The Eighth Weasley

Notes: I’ve really been utterly uninspired with this chapter, which explains why I’m currently working on the ones WAAAAAAAAAAAAY further into the storyline. Its so much fun further on and this...well, I didn’t think I had very much planned for it, but it turns out I could be wrong...

Oh, and Willow’s nickname for Snape was borrowed from Echo, because it’s late at night and I can’t think of anything catchier...hope you don’t mind, Echo!

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"Okay...how about this? Make the feather float."

Gingerly, Willow pointed her wand at the white feather sitting on the Gryffindor table, peeking nervously through one half-closed eye as she tried, for the umpteenth time, to perform basic spells with her wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

At first nothing happened.

Then, slowly, it started to move...

It seemed like an eternity before it lifted off the dark wood of the table top, hovering several millimetres, before rising a little further.

"I did it!"

Unfortunately, the red head spoke to soon.

The feather, still floating, started to twitch in the air. Curls of black smoke started to ripple out from the stem of the feather.

"Oh crap..."

She felt a small hand on her arm and wisely took the wordless hint from the boy who had been helping her, both of them diving underneath the table a second before the feather exploded in a ball of flame.

Several people around the Great Hall screeched in surprise and fright, glaring at the edge of the table as Leon and Willow came back into line of sight, nervously peering around in case there was anything on fire around them.

"Okay...maybe I didn’t do it..."

Leon gave her a sympathetic grin. Ever since she had saved his life at their first flying lesson, the young Gryffindor had been trying his best to help her get her wand under her control.

Unfortunately for the red-haired witch, she simply had too much power of her own to combine it with the extreme power of the slayer’s hair, which provided the core for her willow wand.

"You just have to let the wand do the magic for you, instead of doing it yourself."

"But that’s the problem, Leon," she mumbled, sweeping the ash of her latest feather into a little mound on the surface of the table. "I’m used to doing the spells without the wand and now...why can’t they just let me learn the spells and do them my way?"

"You think you could?"

Willow withdrew another feather from her slightly scorched satchel and placed it on the table, gazing at it, as she said, "Wingardium leviosa!"

The curly white feather fluttered up into the air, Leon’s mouth falling open as he watched it rise. His glasses slid down his nose and he pushed them back up, blinking in astonishment.

"You-you did it!"

Willow grinned. "No, I didn’t," she said. "I cheated. That was mental levitation. I can do that without saying the words."

"Pardon?" Leon said weakly.

"Pick someone."

"Eh?"

"Point to someone."

The boy looked around the crowded Hall, wondering what she was about to do, then pointed towards Hermione Granger, the Professor of Muggle Studies, as she entered through the open doors.

A wicked grin spread across Willow’s face. "Watch," she suggested.

Leon nodded, then laughed as Granger - still walking down the aisle - simply seemed to walk up into thin air. She looked down at her feet that were definitely no longer on the floor, then - one hand on her hip - cocked her head at Willow.

"Miss Weasley, I believe you should put me down."

"What makes you think it was me?" Willow looked shocked, as Hermione started to revolve in a perfect circle in thin air.

"Well," the older witch remarked, as if there was nothing untoward about hovering several feet off the ground and spinning. "I doubt there is anyone in this hall who has as much mental control as you. You are performing a Yoda on me."

"The force is with me, huh?" The brown-haired witch was lowered back to her feet and continued walking as if nothing had happened. "I was just showing Leon what I can do without a wand."

"As long as you don’t test your swish and flick on me, I think I’ll cope," Hermione smiled, sitting down on the opposite side of the table. She glanced at the pile of ash in the middle of it. "I assume that means you’re still not having any success with controlling the wand?"

Willow’s forehead creased. "I don’t get it. I can do most of the transfigurationy stuff okay, but I can’t do the charms. Everything keeps going poof...but poof in a flaming-ball-of-fire-poof, not in a gay-little-man-poof..."

"Willow!"

The younger of the two witches blushed. "Um..."

His own cheeks burning a little, Leon looked from Willow to Hermione. "I-I-I think I might know why..." he mumbled nervously, clearing his throat several times. "I-I mean that...you...Willow, you’ve never done transfiguration or-or-or anything like that before, have you?"

"Not that I can remember."

"B-b-but you have done spells like the ones w-w-we do in charms. Levitation and banishing and-and-and things like that?"

