Fic: Switch
Title: Switch
Characters: Padma Patil, Theodore Nott, various other Slytherins
Summary: Blame Whit. This is another older fic, with the prompt: What if your character had been in another House? At the time, all the Slytherins were suffering due to their involvement in the Red Death group, and this was Padma involved.
Rating:

Padma Patil was not impressed.

As interruptions went, there were worse ways to be frozen than standing triumphantly over a bleeding, silently screaming Ernie Macmillan.

"Pathetic waste of a pureblood!" she'd spat just seconds before Dumbledore rendered her Cruciatus Curse null. Macmillan brandished his wand like an amateur, like a Muggle magician performing a show, and because of it, he'd wasted precious seconds. Seconds that Padma exploited. She watched his body crumple, limbs contract, muscles twitch with only mild fascination.

His screams were only minutely satisfactory. Not one member of the Red Death group noticed her victory; most of them were cowering to Potter's band of miscreants. Theodore Nott truckled beneath a Hufflepuff (a Hufflepuff, for Salazar's sake!), Draco Malfoy turned in the air at Potter's command (no big surprise there; Malfoy was less than capable on his best days), Pansy Parkinson hid under a table (did she ever really do anything other than play dress up?).

The Dark Lord was using them in the least productive manner. Surely, the attacks would have been best traced only to murmured voices and shadows. Letting Dumbledore and Potter know exactly who they were seemed, well, brainless, and brainless was not something Padma Patil did well.

If there was one thing that Padma knew, it was how to disentangle herself from scandal. However, this would take artifice. Finesse was something that only Theodore Nott (despite his myriad other weaknesses) could handle. And that meant convincing him. Convincing him meant turning him away from Draco Malfoy and most of the other Slytherins.

When Padma was convinced of her ratiocination, there was no deterring her. Your logic would turn quickly in the face of her arguments. One look at the sureness on her face had changed many a Slytherin's mind.

Of course, Theodore Nott would prove difficult; he always did.

"Draco wouldn't know a thestral's arse from his own," she told him, a grand smirk on her lips. If there was one thing she enjoyed more than logic, it was ripping Malfoy to shreds. "His leadership is counter-productive. He's never had to work very hard at his hypocrisy, and I'm afraid it's time for new direction."

Theodore quirked a lazy brow at her. He relaxed, stretching his legs, fingers lightly tapping the arms of his chair. "Do go on, dear Padma. I'm rather interested in this new management."

"Subterfuge should only be used when the truth cannot be exploited, and I believe - " Two words never meant so much as 'I believe' coming from Padma's lips " - the truth is more dangerous to Potter than any distortion Draco could manage. I think we should continue with the Dark Lord's training, little by little. This time, we contain it, only vaguely keeping it secret. The two of us could have Slytherin house whipped into shape in no time."

"But how is the question, Padma. You're not telling me anything I haven't already thought myself."

Blunt as usual, Theodore, Padma thought. The smirk curled into her cheek, making the smallest dimple noticeable.

"We discredit Draco, use his weaknesses. He can't deny them, considering I, as well as others, have much proof of his faults. Potter wouldn't dream of assisting him. If Draco turns on us, Potter would think it was a plot. Draco will have no where to go, but back into OUR fold."

"I see several flaws in your plan, Padma. The first is quite obvious: Draco has no credit. Among the Slytherins, sure, his name means something. His father is one of the Dark Lord's Right-Hand me-"

Padma silenced him, a single finger pressed against his lips. As she spoke, her gaze shifted from her finger to his lips, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, that one strand of hair that had fallen in his eye. "Shhh. His father is not the Dark Lord's only most trusted Death Eater."

She watched as his face flushed, his hand reaching up to shove hers away. Her smirk turned angelic, canine digging into her bottom lip. "Oh, dear. I've embarrassed you, haven't I?"

He merely smiled that bland smile of his, watching her carefully, his colouring returning. She heaved a sigh, looking positively stricken. "I've forgotten that you don't approve of such handling."

"You're playing in the dirt, Padma. Have you forgotten how compulsive I am?" He was teasing her; that was always a good sign.

