The Eighth Weasley

Notes: Muaha! I really love the idea of Dawn being able to stand up to Snape and that he appreciates it. Hates Summers Senior, likes Summers Junior. Its always going to be fun, no? Especially when Dawn bugs the knickers off Buffy as well. Snape’ll like her even more for that added bonus ;)

As for people who wondered about the Willow-Tara-Oz relationship thing: This story began during S4. Between the time Willow learned who her family were and when she met them in Diagon Alley, nearly 8 months passed and in those months, Oz & Willow split and Tara came along, just as in season 4 of Buffy, then I took it off on my tangent. It will be elaborated on later in this ch. ;)

Also, for those of you who don’t like what I do in this chapter, tough titties. This has been planned for four months now and I’m not changing it for no one. Nope. Nothing anyone can say will change my mind! Muahah!

And (finished notes) - Bloody thing has turned out to be King Sized again (15 pages) cos of all the little threads I had to have going and keep going. There are reasons for pretty much everything that happens in this. Except perhaps what happens to poor Duncan. I’m just mean to my own little boy :)

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"Where would she have gone?"

"Who can say?" There was a weary sigh. "All we are aware of is that she was in the Leaky Cauldron, demanding the whereabouts of her ‘key’. She left half a dozen of our kind drained of sanity and vanished as suddenly as she appeared."

"Have you informed Buffy?"

Dumbledore raised his eyes to the man on the other side of his desk. "I will be informing her shortly," he answered quietly. "I am afraid that it appears that one of our own kind may be assisting this demon."

"One of..." The man’s expression hardened. There was only one kind of wizard, dark or otherwise, who would assist a creature that thrived on destruction and death. "A Death Eater is involved?"

"It is possible."

Rupert Giles rubbed his face, shaking his head. "It was bad enough when it was just Glory, but to have a wizard stand against us as well...do we know of any Death Eaters who managed to avoid Azkaban?"

"There are several," Dumbledore said evasively.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that there are several," he answered.

"Also meaning that since you’re not telling me, you’re pretty certain you know who it must be and there’s a reason you wouldn’t want me to know about it," Giles said, his hands resting on his thighs.

Dumbledore raised his brows. "You have become very perceptive, Rupert."

"I’ve become something of an expert at interpreting the cryptic, due to working with teenagers and the Watchers' Council, Albus," Giles replied coolly. "Don’t think you have the wool pulled over my eyes."

The Head Master inclined his head in a suggestion of a polite bow. "I simply would prefer that you act rationally," he said. "Instead of taking a chance to attain vengeance and finding nothing but death waiting for you."

Giles’ expression tightened. "He’s the one who got to Sev, isn’t he?" Dumbledore said nothing. "If it is..." Blue eyes gazed evenly across the desk at him. "I will remain utterly calm and collected until I’m close enough to beat the living crap out of him."

"Would you prefer to be the one to inform Miss Summers?" Dumbledore finally asked, after several minutes of silence. "After all, you are the one she respects and are the best judge of her nature."

Giles nodded slowly. "Yes," he answered. "Yes, I think that might be best."

***

"Can I watch?"

"Miss Summers..."

Blue eyes turned up to Snape, Dawn’s lip jutting out in a pout. "But I wanna see how to make the hard potions," she whined, in a voice that she knew particularly irritated him. "I wanna do it!"

Snape looked down at the little American, trying to smother a smirk.

He really rather liked the annoying little creature, despite his best efforts not to.

She had nerve, character, attitude, things so often lacking in the milksops he had to deal with on a daily basis. She also came and lurked in the dungeons when she really had no need to be there and very few people did that.

Like she had on this occasion: her sister had been called up to see the Head Master along with Rupert and the younger sister had taken the chance to escape from the room, which she was meant to stay in until her sister returned.

It was oddly touching that she came to him when she could.

No doubt because it would annoy her sister as well, which he appreciated.

When she had first arrived at the class and managed to get past the initial fear of him, she had proved more than a match for his sarcasm and attitude, speaking back to him when all her other classmates were cowering.

