The Fire You Touch

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Chapter 14: Nowhere To Run

Hermione and Aeryn stretched their feet out in front of HagridÂ’s fireplace, listening to the splatter of raindrops against the windows. October had descended upon Hogwarts like a heavy sheet, filled with damp chill and endless rain. Half the students came down with nasty colds, and the school nurse, Madame Pomfrey, was running herself ragged. Aeryn had fortunately kept herself healthy, but Hermione was still smoking slightly from the ears from the Pepperup potion she had taken a few hours earlier.

"WhatÂ’s keeping them?" Hermione asked grumpily, taking a sip of scalding tea. Harry and Ron were supposed to meet the girls in HagridÂ’s hut after Quidditch practice for their weekly chat with the gamekeeper, but the boys were over half an hour late.

Aeryn shrugged. "Maybe practice went longer than usual."

"CanÂ’t believe theyÂ’re practicinÂ’ in this weather," Hagrid exclaimed as Fang slobbered on his knee. "ZoominÂ’ around on those spindly broomsticks in the rain! Someday, you hear me, someoneÂ’s gonna get struck by lightninÂ’ anÂ’ then thereÂ’ll be trouble."

As if to punctuate his words, a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky, a rumble of thunder rocked the hut to its foundation, the door burst open, and two very wet and bedraggled figures stumbled into the room. Aeryn opened her mouth to make a very funny comment, but after one look at HarryÂ’s face, she wisely swallowed her words and went to look for some dry towels.

"ItÂ’s horrible out there," Harry gasped a little while later. He and Ron were securely wrapped in blankets and sitting close to HagridÂ’s fire, sipping hot tea between shudders. "Fred and George could hardly see through the rain to keep the Bludgers from clobbering me."

"Yeah, and the only reason Harry finally caught the Snitch was because it flew into his hand," Ron added, his teeth chattering.

"That was the first time," Harry said sourly. "Wood let it out again and I still couldnÂ’t find it after an hour and a half." He glanced out the window as another bolt of lightning illuminated the dark sky. "I bet heÂ’s still on his broomstick right now trying to catch it."

"Why on earth did he keep you out there for so long?" Hermione asked, passing Harry a plate of biscuits.

Harry shrugged. "He said it was because half the team showed up late to practice." He looked over at Ron and gave a sly, knowing grin.

"Yeah, thatÂ’s what he said," Ron repeated, returning the grin. "But I think he was waiting to see if you might come and watch, Aeryn."

Aeryn groaned and rolled her eyes. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, was a burly sixth year and, according to her friends, was madly in love with her. Aeryn seriously doubted there was any truth to the rumor. Granted, Oliver always noticed when she came to Quidditch practice with Harry, and had struck up many a friendly conversation with her in the Gryffindor common room, but Aeryn was certain the relationship was solely platonic. Still, she couldn’t deny that the teasing from her friends was flattering—Oliver was good-looking, although a bit young for her.

"He did look disappointed when I told him you werenÂ’t coming out this afternoon," Harry said innocently, swirling his teacup. "By the way, how are flying lessons going, Aeryn?" He and Ron both sniggered.

"Flying lessons?" Hagrid asked.

Aeryn shook her head. "Oliver is teaching me to fly," she said, grabbing a biscuit. She’d only had two lessons so far—Oliver seemed more interested in keeping his Quidditch team in top-notch shape—but he had taught Aeryn a few tips on maneuvering a broomstick. Or, at least, he thought he had. Although Aeryn knew that a wizard’s broomstick was a magical instrument and could probably fly itself, she wasn’t sure if one would behave for a Muggle. Instead of tempting fate, Aeryn found it far easier to levitate the broomstick with telekinesis and zoom around on it that way. She was far from graceful in the air, and would probably never be as quick as Harry during a Quidditch match, but she was getting the hang of it. Plus, Oliver was a fun chap to spend time with.

"Yeah, and he said that you could ride his broomstick anytime you wanted," Harry said quietly. Aeryn pointedly ignored Ron and Hermione as they spit out mouthfuls of tea and began snickering.

A chuckle rumbled in HagridÂ’s throat as he got up to put another log on the fire. "Well, now."

"Not you too, Hagrid. DonÂ’t you start in on me now," Aeryn grumbled. "ThereÂ’s nothing between us."

"Yeah, right," Ron chortled. His red hair was sticking out wildly at odd angles as it dried, and he looked as if he had stuck his finger in a light socket. "IÂ’ll tell you who else has a crush on her," he said, putting his teacup down and leaning in confidingly. "Professor Snape."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed.

Hagrid turned, a frown crossing his burly face. "What dÂ’yeh mean?"

"Ron, thatÂ’s ridiculous," Aeryn exclaimed, her stomach lurching suddenly. "Have you been looking the other way in Potions lately? He canÂ’t stand me."

Ron wagged a finger teasingly at her. "YouÂ’ve gained over fifty points for Gryffindor during Potions over the past month, you get AÂ’s on all your papers, and last week you corrected him twice in the lecture and he didnÂ’t even yell at you!" He raised his eyebrows knowingly. "Believe me, Aeryn. HeÂ’s got it bad."

Harry made a face. "Ooh, that is gross."

Aeryn smiled weakly. It was becoming the urban legend of Hogwarts castle, the tale of a lone Gryffindor that could impress Professor Snape. Her friends teased her often about it, of course—suggesting that she was beginning to take Hermione’s place as the resident smarty-pants—and, of course, they didn’t mean anything by it. But Aeryn hadn’t told them about the growing uncertainty she felt towards the Potions master.

She had avoided being alone with him ever since the incident in his chambers, but she couldn’t avoid him in class…the hands that lingered on her shoulders a shade too long; the long fingers brushing against the small of her back or the nape of her neck, too quickly for other students to notice; the times Aeryn would look up from her cauldron or desk to find his blistering gaze resting on her…and the marks, the easy A’s that she should not be getting, and his ever-present, subtly veiled double-entendres. Nothing tangible, and nothing overtly inappropriate—yet Aeryn couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

"ThatÂ’s one relationship I donÂ’t envy you, Aeryn," Hermione said, shuddering.

Hagrid was still frowning intently at Aeryn. "I donÂ’t like the sound oÂ’ this," he said flatly.

Aeryn looked over at him and shook her head. "ItÂ’s okay, Hagrid," she reassured the gamekeeper quietly. "TheyÂ’re just kidding."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I think SnapeÂ’s just shocked that someone besides the Slytherins can do Potions."

An awkward silence descended upon the group as another roll of thunder shook the gamekeeperÂ’s hut. "Why donÂ’t I brew another pot of tea," Aeryn said hastily, getting up from her chair. "So, Harry, what else happened in practice today?"

* * *

"I wonder what Dumbledore has planned for the Halloween feast this year," Harry said that Monday at breakfast. "I heard something about a troupe of dancing skeletons. Is that possible? They donÂ’t have any muscles."

Ron shoveled a forkful of scrambled eggs into his face. "Dunno, but whatever happens will be pretty tame compared to last year." He looked knowingly over at Hermione. "Right, Hermione? No trolls this time."

Hermione didnÂ’t answer. Her nose was buried in the folds of the Daily Prophet, and she hadnÂ’t yet touched her breakfast.

"Earth to Hermione." Ron leaned over and rapped his fork on her plate.

Hermione turned a page of the paper, a very large worry-line forming on her forehead.

"Good heavens, girl," Aeryn exclaimed, setting her spoon down. "WhatÂ’s in the paper thatÂ’s so engrossing?"

Hermione finally looked up, concern etched in her eyes. "You guys should look at this," she said quietly, spreading the paper out on the table. Harry, Ron, and Aeryn huddled around her and read the article emblazoned on the front page.

New Line of Defense Against Mutants

By Prospero Seritus

Yesterday afternoon, the Ministry of Magic announced their new line of defense against mutant attacks. The Ministry has developed a combination of spells and magical devices that, when delivered by a skilled magic-user, render a mutant powerless.

"We are very proud of these advancements," said Thrum Pickward, Head of the Ministry of Magic. "The Muggle community has already made many advancements in mutant control, and weÂ’re happy to say that ours are twice as effective as theirs."

Over the past several months, the Ministry has been made aware of the growing mutant population after a series of attacks by mutants posing as witches or wizards. The most memorable of these attacks were an attempt to rob Gringotts on September 3, and the death of Marisha Lillykin, 34, on September 29.

"These eventsÂ…are a great tragedy for the Ministry," said Arthur Weasley, member of the Ministry. "We are doing everything in our power to make sure events like these never happen again."

Mutants are people whose genetic makeup has ‘mutated’ into a higher stage of evolution, according to Muggle scientists. Almost all mutants have super-heightened abilities, such as the ability to fly or read a person’s mind.

Senator Robert Kelly, a Muggle, was the first to bring the threat of mutants to light. The American Muggle community has recently passed a law that all mutants must be registered with the government and wear collars that neutralize the effects of their powers.

"The threat of mutants in the wizarding community is very real," said Angela Lirlips, a Muggle-relations coordinator for the Ministry of Magic, and one of the largest supporters for mutant registration. "Without proper identification, these people can walk among us undetected and we will never know the difference until weÂ’ve been blasted to bits. Would you like to work along someone who can read your mind and control your thoughts? True, a powerful wizard can do that, but a mutant can do all those things without detection. There is no wand-waving, and no trace of magic to alert anyone around."

According to the annals of the Ministry, You-Know-Who was rumored to have recruited mutants for his dark causes, although nothing was ever proven.

Members of the magical community who know or suspect someone of being a mutant are encouraged to contact the Ministry immediately.

"Wow," Harry breathed as he finished the article. "Heavy stuff."

"I donÂ’t remember Dad ever telling us about this stuff," Ron frowned. "Geez! Some of these mutants can control your mind?"

AerynÂ’s face was as white as flour.

"CanÂ…IÂ…see this?" She grabbed the paper from Hermione with shaking hands and flipped through it. There were several more articles giving details to known mutant attacks, an angry editorial extolling the need for mutant registration, and a long list of how to identify mutants from ordinary witches and wizards.

"I heard about stuff like this at home over the summer," Hermione said in a low voice. "My parents try to keep up on current eventsÂ…I mean, the mutant scare hasnÂ’t really been that big a deal over here in England, itÂ’s the States that has the worst of itÂ…I hadnÂ’t known, though, that it was a problem here in the wizarding community!"

"The States?" Harry turned to Aeryn, his glass-green eyes wide behind his glasses. "DÂ’you know about any of this stuff?"

"IÂ…" AerynÂ’s voice was choked. "I never reallyÂ…paid much attentionÂ…to it." She looked frantically around the Great Hall. She had never noticed how many students and staff read the Daily Prophet every morning. Today, it seemed as if everyone had their nose buried into a copy, if they werenÂ’t discussing some article intently with a neighbor.

"Do you suppose that there might be some mutants here at Hogwarts?" Ron asked in an intense whisper.

"I donÂ’t know," Hermione murmured, casting an eye around the Great Hall and leaning in close to her friends. "I wouldnÂ’t think that Headmaster Dumbledore would let any of them in, especially since only people with magical abilities can come to a wizarding schoolÂ…but who knows? I mean, maybe some of the students here can do magic, but theyÂ’re mutants, too!"

Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table. "Maybe MalfoyÂ’s a mutant," he said musingly. "Think Dumbledore would expel him if he were?"

"That would make it worth a shot," Ron said.

Aeryn clenched her hands together, watching as the blood drained away from her white knuckles. Her chest was tight, and it was very hard to breathe. She slumped back in her chair, her mind racing.

Mutant registration in America. ItÂ’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world follows suit. And now the wizarding communityÂ…Her stomach plummeted. The one place I thought I could be safe, and now if theyÂ’re going xenophobic tooÂ…

Hermione looked over at her sharply. "Aeryn, are you okay?"

"Fine," Aeryn forced out. She struggled to plaster the semblance of a normal expression onto her face, but quietly spent the rest of breakfast on the verge of vomiting.

By the afternoon, Aeryn was a nervous wreck. She had been so keyed up in Charms that she didn’t even make an attempt to cast the Jelly-Legs curse they were learning. Professor Flitwick had been quite surprised at her lack of progress at the end of class, but Aeryn convinced him that she was feeling rather ill—which wasn’t far from the truth. She was unable to pay attention during Defense Against the Dark Arts class, which Lockhart noticed immediately.

"Are you feeling all right, Miss Blake?" he asked her as she put her things away after class. Today, he was wearing pastel-green robes. Aeryn wasnÂ’t a big fan of pastels on men, but Lockhart was certainly able to pull it off.

She nodded. "Just something I ate at breakfast."

