Steal Away
“So, when”how was your Christmas?”
The deliberate and sudden change in topic came not a moment too soon. Shiloh and Symone watched the Slytherin prefect walk past them, giving both girls a suspicious, disgusted look. But they weren't doing anything wrong, at least by appearances. They would seem like two girls on the way to the common room and discussing very common topics of interest. The prefect had no way of knowing that moments before they had been conversing on plans to give Veritaserum to a very annoying, 'pureblood princess'.
As the silence lingered, Shiloh allowed her gaze to follow the back of the prefect as she disappeared down the hall. Shiloh's thoughts turned to Symone's question, though she had no reason to believe Symone would actually require a reply.
Shiloh thought back to the vacation, the Sanders Christmas that had followed the same traditions as it always had. Only this time, the time they spent together had seemed more special, like something that was meant to be treasured. She had always enjoyed Christmas, in her own way. True, she'd never seen much point in trees with glitter and pearly ornaments or been able to understand why, of all the foods they could eat, it always had to be roasted ham. But she loved the time spent with family, the extra devotion and the way that everyone seemed to be happy, loving and full of life. This year had been extra special, because the time together was limited and much more dear.
From the time Shiloh had arrived home, the house had been filled with the sound of a mixture of Muggle and Wizard Christmas music and the smell baked goods that her mother had been baking. The tree had been set up in one corner of the living room. It had been dressed in glorious red ribbons, glittery strings of silver, and topped with a harmonious angel whose wings reflected the light of many candles that were lit throughout the room. The lighting, with its dimmed glow, had given the place an enchanting atmosphere, completing the Christmasy feel. Never before had the place looked so beautiful to Shiloh than it had at that moment. And it had remained just as beautiful throughout the entire vacation.
Her mum and dad had seemed to realize that their time together was, at every second, ticking away, because for the entire duration they had spent nearly every moment with her. Not that she minded, really, though she would have liked it if she had been able to slip out to her potion's shed more than once. The games of Gobstones and Exploding Snap that her father challenged her to had been fun, though relatively effortless, because she won every time. However, her father had been a good sport, and, laughing at his daughter's so-called 'multi-talents', he had treated them to Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans.
As for Shiloh's mum, Elaine had made sure that Shiloh helped in the kitchen, baking up a heaping of pumpkin pastries and helping to prepare the turkey while her mother chattered away. There had been a great deal of talk about the Prate family. According to the news, Elaine had another great-niece. Honestly, Shiloh could swear that the family bred faster than rabbits!
Shiloh hadn't once complained about the time spent in the kitchen; it was what her mother wanted of her her and she gave it willingly, no matter how boring the conversations were.
The only unfortunate thing about going home for Christmas had been the night of every year that Shiloh dreaded most, the night of the annual Prate family Christmas Eve party. There had been nothing worse than dressing up in pink dress robes”an outfit and a color that Shiloh had only reluctantly got into after an hour of her downright, defiant refusal and of her mother's desperate mixture of pleading and threatening”and having to parade around in a fancy house where she constantly felt like she was an ugly stain on one of the pure, white walls. In the Prate family, disliking her wasn't a past time; it was a tradition.
Oh, Shiloh never knew whether any of her cousins realized she was adopted, though some must have been old enough to have figure it out, and her Great-grandfather Prate had always slept so much that she doubted he knew of her existence. Flora Prate, however, always treated her like an ingrown toenail, an eyesore and a bloody nuisance, even though, that was no different than she always treated her. Shiloh wouldn't have minded; she'd tolerated her Aunt Flora many times before, but on those nights, Mrs. Harriet Prate, Flora and Elaine's mother, had always ganged up with Flora. In their closed minds, Shiloh wasn't a Prate, and they never let her forget how little she belonged here.
Shiloh had learned from the first remembered Christmas Eve dinner to do what she had to survive: become invisible. This year had been no different, so no sooner had she walked into the house, then she had run to her familiar armchair, curling onto the fancy, but uncomfortable, fabric. Although she was less than comfortable, she had not moved from that spot. She toyed with thoughts and took in the details of the gathering of which she was nothing more than a spectator.
