The Other Night
Dany marks a silent spot with her lit wand, moving it slowly across the folded yellow paper, drawing a line down the middle crease. She side glances at Jon, her lips twitching a sly, delicate smirk.
It’s been about three weeks since the Bran incident and Jon, Tyrion, and Dany have been exploring the libraries and places for potential safe outs.
They haven’t been very successful so far...
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good..."
The evening's late, but it's not too late... though it would be soon.
If Tyrion would ever kindly hurry up.
She flinches quietly, as the clock strikes suddenly with a loud dong, while Newt Scamander and Leta Lestrange scramble past them, bickering back to their common room. She smirks to herself slyly, knowing those two are definitely not going to make it back before curfew.
Together, Dany and Jon hover quietly unnoticed, hidden underneath Jon's invisibility cloak. They stand there waiting in front of the large stone archway, hinged securely over its darkly gigantic wooden door. While crested in the center panel was its glossy, golden eagle head knocker, swaying his brassy feathered head, suspiciously eyeing the students sprinting past.
Jon raises his lantern higher above the paper, unraveling the magic before him. Dany smiles at him coyly, never tired of vicariously watching someone else experience the map’s ability to take something so plain and simple, and turn it into something so impossibly brilliant.
Small blotches of black ink had begun to pool in spots across the parchment, and she watches as it spreads its way, blurring into the different compartments between the folds. Jon holds back a tiny smile, now aware of Dany eagerly examining his reaction. He gazes his attention back to the cover, as the sorting letters and pictographs rearrange themselves, revealing the fully detailed image map of the Hogwart's castle. Its letters trickling along the edges of the page, steadily spelling out the latin phrases in dark, bolding script.
And finally in large print across the middle, the liquid charcoal smoothly draws out the map's title, "Messrs Venom, Squeeze, Long Claw, and Howler... Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present..." Dany whispers.
"The Marauders Map" she beams at him, lifting up the folded guide slightly, only to tap it enticingly against his cheek. He turns away, scrunching his nose with a short laugh, shielding her with his shoulder.
"I can see it, thanks." Jon smirks. She grins back, drawing the map back down in front of them, unfolding it. And as the ink finished it's final touches, she spreads out the perfectly detailed, final, moving-plotted campus of Hogwart's Castle.
She slides her finger across at their tiny footprints, informing him how their printed feet were labeled. “And we're right here.” Two pairs of tiny black footprints, labeled with both of their names, hover in one spot, marked very close together, she noticed, in front of the Ravenclaw common room entrance.
Jon's eyes catch and follow, tracing an inked path of a pair of footprints belonging to Walder Frey, as he marches along the fourth corridor. He chuckles to her, "This is bloody brilliant."
"I told you, it tracks everyone, " she explains.
"Yes, but I still couldn't have imagined this. This is incredible."
She half-smiles proudly, now noticing something, making her roll her eyes, "And oh, look here, this would be why Tyrion's late. " She frowns in familiarity, gesturing a silent knuckle to Tyrion's little feet, pacing around in his room aimlessly with a still-footed Jojen. “He is truthfully the smartest person I know, yet he still cannot tell time."
She folds the map back up, facing the cover towards them, and taps her finger next to the list of names across the front, "It's actually, rather interesting though, if you'd like to know the history?"
Jon shrugs, “Yeah, definitely.”
“Okay, well, all four of these names were, well, they were actually students. Best friends, you could say.” She ignores the historically dormant passion brewing up in her lower stomach. “Two being Slytherins, and the other two, Gryffindors. And back then, students never mixed houses..."
“They sound pretty amazing if they actually made this thing.” His hand grazes her arm holding the map, twitching a half grin. “Genius actually.”
She suddenly became strangely hyper aware of him touching her arm.
Since the three of them have been going on these late night adventures for the past week or so (they started with study hall meet ups, which quickly evolved into restricted section visits, to now nightly school walkabouts), Jon had become much more comfortable with her, and it quite honestly put her on edge. Though she did sort of like it.
"Yes. They were quite the force to be reckoned with," she flits her eyes down darkly, as he consciously let his hand fall. "They designed this entire map in secret, calling themselves, The Marauders.“
Jon rubs a thumb over the parchment curiously. “How long do you think it took though, to cover everything? How did they know when to—“
“Well, actually...” she squints an eye, going high-pitched, “My uncle Illyrio does think it has been passed on from the ones before them— who’ve then passed it on from the ones before them— and each time, they just... change the names."
“Oh, so they’re thieves then?" he teases.
"No? They didn’t steal it—" she narrows her eyes. "They were gifted it, by their presuccessors, by choice, by careful selection. And actually, my uncle believes it to be ancient. I mean, it's amazing if you think about it. He said he thinks it belonged first to the fouroriginal housemembers," she ogles dreamily. "Considering how remarkable its properties are, really, it's like it's been edited a thousand times over, each generation to the next. They still contributed their part to it, as each generation did before them."
"Oh," Jon smirks back at the possibility of her theory, then narrows his eyes in realization, "Wait. So, if your father was Venom, " he whispers, "then who were the other three?"
She hums quietly in thought, "Well, I told you how he was an animagus, right?"
Jon half nods, so she continues. "So... similar to how he could change into a rattlesnake..." she explains, "His three other friends were just like him. They were animagi."
”They were all rattlesnakes?”
“No... mhm, that was just my father.” She moves a slender finger under the name, Squeeze. "She, Olenna Tyrell, is Margaery's grandmother. She's still alive and well. Very humorous woman from what I could tell when I met her once. Anyway, she could transform herself into a python."
Jon's expression looks impressed. She slides her finger over, "And Long Claw— well, he’s actually our Transfiguration professor, Barristan Selmy," she giggles casually, knowing that would shock Jon. "And he could transform into a blackpanther," she grins back scandalously, as Jon arched a brow in disbelief.
Nodding, Dany twists her mouth into a smirk, "Yes. And finally, there’s the Howler... better known as Rickard Stark, or Arya's grandfather," she remarks boldly. "He passed away," she remarks solemnly. "But he could transform into a whitewolf. "
Jon gawks at her almost lowly, "Really? He was friends with your father too?"
"Best friends," she articulates, her expression hardening. "Well, they all were... until my father betrayed them."
He probably didn't know that. She assumes, knowing far well that he has been kept out of loop with things like this his whole life...
She studied his confused reaction... suspiciously. Pretending to suddenly be surprised. She angles her head, facing him fully puzzled, "Wait. Do you not know... what my father did, Jon?"
He shook his head.
A brief, irrational thought popped in her head, which was that he looked cute at that very moment. Well, not cute, she corrects herself, just honestly, rather innocent.
Warily uncertain, he shrugs back at her, opening his mouth to say something else-- but suddenly, they're interrupted by the wooden door's lock audibly unhitching.
Finally.
Slowly swinging it open, Tyrion shuffles out from behind the large door, waddling under through the stoned archway, carrying a stack of books taller than him.
"A little help— would be nice, my invisible friends," he chides, huffing out of breath. He glances around hopefully, waiting for one of them to answer.
Jon slides the cloak off of their heads carefully, hopping over to help the struggling boy. "Here," he bends over, reaching down to take a heavy, five or six books from his pile.
Dany scoffs, scolding him, "Where were you?"
"I was... talking to Jojen? About Bran's condition," he sighs bitterly. "He's worried about his best friend, if that's not so hard to believe," he sticks out his foot, holding open the hundred pound door with a tired wince.
He places the rest of the text books onto the carpeted floor. "And a simple thank you for the books would be sufficient, by the way," he berates. "I did do this on my own time."
She frowns at him for a moment— but then relaxes, exhaling deeply. "Sorry. Thank you, Tyrion. Now, are you coming with us or not?"
He furrows his brow in a scowl, "No, I am not coming with you tonight."
"What? Why?" she shakes her head strictly.
Why did that suddenly flood her body with rigid anxiety? She had the map tonight, she didn't exactly need him, but...
He looks away brazenly, "Dany, I think I've searched quite enough for my part, have I not? And I did tag some pages that I thought were interesting. So let me know what you think."
She waits for the pause, the condescending joke, or for him to make fun of her again, but to her surprise, he doesn't.
"Really?" she squints at him fondly.
"Yes..." he stares back at her disconcertingly. She grins back newly intrigued, and bends down, picking up a dusty leather bound book from the pile on the floor. "Hmm... interesting," she twitches a smirk.
"Oh, alright..." Tyrion gives up, shifting on his feet awkwardly, peering away towards the corridors. "Yes, I found some insightful information. And well, as you know, I am not often wrong about things." He holds up his pinched forefinger and thumb, "But on those slim, rare occasions, when I am wrong... I do understand when an apology is in order."
As much as they bickered like siblings, Tyrion once and a while, managed to stubbornly reveal his secretly, true, gentle heart to her (always in private). And she cherished these moments in their friendship more than anything.
He motions to her sincerely, "So... I am sorry Dany, for not believing you about all this. Really."
She places a quiet hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Tyrion, but there's no need to apologize." She eyes him thoroughly. "You question all theories, before you accept them as facts. Which is why you're always the first I go to for help. I need your wise counsel."
"Thanks." He harrumphs, shying away, and then glances at Jon quickly, quietly clearing his throat, "Right, well, you two better get going then," he warns. "If floors six and seven are your destination tonight, then..." he moves further inside the door, as Dany gathers the cloak ready from the floor. "Just please, be extra careful, Dany? You know those are the most dangerous levels."
"We will," she acknowledges, expertly hiding her excitement behind her cold, serious features. And yes, she knows it’s a wrong feeling to have in these types of situations, and that it’s also completely inappropriate, but she just can’t help it.
"You have the map tonight, right?"
"Yes. We'll be fine." She grumbles.
He nods at them shortly— "Okay then, good luck," and then turns around, pulling the iron handle, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Jon stares back at her blankly, still holding a pile of books almost up to his chin.
"Sorry, but how are we going to carry all these around?" he whispers sarcastically. “What if we don't find anywhere? I can't carry these around all night? And we can’t be seen with them— and they are definitely not fitting under my cloak.”
"Jon, stop," she smiles cockily, as she had been waiting for him to ask. She simply pulls out a small velvet clipped bag from her robes, holding it out smug in front of him.
He squints at her skeptically, then lets her know with a quick smirk, "Uhm, yeah, I don't think they're going to fit in there either—" he flinches suddenly, as she whips out her wand, pointing it out at the bag.
"Capacious extremis."
A bright blue light flashes and then she tucks her wand away smartly, holding out the open bag for Jon to dump in the books. "Go ahead," she says, while he blinks back at her, wisely unsure.
He goes ahead anyway and drops in one book. And then another, and then guardedly, a third... He twitches a smile back at her in realization. "An undetectable extension charm?" he asks, newly impressed. "Brilliant, again."
"Yes, and that's about the only bit of magic we can use tonight, as magic detection spells could find us anywhere if we use too much." She shakes the bag again, "Now dump them in there and let's go. We've only a limited time to search the sixth floor."
She would never dream of admitting, but she couldn't deny the fluttering sensation creeping madly inside her, especially, as Jon draped the cloak over the both of them. She thought the nerves were due to excitement, but they were quite obviously now, self-consciously unsettling.
This was the first night it was to be only the two of them, and something told her this adventure was going to be slightly out of her element.