Understanding came across the red head’s face. "Of course!" she exclaimed, one hand slapping down on the table. "I’m so used to doing spells like the ones in charms without a wand that I must kinda instinctively try and do them with my mind..."

"And you can perform with the wand in transfiguration because you have never done anything like that with or without a wand, so you automatically use the wand, as it should be used..."

Both witches looked very proud to now understand why the wand was causing so many problems in charms.

"So what can y-you do about it?"

Hermione’s face twisted in an expression of thought. "Well, if it is just an instinctual reaction to performing charms..."

"Omigod..." Leon and the Professor both looked at Willow, who was rising in her seat, a delighted expression on her face which seemed to be positively glowing with happiness. "Omigod! OZ!"

Both of her companions stood to see her sprinting the length of the Great Hall, many other eyes looking around to see what the fuss was about, and crashing straight into the arms of a small young man with a colourful shirt and equally colourful hair.

"Who’s that, Professor?"

Hermione smiled a little as Willow covered the new arrival’s face with kisses, before claiming his mouth in a hard kiss, one of his arms - which was decorated with beaded bracelets - wrapping around her waist.

"Call it a wild guess, Leon," she murmured. "But I would say that’s her boyfriend."

***

Hand-in-hand, Willow and Oz were walking by the lakeside in the late afternoon, after a brief tour of the castle and an introduction to Hermione, who had seemed very pleased to meet the werewolf.

In the early Autumn warmth, the grounds of the castle looked even more spectacular than usual, a collage of gold, red, browns and russets, the sun casting a warming glow over all of it.

"Nice place," he said, as they looked out over the dark, glassy waters of the lake. His fingers interwoven between hers, he lifted her hand to his lips, glancing sidelong at her. "You like it here?"

"It’s amazing," she sidled a little closer to him, her body warmly pressing against his. "I mean, there’s so much to see and everything is always changing all the time, even when you look, you see pictures move and staircases changing..." she paused for a moment, then asked, "Are you staying for while?"

His lips quirked upwards slightly in what she recognised as his equivalent of a broad smile. "If you want."

"If I want?" Oz immediately had an armful of laughing and crying witch. "Of course I want!" Warm kisses were scattered all over his face. "Oh God...I’ve missed you so much Oz..."

"Pretty much ditto," he replied softly, lifting a hand to cup her face gently. The rough calluses of his fingertips and thumb against her cheek made her smile, her eyes closing as she savoured the touch that was so familiar.

Stroking his fingertips through her silky hair, just behind her ear, he drew her face down to his, their foreheads rubbing together in the gesture of comfort that they had often shared.

Tilting her head a little, Willow brushed a kiss against the heel of his hand, her eyes opening to find him gazing at her intensely. His other came up to frame her face and she was reminded of...

"Are we panicking?" she asked shakily, staring at him.

Oz simply nodded. "We’re panicking," he affirmed, before claiming her mouth in a fierce kiss.

"Outdoors?" she asked, a breathless moment later. He gave her a suggestion of a wicked smirk, his hands slipping under her robes. "Oh God..."

"Call of the wild?" he murmured against her throat, before kissing her again.

The last coherent thought that Willow had was that Hagrid wouldn’t be doing his rounds anywhere near the lake any time soon...

***

"Willow!"

"Hi, Leon," Sliding into her place at the Gryffindor table next to the small, dark boy, Willow looked up as Oz slipped into a free space that had been provided next to her, a smile on her face. "Oz, this is Leon, Leon, Oz, my boyfriend."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

She and her boyfriend had run in almost an hour late to the feast, which was hardly surprising considering they had practically been on the other side of the lake and had been more than a little distracted with thing more...interesting than food.

Willow’s robes were in disarray, her face aglow, her hair wild about her face and her eyes dancing, despite the grassy stains on her hands and knees.

Oz looked as calm as he had when he had arrived at the Great Hall, nearly three hours earlier, only there was a twinkle in his eye that could rival Dumbledore’s and that was really saying something.

Apparently, the happy vibe rising from the couple was more obvious than they had realised, a cough from the top of the hall catching Willow’s attention.

The witch glanced up towards the teachers table to see Hermione wink down at her and grinned. "Did we miss anything?" she asked, as she and Oz helped themselves to the food already on the table.

"Dumbledore made an announcement an hour before dinner started about the far side of the lake being out of bounds until tomorrow..."

"Eep!" Willow went scarlet. She could feel the heat rising in her face and wondered why it was suddenly getting so very warm. A hand touched her thigh beneath the table and she glanced at Oz, who smiled slightly.

"You’re blushing," he murmured softly, his hand moving in gentle circles on her inner thigh.

"Do you blame me for blushing when Dumbledore knows what we were..." she mumbled unsteadily, a little distracted by his lazy caress beneath her robes. "And then he made sure that everyone else knew that there was the thing that meant the other side of the lake was out of bounds and was our fault and you and me...and we..." she buried her face in his shoulder with a moan. "I’ve never been so embarrassed..."

"Good evening, Miss Weasley," a familiar voice said from behind her. "And you, Mr. Osbourne."

"Oh God...I was wrong..." Oz chuckled, as Willow’s face went an even deeper shade of red. Turning, she sheepishly looked up at Dumbledore. "Um...hi..."

The Head Master’s eyes were twinkling as usual. "I’m very glad to see that you had a happy reunion with Daniel," he said.

"When you say see...?" Willow’s brows lifted hopefully. "You don’t mean see-see right? You mean the holding-hands-and-walking-into-the-hall-for-dinner-see, not the I-saw-you-and-know-what-happened-see?"

The twinkle was making her blush even more, if that were actually possible, her ears burning. "I merely meant, Miss Weasley, that you and Daniel look positively aglow. I have no idea what you mean by seeing anything whatsoever..."

Willow made a plaintive whimpering sound in her throat and buried her ruby face in Oz’s shoulder again, as Professor Dumbledore moved off towards the teacher’s table, chuckling softly.

"I don’t care what people say," she mumbled against Oz’s neck. "He’s evil. He’s an evil nasty and mean person who shouldn’t spend so much time trying to embarrass poor, helpless little witches because it’s not a good thing to do especially when the poor little witch gets very embarrassed very easily anyway and I really don’t like being embarrassed cos it leads to blushing and bab...um..." Her eyes rose to her boyfriend, who was looking very amused. "You said you’d stop me when I do that."

Nudging his forehead against hers a little, he replied, "I like it when you do that. I missed it."

Willow’s lips curled up in a smile. "I missed it when you say you missed me doing stuff," she murmured, nestling against him, although she had the distinct feeling that they were being watched.

"Dark guy’s staring. Looks kinda evil..."

Ah, Snape.

She should have known.

"That’s just Cranky-pants Snape," she said quietly, letting her eyes flick to him for a second. He was doing his usual half-closed eyes thing, so it didn’t look like he was watching them, but she was familiar with it.

"Hmm," Oz’s forehead was resting against her temple. "Creepy."

"But a good guy," Willow muttered. "Hard to believe, huh?"

"Mmm."

Willow raised a hand to stroke through Oz’s hair. "I think he’s jealous," she said.

"Jealous, huh?" One of her boyfriend’s hands came up and turned her face back to his, their foreheads brushing against one another again, his fingertip brushing along her lip. "Could be easy to annoy..."

"Oz, you’re terrible!"

His eyes glinted. "I know," he breathed hotly, his words warm against her lips, his fingertips trailing down her chin and throat, a second before she was pulled into his arms and kissed.

Wolf-whistles and whooping hoots rang out from the senior end of the table, while the junior years made sounds of being sick, making Willow’s receding flush return full force, her ears scarlet.

Pulling away from her lips, his row still against hers, his pants warm and sweet on her face, Oz asked softly, "He still watching?" Willow’s eyes flicked sideways and she nodded, drawing deep breaths. "How’d’s’he look?"

"Like he’s..." Willow blinked, staring. "Uh...he’s smirking..."

Oz, one arm still loosely around his girlfriend’s waist, turned back to the table, shooting an expressionless look in Snape’s direction. "Hmm," he murmured. "Is he always that creepy?"

"Oh yeah," Willow nodded, her head resting Oz’s shoulder. "I don’t think anyone really likes him and he doesn’t like very many of the teachers, especially Hermione and Remus."

"Oh?"

"You’ll like Remus," she nodded. "He’s a werewolf." There was a moment’s silence before she cautiously added. "At least, I think you’ll like him. Don’t get mad at him or make him mad, though...I mean, the last time I saw you and another wolf..."

