The Fire You Touch

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Chapter 28: The Very Secret Diary

Light.

A faint rustling noise.

The sheet against her skin was silk and Aeryn stretched a hand across the top of the covers, wondering fuzzily where she was. The woolen texture of a thickly woven blanket met her fingertips. She opened her eyes slowly. A faint, yellowish light from the chandelier illuminated the rich tapestries lining the rough stone walls of the room, and Aeryn blinked, trying to clear the sleep from her vision.

She sat up, her head reeling groggily. The huge wooden bed in which she lay did not creak with the movement. Aeryn yawned and looked around the room, her eyes lighting on the large bookshelf on the opposite wall, near a small desk lined with parchment. Her gaze glanced on the thick green pile of the carpet, and suddenly she knew where she was. With a small scream, she threw back the covers and flung herself out of the bed as if she had been burned.

Shuddering, she backed away from the bed, hugging her arms around herself. A quick glance around the room assured her that she was alone and--after looking down at her body--still clothed. The initial rush of terror quickly fled, leaving Aeryn slightly embarrassed and more than a little angry. How dare he? How dare he do such a thing, especially when he knew...

He must have carried me in here after--a hot flush of blood surged into Aeryn's cheeks, and she shoved her hands through her tangled mop of hair. Last night burned like a brand in her memory. She bit down on her lip hard. How on earth could she have lost control like she did? And then, to fall asleep in his arms, crying...Aeryn felt the memory of his hands gently stroking her hair, and she choked, casting her eyes around the room desperately.

Her eyes snagged across the rumpled covers of the bed. A light-colored square of fabric was resting on the woolen blanket. Curiously, she walked to the foot of the bed and picked up the parchment note lying on top.

Miss Blake (the note read)--

I realise these sleeping arrangements are not to your liking, but I did not want to have to disturb your slumber when I took my antidote this morning. I thought it best if you spent the night in the bed while I slept in the sitting room. If it is any consolation, the couch was quite uncomfortable.

I am going to breakfast right now. I would have woken you, but did not think it would be appropriate for you & me to stroll into the Great Hall together. McGonagall would have been greatly displeased.

I shall be back before classes begin to make certain that you are awake, but if you get this message in time, I feel you should nonetheless try to make an appearance at breakfast. In my experience, a semblance of normality, no matter how forced, is greatly preferable to uncomfortable explanations.

Your robe is in no condition to be worn. I have left something a bit more suitable--I do not know if it will fit you, but it is exceedingly better than the alternative.

If you choose to leave my chambers to go to breakfast, I trust (as always) that you will be discreet.

I hope the second half of your slumber was a bit more restful than the first.

-S. Snape

Aeryn set the note aside and reached for the square of cloth. Pale-blue silk spilled across the bedcovers as shook open the folds, and her eyes widened slightly as she saw what she held. The robe's low, square neckline was edged with seed pearls, and the bodice was worked with a lace pattern so intricate that it made Aeryn dizzy trying to follow it. The three-quarter length sleeves were made of a gauzy, filmy material that shuddered with the faintest movement, and the skirt alone must have been made from three yards of fabric.

Altogether, it was amazingly beautiful and absolutely unsuitable for school.

She gnawed on her lower lip, running the silk between her fingers. Perhaps she could slip into Gryffindor Tower while everyone else was at breakfast and find something a bit more suitable to wear. She looked down at the robe she was wearing and gave a small sigh. Maybe one of the seventh year girls could help her magic it back together, but for now, it couldn't be helped. Squaring her shoulders determinedly, she wriggled from her torn robe and wadded it into a ball, wondering how she was going to get it unnoticed into Gryffindor Tower. Maybe she could cast an illusion over it to make it look like a textbook or something.

She stepped into the new robe and slipped her arms into the sleeves. As she reached behind to button up the back--wondering, not for the first time, why wizard robes never had zippers--she realized it was a task easier said than done. She had only buttoned the bottom two buttons before she discovered the robe was a size too small for her. Aeryn gritted her teeth, resolved that a mere garment would not best her, and doggedly continued fastening the robe.

