Iuga Sortis III: The Beginning

Ten

"Lucius approached me after the meeting tonight," Snape said, holding his wrists, vainly trying to still his tremors.

"I think . . . perhaps Voldemort's hold on the man is waning."

Severus looked at Dumbledore with interest. "Voldemort's hold?"

Dumbledore merely gazed at him, and by the tilt of his head, Severus knew the older wizard was deep in thought. "It would only be a matter of time before it would."

Severus still didn't know what the headmaster meant, but he thought it was a moot point anyway. "What does it matter now? Draco hates his father, especially after what happened in relation to Miss Weasley."

Dumbledore straightened. "And as you know, Lucius was nothing more than a pawn, used to make sure Draco's destiny never fully came into fruition. Set knows he's lost, and Thanatos will not waste his time with useless people. Lucius had his directive, and he failed. The elder Malfoy will be discarded soon."

Severus shook his head. "Lucius has no one; even Narcissa wants nothing to do with him."

"They were never going to get together had it not been for Thanatos, and if they hadn't been together, Draco would not have been born. Everything happens for a reason, Severus."

Now Severus was truly confused. "Wouldn't it have been easier to keep Draco from being born? One less reincarnate to consider."

Dumbledore smirked. "Set is nothing if not arrogant. He wanted Osiris to serve him, to taste how Set felt all those millennia ago. He wanted Osiris to pay."

Severus frowned. "Is Set really so petty? He could have made his acquisition of power easy for himself, but he wanted to settle a grudge?"

"There go your Slytherin sensibilities, Severus. Set is a hot-blooded, vengeful man. So is Voldemort. That makes them dangerous yet reckless--a very dire combination."

"And a bitch to get rid of."

Dumbledore gave him a reproachful look but let the comment slide. "How are you feeling?"

Severus glowered at a spot past Dumbledore. "Peachy."

He could feel Dumbledore's eyes on him, studying his posture and his expression. "All things considered, I wager?"

Severus took deep breaths as the last of the tremors left his body. The Cruciatus Curse had been particularly mild this meeting, something that caused him great alarm. He knew it was only a matter of time before being found out, but he couldn't help but wonder if Voldemort knew and was only keeping him to play games. At the moment there was no planned attack against any Muggles or Muggle-borns, and Severus thought the decision to keep all the students at Hogwarts played a major role in that.

Besides, it was the season of Death Eater inductions, and all of the candidates were under lock and key in Hogwarts.

Speaking of which . . .

"Crabbe knows something."

Dumbledore's eyes remained fixed on the coffee table's leg, but Severus knew he heard the comment. "Oh?"

Severus crossed his legs and folded his hands on top of his knee. "He's always been suspicious of Nia's relationship to Draco, and now with the two instances of Draco blatantly working against Voldemort, Crabbe thinks she has something to do with it."

"But he has no knowledge of the reincarnations, does he?"

Severus shook his head. "Probably not, but he's not as stupid as he wants people to believe. Nia has entirely too much influence on Draco. He was to be the bright and shining star of the Dark, not the Light."

"Bred for service of Voldemort, and consequently Set. Too bad the jackal god is denied once again," Dumbledore said without a hint of remorse.

Severus ran his tongue across his teeth and shrugged. "He almost wasn't."

"Almost doesn't count."

Indeed it didn't. A lot of things almost happened, but "almost" was always conditional, always a runner-up to things that were. As long as Voldemort and Set "almost" won, there was always a possibility they wouldn't. Nothing was absolute as long as "almost" remained.

"What did Lucius want to know?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus licked his lips and sighed before answering. "He asked how his son was, but unlike the contempt he held before, there was a measure of pride in his voice."

Dumbledore smiled. "Voldemort is losing control, then. One would hardly think after almost thirty years of influence, Lucius finally decided to grow a backbone."

"He's lost everything, even after Voldemort promised it to him. Slytherins know when to abandon a sinking ship," Severus said dryly.

"Even if said ship is among the most powerful Dark forces in the world, I suppose."

"Especially then. There's nothing in which to bask if there is no light to shine. How I wish this could have all been avoided."

"But as I said, everything happens for a reason."

The younger man nodded. "Yes, but it is not as easy to forgive those happenings."

Dumbledore fell quiet again, and his fingers formed a steeple. "Point taken," he said after a while. "Forgiveness is a rare commodity for a Slytherin, especially a Malfoy."

Severus snorted and raised his eyebrows. "So much for Christmas cheer . ."

Dumbledore chuckled and stood. "Oh, Severus, there is much to celebrate, actually. The beginning of the end is near for Voldemort, and he knows it. Lucius will kowtow no longer; he sees the purpose his son has, and if Lucius cares for anything, it's power."

"You think he'd really defect from the Dark side?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, he wouldn't. He's too far gone for that. But I suspect he'll finally be the father Draco's always wanted him to be."

Severus couldn't stomp the jealousy he felt. Through all these years, especially since Draco entered Hogwarts, Snape had appointed himself surrogate father to the young Malfoy, an appointment he didn't take lightly.

"And how, dear headmaster, do you propose Lucius will do that?"

"Giving Draco his blessing."

Severus scowled. "And why do you think Draco would want it?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Despite the immense hatred and betrayal he feels, Draco loves his father. He can't help it. When he looks into the mirror, he sees Lucius--he can't help but see it. Draco can wish him pain, death, or even a Dementor's Kiss, but you will notice he stayed far away from Lucius during the battle at Hogsmeade, and he from Draco."

Severus rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't know; I wasn't there."

"But you heard," Dumbledore said, chastising Severus with his eyes. Severus shrank at the admonishment, if only a little. He knew it was too dangerous to fight--for the Dark or for the Light, and he convinced Voldemort of it. As a professor, his duty was to his students, and if he wished to remain a professor, he would stay out of it.

Regardless if McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Jamilah fought in it.

"Even despite the evils committed by his father," Dumbledore continued, "Draco can't abandon him. He still holds on to hope that maybe, despite what everyone says, even despite Lucius himself, Draco will find the father he always wanted in him."

"That's a rather large hope."

Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly before responding, his blue eyes twinkling. "And what is the world without hope, Severus?"

The headmaster left before Severus could respond. He cursed, wishing Dumbledore would stop being so vague right when he needed to be his clearest. Every time he thought he understood something, Dumbledore would give him a reality check, which stated he understood nothing.

"What's your angle, Albus?" Severus muttered aloud. He needed to find out and soon. Things were getting more precarious, and it was only a matter of time before he would be ousted and killed for his indiscretions. Admittedly, he was surprised no one had done it yet, and he figured they were all just biding time until the right moment.

Severus hoped the moment came quickly or not at all.

As it was, his life outside the Death Eaters' circle was increasingly tense, with the subtle change in dynamic within his House. Draco had fallen out of favor with many of the students, especially within his year, and few stood by him. Of course he still commanded respect, for lack of a better term, but he was given it with far more suspicion and resentment. Neither Draco nor anyone else in the House was stupid; they all knew what happened the summer before the current school term and what Draco's stand meant. It meant he would not follow the Dark Lord, and to many, that made Draco a traitor.

There were few who stood beside him--Gregory Goyle and Blaise Zabini among the most prominent--but Vincent Crabbe and Pansy Parkinson made it clear they wanted nothing more to do with him, though Severus suspected Parkinson's reasoning was more along the lines of a jilted girlfriend than anything having to do with Voldemort.

Speaking of Crabbe, Severus had been keeping an eye on him ever since Nia's attack against him, though he suspected their altercation was a bubbling up of tension long nursed over Nia's first year at Hogwarts. The moment the Sorting Hat called Slytherin, there was a healthy amount of distrust in young Crabbe's eyes. Severus stored the reaction away, but now he wondered if he should have put more focus on it. Of course Nia hadn't said anything about foul behavior coming from Crabbe, but she was prone to keep things to herself until she couldn't any longer. It was also uncanny Crabbe would be the one who instigated Nia's first showing.

Perhaps . . . perhaps Voldemort knows who Nia is, but refuses to tell Set? Crabbe is Voldemort's ace, just as Lucius was in regards to Draco.

As much as Severus wanted to dismiss the notion, he couldn't. Thanatos and Set never did get along, only united in the desire to destroy Osiris and rule the world. Thanatos also wasn't stupid, but he was hasty. He knew Set would probably destroy him once they won, and Thanatos played his own hand. Severus didn't put it past Voldemort to do the same.

Which probably explains why I'm still alive . . wonderful.

He hated being a pawn, but Severus knew this was all one enormous chess game, and he was but a piece to be played. The King and Queen were Harry and Nia respectively, and even a pawn could prove to be fatal. Humph. I'm no pawn . . . I'll be a rook . . .

He snorted at his own childish, petty thought, but he felt he deserved to be juvenile on occasion.

Much as his daughter should.

Her childhood was ripped away the moment she set foot on Hogwarts grounds; actually, if he was honest, before then, when her mother died. But she greeted her new role with a fortitude that would rival the greatest of Gryffindors, though she was a Slytherin at heart. Her latest feat still had him reeling, however. What she was able to do for Draco was nothing short of miraculous . . . it was really her first test as Isis' heir. She passed with flying colors, and Severus could not have been prouder.

Too bad she has many more.

Draco's resurrection was merely the tip of the iceberg, and Severus felt a wariness that made him extremely uncomfortable. He was of the mind to tell Pettigrew who Nia was, thinking it would be better to get Nia out in the open rather than do something which could unwittingly put her in harm's way.

That was why Crabbe was so dangerous. He could expose Nia before anyone was prepared, and being caught unawares by Voldemort and Set would lead to disaster. It wasn't as if Nia didn't know about her desirability. With Harry and Draco always around, she couldn't help but be aware of it. What she didn't know was the why. She thought it was for her powers, but it was more than that . . . much more . . . and neither Snape nor the other men in her life would allow Set to get it . . . .

Which brought up the issue of the dance they were having in a week's time. New Year's Eve, the night he'd been dreading since the Granger girl and Draco decided to have a dance to keep the students' mind off war.

Right. What that meant was a bunch of pre-pubescent and pubescent teenagers writhing and grinding against each other in their version of dancing, and it also meant a bunch of little snots staring at his daughter in a most inappropriate way.