Two Hufflepuff girls, who were hanging around the classroom to talk to Lockhart, glared blisteringly at her at the attention she was receiving from the professor. Lockhart didnÂ’t look convinced at AerynÂ’s explanation. "Nothing wrong at all?" He tapped his fingers knowingly on her desk. "Is someone bothering you, perhaps?"

"No."

"I worry about you, my dear, really I do," Lockhart said, sending the two Hufflepuff girls into a flurry of whispering. "I want you to tell me if anything is going wrong, anything at all, because I feel quite responsible—"

"Professor," Aeryn interrupted him, standing up and swinging her bag over her shoulder. She wasnÂ’t in the mood for this today. "Nothing is wrong. I just feel ill. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get to Potions."

Something dark flickered across Lockhart’s eyes but was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. "Ah yes. Professor Snape’s class." He smiled, showing brilliant white teeth. "I understand you’re doing quite well in there. Tell me, is Potions just a knack of yours, or—"

"Professor Lockhart, IÂ’m going to be late," Aeryn snapped, pushing past the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and hurrying to the door. The two Hufflepuffs jumped backwards as she passed, and it took all AerynÂ’s concentration not to lash out at them.

She very nearly arrived in Potions late—all the students were already there—but fortunately, the bell rang just as she entered the room, and Professor Snape didn’t come out of the storeroom until she frantically flung herself into her chair.

It seemed that every student in Potions had heard or read the Daily Prophet during classes that day. As they diligently shredded tubeworms, Aeryn could hear the muted discussion echoing between the cauldrons. Draco Malfoy, of course, had plenty to say about it. "My father agrees entirely with the Ministry on this," he exclaimed loudly, shaking a handful of powdered phoenix feathers into his cauldron.

"ThatÂ’s a first," Ron muttered.

"He thinks Dumbledore should get the Ministry in here to Hogwarts and check all of the students, just to make sure none of them are mutants," he said to Crabbe and Goyle, his angular face very smug. He turned and shot a very nasty look at Hermione. "Of course, they should do the same for Mudbloods, but stillÂ…"

"DonÂ’t," Aeryn hissed, grabbing both Harry and Ron before they could leap on Malfoy. The last time Malfoy called Hermione Mudblood, the two had ended up with detentions. If they started a brawl in Potions class, the thought of what Snape would do to them made Aeryn shudder.

"My mum owled me this morning and said that if there were any mutants at the school, she would send me to Durmstrang immediately," Seamus Finnigan whispered to Dean Thomas. "I think sheÂ’s overacting a little, but stillÂ…you donÂ’t think there would be any here at Hogwarts, do you?"

AerynÂ’s hand spasmed, and she accidentally knocked a full phial of scorpion bile to the floor. The phial shattered, and as Aeryn leaped to escape the steaming bile, she rammed into her cauldron. She tumbled to the floor, and with a sickening thud, the cauldron rocked on its base and fell over. The students leaped backwards as an orangeish liquid spread slowly across the classroom floor. Snape whipped towards her at the sound and pinned her with an icy glare that could freeze the Mediterranean.

At the same moment, the bell rang.

"Miss Blake," Snape said as the other students scrambled away to gather their belongings. "You will stay behind and clean up your mess."

Aeryn nodded silently. Go on, she mouthed to Hermione when she turned back to glance worriedly at her. Aeryn picked up a handful of rags sitting on her ingredients table and started cleaning up the floor. Since she hadnÂ’t been able to add the essential ingredients to her potion, it was only messy and not dangerous to touch, but this small knowledge didnÂ’t help improve her mood any. Luckily, the mixture was thick, and didnÂ’t quite spread to all corners of the room before Aeryn could mop it up.

Her hands were thoroughly sticky by the time she had cleaned up the worst of the mess. Aeryn flung a handful of ruined rags into her cauldron, swallowing a curse, and grabbed the lip of the cauldron, heaving it back into an upright position. She wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her robe, grimacing, and looked down at her hand. She turned back to her ingredients table to get some more rags.

A pair of hands suddenly grabbed AerynÂ’s hips and yanked her backwards. AerynÂ’s hands froze as a tall, lean body pressed firmly against her back. A warm breath wafted against the skin of her neck.

"I consider myself a patient man, Miss Blake," murmured Professor Severus Snape silkily. "However, your imperceptivity is enough to drive a saint to murder." His long fingers dug painfully into the bones of her hips. "No more subterfuge, Miss Blake. I am tired of my advances being ignored."