Several minutes later, she was panting with exertion, her arms ached, and the back of her robe was still halfway open.

"Damn it," she growled, putting her hands to her forehead.

She stretched her knotted shoulders and reached back in a second attempt when suddenly the door of the bedroom creaked open and the Potions master stepped into the room in a swirl of black material. Aeryn jumped back quickly, her heart giving a great leap in her chest at the sight of him.

He halted in his tracks, looking startled. "Oh! Excuse me, Miss Blake." A cordial smile crossed his lips. "I thought you would have left by now."

Aeryn crossed her arms over her chest to hold up the bodice of her robe, and she turned away from him, feeling her cheeks heat. "I'm...um..." Her voice cracked, and she looked down at her skirt. It was a good three inches too long for her, and pooled about her feet like a Christmas-tree drape. "I must have slept later than I intended," she said after a moment, trying to keep her voice light. "Is breakfast over?"

"Yes."

His robes rustled as he walked towards her, and the muscles in her back bunched instinctively. Please, no, don't let him touch me, she thought desperately. She almost turned to face him, but was stopped as Snape grabbed the back of her robe and tugged it sharply around her.

"If you exhale, this will be a little easier," he murmured, his long fingers deftly doing up the long row of buttons. Startled, Aeryn did as she was bid, and the back of her robe was closed with only a little struggle a few moments later.

Snape stepped away from her, and Aeryn ruefully ran her hand down her silk-sheathed waist. The low neckline was struggling to contain her bosom, and she could only draw in shallow half-breaths unless she wanted to split a seam. But at least it was in one piece, which was more than she could say for the other garment.

"Thanks," she finally remembered to say. She turned and found him regarding her with disapproving eyes. He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's too tight," he said.

Aeryn shrugged awkwardly, the gesture a little harder to perform than she had expected. "It'll work." Suddenly, the air of the room felt overly warm, and she very much wanted to get away from him. She ducked into his bathroom and splashed a handful of cold water across her face, then attempted to smooth her sleep-tousled hair. When she returned to the bedroom, she found the professor gone. She went through to the sitting room, where he was seated on one of the brocade couches, looking through his lesson plan.

"I'll see you later, Professor," she said hurriedly, starting for the door.

"Do your best not to rip the robe, Miss Blake." The Potions master's voice, oddly void of emotion, halted her. "It belonged to my sister."

Stunned, Aeryn looked slowly back at him. But his shoulders were curled over the parchment, and he did not move from the couch.

"Okay," she agreed gently, and when he did not answer, she quietly exited the room, her head spinning.

The first class that morning was Transfigurations. As she slipped quietly into her seat, Ron and Harry immediately pounced upon her.

"Why weren't you at breakfast?" Harry asked, taking the desk next to her.

Ron sat down on her other side and looked appraisingly at her new garb. "And where'd you get that robe?" He was still tentative around Aeryn, acting as if she was made of glass that would break with one wrong shake, but their relationship was decisively better than it had been a month ago.

Oh, great, what should I tell them? She was on the verge of telling them not to worry, it was nothing, just a little...a little what? You couldn't make up a plausible lie to save your--

Professor McGonagall stalked into the room, her shoulders squared and her back ramrod-straight--wearing a brown brocade robe in a Victorian pattern, so different from what Gilderoy Lockhart would wear--Lockhart--last night--and, suddenly, inspiration came to her.

"I was almost attacked last night," she whispered, keeping her eyes trained on the deputy headmistress. "Can I borrow a quill and some parchment?"

She could almost feel the astonishment wafting from Harry and Ron as they rummaged through their bags. "You don't mean..." gasped Ron, handing her a roll of parchment "...by the creature?"

"How?" Harry asked, pressing a quill into her hand.

Professor McGonagall had seen Aeryn and was now fixing her with a withering glare that matched Snape's best scowl. "I can't tell you about it right now," Aeryn muttered, trying not to move her lips. "Wait 'til after class."

Transfigurations class, even with the unspoken wrath of McGonagall upon her, was fairly normal. Aeryn knew her friends were bursting to ask her questions as they attempted to change a bar of soap into a deck of cards, and she silently thanked her lucky stars that she had an hour to perfect her story. She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably in the robe. Maybe she would have enough time between Transfigurations and History of Magic to hurry back to Gryffindor Tower and switch robes...

Finally, the bell rang, and Aeryn handed over her quill and parchment for Ron to hold.

"Miss Blake!" Professor McGonagall's voice split through the buzz of the students rushing for the door. "You will stay after class."

Harry and Ron froze over their bags and glanced questioningly at Aeryn.

"You two wait in the hallway," Professor McGonagall said stiffly as she swept over to Aeryn's desk. The boys were obviously reluctant to leave, but one look at the deputy headmistress' face must have made them reconsider, and they hurried into the hallway. The door clicked softly shut behind them.

"Well." Professor McGonagall's voice was clipped and cold. "I hope you're satisfied."

Aeryn quietly folded her hands on the top of the desk and wisely kept her mouth shut. After a moment, she looked up at the deputy headmistress and tried not to wince.

Professor McGonagall's pressed her lips tightly together, etching her face in lines of fury. "Where were you at breakfast this morning?" she asked tightly.

Aeryn swallowed hard. "I had just woken up." She hoped her voice was light and free of insolence. "There wasn't any time for breakfast."

The deputy headmistress' eyes sparkled brilliantly, and for a brief second, Aeryn was afraid she was going to turn her into a horned toad. But she merely shook her head curtly. "I trust you know that what happened last night is completely unacceptable, and I will not allow it to happen again." Professor McGonagall's chin lifted, and she glowered through her square-rimmed glasses at Aeryn. "From now on, Miss Blake, you have a curfew of ten o'clock. No exceptions."

Aeryn almost opened her mouth to protest, but decided that probably wasn't the best course of action.

"Do you understand me, Miss Blake?" From the tone of the deputy headmistress' voice, Aeryn was certain an agonizing, humiliating death would be in store if she didn't obey, so she nodded.

"Yes, Professor," she said respectfully.

"Then you may go."

Besides, Aeryn thought as she headed out the classroom door, no curfew can hold...The Invisible Girl!

She was giggling when she found Harry and Ron waiting anxiously for her down the hallway.

"So, what happened?" asked Harry.

Aeryn looked quickly around her to make sure that no one was close by, and then she motioned the boys closer. "Okay," she said in a low voice. "I was wandering the hallways last night--"

"After hours?" interrupted Ron.

"Yes, after hours, I couldn't sleep." It was as good a reason as any. "So I was walking around the lower level, and all of a sudden I felt this presence coming towards me--I picked it up through my telepathy." She looked meaningfully at them, and was rewarded with a knowing nod. "I could tell that it wasn't a person or one of the ghosts, so I knew it was the creature from the Chamber of Secrets."

The look on the boys' faces spurred her to continue.

"So--I panicked." Aeryn pulled a bit of desperation into her voice. "I ran for the nearest staircase and raced down it, trying to get somewhere safe, and I ended up in front of the Slytherin chambers. I could feel the creature closing in behind me, and..." She gave a very delicate stage shudder. "I had no choice but to go in."

Ron looked at her with horrified eyes. "So you spent the evening in the Slytherin chambers last night?"

Aeryn spread her hands dramatically. "There was no way I was going to go back out in the hallways. I would rather stay with the Slyths then end up Petrified in the hospital wing."

The boys glanced quickly at each other, and Aeryn bit her lip, casting her gaze to the floor. "Sorry I panicked, guys," she said after a moment in a chastised tone. "I guess should have stayed in the hallway and seen what type of monster it was."

"No, you shouldn't have," Harry said immediately. Aeryn looked at him and was relieved to see understanding on his face. "I'm glad you're okay."

Ron pointed at her clothes. "But what happened to your robe?"

Aeryn fingered the skirt. "It sorta got ruined," she confessed. "One of the seventh year Slyths gave me this one to wear today."

Ron looked as if he didn't quite believe that a Slytherin would lend a Gryffindor second year--even if the second year happened to be older than her--a robe, especially a lavishly decorated robe, but Aeryn went on with her story before he had a chance to press the matter further.

"So, yeah, that's why I wasn't at breakfast." She laughed slightly and motioned over her shoulder to the Transfigurations classroom. "And McGonagall just gave me eternal detention because she was so ticked that I wasn't in Gryffindor Tower last night. Ten o'clock curfew every night until she gives the say-so."

As they started down the hallway for their next class, Ron muttered under his breath, "Hermione is going to flip when she hears this."

Not as much as she would with the truth, Aeryn thought, trying unsuccessfully to draw a full breath.

* * *

"Look at this," Harry said, holding out a small, thin book to Aeryn and Hermione.

It was the beginning of February. Hermione had just been released from the hospital wing, dewhiskered, tail-less, and fur-free. On her first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry and Ron had cornered the two girls and tromped them up to their dormitory, their faces excited and their voices hushed with secrecy.

Aeryn looked curiously at the book. "What is it?"

"It's a diary," Harry said. "Ron and I found it in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Look, you can see on the front, it belongs to T.M. Riddle. But why would anyone want to throw away a diary?"

"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," said Hermione enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely.

"If it has, it's hiding them very well," said Ron. "Maybe it's shy. I don't know why you don't chuck it, Harry."

Aeryn took the diary from Hermione. For some reason, it looked oddly familiar...with a shrug, she peeled the pages apart. They were completely blank. Frowning, she turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a variety store on Vauxhall Road, London.

"To have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road..." she said musingly.

"I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it," said Harry. "I wouldn't mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either."

Ron quickly explained that during his detention with Filch earlier in the school year, had polished a shield that T.M. Riddle had received as an award fifty years ago. In the process, Ron had also burped slugs all over it, which explained why he remembered it so vividly.

"Could have been anything," said Ron. "Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would've done everyone a favor..."

But Aeryn could tell from the arrested look on Harry's and Hermione's faces that they were thinking something completely different.

"What?" said Ron, looking at each of them.

"Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn't it?" Harry said. "That's what Malfoy said."

"Yeah..." said Ron slowly.

"And this diary is fifty years old," said Aeyrn, tapping the cover of the diary.

"So?"

"Oh, Ron, wake up," snapped Hermione. "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T.M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything--where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it--the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, would they?"

"That's a brilliant theory, Hermione," said Ron, "with just one tiny little flaw. There's nothing written in his diary."

But Hermione was pulling her wand out of her bag.

"It might be invisible ink!" she whispered. She tapped the diary three times and said, "Aparecium!" Nothing happened. Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.

"It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she said. She rubbed it hard on January first. Nothing happened.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," said Ron. "Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in."

Hermione did not agree with Ron's idea, but, as she and Ron began to excitedly argue, Aeryn ran a hand slowly down the cover of the diary. It was no mistake, the book felt...odd. The longer she mused over it, the odder this whole scenario seemed. And there was a faint nagging in the back of her mind, like a presence that hung on the very edge of her consciousness. She had seen this diary before, or one very similar to it. But where?

"Ron, don't be an idiot!" Hermione snapped, jerking Aeryn out of her reverie.

Aeryn rolled her eyes and handed the diary back to Harry.

She was probably just overreacting.

* * *

The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.

The Gryffindor Four was whole once more. Aeryn was thrilled to have Hermione back with her in the dormitory--although she had to be twice as careful now if she had to sneak out of Gryffindor Tower late at night to aid Professor Snape--and Ron was finally treating her like a normal human being again. Harry, as always, seemed pleased to have all of his friends together and getting along, but Aeryn could tell the Heir of Slytherin business was starting to grate on him. She couldn't blame him--especially when Peeves the Poltergeist he kept popping up in the crowded corridors singing "Oh Potter, you rotter..." now with a dance routine to match.