Severus wasn't blind; he saw the looks boys were sending his daughter. He remembered when he was one of those little snots staring at her mother--they were almost spitting images of each other. Severus also knew there were many Siriuses at Hogwarts now, who would love a chance to get their grimy little hands on her.

Not on his watch, they wouldn't. "She shan't be going to this little . . . dance . ." he said as he scowled into the fire.

"Oh, that's mature!" came a voice from behind him.

"Speaking of snots," Severus muttered. His eyes remained fixed on the fire even as the other man took the seat Dumbledore vacated earlier.

"You need a tissue, Sevvie?"

Severus glared at him. "One big enough to wipe you away would be nice."

Black laughed heartily as he placed his right ankle on his left knee. "You're such a daddy!"

Severus rolled his eyes. It was just too easy sometimes.

"So . . . gonna let Harry take her?"

Severus felt a splitting headache coming on--one that would make the Cruciatus feel as if he'd just stubbed his toe. "Take her?"

Sirius sucked his teeth. "To the dance, halfwit! You know they should go together."

"There are a lot of things people should do; doesn't mean they do," Severus said in an ornery manner. "Besides, it's the week before the dance. If Potter wanted to take my daughter, he would have asked her long before now."

Black rolled his eyes. "It's time to get rid of this grudge you have against Harry. Let sleeping dogs lie and--"

It was as if Black waited for the barb this time, and Severus snorted. "Too easy," was all the Potions Master said.

Black quirked an eyebrow and continued his spiel. "Anyway, let the kids have some fun. May be the only time they do in a long while. Don't deny them this, Snape."

Severus gave him a blank look before replying. "Do you realize the repercussions of such an act? Harry Potter going to the dance with a girl, especially a Slytherin? It will be all over the wizarding world within the hour, and Nia will no longer be a secret."

Black was quiet for a moment before he shrugged. "Well, she can't not go to the dance! Find her a nice Slytherin boy to go with . . . if there is such a thing . . ."

Once again Severus held his tongue. He must be in a particularly good mood to not say something smarting . . . ironic, considering he had just left a Death Eater meeting . . . Perhaps it was just good to have something familiar in the midst of all the change, and he wanted to savor it for a moment. Sirius Black was a constant, a constant Severus desperately needed to keep his right mind. Even Dumbledore, for all his steadfastness, had the ability to make Severus wary, but Black was predictable as ever. I never thought I'd think of the blighter in a good light . . . then again, I didn't think I would like James Potter, either.

It all started when Potter saved his life from Black's prank. Severus was angry--angry at Lupin for being a werewolf, angry at Black for putting him in danger of said werewolf, but most of all, he was angry at Potter for saving his life. It meant his indebtedness, and he resented Potter for it.

He'd concocted this wild scheme that the Marauders orchestrated the entire thing just so Severus owed Potter something. Admittedly his teenage brain only thought of cleverly petty things, but at the time it seemed a sound argument. It wasn't until years later, after the first attack Voldemort made against them, Severus realized the heroism was genuine and without machinations. Potter truly didn't want Severus to die, and he felt Black took the prank a step too far. Though, of course, it took Malika yelling it into his head, but he figured better late than never. This realization led to a grudging respect from both parties, and if he would every fully admit it to himself, the beginning of a small yet powerful friendship.

They couldn't be seen in public together, but they shared many fascinating conversations, especially since they were among the few members of the Order around their age who were of long, pureblood family lines. Lily was Muggle-born and did not care much for wizarding family politics, and Malika . . she was beyond the trivial matters of whose ancestors fought with Merlin, considering her ancestors were around before Merlin was even born!

Fate is a funny thing.

His Slytherin classmates dismissed her as nothing more than a nigger Mudblood, and therefore not even worth a taunt. She was ignored, blatantly so, but he could never do it. He could never ignore those golden eyes that seemed to shine brighter when she looked at him than when she didn't. All of his peers tried to dissuade him against the match, even so far as to bring his father into it.

Severus shuddered uncontrollably. Aurelius Antonius Snape was a hardnosed man, fully involved in the politics and propriety of European wizarding society. He knew every single family's crest, their past and present alliances, and who would be an appropriate wife for his only son.

Apparently the descendant of a goddess wasn't "appropriate" enough.

Severus chuckled at the irony of it all. Aurelius had been so consumed by her Muggle upbringing, class, creed, and color he hadn't even suspected her true heritage. Then again, he wondered if it would have made a difference to his father in the end.

Severus' father, for all of his research, never bothered with other forms of magic, thinking Europe was the premier community and therefore the only one worthy of his consideration. Aurelius never realized European magic derived from other cultures, and these other cultures were offshoots of African magic: the Egyptian gods and goddesses.

Malika. Nia.

Severus sighed and shook his head. Nia would never come into her full powers until she consummated her love for the Potter boy . . and while she was definitely too young to do that, she wasn't too young for the bloke to take her to the dance. Besides, Potter needed to "lighten up," as Nia said.

"Have you been listening to anything I've said?"

Black's voice interrupted his musings, and he glared at the other man. "I'm sure it was unimportant and not worth my time."

Black's lip curled, and Severus had to stomp down a grin. "You're impossible as usual."

Severus smiled, a rare genuine one. "Who am I to disappoint?"

"Severus Snape. The very name is synonymous with disappointment."

Severus glared at him. "One could say Sirius Black is, as well."

Black clenched his jaw but said nothing in response to that. "So did you at least hear the first thing I said?"

"Refresh my memory."

Black sighed heavily. "About Harry and Nia."

Severus shook his head. "It's still a bad idea. If they go, they should go alone. No use in raising suspicion."

"That hardly seems fair!"

Severus looked mildly sympathetic. "Life's not fair. You know it as well as I do."

Black raised his eyebrows quickly. "You have a point there." He shifted in his seat, so he hunched over his knees. His blue eyes met Severus' black ones. "I just want the kid to be happy, you know? He's my godson, for Merlin's sake! He deserves to have as much of a normal childhood as we can possibly give him--"

"He'll never get that as long as his name is Harry Potter," Severus interrupted.

Black nodded. "That may be, but that doesn't mean we can't make some sort of an effort. Our charges are to be together, and unfortunately, that means I have to make nice to your sniveling self."

"It's no walk in the park for me either, Black."

Black shook his head and sat straight again. "As long as we're on the same page . . . I'm just asking for one small, little dance. That's all."

Severus raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Why does this matter so much to you?"

Black gave a small, sad smile, all pretense of bravado gone. "A Roberts woman is someone special . . . I don't want Harry to lose out on her."

~~~~~~~~

He hated dances with a burning passion. They were annoying, petty, and just downright uncomfortable. Though he knew, intellectually, this dance was as low key as the post game celebrations in the common room, there was a key difference between now and then.

She was going to be there. She, with her golden eyes, and mocha skin, and dimples that made him melt every time he saw them . . .

It was enough to kill a man.

"I don't wanna go!" he whined into his pillow.

He could sense his best mate rolling his eyes before two rather large hands shoved at his sides, causing him to fall ungracefully to the floor. "Get your sorry arse up and ready! We have a dance to get to! Besides, it would seem suspicious if neither you nor Nia were there--"

"You're the one who suggested I didn't go!"

"Changed my mind."

"Or rather Hermione and Ginny changed it for you."

Ron snorted, and Harry could almost feel the other boy smirk. "Either way, you're going."

Harry glared at the ground before standing to pin said glare on a certain tall redhead. "Go to hell!"

"Right after I ask Hermione to marry me, and she says yes, and we get married and have two Quidditch teams of kids and--"

"She kills you, because there's no way you're going to convince her to have fourteen of your children!"

"She better not have fourteen of anyone else's!"

Harry snorted and shook his head, taking his towel from his bed frame. "What time does this atrocity start?"

Ron snickered as he checked his watch. "Now, actually."

He rolled his eyes. "Wonderful. I'm late. At least I'm not going with anyone, hmm?"

Ron blushed a bit. "But I am . . . mind if I duck out now?"

Harry grinned at his friend as he shook his head. "No, mate. Go ahead. You have a very important question to ask your date, anyway." Harry went over to Ron and gave him a full hug, not the kind where two men for fear of someone doubting their masculinity gave a half-arsed pat on the back. This was a full body pouring of emotions, a good luck, congratulations, and "I'm always here for you" kind of hug--the kind a brother would give to a brother.

Ron was his brother, regardless that they didn't share the same blood, last name, or hair color. There was a time when Harry thought in order to make it official he'd have to marry Ginny--not to say that was the major thrust of his crush on the youngest Weasley, but it did influence him greatly. If Harry had learned anything, it was blood was not the beginning or end all of everything. The Weasleys considered him one of them as if Molly had birthed him herself.

Graphic, but endearing.

Harry knew they would never replace his parents, nor did the Weasleys try; they offered him what was stolen sixteen years ago, and he was more than willing to accept it. He eyed his new Weasley jumper on his bed; it was one of the many Christmas gifts he had received last week, but perhaps the most special of them all. The jumper was recognition of him as family.

"I want details of the proposal, mate," Harry whispered in Ron's ear.

Ron laughed and separated. "You know you'll be the first person to hear the answer, regardless if it's yes or no."

Harry smirked. "She'll say yes. She's the cleverest witch in a century! There's no way she'd turn down the love of her life!"

Ron scowled even as he blushed. "And when it comes time, I'll be saying the same thing to you in regards to Nia."

"Yeah," he said, more to himself than to Ron. Harry glanced at the door and tilted his chin to it. "Better get down there. If I know Hermione, she's probably down there pacing because of your tardiness. She is Head Girl, after all; she has to set an example."

Ron scowled and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, yeah! I hear you!" He walked to the door and opened it, turning to face Harry before he left. "You are coming to the dance, aren't you?"

"If I don't, you'll come up here and drag me down . . . I fancy going there by my own volition."

Ron nodded once. "Good. See you there."

"Maybe not . . . I have a feeling you have a celebration to attend," Harry said with a wink. Ron merely rolled his eyes and shook his head as he left the room.

Harry sighed; he figured he should make the grooming quick, for he wouldn't put it past Hermione to climb up the boys' stairs only to drag him down there.

Or worse, Ginny.

Harry shuddered at the thought and prepared himself to shower. He turned on the water, made quick work of his clothes and stepped underneath the kneading, warm spray. For a moment he let himself soak, allowing his skin to absorb each, individual droplet of water as if it were a personal masseuse sent to work his worries away. As he fell under the shower's spell, his mind drifted back to almost two months ago when he and Nia found the Room with the gods and what transpired there.

Well, what almost transpired there, he thought with slight aggravation. He almost kissed her, and he wanted to curse himself for it. She was really in no position for his aggressiveness, and he felt like the scum of the earth for almost taking advantage of her vulnerability.

Gryffindor grime . . . that was her first insult to me . .

Funny how he thought of it now with endearment, but at the time, those were fighting words, and he was more than willing to oblige her, regardless if she was new, foreign, and a first time witch. Well, goddess, as he'd now realized.

Unlike him, Ginny, and Malfoy, she was actually a goddess, descended from Isis herself but outside of divinity. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, went and fell in love with a goddess of all people! He wondered why the Fates gave him the most difficult of tasks--eliminate a Dark Lord, go through puberty, try to keep your hormones in check around a teenage goddess who, for all intents and purposes, should not enter a relationship at that moment in time and who happened to belong to his rival House.

Oh yes, fate has a sense of humor.

But he was far from laughing when he stood there, his hands at her hips, watching her lick her lips in nervousness . . . or anticipation. He couldn't help himself. He had to know how she tasted, and since the first contact of his lips against her forehead, he was addicted.

Nia was sweeter than honey, even though he could taste the salt of her perspiration. Her skin was smooth, the color of a chocolate frog, and he prayed to the gods she wouldn't jump away as that first one did back when he was a first year on the Hogwarts Express. She trembled like a leaf, and he wanted to hold her close to him, to feel her body pressed against his in a way which stopped her shaking and molded them into one. Those honey colored eyes were bright, a sheen of tears over them, but she closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Harry knew she did it so he couldn't see the fear in her eyes, but he did. She said herself she was scared, and Harry couldn't understand why.

Actually, that was a lie; he knew exactly why Nia was scared. He was scared himself, but he was of the House of Gryffindor, and it was his job to squash that fear and do what had to be done.

And he had to kiss her, then. It was as vital as breathing.

He kissed all along her face, felt her harsh breaths exhale, hitting his cheek, felt the rapid beat of her heart, matching the pace of his own, against his lips when he kissed the skin under her ear.

Harry felt her experience what he was feeling, and he had hope. He made her open her eyes, told her not to be afraid, and was a half-second from those beautiful lips when--

Malfoy's salvation was ready.

He never hated Draco Malfoy more than right then, and he felt slightly vindicated when Apedemak and Aset shared his sentiment. It was irrational, of course, but Malfoy was an easy target at the time, with him being dead and the like. But Malfoy's death forced Harry to realize he really didn't have all the time in the world. He'd been fawning over the age and House issue between him and Nia long enough, and that was something which would never change. She would always be three years younger; she would always be a Slytherin. And she would always be the love of his life.

Those were the absolutes of it all, and it was in his best interest to square with that.

He'd made great progress in that arena, making sure to be much more affectionate with her, but in such a way as wouldn't send her screaming to the hills. She blushed a lot more because of it, and Harry prided himself in obtaining that reaction from her. The flying lessons had been key, though he was a bit sad they'd graduated to personal brooms. He rather liked wrapping his arms around her waist as they flew higher and higher to the heavens--

Harry shuddered and blushed, looking quickly at his "upgraded" personal broomstick. Dammit! Think of Snape dancing naked in a tea cozy during dinner! It had the desired effect, and he sighed. Damn his body for having such inappropriate reactions whilst thinking of Nia, and damn the other boys for theirs!

Dean's proposal to ask Nia to the dance irked him incessantly, and he knew his roommate was merely one of a rather large number of boys . . . and maybe girls . . . who wanted to claim Nia. Ron admitted to him later Ginny put Dean up to it, but Harry knew Dean would've asked had he not been offered Weasley wares.

The reminder there was a dance going on right now where Nia was and he wasn't was all the motivation Harry needed to get out of the shower and change quickly. He gave himself a brief once over in the mirror, only running a hand through his perpetually messy hair, and hastily went downstairs to the Great Hall.

As soon as he went inside, his eyes were drawn to her. She wasn't dressed in anything fancy--just a green turtleneck and black slacks. Her hair was pulled high on her head, leaving a fluffy ponytail to swish and sway along with the rest of her body--

Pressed against his currently former friend Dean Thomas.

Harry's eyes zeroed in on Thomas's hand curled at her waist, and he wanted nothing more than to beam it off of her. Only his hands were allowed to touch her so intimately! He chose to ignore the fact he and Nia weren't dating, for it got in the way of his righteous possessiveness. The music and people fell away from his awareness, and he marched towards the dancing couple.

A hand on his arm stopped his progress, but he didn't face the intruding figure. "Let go of me!"

"Temper, temper, Potter . . . one might think you were . . . jealous . . ."

Harry sighed; he didn't need this aggravation at the moment. "Sod off, Malfoy!"

"You should know Thomas means nothing to her."

Harry didn't want to admit the declaration made him feel better. "Really?"

Malfoy smirked, and Harry had the distinct feeling he'd walked into a trap. "Of course not. He's about her fourth dance partner . . ."

Harry knew it was innocent on her part, but Malfoy's tone rubbed him the wrong way, and Malfoy knew it. "You're a bloody, bratty prat."

"This 'bloody, bratty prat' is saving you from an extremely embarrassing confrontation. I don't think Little One would take too kindly your jealousy."

The wanker had a point, and Harry scowled at it. He hated when Malfoy was logical, for usually it put unwanted kinks in his plans. "Go away," he said lamely, glancing at Malfoy. Malfoy merely smirked at him, and Harry felt his anger rise. Then again, he didn't know if it was because of Malfoy, or the fact that another suitor made his way toward Nia--and now it was a slow song.

"Goyle, for your information. Don't worry though; their friendship is strictly platonic."

Once again, Malfoy's explanation made him feel a relief he had no right to feel. "Why are you telling me this?"

Malfoy snorted, and Harry was compelled to face him. "Because . . . I've had to suffer a few moments without Ginny . . . and these are the things I keep telling myself so I won't rip someone a new one."

Harry's eyes scanned the crowd, and sure enough Ginny was dancing with Justin Finch-Fletchley, who, if Harry was honest with himself, was entirely too close to his best friend's baby sister.

"You see it, too, then," Malfoy said, without any hint of emotion.

Harry glared at him, not feeling at all sympathetic. "At least you can do something about it! For better or worse, Ginny's your girlfriend. You can tell her to move away from him."

Malfoy gave him a look that clearly asked, are you daft? "You just want to see me flying across the Great Hall! I don't fancy myself getting blasted because of my insane need to keep her close to me at all times. I trust Ginny--"

"I wouldn't trust these wankers with my shoe, let alone my woman."

Malfoy raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Ah . . . see, there's the difference between me and you. There is a clear demarcation between Ginny and every other bloke here. They know she's my woman and I'm her man. They wouldn't dare stand in the way of that, no matter how much of a git they think I am."

Harry eyed Justin and Ginny again, snorting. "I wouldn't be too fast to make that claim, mate. Justin looks ready to put the moves on your girl."

Malfoy brushed the couple away as inconsequential. "I'm not talking about me; I'm talking about Ginny. Ginny knows where she stands with me, and I with her. She won't let anyone come between us, no matter how much of a git they think I am."

"And I can guarantee you're much more of a git than they think you are."

Malfoy chuckled. "Why, Potter . . . I didn't think you noticed . . ." He batted his eyes in a most disturbing matter, and Harry couldn't help but grin. He wouldn't dare utter this aloud, but Malfoy wasn't nearly as bad as he was when he first met him. The removal of his father as an influence, as well as the reincarnation and death Malfoy experienced made him . . . tolerable. If Harry weren't careful, he could feel the word "mate" coming out of his mouth while talking to Malfoy.

The thought was disturbing.

"You're always around; why wouldn't I notice?" he said finally, turning his attention back to Nia and Goyle. A grin formed on his face at the pair. Nia was far too small to fully wrap her arms around him, so her hands stopped at the side of his waist. Goyle had his arms around her shoulders, but from where Harry stood, it seemed more of a protective measure than anything.

Alarm bells rang in his head. Why would Nia need protecting? "Malfoy?" The blonde grunted but did not reply. Harry turned to Justin and Ginny, who, almost annoyed, moved Justin's hands up to her waist. Harry raised an eyebrow at the clearly put out Malfoy, but he continued with his question. "What's up with Goyle, and why does it seem as though he's shielding Nia from something?"

Malfoy seemed a bit perturbed Harry took him from his stakeout of his girlfriend and her dance partner's happy fingers, but he looked over to Nia and Goyle nevertheless. His blonde brows furrowed, and he shrugged. "I don't know, Potter, but he does seem to be on the lookout for something."

The song changed again, and so did Nia's dance partner. It was Brandon Jordan, Lee's cousin from Ravenclaw, and a fifth year. It was an up-tempo song, and they danced exuberantly. Harry rolled his eyes but kept his jealousy in check. "This is driving me nutters," he muttered.

"You were already nutters, Potter. You're only now realizing it."

Harry glared at Malfoy but said nothing. He still wanted to know what concerned Malfoy's goon so much.

"Draco."

Though his name wasn't called, Harry turned to see Goyle conferring with Malfoy. The tones were hushed, and Harry strained to hear. Why isn't Crabbe with them? The other goon seemed less involved with the two, and that bothered Harry immensely. Harry had a sneaking suspicion he was the one Goyle sought.

"Find him. Now. If he gets off the property, there's no telling who he'll go to see."

Goyle gave a short nod at Malfoy's directive before slipping out of the Hall.

Harry curiosity and worry were piqued. "Lose something?"

"It would be in our best interest to find him . . especially Nia's . . ."

Harry rolled his eyes and curled one hand in a fist. When would it end? He looked to Brandon and Nia, who were still dancing. Her eyes were bright and happy as Brandon twirled her out from him. Harry briefly wondered where she learned to dance like that. Probably Angelina and Fred, he thought with a snicker. That was very enthusiastic dancing they exhibited during the Yule Ball in his fourth year, and with Nia and Brandon both having some sort of relation to the couple, he wouldn't be surprised if they were given a few "pointers."

"Well, aren't they just a happy couple?"

The question was gruff, sarcastic, and sinister, sending cold chills up Harry's spine. He turned slowly and was met with the sneering face of Malfoy's defected goon Crabbe.

"Where have you been?" Malfoy asked quite plainly.

Crabbe snorted, his sneer more intense. "I don't answer to you anymore."

"Really? And why is that?"

"You know why," Crabbe said as his eyes moved to Nia.

Harry's heartbeat sped up; he had a distinct feeling she was in some sort of danger and he was the cause of it.

"She hasn't done anything to you," Malfoy said, his tone blasé, but with a distinct warning in it.

"She removed you from your rightful place, that's what she did!" Crabbe's eyes were alight with fire, and Harry suspected he was mad.

"Au contraire, Vincent. She restored me to it."

Crabbe's brown eyes became strained, and Harry could see red lines in the whites of his eyes. "She doesn't belong! She's nothing but a Mudblood, poor, nigger whore!"

The fist Harry formed rose in an instant, but Malfoy, as the saying went, beat him to the punch. Crabbe flew to the table, and it came crashing down, the bowl of pumpkin juice spilling all over him. The music stopped, and students gasped. Malfoy, however, kept at it, following Crabbe and throwing punch after punch. It took Harry a minute to register what was happening, and when he did, he had half a mind to let Malfoy continue the pummeling. However, his Gryffindor instinct won out, and he tried to pull Malfoy off his former friend.

"You know she's a nigger bitch! Why do you defend her? She's tainted you!" Crabbe said as Harry pulled Malfoy away. The blonde went after him again, but Harry's grip was too strong.

"Don't you ever speak of her like that again! She beat you once; don't think she won't beat you again! I'm a Malfoy! I align myself with the powerful--she's powerful!"

Now Ginny and Nia appeared, and the redhead took over for Harry. Her touch had a calming affect as Draco drew her nearer to him. Crabbe's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What about the Weasel? She powerful, too? It seems, Malfoy, you have a partiality for whores. How far does she spread her legs?"

Finally Harry's fist was put to some good use. He felt satisfied when the bones in Crabbe's nose cracked under his fist.

"Get off of him!"

Harry was jerked back, and he couldn't hamper the gasp of surprise when he found it was Nia who did it. "What--"

"Cool it! Leave him alone!" she snarled, her eyes blazing. "Ginny, take Potter away."

"But--"

"He called you by that name!" Draco said, his silver eyes honed in on his former friend.

"And I'd do it again! Stupid little monkey--"

"Oh, do shut up! I'm sick o' yo' damn mouth!" Nia said to Crabbe.

Crabbe's jaw hung open before he regained his wits . . . what little he had. "Who do you think you are, you little Mudblood slut!"

"Sticks and stones, Crabbe. Don't care a lick whatcha gotta say. I don't understand bullshit."

Crabbe growled and stood ungracefully. Nia gave him a look of contempt but then turned away from him. "C'mon, Malfoy, we're goin' for a walk."

"He was my friend first!"

Nia pinned him with a cold stare. "Yeah? Well, not anymore. One would think you have a crush on him!" Nia said. When a furious Crabbe began to blush, Nia's face was overcome with unadulterated glee. "And the truth comes out. You do know Malfoy doesn't swing that way."

Harry looked to Malfoy, who turned positively green. Ginny was biting her lip, trying desperately not to laugh.

"What is this ruckus?" McGonagall asked as she finally made her way to the group. Snape was there as well, but his black eyes were trained on Crabbe.

"One hundred fifty points from Slytherin, and detention, Mr. Crabbe," Snape said silkily. Nia and Malfoy glared at Crabbe, who winced at the punishment. "My House has to endure taunts all day, and for you to do the same to your own housemate makes you no better than the rest of the Houses--"

"Oi!" Ginny and Harry exclaimed. Snape turned his eyes to them, and they quit talking.

"But, Professor--"