The only time she had been disturbed had been when Flora's eldest daughter's toddler, who, just a year ago, had been trapped solely in her mother's arms, had come waddling up to her, making tiny, unheard noises. Before Shiloh had become fully aware of the little girl's presence, she had felt her fingers being seized by tiny fists, and before she could whip her arm back, pain had sheered through her fingers as the toddler had sank her infantile teeth down into her flesh. Hissing in a breath in a way that was half out of withheld anger, half out of hidden pain, Shiloh had jerked her hand away so quickly that the little girl had been thrown off balance and hit the ground in a pile of sobs. Shiloh had watched blankly as the woman who she recognized as the mother of the child ran up and scooped the little girl into her arms, making an unfair and furious accusation in Shiloh's direction.
When Shiloh had tolerantly explained what had happened, the mother had only retorted, “It's no excuse. She's just a child.”
Shiloh had intended to correct her and to inform the mother that the thing in her arm wasn't a child; rather, it was a flesh-eating piranha. However, the opportunity had been lost when Elaine had come to shoo her towards the long table that had been filled with food, no doubt prepared by house-elves.
Shiloh had spent the next hour crushed between Aunt Flora and her mum and had been forced to listen to the ridiculous conversation. She had resisted the urge to 'accidentally' spill the gravy dish onto Flora's lap when she had given so-called-constructive criticism on Elaine's dress robes. Shiloh had seen Elaine's face clearly, and the surge of her anger had been so strong that the only thing that kept her from doing something incredibly rash had been the knowledge that she was trying not to make a scene. She had made a wise move and glanced at her dad before she had done anything.
Her dad must have known how it would affect her, whether or not she hid the fury behind an unmoved expression, because he must have been feeling it, too. He had given her a wink that told her he didn't want to be here anymore than she did, and he had the situation perfectly under control. Then he had looked at her mother and had given the clearly injured woman a small, loving smile, one that after a moment, her mother had returned exuberantly.
It had been one of those moments that they shared often, when they would look at each other and seem to hold silent conversation. Shiloh had imagined that right at that moment, her dad had been conveying that he thought she looked stunning, and her mother had been giving him her gratitude. Shiloh had never been the romantic sort, who never gave much thought to love or romance, but she had always known that her parents loved each other. If she found any idea the least bit charming, it was a girl going against her families wishes, knowing full well that she would never be accepted again, and abandoning all the riches that could have been hers; all sacrificed for the sake of a Muggleborn Hufflepuff who could offer her nothing more than an average means of living and a lifetime of love.
Somehow, Shiloh had managed to get through the evening, and no sooner had they Floo-ed back to their house than she had felt relaxation sweep over her body. With a flick of his wand, her dad had turned on the radio and then, as he did every year, he had swept his wife into a dance, spinning her around the living room. Shiloh had been very accustomed to this already, so she had simply curled up in the corner of the couch and had watched as, laughing, her mum and dad twirled around to the beat of quick paced Christmas tune. But as soon as the song had ended, her father had been upon her, seizing her hands, pulling her off of the couch, and starting to spin her around in a circle. She had been unable to protest and had simply gone along with it; after all, there had been no point in a struggle. Her father had done this every year since before Shiloh could remember and she had always allowed him to pull her about in the dance, never quite loosening up enough to make it easy for him.
A slow song had been next, and Alan had returned to Elaine to take her in his arms for a very slow and loving dance. Shiloh's lips twitching at the sight, she had done as she had known she should and had given them their privacy, running up the stairs with the sound of her father's soft, but horribly off-key, voice serenading his beloved wife lingering behind her.
Christmas day itself had been something like out of the Muggle storybooks her dad had insisted upon reading to her when she was younger. It had followed the same routine that it always had, but had held its own, subtle specialty. Early in the morning Shiloh had been woken up by her mother and dad who, quite excitedly, had shooed her downstairs where the tree had stood in the corner with a few, carefully wrapped presents underneath. By the time they had unwrapped them, Shiloh had been pouring through a stack of books, her mother had been ogling over the earrings Alan had given her, while insisting that it was much too expensive, and Alan had been sporting a new, handsome set of dress robes.