Professor McGonagall's ten o' clock curfew had not stopped Aeryn from sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower. Every day, she dutifully made her way to the Potions master's dungeons to prepare his antidote. Even though it had only been a little over a month, Snape was becoming less and less dependent on the antidote. He was now even able to remain in the same room when she mixed the ingredients. Aeryn hoped that the day would soon come when he could prepare the antidote himself--or, even better, would be completely free of the Mead's influence. Then, and only then, would she be able to dedicate her efforts to exposing Gilderoy Lockhart.

Exposing him, she was beginning to realize, was going to be easier said than done. One evening when she had been preparing the antidote, Snape had burst into his chambers dripping with water.

"Lockhart has been withholding the Mead from me," he answered in response to her questioning glance. "I just got back from his office--he finally gave me another dose after I pleaded with him for nearly ten minutes--but he's becoming ruthless, Miss Blake." The Potions master sat down by the fire, plucking a towel from the air and wiping his face. "He's trying to punish me for protecting you--his exact words, if I remember correctly, were 'you've got to be taught who's in control of the situation, Sev old chap.'" He grimaced and banished the towel. "He must know how much I detest being called 'Sev.'"

Aeryn carefully measured a spoonful of nightshade into the cauldron. "Have you figured out when we're going to approach Dumbledore?" she asked, keeping her voice light as she trained her eyes on the mixture.

Snap was quiet for a long moment. "No," he said finally.

Aeryn's fingers tightened around her spoon. "I really don't understand why we just can't go to him now." She very carefully unscrewed the bottle of spider bile. "You're practically out of the withdrawal stage, aren't you?"

"That's not the point." The Potions master sighed and shifted on the couch. "Given the atmosphere of Hogwarts right now, it would be unsafe for me to disclose that you're a mutant."

Aeryn shook a handful of asphodel into the cauldron with a little more force than she had intended.

"Do you really want the school to find out you're a mutant now, after all these attacks on the students?" Snape asked in answer to her heated silence. She heard him tap his fingers in a violent staccato against the arm of the couch.

"But they don't have to find out," Aeryn said between gritted teeth. "Can't we just tell Dumbledore in secret?"

"If Lockhart is to be prosecuted for what he's done, the Ministry will have to get involved." Snape's voice was hard and brittle like over-tempered iron. "Your true story will have to come out. There's no way we could keep it a secret."

Aeryn tapped her spoon against the cauldron to shake loose some of the gloppy mixture and did not answer him.

"I suggest we wait until the culprit has been caught, and then go to Dumbledore," said Snape. "By that time, I'll have found evidence that links Lockhart to what he's done."

Aeryn slammed the spoon on the coffee table top violently and turned to stare at the Potions master. "You don't have any evidence?"

"Lockhart may act like an idiot, but he's no fool." Snape looked intently into the fire. "If I could be certain of catching him in the middle of brewing the Mead, or finding where he stores his supplies, then I would say we go to Dumbledore immediately." He scowled slightly and folded his fingers together. "But he's been very successful at covering his tracks up to this point. At the moment, it's only his word against yours and mine."

"But--Lockhart--" She could hear the whine in her voice, and she drew in a sharp breath, struggling to keep herself under control. "He keeps giving you doses of the Mead--can't you just take one to use as evidence?"

Snape shook his head curtly. "I'll need more evidence than that, Miss Blake." A bitter smile flickered across his lips. "I'm a master Potions brewer. Although Dumbledore would swear on my honesty, Cornelius Fudge--the Minister of Magic--would gladly leap on the chance to accuse me of making the Mead to soil Lockhart's good name."

The bitterness that suddenly laced his voice at the mention of Cornelius Fudge perked Aeryn's ears. "Why?" she asked curiously.

There was a long silence as Snape stared coldly into the center of the fireplace flames. "Because Fudge would stand by and watch Hogwarts burn to the ground before he would ever lift a finger to aid me," he said finally, and a dull, dead chuckle rasped from his chest.

"But--" Aeryn continued after a moment "--the rest of the Ministry--you're a Head of House, shouldn't that carry a bit more weight--"

"Head of House I may be, Miss Blake, but Lockhart, to all appearances, has committed no crime worse than wearing his God-awful robes." Snape wearily pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "And my track record has been far from pristine up to this point."

Aeryn couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But I'm--"

"A mutant," Snape interrupted, "and I'm certain that will cleave the plausibility of your story in at least half."

A completely stunned Aeryn fell silent, and for a long moment, the snapping of the flames filled the room. "So how are we going to get him for any of this, then?" she asked in a small voice.

"You let me worry about that." Snape leaned forward and looked directly into Aeryn's eyes, his face more serious than Aeryn had ever seen it. "What I want you to do is make certain that you are never alone in a room with him, and he never gets an opportunity to pull you away from a crowd. If he does, I don't care what you do, attack him, cloud his mind so you turn invisible--but, for God's sake, get away from him."

Amazed by his sudden concern, Aeryn could only gape at him.

With a swift, gentle motion, Snape reached forward and cupped Aeryn's face between his hands. "It terrifies me what he might do to you," he whispered, "and I can't promise I'll be there to protect you next time."

It was on the tip of Aeryn's tongue to ask him again about that night, why he had been in the hallways, and the meaning of his cryptic phrase, you were screaming inside my head. He would have answered her, she was certain of it. But she did not ask him. After a long, long moment, the Potions master's hands slipped from her face and he settled back against the couch.

They had not spoken of Lockhart or Dumbledore since that evening.

* * *

"I hate Valentine's Day," Aeryn grumbled as she, Ron, and Hermione walked to the Great Hall.

"It is an odd holiday," Hermione agreed. "Celebrating the death of an early Christian who refused to obey the ban on performing marriage ceremonies isn't exactly what I would call romantic. But--" she perked up "--it's fun nonetheless!"

"I hate it," Aeryn exclaimed. "Mushy people and chocolates and cards and--ugh!"

"Buck up, 'Ryn," Ron said cheerfully. "You don't want to disappoint Oliver Wood when he hands you a dozen red roses this morning, do you?" He winced as her fist connected firmly with his arm.

As they entered the Great Hall, Aeryn thought, for a moment, that perhaps they'd walked through the wrong doors. The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling.

"What is this?" Ron gasped as they went over to the Gryffindor table.

Aeryn sat down in her chair with more force than she had intended. "It's--hideous," she mumbled, looking up towards the staff table. One look confirmed her worst fears.

"He didn't--" she said weakly.

Ron followed her gaze up to the front of the room and blanched. "Oh no," he groaned.

Hermione, who had been suddenly overcome with giggles, did not comment.

Harry suddenly appeared, his face openly etched with shock. "What's going on?" he asked, sitting down and wiping confetti off his bacon.

Aeryn pointed to the teachers' table, too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of side of him were looking stony-faced. From where she sat, Aeryn could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek. Snape had the same look on his face as if he had forgotten to take his antidote for the Berserker's Mead.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all--and it doesn't end here!"

He clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

"Please, girls, tell me you weren't two of the forty-six," begged Ron as they left the Great Hall for their first lesson.

"God, no," Aeryn exclaimed quickly, her skin crawling at the mere thought.

Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her schedule and didn't answer.

How anyone could send that disgusting pervert a valentine...Bile rose in her throat as she walked into the Herbology greenhouse. But she firmly told herself that she was happy, even if it was her most hated day of the year, and that she would not let the thought of Lockhart get to her. Besides, Snape's face at breakfast had been priceless.

"You love her, and she loves him," she sang softly to herself, tossing her bag onto her seat. "And he loves somebody else--you just can't win..."

All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers. Harry was blitzed by a delivery as the Gryffindors were walking upstairs for Charms. In the process of trying to flee the dwarf, Harry's bag had ripped open and had caused more commotion than he had intended. Aeryn had tried very hard not to laugh at the sickeningly sweet verse that apparently had been from Ron's sister Ginny. Neither Harry nor Ron was very happy during Charms--Malfoy had overheard the valentine and had made a snide remark to Ginny--but Aeryn couldn't help thinking that Ron's sister was very cute, although a little shy, and Harry could certainly do a lot worse.