"No buts, Mr. Crabbe. Detention . . . and your removal from this dance. I will personally escort you out." Snape grabbed Crabbe's forearm, and by the grimace Crabbe made, it was rough. They walked out of the Hall without a glance to any of the other people.

McGonagall tutted at the destroyed table and, with a flourish of her wand, restored it to its previous state. "Who started it?" she asked, but her eyes were trained on Malfoy.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "I don't expect you to understand why I had to beat the crap out of him, but he called Nia very derogatory names . . . then again, if it's not your precious Gryffindors being taunted, I'm sure you wouldn't care."

McGonagall's eyes grew fierce, and her lips thinned. "Do not confuse me with your own Head of House, Mr. Malfoy. Detention for you and Harry, for disturbing the peace and the festivities. You may stay, but only because Mr. Crabbe deserved what came to him."

Harry rolled his eyes, but he had a new respect for his Head of House. The punishment was fair, if lenient, for she didn't take any more points from them. Soon the music was back, and the students resumed dancing. There was a pat on his arm, and he saw Ginny. "You okay?" he asked her.

"I'm not the one who was in a fight," she smirked.

"He said some pretty mean things about you," Harry said.

She shrugged. "So? Doesn't make them true. When I have Draco's love and my friends and family, who know the truth, why would I care what he says? He's just angry I got his man!"

Harry laughed and pulled her into a hug. "Jealousy is an ugly thing, isn't it?"

She snorted as she pulled away from him. "You should talk. Don't think I didn't see the glares you were giving Nia's dance partners." Harry said nothing, but his blush more than made up for that. "Go talk to her--it's almost midnight as it is. She went to the gardens."

Harry smiled at her and kissed her forehead. "Happy New Year, Gin."

She kissed his cheek. "Happy New Year!"

"None of that! Go find your own goddess to kiss!" Malfoy snarled as he put his arm around Ginny's waist. She snuggled into him happily, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Happy New Year to you, too," he said half sarcastically.

Malfoy looked into Ginny's eyes, full of promise. "Oh, it will be; I can guarantee that."

Harry controlled his urge to gag and left the lovey-dovey couple. He just reached the threshold to the outside when a voice popped in his head.

~Potter.~

Harry hesitated. ~Malfoy?~

It was a while before the voice sounded again. ~Thanks . . . for the help . . .~

Harry grinned, knowing how much it took for Malfoy to be humble. ~Who said I did it for you?~

He could actually feel Malfoy roll his eyes. ~Right. Wish Nia a Happy New Year for me.~

The link was closed, and Harry was glad. The conversation, brief as it was, had a disconcerting quality to it. It was as if Malfoy was making strides to be friendly, but that would go against every truth Harry had grown to believe during his seven year tenure at Hogwarts. Hell, it's the New Year, for Merlin's sake! Time for change . . .

Change . . . things had been changing long before now. Harry wanted things to remain the same, if only for a bit. But he knew that as long as life went on, change would always happen. The trick was to make it change for the better.

And as he spotted Nia on a stone bench, looking at the stars, he figured his love life should make that first change.

He was halfway to her when her eyes locked with his, and she offered him a small smile. It was sad as well, and Harry wanted nothing more than to find Crabbe and finish the job he started. "Hi," he said once he approached her.

"Hi, yourself."

He sat down slowly, his eyes never leaving her person. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She bit her lip and shook her head. "Not particularly."

There was a stretch of silence before Harry broke it. "He's a tremendous, jealous arse, Nia. Don't think about it."

She laughed hollowly. "I know that. I know that! But what he said . . . what he called me . . . Harry, it's about to be 1998, and people still callin' us that crap!"

He was unfamiliar with Muggle racism, but he knew it was just as fierce as wizarding kind. For Nia to endure both types broke his heart. "Don't think about it--"

Nia snorted. "Easier said than done. I may not have to think about it, but there are plenty o' people who think it for me. I'm sure Crabbe ain't the only one here who feels the way he does. He's just stupid enough to blurt it out in front of Draco."

Harry frowned. "That wasn't the first time you had a confrontation with him, and something tells me it wasn't even the second . . ."

Nia raised her brows briefly. "It's been off and on for the past three years." She shook her head as if trying to rid herself of the memories. "I don't talk about it, and I don't tell nobody. It would cause more problems than solutions--"

"But he's calling you those awful things! He has no right!"

"And me tellin' someone ain't gonna get him to stop, so why bother? He's a racist, bigot punk, and I'll let him stew in his hatred all by his lonesome. As long as he thinks I'm unaffected, he'll get the point sooner or later. Matter fact, this year he's left me alone. Notice how he didn't come up to me to spout his filth. I've convinced him I don't care."

"But you do care . . . you care a lot."

Nia rolled her eyes but didn't say anything, turning her attention to a beautiful, red rose bloom. She fingered it delicately, and Harry's eyes were transfixed. Nia was like a rose in many respects: beautiful, but with thorns of painful experiences, doubt, vulnerability, and hurt. She was fragile as the rose as well, but she survived, and she'd continue to do so under the right care.

"Nia," he said, scooting closer to her. He touched his fingers to her far cheek to turn her eyes to his. They were a muted gold; all the happiness she was feeling earlier was gone. If he did nothing else in his life, he would bring that happiness back.

He was about to say something when shouts from the Great Hall stopped him.

"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! . . ."

"Lord. We're five seconds away from a new year," she murmured.

"Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

Harry took a deep breath as strains of Auld Lang Syne filtered into the gardens.

"Well," Nia said on a sigh. She smiled at him, but Harry thought it forced. "Happy New Year, Harry Potter." She made to stand, but he stopped her. "What?"

"I haven't wished you a Happy New Year yet," he said with a bit of a pout.

He knew Nia was trying to fight the grin threatening to form, but he felt a sense of triumph when he saw she couldn't. "Well then?"

He smiled as well and bent his head to her. His progress was steady and sure, and he could feel the fear, uncertainty, and anticipation coming from her.

His lips met her cheek, and her body relaxed tremendously. "Happy New Year," he whispered.

Right before his lips met hers.