Throughout the rest of the day, there had been a great deal of eating”until the point her dad proclaimed several times that he had been about ready to burst”more dancing, and time spent just as a family. At the end of the day, long after the sun had set below the horizon and a thick darkness had settled over the house, her dad had followed with tradition and pulled out the old, leather book. Being Muggleborn, it made sense that her father would believe in such things; after all, he often stated that his fondest childhood memories were sitting in a church pew, and by the look in Elaine's eyes, it had always been clear that though she hadn't been raised to believe it, she most certainly did now. As for Shiloh, she had never been sure if she believed in a God or heaven or not, but she had to admit that the idea of Someone loving the world enough to send His son in the form of a baby for the sole purpose of dying for the world was...wonderful. But in the end, this story was just part of a book, wasn't it?
Truth or not, Shiloh had always found the story somewhat soothing, and by the time her father had closed the Bible, she had been curled into a small ball with her head resting against the arm of her chair, fast asleep. Somehow, the next morning she had woken up comfortable in her own bed with her music box playing. Clearly, her father hadn't yet become too old to carry her to bed.
The rest of the holidays had passed in harmonious blur, and before Shiloh had known it, her mum and dad were bidding her a tearful goodbye at Platform 9 ¾. And, so, here she was, back in the frigid dungeon corridor, standing next to Symone with the Christmas holidays being nothing more than a fond memory.
It dawned on Shiloh that the prefect had passed a full minute ago, and she had still not spoken. She was unsure whether a reply had been required or not, but she decided to respond anyways. She opened her mouth and gave a level, but honest, answer. “It was...beautiful.”
Symone raised her eyes towards her, as though shocked that Shiloh even had that word in her vocabulary. Shiloh ignored the stunned expression, but she didn't ignore the fact that Symone was once again opening her mouth. She had already told Shiloh all about her Christmas, mostly to fill up the quiet between them on the train ride home. Now it seemed Symone was intent on asking her about her Christmas. However, Shiloh wasn't feeling the least bit chatty. Besides, she was at Hogwarts now, back to the seriousness that awaited her in these halls. Most importantly, she was back to Annadel and Veritaserum. Other things were trivial compared to that.
“Can we return to business please?” she asked, her eyes rotating around the hall to make perfectly sure they were alone.
Symone closed her mouth and shook her head as though trying to clear it of other thoughts besides that which was at hand. A determined expression returned to her face, a look of mischief danced in her eyes as she seemed to already guess the answer to the question that Shiloh knew was coming. After all, they had set a plan, considered every possibility, and now, there was nothing left unanswered except for one thing of grand importance.
“So,” she asked, an excited grin spreading across her lips, “when do we go after the Veritaserum?”
The answer came to mind without much thought. Shiloh had been forced to put their mission on hold, but now that they were here, she saw nor wanted any reason for further delay. She desired for vengeance, and she desired it quickly. So, with a dark seriousness in her voice, she spoke, “Tonight.”
The cloak felt like silky water as it covered their bodies. It flowed about them, so long that an inch dragged upon the ground and they had to be careful not to allow their feet to step on the edge, a daunting task considering they were currently navigating the passage into the Slytherin common room. Symone was pressed close to Shiloh's side, her hands held upwards so that the top of the cloak was propped away from their faces. Her breathing was shallow, a clear sign that, as excited as she was to be helping in this accentual quest, the possibilities of how this night could end badly for them were toying with her mind and coating it with a layer of fear. But, as for Shiloh, if she felt fear, it was pressed so far behind a thick feeling of determination and a strange pleasure of the adventure at hand that she didn't even recognize it, and every breath she took, every move she made, even the way her hand was wrapped around her lit wand, was poised and deliberate.
They went slowly, careful not to make a sound as they entered the common room. They both knew that sound without explanation was not a good thing. It held only three possible outcomes: either the person would think there never had been a sound, the person would discover them, or the person would believe they had gone mad. Only the first of those possibilities seemed even the least bit promising, but they weren't going to risk everything on those fragile odds. It was best to be cautious and take their time with careful movements, so that they could get to their destination without making a single sound.
Especially since the common room wasn't empty.
They both froze, holding their breaths as though the sound of the lungs expanding might give them away. Their eyes took in the two Slytherins who were curled on the sofa and were so entangled with one another that it was difficult to tell whose hands were whose as they ragged a fierce snogging war. It was quite a disgusting sight, and as soon as Shiloh's eyes fell upon them, she regretted looking, because her stomach twisted into a hot churn, bringing with it the subtle desire to retch. It quite looked like the two were exchanging saliva, and Shiloh quickly looked away from the intense sight of the necking pair. Beside her, Symone was turning a shade of red that even on her dark cheeks was so brilliant that Shiloh could see, but yet, her eyes were fixed upon the pair, a frown tracing her lips as though she was concentrating deeply on trying to figure out something.
Shiloh slipped her hand around Symone's elbow to draw her attention back to her. They had no time to gawk at stupid snoggers who were being so intense that Shiloh thought they might be able to slip past them even without the Cloak. They needed to move on. Symone looked back at her, and Shiloh gave a subtle jerk of her head toward the entrance of the Slytherin common room. Symone recognized instantly what Shiloh was trying to tell her, and she nodded. They started together as one, but not before Symone had sent one more suspicious glance toward the couple of the sofa.
They tread onward with great care. The only light in the common room came from the large fireplace that was still roaring with a spectacular flame, spreading orange and yellow glows at random angles. However, darkness still adhered the walls and clung to the corners, so thickly that it could have hidden anything dangerous. They avoided these places, keeping to the patterns of light throughout the room. Shiloh's eyes were focused upon the goal, the section of wall that serves as the door to common room, and she was beginning to feel the anticipation of reaching it. They were so close, and soon they would escape from the eyes of the snoggers and be free to move more quickly through the deserted halls of the dungeons. They would have reached it without noise, without difficulty, without giving themselves away...if Symone had not chosen to stop.
Symone came to a halt so quickly, that Shiloh, who was moving forward, had no time to end her step. Her foot came down on the edge of the cloak, making her stumble. Her balance was lost and she had to hold her breath to keep from crying out as the sickeningly sensation of falling took her. She knew that a fall would put them in danger, not just because of the sound that it would cause, but because of the threat of pulling the Cloak off of Symone and revealing both of them. So, she thought quickly and did the first thing her mind could think of. She threw her body to the right, twisting, hoping to find the table that her memory insisted was nearby.
Find it she did, or at least, her hip did. With a wham!, an explosion of pain that coursed through her side and thigh, and a screech as the force of body sent the decorative table sliding along the floor. Shiloh quickly straightened herself, ignoring the ache in her hip, and hurried to Symone, ensuring the Cloak was tucked securely around them both. However, Symone didn't seem to so much as sense Shiloh's rushed action or even her fall, for her eyes, wide with surprise, were fixed on the couple who Shiloh knew were no longer necking.
Fearing what she might find, Shiloh took what seemed like forever to slowly revolve her head so she could take in the couple. The boy had jerked his head away from his now startled girlfriend and was surveying the room with suspicious, hard eyes, his stony face looking solidly unhappy as he surveyed everything, every last corner of the place. For a moment, Shiloh was sure he had seen them, because his gaze paused right on them, those dark eyes seeming to bore into Symone's eyes. The more they seemed to stare at one another, the more angier Symone seemed to become. Her face contorted with fury and her shoulders shook in a faint shudder of rage. Clearly, she recognized the boy, but who was he?
Then again, there was something stunningly familiar about the boy's eyes”the shape, the color”but his face was too shadowed to tell any distinct features. Besides, now was not the time to be standing here debating who this boy was. Not when Shiloh wasn't perfectly sure he hadn't seen them.
“What is it?” came the girlfriend's voice, soft and a bit breathless. Either she was suffering from fear that the boy's unusual behavior was causing or she was still catching her breath from the oxygen deprivation of the snogging session. Probably the latter.
The boy hesitated a long moment, giving the section of wall one last stare before giving his head one small shake. “I thought I heard something, but it was” ”
Shiloh held her breath for one long moment as she paused, as though not sure. She prayed the word would come, but didn't actually dare to hope that it would end the sentence, but it did.
“”nothing.”
The snogging fest started up again, just as vigorously as before, and Shiloh turned her attention back to Symone who was at the height of anger. It was clear that their mission was far from her mind and the transparent Cloak had been forgotten because she took a step forward as though to charge through the barrier, but Shiloh wrapped an arm tightly around her elbow. At the touch, Symone jerked as though in surprise but didn't make a sound. Instead, she looked at Shiloh and a dawning realization appeared back in her eyes. Shiloh tugged on her elbow and she followed without a single sound, her feet powder-light on the floor.