"Oh, I assure you that my hands will remain quite clean. And yours, too."

This got his attention. Padma halfway suspected that Theodore didn't want his hands soiled, and not for sanitary reasons. Most of the time, his nose was buried in a book. While she couldn't find fault in that, something always nagged at her. Something almost... Muggle at times. If she could just get proof, Theodore would be wrapped around her finger.

"Unfortunately for poor Draco Malfoy, we'll need chicanery. Most of the students are already aware of the level of imbecile he is, so we have no choice but to inject a bit of old-fashioned lies into it. Oh, this will take some time; after all, well-planned deceit isn't something you can expect to yield overnight."

Theodore looked skeptical, unwilling to damage the thin thread of alliance between Malfoy and Nott. After all, the children of criminals most often banded together in similar times.

"I realize that you have some sort of bond with Draco, but he's out-survived his uses. He's pushed Slytherin House to a precipice, and if someone capable does not take control, we will fail." She paused only for a moment, dropping all sweetness and smiles. "Failure is not an option."

Now that she had his attention (and she was quite sure by the intensity in his eyes), Padma's feminine wiles would have to take control. She loathed this part only a little, and only when Theodore was the one who resisted. She leaned forward, propping her head up with the heel of her hand. Her voice seemed to drop a register, breathy and whispered. "You're not the only one, Theodore, who thinks the Dark Lord acted impulsively. I must confess I thought it too soon... too naked."

At the words, his thin fingers crushed the bones in her wrists, and she was pulled to her feet.

Through a corridor. Up and down stairs. Spiraling and double backing. The Slytherin dorm rooms could only be reached through this maze, and Padma was delighted when he turns right. This led to the boys' dormitories, as she was well aware of. Blaise Zabini could be persuaded quite easily.

The room was cold, almost sterile, save Crabbe and Goyle's dominions. When he dropped her hand suddenly, she was not at all surprised. She'd anticipated his insistence on privacy. More than anticipated, she counted on it. Her skin was flush with knowledge: he'd let a weakness slip.

"How shall we consummate this plan?" He didn't blush as he spoke, and her eyes narrowed. She has never heard him speak this way, and it's only a little disconcerting. To her credit, Padma didn't bat an eyelash. Instead, she strode across the room toward him, moving her hips in wide arcs. It's a calculated move, and she is certain he's aware of it.

"Interesting choice of words, darling Theodore." Padma's voice was as heavy with innuendo as her eyelids as she stepped up to him. Hands slid up his chest, lips hovered near his.

And just as suddenly, her hands were gone. His face only changed for the smallest of split seconds, and then he was unreadable once more.

"I've always been verbose, and you've always been more direct than you are right now. What are you suggesting, Padma?" His voice had dropped call pretense, and he was eyeing her ferally.

Only mildly put off, Padma straightened, a determined look upon her face. She moved to Theodore's bed, sitting on the edge and leaning back on her elbows. "I'm suggesting our own alliance, one that will result in more than just alleviating Draco Malfoy from his prestigious position. I'm suggesting that you and I learn to lean on each other, quite literally at times. You and I are indisputably the most intelligent in Slytherin House - and before you say anything, I'm aware we're not highly considered for our intelligence - not to mention most of this school. We're cunning because we use it against others, and I think it's high time that we stop using it against each other."

When she was finished, she stared at him, unblinking. Some little voice in the back of her head nagged her, told her that he'd never go for it, but she shoved that down quickly. There'd be time to think about that later.

He held his silence for a full ten minutes, and Padma knew he was letting her stew, letting it writhe inside her until she pushed him. But she merely watched him, expressionless. It would have been smart given circumstances, but Padma Patil was a very patient witch, and so her gaze never broke from his face.

"I accept," Theodore replied, but not without some hesitation. Padma could see the wheels in his head turning round. Silly things, really, but she respected him for it.

She held out her hand, waiting as he was forced to cross the room to her. When that delicate hand wrapped around hers, she gave it a yank, pulling him down to her, hot breath on his lips, hair tickling her forehead. "You remember the old adage, don't you? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. I think we're about to get as close as enemies can get."