Oz looked at her. "Will, I’m sure we’ll get on great," he reassured, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "As long as evil-guy doesn’t put the moves on you and Remus doesn’t get mad easily...I think we’ll be fine."

***

"Remus!"

Halfway down the corridor that lead to his bedroom, still recovering from the after-effects of the full moon two nights before, Lupin paused at the voice of the youngest Weasley, turning to see her hurrying towards him.

"Willow," he smiled.

"Come with me," she said urgently, latching onto his arm. "I’ve got someone who wants to meet you."

Lupin gave her a curious look, then inhaled a breath. "Ah, your boyfriend..." He could feel the warmth radiating from her red cheeks and chuckled when she scowled at him, hauling him along by the arm.

"I hate it when you do that wolfy-senses thing," she grumbled at him. "It’s not fair when we can’t smell if we smell or if you’re smelling something we should smell, but don’t know we should smell it since you smell more than we smell anyway..."

"Quite."

Willow pulled a face at him. "You know what I mean," she said.

Stopping in front of a painting of a group of nuns, which was the hidden doorway that lead up to the room that Hermione and Willow shared, without have to pass through the common room, the witch stepped close and muttered the password.

Lupin couldn’t help laughing.

"Slippery nipple?" he inquired, as the painting swung open, all the nuns in it gasping in mortification at the words.

"Hermione thinks its funny," Willow mumbled. "We take it in turns to make a new password and she chose that one, cos she knows it embarrasses me and she’s worse than Fred and George for trying to make me blush."

Lupin smiled a little, as he was led up the winding stairs, which opened onto a small landing, where a single door hung half-open, revealing the warmly coloured room of the two witches.

Seated in the window-seat, a young man was leaning back against the window frame in front of her, Hermione was pointing out the various features of the grounds to the younger werewolf, who seemed to go rigid as Willow and Lupin arrived.

"Oz," Hurrying across the room, Willow took one of her boyfriend’s hands, as he came to his feet. "This is Remus Lupin." She motioned Lupin forward with an eager wave. "I told you about him..."

Crossing the floor, the thick carpet rising up his shin ticklishly, he stopped two paces away from the younger werewolf studying him with interest. He had never had the chance to meet a wolf before, especially not in these circumstances.

The boy was small, smaller than Willow, with hair that was several different colours of the rainbow. He was wearing loose trousers, a baggy T-shirt and a loose shirt over them, several beaded necklaces and bracelets adorning his throat and wrists.

Lupin felt almost like he was staring at a younger image of himself, when he finally met the boy’s calm, pale eyes. While they looked nothing alike, there was something in the eyes that reminded him so much of himself

"Hey," A slim hand was held out to him.

"Hey," he replied, his own hand closing around the younger wolf’s. It was warm and dry, much like his own. "Remus Lupin."

"Daniel Osbourne."

There was a moment’s silence, during which the two young witches anxiously looked from one face to the other.

Osbourne’s eyes flicked over Lupin’s face. "Bad time?"

"Worst," Lupin felt a smile reach his lips.

Finally, here was someone who could make comparisons with him. Someone who knew exactly what it was like and could see, just by looking at him, how he was feeling and assess him from there.

He knew he looked raw.

He had shaved and brushed himself up, but - after years of being greeted by his reflection in the mornings - he could see the bags under his eyes, the paleness of his face all reflecting on how good or bad the transformation had been.

"Bad luck."

"You?"

"Nothing I can’t handle."

"Used to it?"

"If you can be..."

Willow and Hermione were looking distinctly blank.

"Uh, what are you guys talking about?"

Osbourne’s lips quirked. "Wolf stuff," he replied.

"Just passed," Lupin nodded. "Solstice..."

"Longer nights starting," Oz replied, a grim look crossing his stoic face.

"Makes it harder."

"More painful."

Willow was looking at them both as they exchanged knowing nods, slowly shaking her head in disbelief. "Okay," she said firmly. "You two are really starting to give me a wiggens..."

Oz and Lupin exchanged quiet smiles and Willow warily stepped back behind the giggling Hermione.

"I think they’re doing it on purpose," Hermione remarked dryly.

As one, both werewolves turned in the direction of the witches and smiled those identical tiny smiles.

"You think so?" Willow moaned, ducking behind Hermione’s back. "I’m starting to think it was a bad idea to introduce them..."

"To quote an Americanism," Hermione snickered. "Duh."