"The Nott kid was looking for you," Zabini said. Blake had just stepped back into the dorm room, excited to fall straight into bed, only to be greeted by Zabini at the desk, crossing his arms.
Blake hid a grin.
"Any clue why?"
The Nott boy - Crateus Nott - was a boy from the year below them. An arrogant, blood-purist Slytherin, but also one that was a customer - and a good one at that, Blake thought. About a quarter of the second year Slytherins were his customers now, albeit begrudgingly.
We're making progress though. Haven't been called a mudblood in almost a month now.
Although he knew that he was far from friends, or even acquaintances, with those Slytherins, their relationship was indeed improving. Nott was even beginning to display basic human decency, much to Blake's surprise. Please and thank you… never thought I'd hear a blood supremacist pureblood use those words with me, he thought with a chuckle.
"Beats me," Zabini shrugged, climbing into bed. "Seems like it's a secret. He wouldn't let me take a message."
"I'll talk to him when I next see him," Blake said. "Or if it's urgent, he'll come to me himself anyway."
Yes, Blake thought, turning away so Zabini didn't see his smile. It's working.
/
A week later, Blake found himself very much unimpressed with Harry and Ron once again.
"You're blaming Hermione for the cat eating the rat?" he asked.
This time, Ron had come to Blake first, as if he was trying to get Blake on his side before Hermione could.
"There were literally cat hairs in the sheets!" Ron said indignantly. "And Scabbers' blood!"
Well, that's a good point.
"Ok, so the cat ate Scabbings-"
"Scabbers!"
"Scabbers," Blake corrected himself, very much struggling to keep a straight face. "But how's that Hermione's fault? She didn't eat the rat, did she?"
"I warned her 500 times! She never listened!"
"What would you have said in her position, Ron?" Blake countered. "If it was your pet, wouldn't you have defended it?"
"Not when the evidence-"
"Maybe the cat hairs were there from before," Blake suggested. "You said it's been in your room before, right?"
"So what?" Ron bellowed. "Why're you taking her side? It's-"
"Ron, I agree with you," Blake interrupted calmly. "But that's no reason to ruin a friendship - especially with someone like Hermione, is it?"
"I don't want to ruin our friendship, she does! If she just apologised-"
"But how's it her fault for believing that her cat's innocent? I'd want to believe my pet's innocent too - especially since the evidence could've been from ages ago."
Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Blake continued quickly.
"Again, I'm not saying you're wrong, I'm just saying that you should look at it from Hermione's point of view."
Before Ron could give a scathing response, a new person joined the conversation.
"Potter, Weasley," Greengrass acknowledged neutrally. "Apologies for interrupting. I need to talk to Renshaw about something urgent. I don't suppose you mind if I take him away for a while?"
Greengrass's polite words didn't match her neutral tone, and without waiting for an answer, she promptly turned and left, not bothering to look back to see if Renshaw was following.
"Sorry guys," he said apologetically, turning to follow the blond girl. "Talk to you later!"
/
"What is it?" he asked her, once they were in the clear. "I was having an important conversation, y'know!"
"Of course," she said sarcastically. "An important conversation about Scabbers the rat, pride of Ronald Weasley. His untimely demise was a shock and a tragedy to wizardkind, and I sorely regret interrupting such a sensitive conversation."
Blake managed to hold in his laugh.
Where the hell are we going? he thought. The only time I've ever come here is to see Dumbledore - oh.
"I took the liberty of arranging a meeting with Dumbledore under your name," she said matter-of-factly. "Hope you don't mind."
"You hope I don't mind?" Blake said, outraged. "A little heads-up would've been nice! Wait - how did you even-"
"I know your handwriting. It's hard to replicate too. You've got very messy handwriting, you know. You should fix that."
Before Blake could comment on the fact that Greengrass's handwriting looked more like hieroglyphs than actual English, they reached their destination.
"Ready?"
"No plan?" Blake asked with a wry smile.
"I think we've evolved past plans," Greengrass said, matching his grin. She knocked on the door thrice.
After a moment of hesitation, the familiar voice spoke.
"It's open!"
Giving each other one final look, Greengrass and Blake entered.
"Blake! Daphne! Please, make yourselves comfortable," the Headmaster said warmly. Greengrass stiffened imperceptibly at the use of her first name, but the pair of Slytherins sat down nonetheless. There weren't two chairs before, Blake noted. The Headmaster wore his usual kind expression, his white beard as long as ever.
Not falling for it, Blake thought.
"Thanks, Professor," Blake smiled back. "Sorry if we're wasting time, it's just it really is quite urgent."
