own voice.