In what seemed too quick to be true, the entrance door to the Slytherin common room was closing, hopefully unnoticed by the snoggers within. Whether or not it was, Shiloh was just relieved to be out of the eyesight and earshot of the beings within the place and relatively safe in the empty, dungeon corridor. They'd come so close to being discovered, and for what? She couldn't imagine what on earth had possessed Symone to put them in so much risk only to have an unrequited staring contest with some unknown boy. It didn't make sense, and fury bubbled within taking all of Shiloh's will power to fight it back down and not do something rash. But still...they had been far too close.
“Symone--” Shiloh began, and even in a whisper, her tone seemed slightly strained in the effort to keep herself calm. The least Symone could give was an explanation.
“I know, I know,” Symone said quickly. “I'm sorry.” And she did seem apologetic, from her nervous, quiet voice to her genuine eyes. “It's just--” She glanced uncertainly to the door, the anger from before starting to return. “That was my brother.”
Shiloh blinked, unsurprised. She'd known he'd looked familiar.
“And he...Mum told him...” Symone was so angry that she became amazingly flustered and was leaving out great chunks in her sentences. “No girls.”
All Shiloh could gather was that he had done something, and as punishment, his mother had taken away his right to have a girlfriend. Clearly, it infuriated Symone to see exactly how disobedient her brother was, but Shiloh had no desire to press her on what severely horrible thing that her brother had done. It was none of her business, and they had no time to stand around having a lovely, quiet chat until someone stumbled upon them after sunrise. They needed to get moving. It was all she cared about.
“Come on,” Shiloh hissed, and waiting until she was certain Symone would move with her, she started down the hall.
As always, the dungeons were cold, but the night air made it worse than usual. Away from the fires of the dorms, the cold was so intense that, even through her cloaks and gloves, Shiloh could feel the numbing air beginning to make her body shudder involuntarily. Beside her, she could hear the chatter of Symone's teeth, but they both ignored the freezing atmosphere. Shiloh put all her mind into moving her feet over the frigid stone and forcing the hand that held her wand aloft to remain utterly still.
They navigated the familiar path, knowing that they probably could have found their way even without the light of the wand, but they preferred to have the dim glow. It allowed them to be sure they had taken the correct corner and helped them to avoid the hazardous loose rocks that had fallen from the decaying section of wall and the transparent, long-abandoned spiderwebs that clung stubbornly to the corners, threatening to ensnare a passerby and grant them a sticky face. Neither of them dared or desired to speak, and the only noise between them was Shiloh's breathing, Symone's chattering, and the combined sounds of their shuffled footsteps. The sounds were faint and would have gone unnoticed by others, but in the otherwise still atmosphere, they exploded much too loudly in their paranoid ears.
Shiloh and Symone didn't even flinch. They weren't about to allow their minds to play tricks on them, no matter how brilliant and believing illusions they spun in the darkness. They weren't turning back, especially when the door to Professor Snape's office was now looming before them a few, blessed feet away.
They paused before the office, knowing that as soon as they entered, not only would it be the most dangerous part of their journey; it would mean no turning back. But Shiloh didn't hesitate. She had reached the point of no return the moment she'd climbed from her bed. She ended the Lumos while Symone lit her own wand with a whispered incantation. Shiloh sneaked her wand hand through the edge of the cloak, trying not to think that to other's eyes, the shape was nothing more than a floating arm. She pointed the gleaming, ebony tip of her wand at the doorknob.
“Alohomora.”
Pocketing her wand, Shiloh wrapped her arm around the knob, unsure whether the simple charm would have been enough. There was no guarantee that, after the last incident when she had intruded on the office, Professor Snape hadn't decided to add more protection. A simple lock she could handle, but more complicated charms would perhaps be difficult to disarm. The charms could even be ones that would cause something dreadful to happen to the person attempting to enter, but she knew there was only one way to find out for sure. So, without hesitating for a second longer, she steeled herself for the worst and boldly twisted the knob and gave the door a brave push.