Snape was looking murderous by the time the Gryffindors had Potions. His thin lips were pinched tightly together and his coal-black eyes glittered menacingly as he paced the front of the classroom, running his wand between his fingers and glowering at the students. Even some of the Slytherins were looking uncomfortable, but Aeryn was on the verge of laughter. Finally, someone who enjoyed Valentine's Day as much as she.

An unfortunate dwarf made the mistake of entering the dungeon halfway through Snape's lecture. Snape turned on him with the cold fury of a blizzard, and the poor dwarf was reduced to a shaking, stumbling excuse of a singing valentine. He escaped the classroom immediately after the delivery, which had been for Seamus Finnigan. Once the winged monstrosity had fled, Snape quickly took five points from Gryffindor for the interruption, and the look on his face dared anyone to defy him.

The class was in the middle of preparing batches of Disillusionment Brew when the dungeon door was flung open and a second winged dwarf walked into the room, carrying his harp nonchalantly beneath his arm.

Aeryn had the distinct pleasure of watching Snape's face flush a dark red and his nostrils flare as he whirled to face the dwarf. "WHAT?" the Potions master roared, the veins in his neck bulging.

The dwarf held up his harp and twanged the strings menacingly. "I've got a musical message to deliver to Aeryn Blake in person," he grunted, apparently unfazed by Snape's berserk look.

There was a clatter as Aeryn dropped a bottle of toad's blood.

"Very well," Snape muttered through stiff lips. "Get this nonsense over and done with."

The dwarf elbowed past the fuming Snape and walked over to Aeryn's side. An underlying wave of murmurs swept the classroom, and she saw a pair of Slytherins elbowing each other knowingly. She swallowed and lifted her chin, unable to look at Harry, Ron, or Hermione. "Who's it from?" she asked, lacing her fingers tightly together behind her back.

"Can't tell ye that," the dwarf said matter-of-factly, and began to sing:

"Her eyes are as blue as the Northernland seas,

This beautiful, graceful, entrancing young witch

She stole my heart with the greatest of ease

As if it were merely a Quidditch-game Snitch."

A hot blush rose in Aeryn's cheeks as the class sniggered. Oliver Wood, she realized, and a relieved smile spread across her face. "Th...thanks," she said weakly, and turned back to her cauldron accompanied by another wave of snickers. But she didn't care...it was only Oliver, and it was rather sweet, only she had been expecting--

"Wait," the dwarf muttered. "I got another one fer ye."

Aeryn's head snapped back around. "What?" she asked. She glanced quickly over at her friends, but they were merely grinning at her. Her eyes flew to Snape, but he looked no more murderous than usual.

The dwarf strummed his harp and sang:

"She's a pretty young thing with eyes like the sky

Her hourglass curves make me weak at the knees

One thing I will say, she's a fabulous lay

And she gives the best blow job you'll ever receive."

Aeryn's breath stopped in her throat, and her cheeks cooled as the blood drained from them. A shocked silence paralyzed the students, broken only by the awful harp-strumming as the dwarf continued his song:

"She's just half my age, which is almost obscene

But still gets me hot when her luscious lips pucker

Just the thought of her thighs and my member will rise

Like the curve of her back arches high when I f--"

A loud shout broke through the music, and suddenly the dwarf was thrown backward against the wall in a blinding flash of purple light. The winged messenger crumpled to the floor, completely knocked out. Aeryn slowly turned to see Ron standing next to her, his face white with rage and his broken wand in his hand.

The room was deathly quiet, and every eye was on Aeryn's face. Her ears were ringing wildly with echoes of the dwarf's raunchy lyrics. She stepped back against her cauldron and found that her hands were shaking violently.

"Mr. Weasley."

Professor Snape's clear voice cut through the silence, and the students' gazes rose immediately to him. The Potions master's face was terrifyingly emotionless as he walked towards Ron, his black robes swirling menacingly around his ankles. Aeryn heard Ron gulp as Snape stopped and glared blisteringly down at him. "Unauthorized magic-use in my classroom is strictly forbidden." He looked disdainfully at Ron's wand, which was now ballooning large blue bubbles and whistling softly.

"However," Snape continued in the same cold, clipped tone, "although there may be some who would eagerly listen to the titillating tidbits of Miss Blake's sexual exploits, I may honestly say that I do not number among them." His coal-black eyes flickered once to Aeryn's face, and then back to Ron. "No points shall be taken from Gryffindor." With a regal wave of his hand, the Potions master turned on his heel and glided to the row of Slytherin cauldrons.

Aeryn slowly gathered a handful of powdered lungwort in her trembling hands, trying not to spill too much. She could feel a hard lump gathering in the back of her throat, and she swallowed, trying to dissolve it. She tossed the lungwort into the cauldron, not caring that the mixture was not yet bubbling and would probably now be ruined.

She glanced over at Harry, but he did not look at her as he jerkily stirred his cauldron, his face pale beneath his dark hair and his lips tightly pressed together.

Snape suddenly appeared at his shoulder, black and looming like a malevolent panther. He glanced into the boy's cauldron and shook his head curtly. "Potter, your mixture is too lumpy," he growled, sweeping to Aeryn's cauldron without another glance.

He paused at her side and picked up a spoon. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

A snort erupted from the cauldron at her left. "Fat lot you care," Ron muttered, throwing a newt tail into his mixture.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Weasley," Snape snapped without batting an eyelid. He leaned forward and stirred the spoon through her mixture, raising an eyebrow at the odd consistency. "Miss Blake?" he asked again, his voice low.

"I'm fine," Aeryn said roughly, trying to keep the tears from her voice.

The Potions master straightened and put the spoon back on her ingredients tray. "Your feverfew is not minced finely enough," he said in his disinterested professorial way. Aeryn nodded, drawing a deep breath, and reached for a sprig of the herb.

His hand rested quickly on her shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. "Be strong, my dear," he whispered, and then was off in a swirl of robes to the next cauldron.

* * *

Aeryn sat cross-legged on the bed, reading a note from Oliver Wood that accompanied the large box of fancy chocolates that had been delivered to her room. She smiled slightly and laid the parchment on her bedside table.

The second years were buzzing over the valentine she had received during Potions class, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been quick to spread their own story--that Aeryn had jilted the affections of an unnamed sixth year Slytherin, and he was now enacting his slimy form of revenge. She had no doubt that the Slyths were outraged by this story, but at least it made the Gryffindors angry instead of suspicious.

She reached for a chocolate and--

"It's all over. I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

Aeryn jumped as if she had been stung. She looked around the dormitory quickly. It was empty--none of the second years went to bed until after ten o' clock--but she swore she could hear the faint echo of--

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and--"

This time Aeryn leapt from her bed, scattering the chocolates all across the scarlet cover. She put a hand to her head, concentrating hard. She had heard something--and it was coming from--

A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers--a tall boy with jet-black hair raised his wand--

Aeryn threw herself towards the dormitory door and raced down the stairs to the common room. She paused at the door, her chest heaving as she looked quickly around the clumps of students. She saw Hermione curled over her textbooks, busy working on an essay for History of Magic--Ron was headed for the entrance boys dormitory--but Harry--

The black-haired boy raised his wand again, but a huge boy leaped on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling--

"Ron!"

The red-haired boy paused, startled, as Aeryn ran up to him. "Hey Aeryn," he said.

Aeryn gulped for breath. "Where's Harry?"

"I dunno," Ron said doubtfully. "I think he's upstairs."

"I'm coming with you," Aeryn said firmly, following him up the stairway. "I heard something."

Ron looked at her curiously, but didn't question her.

They reached the dormitory door and Ron pushed it open. Aeryn stepped through and saw Harry lying spread-eagled on his four-poster, Riddle's diary lying open on his stomach.

"There you are," Ron said.

Harry sat up, and Aeryn immediately saw the sheen of sweat upon his brow.

"What's the matter?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

There was concern in Ron's eyes. "What's up, Harry?"

"It was Hagrid," Harry said in a low, trembling voice. He pushed a hand through his shaggy black hair, illuminating the lightning scar upon his forehead. "Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago."