The Fire You Touch

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Chapter 26: Ainos

The door to the infirmary wing was closed. Hesitantly, Aeryn pushed it open with one hand, trying to make as little noise as possible. It was three days after Christmas, and she still had not seen Hermione since the incident with the Polyjuice Potion. Although Aeryn had no desire to get into a confrontation with the young witch, she felt obligated by the friendship they had once shared to at least check and make sure Hermione was doing all right.

The infirmary was very quiet as Aeryn tiptoed inside. It was already eight o'clock in the morning, but only the faintest beginnings of sunrise were staining the night shadows, and she seriously doubted that Hermione was awake--but, then again, she was hoping for that. Aeryn snuck past the Petrified forms of Nick, Justin, and Colin until she reached Hermione's bed.

Her friend's black-furred face was relaxed in sleep. Trying not to breathe too loudly, Aeryn crept over to the bedside table and placed a small card next to a stack of schoolbooks. She wordlessly started to back away, but Hermione stirred restlessly beneath her sheets, heaved a huge sigh, and cracked open her eyelids.

Aeryn froze. Hermione's luminous eyes widened, and for a moment the two girls remained motionless, starting at each other.

"Oh, Aeryn," the cat-girl whispered finally, beginning to sit up.

For a split second, Aeryn considered turning tail and fleeing out of the hospital wing, but her feet had mysteriously become glued to the floor. With great effort, she settled a normal expression on her face. "Hermione, I've missed you, I'm so glad that you're awake," she said, or intended to say, for mid-sentence the young witch flung her arms around Aeryn's waist and pulled her onto the bed.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione exclaimed in a voice half-choked with tears.

Whatever reception Aeryn had been expecting, it wasn't this. Slightly stunned, she awkwardly put her arms around the other girl. "I--"

Hermione buried her face in Aeryn's neck, ignoring the older girl's sudden flinch. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I--"

"Don't you trust us?" Her fur was bristly against Aeryn's skin. "Don't you trust me?"

It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe with Hermione's arms locked around her. "You--you might have told Dumbledore--"

"Of course I would have!" the young girl sobbed. "You shouldn't have had to put up with it, you shouldn't have, it's wrong, it's not right--"

Aeryn very gently tried to loosen herself from Hermione's hands. "Hermione, honey--"

A clatter of glassware interrupted her, and Aeryn looked up to see Madam Pomfrey enter the room, carrying a tray filled with medicine bottles. She stopped short when she saw Aeryn clutching the weeping Hermione.

"Miss Blake--" The school nurse looked at Aeryn bewilderedly "--what's going on--"

"Nothing, Madam," Aeryn explained quickly. "Hermione...uh...just had a nightmare." She patted the young girl's head comfortingly. "She was thrashing around, so I woke her up."

Madam Pomfrey set down the tray and walked over to Hermione's bed. "I didn't hear you come in," she said, putting a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder. "There, there, dear. It was just a dream, that's all."

Aeryn could feel the sobs wracking Hermione's body grow softer as the young girl struggled to get hold of herself. "I'm, um, going out this morning to get some stuff done, but I had something to give to Hermione before I left."

Hermione gave a loud, shuddering sniff and released her hold on Aeryn long enough to wipe a hand across her streaming eyes.

"Oh, it's all right, dear," Madam Pomfrey cooed, plucking a handkerchief out of thin air and handing it to the young girl. "I know, dreams can be so upsetting...do you want to talk about it?"

Hermione blew her nose with a loud honk.

"Maybe it'd be best if you got her to talk about it," the school nurse murmured confidingly to Aeryn as Hermione squared her thin shoulders, her furry face setting in a decisively determined expression. "It so helps to talk through what's upsetting you when you're with friends, especially with dreams...I'll leave you two alone so I'm not intruding." With a final touch on Hermione's back, Madam Pomfrey bustled from the room, picking up her tray as she left.

Aeryn clumsily pushed a strand of hair out of Hermione's eyes. The young girl seemed to have her emotions under control, save for the occasional watery hiccup. "Look, I'm sorry--"

"He's your teacher!" her friend whispered fiercely, knotting the bed sheets in her fists. "He should know better, there are rules about that, doesn't he--"

"Hermione--"

"Was that why you were always sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower at night?" Hermione's luminous yellow eyes were like Chinese lanterns.

"Hush," Aeryn said quickly. The overexcited tone of Hermione's voice was beginning to worry her. "It's okay."

"I think I'm going to be sick," her friend murmured, and all of a sudden she looked terribly ill. "Oh, God..."

Alarmed, Aeryn put her hands on Hermione's shoulders. "Honey, it's okay--"

The cat-girl shook her friend's hands away and threw back her covers. "I wanted to wait and talk to you, to make sure of what had happened," she said determinedly, feeling around on the floor for her slippers. "Now that I know for certain what it was, I'm going to talk to Dumbledore. Right now."

"No!" The word exploded from Aeryn's throat, and she grabbed her friend's arm forcefully. "Hermione, you can't tell him--"

Hermione's cat-eyes slitted unwaveringly. "Aeryn, it's in the contract that every teacher has to sign. Teachers are forbidden to have relationships with students--if they do, they're kicked out of the school, no exceptions." She carefully extricated her arm from Aeryn's grip and stood up. "We can get him, Aeryn."

Aeryn flung herself across the bed and swiped futilely as her friend danced out of reach. "No, Hermione!"

"It's in Article 5.4 of the Contract for Teaching Positions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Hermione explained, shrugging into a dressing-robe. She started for the door. "Right there, in black and white, and--"

Aeryn stumbled to her feet and threw herself forward into the young girl's path, blocking her from moving forward. "I can't let Dumbledore know about it."

"But--" Hermione tried to duck around Aeryn.

"Hermione, no!" Aeryn's hand flew out and locked around Hermione's wrist, reining the young girl back.

"Ow! Let me go!"

Aeryn tightened her grip. "It's not a problem for the Headmaster to find out that I'm a mutant, it's if that knowledge somehow gets known to the general public," she said in a low, desperate voice as her friend tried to peel Aeryn's fingers away. "I'll be out of Hogwarts instantly."

"They don't have to know that you're a mutant!" Hermione exclaimed, stamping her foot. "That's not what we're discussing here, we're talking about how Snape--"

"That is what we're discussing!" Aeryn cried. "Hermione, Snape was blackmailing me because I was a mutant!"

Hermione froze and stared at Aeryn for a long moment. "Is that all that's holding you back?" she gasped finally. "Aeryn, he raped you! You've got to get him for that, he can't be allowed to get away with it, no matter what people may think of you--"

She pulled herself forward, but Aeryn had no intention of letting her go. "What about the attacks?" Aeryn asked, digging her heels into the floor with all her might. "If I admit that I'm a mutant, that's as good as a confession to the Ministry."

"But--"

With tremendous effort, Aeryn threw herself backwards, dragging the young girl and herself onto the bed. Hermione struggled to get back up, but Aeryn threw her arms around her desperately, pinning her down. "If I rat on Snape, he'll make it known that I'm a mutant."

"That shouldn't make a difference," Hermione hissed. "He shouldn't get away with it just because--"

"*Hermione!*"

The name, simultaneously vocalized and telepathized, stopped the young witch's struggles as if she had been hit over the head with a bat. Aeryn drew a deep, slow breath, casting a worried eye towards Madam Pomfrey's door.

"Hermione, you're from the Muggle world." Aeryn released the girl's arms and let her sit back up. She swallowed as her friend rubbed the places where Aeryn had gripped her, watching her with wary eyes. "You know how those people treat mutants, you have to, it's all over the news--and the wizards are getting to be just as bad as them." Her voice became pleading. "If they found out what I am, at this point in time..." She trailed off, but the remnants of her words hung in the air like crystal shards.

Hermione's furred brow furrowed. A visible struggle crossed her features, and Aeryn could almost hear her warring thoughts. She sat back against the pillows, watching her young friend with cautious eyes. Had she, perhaps, thrown too much at her? God above, the girl was only twelve...when Aeryn had been her age, she had barely known what the word rape meant, much less the subtle distinctions that defined it.

Hermione twisted her fingers in her lap. "Why are they so intolerant?" she asked softly. "They've also been shunned, they know how it feels..."

Aeryn sighed. The same question had occupied the forefront of her mind ever since she was fifteen years old. She rubbed a hand across her forehead wearily, trying to think of the right words to explain. "It's human nature to fear or reject that which is different from the accepted norm," she began slowly. This much I know to be true. "It holds true for regular Homo sapiens or wizards...I mean, look at the way werewolves are treated," she said, grasping onto a comparison that held true in the wizarding world. "Sure, some people are tolerant of lycanthropes, but there are many others who would be just as happy if they were all locked in cages."

To her surprise, Hermione nodded sagely, an understanding light flickering in her lamp-yellow eyes. "I understand," she said.

Whatever words Aeryn had been intending to say next--for how could this girl, barely twelve years old and a true witch, possibly understand what it was to be shunned because of your birth--dried in her throat as she saw a hardness at the corner of Hermione's eyes and a set to the young girl's lips that Aeryn had seen reflected back at her so many times in her own mirror.

"You'll be next, Mudblood!"

And suddenly, with startling clarity, Aeryn understood a sliver of the deep-seated force that motivated her intelligent friend--her intelligent Muggle-born friend.

When you cannot measure your lineage, you measure the worth of your accomplishments.

Once upon a time, Salazar Slytherin wished for only pureblooded families to learn the secrets of the wizarding arts....

Even though the Albus Dumbledores of this world outnumbered the Lucius Malfoys, prejudice, no matter whom it was from, always left bitter ashes in the mouth of the prejudged.

This much Aeryn had learned from looking into Ron's eyes, and this knowledge was reflected in the lamp-yellow eyes of her young friend.

A deep, knowing silence fell over the two girls.

"So you see," Aeryn said finally. Her words sounded strained and distant. "I can't tell Dumbledore about any of this."

Hermione's yellow eyes flashed, and she opened her mouth as if to retort, but at that moment, there was a creaking footstep at the infirmary door. A not-quite-smothered gasp caused both Aeryn and Hermione to turn and stare at the two figures hesitating in the doorway.

Aeryn had not spoken to the boys since Christmas. With the use of her mutant powers, she was able to skillfully avoid unwanted contact with them. At meals, she ate after they had left, and scuttled in and out of Gryffindor Tower before they arose or after they had gone to bed.

Hermione's great yellow eyes darted from the boys to Aeryn, back and forth in an uncomfortable dance.

"Aeryn," Harry exclaimed in a voice that could have been cheerful, had it not sounded so forced.

Ron glanced to Hermione. "You okay?" he asked worriedly.

Aeryn's heart knifed sideways.

"‘Bye, Hermione," she said sharply, and quickly shouldered her way past Harry and Ron.

Hermione stretched out a hand. "No, wait, Aeryn--"

But Aeryn had already fled.

* * *

"Lockhart came to see me today," Snape called from his bedroom.

The hand holding the spoonful of monkshood hesitated only slightly before upending the ingredient into the bubbling cauldron. "Really," Aeryn said carefully, poking the flecks of dried herb into the thick mixture. She set the spoon down and squinted into the open doorway of the Potions master's bedroom. Even though Snape diligently took the antidote every four hours, the fumes of preparation still caused him to turn green, so he had taken to escaping into his room whenever Aeryn brewed the antidote. "Did he happen to notice your lack of withdrawal symptoms?"

"I dashed a pitcher of water over myself before he came in," Snape said nonchalantly. His voice was thick. "He didn't act as if he noticed anything different."

"Clever," Aeryn muttered. She unscrewed the bottle of spider bile and dribbled a few drops into the cauldron. "And did he give you more of the Berserker's Mead?"

"After a suitable period of taunting and watching me beg, yes." The Potions master's words were slightly stilted, and Aeryn was immediately aware that he had plugged his nose with cotton.

The goopy mixture made a brourp, and Aeryn peeked down into the cauldron. It was simmering nicely, and would need to wait a few more minutes before she started to add the nightshade. "Great." She got to her feet, idly brushing flecks of powdered asphodel off her sweater. The muscles in her back complained at her movements, but she ignored them and walked to the open door of the bedroom. Snape was sitting at his desk, his back to her as he flipped through the pages of The Daily Prophet.

She leaned against the doorframe. "Can I have it?"

The rustle as he turned the page of the newspaper was her only answer. Aeryn paused, wondering if maybe he hadn't heard her.

"Professor?"

"Mmm." He made no move to turn around.

After only a slight hesitation, Aeryn stepped into the room. "Would you give me the Mead, please?" she repeated, walking to his side. "I'd like to dispose of it myself."

Snape flipped a page, running a long finger down the length of a column. "I do not have it," he murmured, his face never lifting from his reading.

"You don't have it?" Aeryn tilted her head to one side, wincing slightly as a loud popping noise accompanied the movement. "What did you do with it?"

"I disposed of it," the Potions master said calmly.

Something in the way he said those innocuous-sounding words made Aeryn pause and look at him sharply. "What do you mean, disposed of it?"

For a moment, he was silent, his coal-black eyes ruminating over a picture of a startled witch who was in the act of dropping a basket of apples. Then he shrugged his shoulders and rested his chin in his palm. "Don't worry about it, Miss Blake."

The last time Aeryn had heard something akin to those words fall from his lips, she had ended up in a closet wearing his clothes. Not surprisingly, an alarm bell began pealing warningly in her head. "Why don't you just tell me what you did with it?" she asked, trying to keep her words light.

A silent heartbeat passed.

"Professor?" This time she was unable to keep an edge of panic from lacing her voice.

A frustrated sigh exploded from Snape's throat, and he slammed his palms on the top of his desk so loudly that Aeryn jumped. The Potions master's head slowly swiveled around until his coal-black eyes rested on her. "If you absolutely must know," he said in a quiet, calm voice, "I took it."

The room became as silent as a tomb. Aeryn very nearly started to laugh, to shake her head, for he had to be joking, there was no way he was telling the truth...but he turned his head back to his newspaper, and Aeryn could feel the blood begin to drain from her face.

She backed up a step. "You...you can't be serious," she choked finally.

"Don't worry, Miss Blake," he repeated, resuming his reading.

There was a clatter as Aeryn backed up against the bookshelf. All of a sudden, it was very difficult to breathe. "You took it?"

Snape sighed again, but this time it was more of a condescending groan. "I'm on the antidote, Miss Blake." He said it as if it was painfully obvious, the same way he would explain the seven different ways to prepare a Levitation Serum in Potions class. "The Mead won't affect me."

Her heartbeat was rushing in her ears. "How dare you!"

"Miss Blake." Snape turned his entire body in his chair until he faced her. His sallow face was impassive. "You're getting hysterical."

The image of how he had looked the last time he was under the influence leapt into her mind's eye. "You said you wouldn't," she growled, curling her hands into fists.

"This was the obvious choice of action," he said, enunciating each word with a sharp-tongued bitterness she had not heard from him in weeks.

Aeryn's lip twitched in a snarl. "You could have told him you would take it later!" The muscles in her body began to tighten, readying her to spring upon him if he even twitched in her direction. "You're supposed to be--" her imagination flew about in her head liked a caged bird; she could see Lockhart holding a clear phial out to Snape "--we're trying to--" an imagined Snape raising the bottle to his lips "--I'm getting you off this stuff, and you go and screw around--"

The Potions master's eyes were cool and condescending. "Lockhart handed me a goblet of wine with the Mead in it," he said, getting slowly to his feet. "If I hadn't drunk it right away, he would have known something was afoot." He spread his hands and shrugged nonchalantly. "Now he thinks I'm under the influence again."

Of course. It was so blindingly simple. Aeryn was sure her heart was going to burst out of her chest, it was pounding so hard. "You...you..."

"Oh, really, Miss Blake," Snape in a cold, unamused voice. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked down his hooked nose at her. A cruel glint entered his coal-black eyes. "You can be such a headache."

Aeryn's fist lightninged out and smashed into his jaw. The tall wizard stumbled back against his desk with a muffled grunt, and Aeryn danced backwards, every muscle in her body instantly alert. The Potions master put a hand to his mouth and pulled it away stained with red. The eyes he turned to Aeryn were shocked, and then immediately darkened with a feral rage. "You bitch," he snarled, and threw himself towards her.

Aeryn's hand flew up and Snape was instantaneously motionless as she froze him in his tracks.

She slowly lowered her hand, keeping a firm telekinetic grasp on him as she took a step backwards. The expression on his sallow face was enough to stop the breath in her throat and she gulped once, gathering her rage about her like a shield. "Listen to you," she said in a low voice. "You even sound like you're back on the Mead."

His face contorted as he fought to free himself from the invisible hold binding his body. "I don't have to put up with this."

She kept backing up until she stood in the doorway of his bedroom. "You are, it's affecting you, you motherfucker--"

"Watch your mouth when you address me, young lady," Snape snapped. But the words seemed to have a sobering effect on him, and the wild wrath burning behind his coal-black eyes flickered. With what seemed to be a tremendous effort, his features relaxed, and he paused before speaking next, as if he was trying to control the emotions within him. "I am a full professor and Head of House--"

Aeryn's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I know what you are," she spat.

A burble echoed behind her. Aeryn quickly looked over her shoulder at the coffee table with the forgotten batch of antidote still bubbling in the cauldron. With faltering footsteps, she walked over, and a quick peek into the cauldron informed her that the mixture had not yet spoiled.

For a moment she hesitated, torn over what to do. Reason eventually prevailed over her spite, and she dumped the final measurement of henbane into the cauldron, stirring it briefly to make sure it was mixed. Plastering a benign look on her face, Aeryn walked back to the doorway of Snape's bedroom. The Potions master was still in the position where she had frozen him, but a look of exasperated desperation was starting to chip away at his features.

"Good night, Professor," she said calmly, and turned to go.

"Miss Blake!" His words stopped her, and she looked over her shoulder at him questioningly. He coughed awkwardly. "You can't leave me like this."

"Why not?"

Now the desperation was beginning to settle on his face. Aeryn watched curiously as a bead of sweat formed at his browline and began a steady descent down the hawklike features that had gone suddenly pale.

He bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile. "I think," he said, "it's about time for me to take another dose of the antidote."

Aeryn crossed her arms. "So?"

Another trickle of sweat joined the first. A very forced chuckle escaped his lips. "This is quite uncomfortable for me," the Potions master murmured. "If you release me, I can take a dose of the antidote and we can discuss this matter like rational adults."

Aeryn glared flintily at him. "No," she said in a clear voice, and took a step back.

"Miss Blake." His voice was almost pleading.

Aeryn shrugged. She wasn't feeling the least bit tired, and thanks to her spectacular control on her telekinetic powers, she could keep him in his uncomfortable position for a very long time.

"I'll release you when I'm good and ready," she said languidly. Ignoring the choked noise that came from his throat, Aeryn made her way out of his chambers, the faintest beginnings of a grin gracing her lips.

* * *

Professor Sprout poured a steaming cup of tea and handed it to Aeryn. "I'm so glad you finally came up to see me," she said, pouring herself a cup and adding milk and sugar before she sat down in a squishy yellow armchair. "I've been wondering how you are."

"I've been pretty well," Aeryn lied, taking a cautious sip of tea. The sitting room of the Herbology professor's chambers was cheery and colorful. The air in the room was moist and warm, and a pleasing, earthy fragrance rose from the assorted pots of magical plants hanging from the ceiling and sprouting from the corners--altogether, a nice break from Snape's chilly dungeons.

Aeryn suppressed a shudder at the thought of the Potions master. Every evening, she dutifully made her way to his chambers and prepared a brew of the Berserker's Mead antidote for him. Since the evening after he had taken the Mead--a feat he had not since repeated--she had barely spoken to him, which, to tell the truth, suited her just fine. The very thought of carrying on a conversation with him made her physically ill.

The squat little witch propped her feet up on an ottoman and nibbled delicately at a chocolate-chip cookie. "And how are the rest of the Gryffindor Four doing?" she asked brightly.

A sickly, forced smile spread across Aeryn's face. "Just...ducky." She leaned quickly forward and grabbed a cookie, trying to compose herself. She had barely seen Harry, Ron, and Hermione since their chance meeting in the hospital wing over a week ago. Their absence was a cold ache in Aeryn's heart, almost as if someone had cast the menus geluso curse on her. Now, with the winter holidays drawing to a close, Aeryn was at a loss over what to do.

Professor Sprout was talking about something to do with the Mandrakes and several other new plant species she was thinking of introducing into her higher-level classes, and while Aeryn plastered an interested expression on her face, she was barely listening. The Herbology professor was in the middle of explaining how she was going to redecorate Greenhouse Five once the school year was over when Aeryn's teacup suddenly slipped from her fingertips, sloshing hot tea across her jeans as it fell to the floor with a sickening shatter.

Both Aeryn and Professor Sprout leapt out of their chairs. The Herbology professor reached quickly for her wand to clean up the mess, but Aeryn was already on her knees, gathering the splinters of the ruined teacup. "I'm sorry," she exclaimed automatically, raking the shards of bone china from the leaf-green carpet.

Professor Sprout was at her side. "Dear, it's all right--"

"I'm sorry," Aeryn repeated. There were so many little pieces everywhere, as if the teacup had exploded like a tiny bomb. Her fingers flew over the carpet, picking and gathering. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--"

A hand dropped on Aeryn's arm, stalling her movements. "Miss Blake."

Aeryn looked down at the hand on her arm. The Herbology professor's hand was small and square, with dirt-ingraned nails that looked as if they would never come clean, not even with weeks of scrubbing. Professor Sprout took Aeryn's hands in hers, and Aeryn watched idly as the Herbology Professor uncurled her fingers to reveal blooded palms where the glass had embedded.

It was funny, Aeryn thought detachedly as Professor Sprout gave an exclamation and started picking shards of the teacup from her skin, that she couldn't feel any pain.

The Herbology professor's fingers were gentle as she extricated the sharp pieces from her palm. One afternoon after Quidditch practice, Harry had come to Hagrid's cabin with a huge splinter in his palm. Aeryn had very patiently dug it out while the other two hovered around them, Ron making snide remarks while Hermione looked up the different ways to disinfect the wound.

Aeryn winced.

Professor Sprout froze at Aeryn's sudden motion. "Does this hurt, dear?"

The words came before she could stop them. "My friends are angry with me," Aeryn said quietly.

Professor Sprout's fingers wavered only a moment before delicately extricating a dagger of china from her palm. She carefully helped Aeryn to her feet. "Come over here with me, dear." The Herbology professor steered Aeryn to the window and pulled over the two chairs she normally reserved for wizard chess games. Neither of them spoke a word as Professor Sprout picked up her cherrywood wand and began closing the cuts on Aeryn's hands.

"Now." Professor Sprout kept her eyes on Aeryn's wounds, but Aeryn knew she was listening attentively. "What's the matter?"

Aeryn chewed on her lower lip. "I..." Just breathe. "I...didn't tell my friends...something." She shrugged, trying to ignore the tightness gathering at the corners of her eyes. "Now they're not speaking to me."

Perhaps it was because she could feel the rigidity in Aeryn's hands, but Professor Sprout did not ask what the "something" was. "Why didn't you tell them?" she asked, closing a laceration on Aeryn's finger.

"I didn't..." Aeryn shook her head, trying to find a way to say it without being too specific. She could still see the look of unadulterated horror on Ron's face. "I thought that me telling them would hurt them," she said finally. "And I didn't want to do that."

Aeryn's left hand, though still bloody, was now unmarred. Professor Sprout picked up the girl's other hand and tapped her wand against the cuts. "But, apparently, not telling them about it has done just as much damage, if they aren't talking to you."

"Yeah." Aeryn was surprised that this wasn't hurting more than it did. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Sprout closed a particularly deep scratch. "And they don't understand that I was trying to protect them." She drew a deep breath and, to her surprise, found that it caught in her throat. In the chambers of her mind, she suddenly heard cheerful laughter, and saw the smiling faces of her friends on Christmas morning, and she swallowed hard. "And now..." A maddening quaver had eaten its way into her words. She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I...I don't know what to do."

Aeryn's hands were both healed. Professor Sprout slowly sat up and slipped her wand into her sleeve. Aeryn kept her eyes trained on her bloody hands. At least, she told herself, they wouldn't scar.

"Well, dear..."

Aeryn glanced up quickly. The squat little professor sighed and ran a hand across her eyes. Without her patched hat on her flyaway hair, the Herbology professor looked more like a typical English housewife than an accomplished magic-user, and Aeryn wondered, not for the first time, what her life had been like before she came to Hogwarts. Professor Sprout folded her hands together. "If I were you, I'd go talk to them," she said gently.

Aeryn shook her head. "But they don't want to talk to me." Why didn't you ever tell us that you're a m-m... she heard Ron struggle to say, and she choked back a whimper. She furiously brought up a hand to push her hair away from her face, but stopped short as she saw the drying blood on them.

"Dear..." The professor leaned forward and clasped Aeryn's hand in hers. After a hesitant second, Aeryn looked up into her face. The Herbology professor's brown eyes were calm and gentle. "You forget. They're only children." She chuckled slightly. "Truth be told, I've always wondered why you spend so much of your time with students that are eight years younger than you."

Aeryn smiled sadly.

"But I know how much they mean to you, and you to them." Professor Sprout reached out and gently placed her hand on Aeryn's cheek. "They're just as confused as you about this, and don't know how to approach you."

Aeryn had to blink hard to keep her vision clear. "But..."

"Dear, one of the delicate idiosyncrasies of friendships is how easily we can hurt those that are most important to us." Professor Sprout's hand was smooth and warm against Aeryn's skin. "If you want to mend what's been damaged, you need to get your feelings out in the open, otherwise it won't get resolved."

The professor's open, honest words were so filled with concern that Aeryn almost broke down and told her everything. But the lump in her throat was too large for her to do anything but whisper, "I thought I was protecting them."

Professor Sprout smiled, a smile that was sympathetic and understanding and sad all at once. "Then if they're truly your friends," she said quietly, "they will forgive you."

"We're behind you all the way, Aeryn!" Ron had exclaimed as he left the infirmary wing

....

"He adores yeh...he'd bend over backwards teh help yeh, yeh know he would

...."

The picture of her parents waving at her merrily, and her friends grinning as bright as the sun

....

It had been so very long since Aeryn could truly call someone a friend, and feel that emotion called love that she had thought she would never feel again. And Hermione, at least, still cared about her.

It was that image of her friend's lamp-yellow eyes, filled with tears of concern for her, that steeled Aeryn's resolve.

By God, she wasn't going to let them go without a fight.

"Okay," Aeryn said, but the word came out broken, and she could feel her eyes brimming as she smiled hesitantly at the Herbology professor. "Okay. I'll do it."

"Oh, Miss Blake," Professor Sprout said, and suddenly Aeryn was enfolded in the teacher's arms, and was being held, held like she had been when her mother was still alive and Aeryn had woken in the middle of the night from a nightmare. The Herbology professor's robe smelled like leaves and wildflowers, and the tense muscles of Aeryn's body began to relax, and the heavy lump in her throat began, slowly, to dissolve.

"Thank you," Aeryn whispered into Professor Sprout's shoulder.

"Try to be understanding with them as well," Professor Sprout murmured, gently stroking Aeryn's hair. "After all, they're only human."

And not mutant.

But the professor's helpful words and sympathetic ear had brought back a stubbornness and a desire for the fight that Aeryn had thought was long dead.

Sometimes having to fight for something makes it all the more precious.

After a long moment, Professor Sprout and Aeryn pulled away and smiled at each other. The Herbology professor looked down at Aeryn's blood-streaked hands and tapped them scoldingly. "You should go wash your hands," she said, getting to her feet and pulling her wand back out of her sleeve. She motioned to a small door on the opposite end of the room. "The WC's in there, through the bedroom. Go clean yourself up, and I'll clean up here."

* * *

Straining a breath between her teeth and hardening her eyes, Aeryn pushed open the infirmary door and barged into the hospital wing. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up, their busy conversation ceasing as quickly as if it had been smothered with a blanket.

Aeryn stalked over to them, her feet clicking sharply against the stone floor. "I'm tired of this," she said harshly, her eyes darting to each of her friends in turn. Had the situation not been so grave, she would have laughed at the sight of their faces: Hermione's cat face with round, yellow eyes; Ron's face draining pale until his freckles stood out like flecks of mud; Harry's mouth hanging open in a small ‘o.'

"I'm tired of...avoiding you, tired of feeling ashamed, and..." She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "You guys are my friends, so I'm going to explain myself to you. All of it." She spread her arms wide. "Whatever you want to know."

No one breathed for a moment; then, Harry and Hermione glanced nervously at each other. A queer pain lanced through Aeryn's chest, and--for a moment--she was afraid that perhaps she had been too forward, that perhaps she had hoped for too much, that there was no chance for redemption--

Harry cleared his throat, and Aeryn quickly looked at him. His green eyes rested brilliantly on Aeryn's face. "Hermione's already explained why you didn't tell us about..." He coughed awkwardly and looked away, running a hand through his unruly black hair. "...Professor Snape," he said finally, a faint hint of color burning his cheeks.

Aeryn jerked her head in a nod. "Good." With slow, deliberate movements, her flinty gaze scorched across the room to rest on Ron's pallid face. "Because I don't think that's the major problem."

Ron did not speak, but his lips went white.

"No. It's not." Aeryn looked back at Harry, and was shocked to see the sudden set of his jaw, and the steeliness in his bottle-green eyes. The young wizard glared at her and crossed his arms in a very Snape-like gesture. "You didn't tell us what you are."

What you are.

Aeryn lifted her chin and returned Harry's stare, not wanting to let him see how deeply those words cut into her heart. "I didn't tell you," she began, "because I knew it would matter to you--"

"It doesn't," Harry muttered.

Hermione and Ron turned and stared at him in surprise, and Aeryn suddenly realized that the hardness in her friend's eyes was not born of hate, but of pain.

"It doesn't matter to me," Harry said, "if you're a witch, a mutant, or a...or a troll, as long as you're honest with me!" His green eyes were very bright behind his black glasses. "Didn't you trust me enough to tell me the truth?"

He looked searchingly into her face, and Aeryn's memory flashed suddenly back to the that fateful day in her flat when all of this insanity had started, when he had found her levitating the television stand and his face had glowed with such wonderment, with such understanding, with such happiness....

Her throat had gone dry, and she had to sit down quite suddenly. A hundred different explanations flashed into her head to defend her actions: that she was trying to protect him; that if she had told him what she was in the first place, she wouldn't be here at Hogwarts; that it shouldn't matter, after all, he didn't tell her about being the savior of wizardkind; the list went on and on. But all she wanted to do was sob as she looked into his puzzled, perturbed face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered finally. "Harry, I'm sorry, I thought...."

But you didn't think,

she realized suddenly as the expression on her friend's face did not flicker. Because you didn't know any better you assumed they would shun you, which turned out to be the biggest mistake of your life.

All her excuses and justifications seemed very silly and childish now.

"I thought you'd tell Dumbledore," she continued clumsily, because she did not know what else to say.

Harry stared at her for a very long moment until she thought for sure that she had lost him and he would never speak to her again. Then the young boy sighed. "And why on earth would we tell Dumbledore?" he asked, his voice weary.

Aeryn blinked. "Well..." She hadn't expected this. "I guess...because...I was afraid."

"Why?" Harry asked.

Aeryn shrugged. "People don't...take too kindly to mutants." The understatement of the century. "Especially not now, with...everything that's going on."

Hermione and Harry glanced at other--being very careful, Aeryn noticed, not to look at Ron.

There was a long, awkward pause.

"And," Aeryn muttered, if only to break the stifling silence, "I really can't do magic, either."

This time, Harry and Hermione shared a glance that was overly patient. "I think," Hermione said slowly, "if you can fool Dumbledore into thinking that you belong here at Hogwarts, then who are we to say that you can't do magic?" Her lamp-yellow eyes blinked, and she shrugged. "I mean, seriously. Maybe your mutation is just the newest evolution in wizardry."

"Besides," said Harry, and the smallest of grins twitched his lips. "We don't rat our friends' secrets--not unless they tell us to."

It was a good thing she was sitting down, Aeryn thought quickly, because she was now utterly floored. She felt very clumsy and stupid indeed as Harry heaved a huge breath and sat down on Hermione's bed.

"By the way," Harry said, the hard look in his green eyes beginning to dissolve, "what exactly is your mutation?"

Aeryn had to shake her head slightly to clear it. "Um..." For the first time in a long while, she was able to get a good, clear look at her friends and saw, not the trepidation she would have expected, but...curiosity.

"I have several mutations, actually," she began, sitting forward in her chair. "I can...um...well, for starters, I can cast illusions--which is why I do so well in Transfigurations." She glanced at Harry and Hermione, who had settled back into the pillows and were regarding her inquiringly. "And then I'm telekinetic--you know, I can move things around with my mind."

"Wingardium leviosa,"

Harry exclaimed, nodding his head knowingly.

"Uh, yeah." He would know, of course...that was the first ‘spell' he ever saw me cast. "And then..." Aeryn bit her lip. She carefully averted her eyes from Hermione's intrigued face and instead regarded one of her fingernails, which was slightly ragged at one corner. "Um...I'm also..." Aeryn's muscles bunched. "...telepathic."

"I knew it!"

The words squeaked from Ron's throat, tense and high-pitched. Harry, Aeryn, and Hermione turned to look at him. He was sitting in a chair next to Hermione's bed--or, more exactly, he was crawling backwards in the seat of a chair next to Hermione's bed. His eyes were enormously wide, and his knuckles were pale as he clenched the arms of his chair.

"You're one of those," the red-haired boy gasped.

Aeryn got quickly to her feet. "Ron--"

"My dad's told me all about them--says You-Know-Who used to use them to attack normal wizards--" Ron had curled up into a little ball on the cushion of his chair, bringing his knees up to his chest like a shield "--they fry your brain to a crisp and you can't do anything about it--"

Normal wizards.

Aeryn's stomach lurched at the sight of the boy cringing backwards from her.

Hermione's lamp-yellow eyes glittered harshly, and her furred face became rigid. "Shut up, Ron," she snapped, sitting up straight in her bed. "This is Aeryn you're talking about. She's not going to fry your brain."

"How do you know?" Ron whispered.

Suddenly, Aeryn felt very sick.

"Oh, stop it!" Harry cried, taking a step towards the boy. "Come on, Ron, she's our friend! Stop treating her like she's Voldemort!"

Ron blanched at the mention of the Unspoken One, and even Hermione looked slightly shocked. But the red-haired boy would not budge from his position, not even when Harry threw his arms up in disgust and turned his back on him. Aeryn chewed on her lip. She had known that he would be the hardest to win back, but she hadn't expected it would be this difficult.

She took a step towards him, ignoring his sudden flinch. "Ron. Please." As much as it pained her to see him quail at her approach, Aeryn slowly held out a hand to him. "I've never...I would never use my powers in that way..."

Ron whimpered slightly, his eyes as wide as dinner plates, but Aeryn refused to back away.

"I don't want our friendship to end because of this," she murmured.

Ron's huge eyes stared at her outstretched hand, and his lips worked soundlessly as his fingers clenched against the arms of his chair. Aeryn stood still, watching him with bated breath. A struggle of several different emotions crossed his face; from anger to fear, from curiosity to suspicion, and still Aeryn waited, her hand before her as a peace offering. For one brief second, the young boy's face cleared, and Aeryn's heart leapt as he leaned forward slightly.

But the moment passed all too quickly, and a cloud rose again to shroud his features. A tortured frown twisted his face and his eyes slipped away from her. With a muffled noise in the back of his throat, Ron leapt from his chair and raced from the infirmary wing. The sharp click of his heels echoed furiously down the stone hallway and rang mockingly in Aeryn's ears.

After a wrenching heartbeat, Aeryn dropped her hand.

Hermione and Harry shared a glance before they leapt up and ran to her side. "Don't worry, Aeryn," the young girl exclaimed, putting a hand on her arm. Her lamp-yellow eyes were filled with concern. "He'll come around."

Even she did not sound convinced.

"Sure," Harry said with forced cheerfulness. He grinned at Aeryn. "Just...give him time to get used to the idea."

Half of Aeryn's heart wanted to run down the hallway after Ron and make him come back, to explain everything to him--maybe thrash some sense into him--but she forced herself to look at her two friends and smile, no matter how small the gesture was. She knew she would never get Ron back if she rode roughshod over him.

"Just give him time," she repeated quietly. This time a genuine smile creased her face, and Aeryn held out her arms to Harry and Hermione. The two students' faces lit up and they stepped forward into her arms, hugging her tightly.

"God, I've missed you guys," she laughed, feeling a bit of the old warmth seep back into her soul.

Harry stepped back, and his expression was so relaxed that Aeryn almost expected him to challenge her to a game of Exploding Snap, or mercilessly tease her about Oliver Wood's undying affections. But, instead, his scarred brow creased slightly, and a frown twitched his lips. "But," he began, "I still want to tell Dumbledore about Snape--"

"Harry," Aeryn exclaimed, holding up a hand quickly. She took a step away from them, chewing on her lower lip as her eyes flickered from Hermione to Harry. Now that she had once more regained their trust, Aeryn found herself with a moral dilemma. She could tell them the truth--that Lockhart was behind the entire nightmare, and that she and Snape were working together to expose him. But would they understand what she was trying to do? She remembered Hermione's disgusted face when the young girl had offered to go to Dumbledore to end the problem.

"No," Aeryn said finally, deciding not to tell them. After all, she told herself quickly, the less they know about this, the better. Even I don't understand half of what's going on, and I don't think I could explain it sufficiently to keep them from running to the Headmaster.

Harry's face crumpled in concern. "But--"

"No, really, it's all taken care of." Aeryn shrugged, trying to sound convincing. "It's not a problem anymore--honestly, I would tell you if it was."

Hermione regarded her friend seriously. "Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully, her cat-ears twitching slightly. She wrinkled her nose. "Because you didn't tell us before--"

"Positive," Aeryn said firmly. The less they know, the better. "Please," she exclaimed quietly, putting a hand on each of her friends' shoulders. "Trust me."

The cat-girl and Harry looked at each other, then back at Aeryn. Aeryn held her breath, watching as her two friends methodically thought over what she had said.

"All right," Harry said slowly, in a voice that was accepting but far from pleased. "But if anything happens with him--anything at all--"

"--we're going to Dumbledore, no matter what," Hermione finished.

Aeryn's slate-blue eyes regarded her friends calmly.

God, it was good to have them back.

"Okay," she said firmly. "It's a deal."