Thirty Eight

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-My Kind Of Woman-

-and i'm down on my hands and knees-

-begging you please baby-




It was late, and Vena dismissed Draco from working on the Vanishing Cabinet.

She noticed how it was taking a toll on him, and demanded he needed a break. It was frustrating to continue working on something with no proof that there was any improvement.

It has been four months since the two have begun their work on the cabinet, and it hasn't even opened yet. At the rate they're going, Dumbledore would've already died from natural causes. It certainly wasn't going the way that they wanted.

It wasn't just frustrating for Draco either. Vena had begun brewing the moonstone poison, having Madam Rosmerta buying the ingredients and giving them to Vena and Draco when they snuck out of the school one night.

The poison should be done in two and half weeks, just in time for Madam Rosmerta to mix it with a wine and send it Dumbledore's way. The poison is fickle and temperamental; it requires almost twenty four hour watch, and Vena does not have enough time nor patience for that.

Needless to say, she needed a break as well.

So that's why she spent her Thursday night with Harry, with his body stretched along the couch, his head resting in Vena's lap.

The two hadn't defined what they were, but neither seemed keen on bringing up the conversation. She thinks that they might need to have that conversation soon. Vena hopes not though. She likes being in this in-between stage with him.

Harry took a deep breath, as if he needed to prepare himself for what he was going to say. "I've been taking these lessons with Dumbledore."

Vena looked at him strangely. "Okay."

"They're about Voldemort."

"Okay."

"And I found something out about him. Something that I didn't think anyone would expect."

Vena tilted her head, and smiled at him curiously. "Okay, what is it?"

Harry played with the ends of her hair. "Voldemort is a Half-blood."

Vena froze. "No. No. That's impossible."

"His father was a Muggle, and his mother was a witch."

Vena couldn't believe it. The Dark Lord preached about blood purity and how anyone with Muggle blood in their bodies is dirty. Disgusting.

And yet, he had it running through his veins.

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked him.

Harry shrugged. "I know you don't like him. I thought you should know how much of a hypocrite he is. You can do whatever you want with that information."

Vena nodded, and the two fell into a comfortable silence. She couldn't wrap her mind that the man who hated Muggles with a passion is the son of one.

She couldn't believe that he, a Half-blood, is in charge of all of the Pure-bloods, dictating them. Using their children as soldiers and hitmen.

Vena exhaled loudly, wanting a subject change. She could ponder over that piece of information a different time.

She toyed with his black hoodie strings, smiling. "I've always liked this jumper."

Forget-Me-Not {Harry Potter}Onde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora