Of Horn And Halo | Draco Malfoy

Chapter 22 | 1997

Maeve was slow to pack up her books. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her classmates file out of class. For the first time in a long time, there was lasting excitement lighting up faces at the prospect of returning home the following day for the Christmas holidays.

Theo gave Maeve a questioning look, but she brushed him off, making something up about asking Slughorn a question about the revision of the Scintillation Solution. She resisted rolling her eyes when Malfoy levelled her with a suspicious look before he exited with Blaise and Goyle on his heels.

Leaving her things at her station, Maeve slowly approached Slughorn. He had his back facing her as he flicked his wand back and forth to wipe away the lines upon lines of instructions written across the chalkboard.

"Professor?" Maeve spoke slowly as she felt her palms begin to sweat.

"Ah!" Slughorn turned to face her and smiled down at her through Gooseberry eyes, placing his hands on his hips, "I was rather shocked when you didn't present your assessment like many of your peers today."

His tone was both vaguely admonishing, while tinged with a shared joke Maeve didn't quite understand. She offered him a nervous laugh to match his chuckle, "that's what I wanted to talk to you ab — "

"I was very clear, I'm afraid," Slughorn wagged his finger in her face, "I cannot offer an extension. Even to one of my Slytherins."

"I wasn't asking for an extension," Maeve said slowly, before glancing at the empty doorway. There was no sign of onlookers, but she wasn't keen on being watched, "I'm afraid my ... erm ... demonstration requires a bit of discretion."

Slughorn's bushy eyebrows lifted and he didn't do well hiding his interest. Maeve knew about his habit of collecting students, though he hadn't bothered with any parties yet that year. She had a feeling the idea of a possible new jewel to add to his collection intrigued him more than he wanted to let on.

Maeve almost grimaced.

She pointed her wand at the door, wordlessly shutting it gently. Some liked to dramatically slam doors, but she'd never seen the appeal.

Stepping back, Maeve jumped up onto an empty station, wiggling into a comfortable sitting position at the edge, before she closed her eyes.

The first time had been unimaginably painful. It had felt as though her bones were breaking, again and again, her skin stretching and tearing. Over the years the pain had lessened greatly, but it felt uncomfortably tight for a brief moment.

It had taken Anthony much less time to master the change without his wand, but Maeve had never quite gotten there. Though, she had a sneaking suspicion he'd spent hours alone perfecting the change as he did with everything.

Maeve opened her eyes and faced a grinning Slughorn. He clapped his hands emphatically before he lurched forward to better inspect her, "beautiful! Simply beautiful, Maeve. An Animagus, and a beautiful one at that."

The world felt different, larger. It was something she didn't think she'd ever fully get used to. She slowly rose from her haunches, stretching her lithe form and swishing her tail. The strange freedom of hiding beneath an animal's skin had no business feeling as freeing as it did, but Maeve felt a calm she rarely felt wash over her.

Taking her wand in her maw, Maeve lept off the table, and trotted in a little circle. It was partially for show, for Slughorn, who stared at her with mouth agape. But it had also been a long while since she'd taken her Animagus form. She cast another wary glance at the thick door, catching sight of her rusted red tail tipped with frosty white.

Maeve reluctantly squeezed her eyes shut and allowed the change to take hold of her. Every second she spent in her Animagus form felt like another closer to Snape blowing down the door and dragging her back to the Headmaster's office which was his now.

It hadn't mattered that she was Slytherin, Maeve knew that he would have had her face the full repercussions of her actions if he learned of Dumbledore's lack of action back in her third year.

Slughorn's meaty hand clapping her on the shoulder broke her from her thoughts, "I must say I am beyond impressed, Maeve. I never should have doubted a bright witch such as yourself."

A seed of guilt began to eat away at her stomach as she offered him a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. If she had actually attempted the lengthy process of becoming an Animagus by herself she wasn't sure she'd have been able to manage it. It had been Anthony that had truly done the heavy lifting. It felt as though she was stealing a victory that should have been rightfully his.

Anthony with the hollow eyes as he wandered the halls after a gruelling 'detention' with the Carrow's, Anthony with the mother who had been declared une Plébéienne and cast out, Anthony who was smarter and braver than she'd ever been.

"You understand why I couldn't exactly demonstrate this in front of the whole class?" Maeve asked sheepishly, "I am not exactly ... uh ... "

Slughorn's smile didn't drop, "nonsense, nonsense. It's no bother to me. The Ministry and their rules."

Maeve got the feeling Slughorn had had many run in's with the Ministry of Magic and their supposed 'rules'.

"Does that mean I get the Outstanding?" Maeve asked, wanting nothing more than to run from the room. She didn't hate Slughorn by any means, but she felt raw and strange after showing someone the truth after years of hiding Anthony and her secret, only to take credit.

"My girl, I wish I could give you two!"

Maeve dipped her head in an awkward nod, before edging in the direction of her books, "that's great. I should probably — "

"Of course. Of course! Have a lovely Christmas Maeve," Slughorn gave her a warm smile.

"You as well," she responded automatically, before swiping her books and hastily exiting.

Christmas.

Her shoulders grew heavy at the thought. She'd received an owl from her father asking about her plans, but she'd left it unanswered. She wasn't keen on enduring the silence following the last interaction she'd had with her father on the train. It wasn't as if she didn't know the truth; her parents were Death Eaters.

But she didn't want to face it, didn't want to accept the repercussions that came with openly admonishing them or agreeing with them.

After what they'd made her do the summer before sixth year, Maeve had felt a cold stone wedge pierce her heart, dividing her feelings in two. She didn't know where love ended and resentment began.