Willingly, the door swung open. There was no ripple of pain through Shiloh's body as a curse was set off, and no blare of an alarm broke the silence. Breathing a sigh of relief, she slipped back into the cloak and, together, she and Symone entered the office, carefully pushing the door back into place so that the latch settled with a gentle click.
It was dark and completely and eerily still, the silence making the blackness that surrounded them thick and impenetrable. The light of the wand seemed fragile and worthless in the dark, for as it cast across the room, it only illuminated a small section of the selves. The ingredients in the jars stood out creepily. Each one, from pickled pig heads to cow eyeballs, looked like something right out of the ghost stories the older Slytherin students loved to tell the first years in an attempt to send them screaming from the room.
Symone shivered again, and Shiloh guessed that this time it had little to do with the icy cold. She reminded herself that this was the first time Symone had been in the office. She hadn't seen it in the dark beauty it had at day and even Shiloh had to admit that during the night, the dark and powerful atmosphere of the place seemed to enclose around them, trapping them in until they felt near vulnerable. Shiloh didn't think on the oppressive feeling, didn't allow it to crash through the well-constructed barriers of her mind. Most importantly, she didn't consider, for more than a fleeting moment, the fact that Professor Snape was slumbering just beyond the door that was behind the desk.
Shiloh guided Shiloh to the door that lead to Professor Snape's personal stores and, with another whispered charm, unlocked that door as well. They stuffed themselves into the place, taking in the sight of the jars that littered the shelves rising from floor to ceiling. A rolling ladder was attached to the shelves, creating easy access to higher shelves. Shiloh knew what she was supposed to do. So, leaving Symone's side, she crept out from beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Symone would stay and watch at the open doorway, while Shiloh got the potion down, though, Shiloh figured, by the time she was able to scamper back down the ladder and under the Cloak, it would be much too late. They didn't have a choice, though.
She withdrew her wand, lighting it as she moved towards the shelves. She knew well how potions were to be organized. Studying the shelves carefully, she managed to guess the general area where the Veritaserum should be. She carefully rolled the ladder to the area, being careful not to let the wood scrape on the floor. Grasping a higher rung, she pulled herself onto the ladder and quickly, deftly scaled upward. She stopped at the shelf closest to the top and cast her critical gaze at the line of potions. Strengthening Potion. Swelling Solution. And that meant...
She reached her hand toward the vial, but something made her hand stop. A small amount of her conscience still toyed with her mind, filling it with a hint of guilt. As soon as she took the potion, she would have stolen something; she'd be a thief. There'd be no sugarcoating it, no denial that she was what she was. It would be over, done. But in her mind, she once again saw a flash of George Weasley's mischievous smile as he soared away from the crowd of pranked Slytherins. With a confident smirk, she grasped the potion in her slender hand. Sometimes, lesser wrongdoings were necessary for the justice of greater things. She knew that with her whole heart. She thought that the Weasley Twins had taught her that.
To be certain of the contents, Shiloh removed the cap, sniffed the contents suspiciously, and smelled nothing. The potion held the bland, nonexistent scent of water, and the light reflected off the clear liquid, causing little sparkles to dance around on it. Yes, it was Veritaserum.
Now, there was one last thing to do. Fishing into her pocket, she withdrew two of her own vials: an empty one and a one filled with water. The difference between the vial with the water and the Professor's vial was readily apparent. She had originally planned to simply replace the the Veritaserum with the water, but since the outer appearance of the vial was so obvious, she couldn't do that. Fortunately, she'd considered that possibility and had a backup plan.
Uncapping the battle of the empty vial, she poured the Veritaserum into it, using the steady, careful hand of a potion maker so that not a precious drop was lost. She recapped her vial and then pocketed it. For the last step, she poured the water into Professor Snape's vial. She set it back into its place, removed her bottle from the shelf, and leaned back an inch to study the affect.
At a glance, it would seem to Professor Snape that nothing was amiss, that the potion was still there, and even the sight of the liquid was right. She could only hope that Professor Snape didn't try to interrogate anyone.
Shiloh scrambled back down the ladder and quickly moved to where Symone had been standing. Blindly, she groped about, her fingers coming in contact with the silky Cloak. She ducked beneath it and settled it back around her.