"Not at all, my boy," Dumbledore smiled wider, as if in competition, before turning to Greengrass. "I've some idea as to why you're reaching out, after all."
Greengrass nodded.
"Then I'll get straight to the point, Professor. We appreciate you allowing us to use some of the Elixir of Life for the cure - we believe it's working just as intended. But there's another component we added that triples the efficacy of the cure - Basilisk venom."
Damn it, Greengrass.
"Basilisk venom?" Dumbledore said, eyebrows raised and lips curling, as if trying not to smile. "A very rare - and might I add illegal - substance. Where would one obtain that?"
"The black market," Greengrass continued without missing a beat. "Regardless, given the interactions with Astoria's blood samples, it's safe to say it does work, especially with some stabilising agents. However, obviously, the venom is dangerous - the Elixir would merely prolong a weak, venom-ridden, painful existence. A failsafe, but definitely not something we want."
"And I'd wager the Elixir helps with the stabilizing agents too," Dumbledore deduced thoughtfully. "Especially if the stabilizing agents are derived from animals - in fact, the Elixir itself could be a stabilizer itself."
"Exactly," Greengrass agreed. "But I digress. The point is, we need a cure to the Basilisk venom. You have a phoenix. Phoenix tears would heal Basilisk venom, wouldn't they?"
"Yes, they would," Dumbledore said, the smile slowly leaving his face.
"Then-"
"I'm truly sorry, Daphne."
"We know phoenixes can't cry on demand, sir," Blake said quickly, sensing Greengrass's rising frustration. "But we were wondering if it would be possible to manufacture a scenario where Fawkes would? Or even if it was possible for us to be alerted when he does cry, so we could get a tear?"
Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"Unfortunately, Blake, phoenixes aren't the average animal - they're highly intelligent, and I suspect Fawkes would know if a situation was manufactured. But as for your second point, I'm sure I can arrange that - the only issue is that I'm not sure what conditions Fawkes would cry in - if ever."
There was silence in the room. Despite the promise to obtain the tears if Fawkes did cry, the blaring obvious reality removed most of the hope from the situation. Before Blake could turn to see Greengrass's expression, the girl suddenly stood up, her face painfully neutral.
"I see," she said, for the most part sounding the same. But Blake could hear something - he couldn't tell what it was, but something - off. "Thanks for your time, Professor. If Fawkes does cry, please let us know."
"Of course…" Dumbledore said, his voice trailing off as Greengrass turned to leave.
"Thanks, Professor," Blake said quickly, before exiting the room, leaving a tired and sad looking Dumbledore alone in his room once again.
Outside the office, Blake tried to catch up with his friend, who was walking unnaturally fast.
"Greengrass!" he called. She didn't respond. The girl began climbing the stairs silently, past most of the classrooms, and Blake knew where she was going. Silently, he slowed down, not wanting to intrude on her space if she wanted it, but not leaving her alone either.
As she entered the Room of Requirement, Blake forced himself to wait for one agonising minute, before trying to summon the Room.
It would only let me in if she wants me to.
For a second, nothing happened, and Blake's heart sank. Doesn't matter though, he thought. Resolutely, he lowered himself to the ground, right in front of where the door to the Room of Requirement would normally appear.
I'll wait, as long as it takes.
But just as he sat, and was about to close his eyes, something materialised in front of him. Blake stood up shakily, and slowly opened the door. There were no labs or equipment or fancy glassware this time. Instead, the room was small and warm, inhibited only by a small fireplace and couch, barely big enough for two people.
Greengrass sat alone on the couch, staring blankly ahead at the fire. Blake thought he had never felt so terrible and helpless at that moment. Unconsciously, he moved towards the couch, sitting down next to her, staring ahead at the fire too.
"You okay?" he whispered gently, finally turning to look at her face. Greengrass's expression was the same as it always was to the world - neutral, calm, confident. But her eyes, normally shining with confidence, were dull.
"Yes," she said, her voice mostly reflecting her expression.
"Okay."
Blake was about to turn back to the fire, when he heard it. Freezing for a second, he turned back to Greengrass.
For once, the confident, intelligent, cunning girl that he'd come to acknowledge as both a friend and rival was no longer there. Tears fell from her eyes, and silent sobs wracked her body. For the first time, Blake saw her differently - a scared, devastated girl who was doing everything in her power to save her little sister. And a girl who's just been told that the chances of getting the one thing that can save her little sister is next to 0.
Silently, Blake put his arm around her, holding her tightly, and she immediately melted into his embrace, her tears flowing faster, and her sobs growing louder.
For some reason, Blake felt tears prick at his own eyes, but he held them back.
"Don't worry, Daphne," he said quietly. "We'll save Astoria - I swear it."
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