They didn't say anything for the longest time, not until they had made the long journey back to the common room and they were standing before the roaring flame that was still lit in the hearth, blessing their frozen bodies with a layer of warmth. They both extinguished their wands and found, to their relief, that Symone's brother, and his floozy girlfriend were long gone. Since the place was empty, Symone whipped the Cloak off of the both of them, crumpling it between her side and her arm. She looked at Shiloh, her eyes wide with urgent wonder as if the whole world might crumble around her if the answer to her question were different from what she so desperately desired.
“Did you get it?” Symone asked, half anxious, half excited, too much emotion for a voice that was whispered so low that Shiloh could barely hear it herself.
To answer the question, Shiloh wordlessly stuck her hand into her pocket, bringing out the potion wrapped in her fist, and then uncurled her fingers so that the vial sat proudly on her palm. For a long moment, Symone could only stare at it in disbelief, her eyes unmoving and her mouth drooping as though she didn't dare to breath, much less hope. Then her reaction came, as sudden and as random as an explosion. Her mouth parted wide, and out of it came pure, delighted laughter. The noise was so loud, that Shiloh thought at first that it was best to shush her, but thought better of it. The room was empty, and even if anyone stumbled upon them now, Shiloh doubted it would harm them much. It was one of the good things about being in Slytherin dorm. No one, not even the prefects, really cared when someone was up to no good, because, quite often, they too had been causing mischief or heading down a road that led directly to mischief. A cackling first year would mean nothing to them.
Besides, there was much to celebrate. They had done it. They had actually done it!
Shiloh stared at the vial, her lips beginning to dance with a hint of a smile. The key to Annadel's downfall was safely in her palm, and the rest of the plan could only go off smoothly. All she had to do was add three drops to her potion, while Symone distracted the evil witch and her two awful friends, and afterwards, by trickery or”if that failed”death threats, they would wrestle the girl into Professor Snape's office, tell the professor that Annadel had something to confess, and then prod her to tell who really was sabotaging the potion. It might seem a bit suspicious, but surely, Professor Snape could not ignore the open confession.
By this time tomorrow, all of this would just be a memory.
Soon Symone had quieted down, and recalling that they had a full day of school before them, the two girls made their way up into their room, entering quietly. Symone hid her Cloak away, slipping it into its usual hiding spot at the bottom of her trunk. Shiloh was a bit sad to see it go, but wondered if perhaps she were to ever need it, Symone might allow her to borrow it. Provided that Shiloh would ever be willing to ask for another large favor, that was.
They stripped themselves of their normal cloaks, hanging them where they had been before, and then quickly clamored back out of the cold and beneath their warm, green bedspreads. Shiloh tucked the Veritaserum beneath her pillow, along with her wand, and was about to give her music box a few, careful winds when Symone's voice, as soft and quiet as a gentle breeze, made her turn to look at the next bed.
“Thanks,” Symone was saying from the darkness. In the dim light cast by the fire in the room's fireplace, Shiloh could see a hint of a tired, but content, smile on her face. “For letting me help you, I mean.” She yawned and stretched, looking completely blissful after the adventure they had just had. “It means a lot, really.”
Shiloh was unsure whether she should say 'you're welcome' or return the gratitude. After all, it was more of a gift to be helped than it was to be allowed to help. She could only blink as she searched for the correct response, but before she could, Symone, who clearly had never expected a reply, bid her good night and rolled to her other side so that her back was to Shiloh.
Shiloh looked down at her music box, allowing her fingers to absent twirl the metal winder. Symone had been so kind to help her with this, and, yes, it was strange, but they had made a good team. But that meant nothing, Shiloh told herself, and forced her mind to think of other things.
She set the music box at the corner of her pillow and laid her head back down. She could feel the potion beneath her head, and she moved slightly for fear of crossing the precious item. It had almost been too easy, the simple journey to get it, and now that that part of the plan was done, she felt a part of her that had been tense too long, finally relax. As she fell asleep, one last question touched her mind just before she fell completely into dreams. It was a question that rid her of the comfort she was in, promised a restless sleep, and reminded her that their plan wasn't quite over, wasn't yet a success. It was a question she knew the answer to and wished she didn't.
Is anything ever that easy?
Thanks to Joanna and Sandy for beta-ing this for me. And thanks to Indigoenigma for another wonderful chapter title.