Speaking of classmates, one of them was lurking at the door, apparently waiting for the Summers girl, looking suitably terrified every time Snape flashed a dark look in his direction.

"Miss Summers," he began again, sneering down at her. "I’m afraid that the class you wish to attend is called Advanced Potions for a reason and you have yet to attain the maturity, knowledge and at least one brain cell required."

"Do so have one brain cell! I’m talking to you, so I have ta have something!"

"Miss Summers," He could practically hear Summers’ friend whimpering in terror at the door, as he loomed over the girl. "There is a world of difference between coherent conversation and what you so eloquently deem as ‘talking’."

"Well, then, I don’t need to say anything during the class, do I? I can just stand and watch you do stuff and make with the not-speaking," she challenged, giving him that irrepressible grin.

"Pardon me, but I do believe you just volunteered to remain silent in one of my classes," Snape saw her grin widen. She liked to banter with him in a way no other student could. He could be as biting and sarcastic as he liked and she would still give as good as she got, without crossing the boundary into blatant rudeness. "Are you under the Imperius curse?"

She actually laughed at that and Cameron, the boy at the door, looked like he was about to faint from terror. "You wish, Professor," she replied. "I couldn’t be this annoying if I was under the Imperius curse."

"Oh, I’m sure you could manage somehow, Miss Summers."

"So can I?"

"Can you what?"

She scowled darkly up at him and he damn near laughed at it. The scowl was him personified. Many people had tried to impersonate his scowl, but only this irritating yet tolerable little American had managed it.

"You know what, Professor," she glowered at him, arms folded over her chest to match his posture. "I wanna come to the Advanced Potions class and watch. I can’t unless you tell Professor Dumbledore that I can. I really wanna come! Please?"

"Be still, my bleeding heart."

Dawn took a step towards him, her arms still crossed over her chest, her brows knitting as she glared up at him. "If you don’t let me come," she said slowly and very deliberately. "I’ll sic Spike on you."

"A defanged vampire? Oh, Miss Summers, I quiver with terror."

One corner of her mouth lifted. "You should," she replied quietly, her eyes glittering with mischief. "If I ask him to sing nine-hundred and ninety-nine million, nine-hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall to you, he would do it."

Snape was immediately hurled into a very odd visual place, wherein the blond vampire was doing just that. Why the vampire was suddenly in the costume of a 19th century dandy and armed with a lute, he didn’t know.

Shaking his head, he blinked and looked down at Dawn. "Miss Summers, I don’t know what you aim to achieve by filling my head with absurd images, but I have said you are too young for the class."

"Aww, please! I won’t touch anything! I won’t say anything! You won’t even know I’m there!" She struck a pose, hands folded in front of her. "See! Not moving! Not speaking! Just watching!"

"Considering your record for being unable to keep your flapping trap shut for even one Potions class, I may yet have to see if this miracle might be true," he murmured, reaching into his robes and withdrawing a scroll of parchment. "This is the form of consent allowing you to join the class."

"You big jerk!" Dawn squealed, as soon as she had it in her hands. "You had it all this time and you made me ask nicely!"

Snape smirked at her. "You expected it any other way, Summers? A cauldron and some essential ingredients will be delivered to your chambers this evening, so you are adequately prepared to make a fool of yourself."

Unrolling the scroll, Dawn looked at the elaborate script on the paper, then gave a delighted squeal, as it affirmed that she was, indeed, allowed to sit in on the sixth and seventh years potions classes.

Then she did something that Professor Snape and Cameron looked equally stunned and mortified by.

She threw her arms around Snape, with an excited squeal, then darted off towards the door, leaving the off-balance Potions Master staring at her as if she had sprouted a second head.

"Ye hugged him," Snape heard Cameron gasp at her.

"He’s letting me watch Potions!"

"Aye, but..." Cameron’s blue eyes flicked into the room and he immediately backed out of Snape’s line of sight, although his voice still reached the Potions Professor, echoing in the hall. "Ye hugged him!"

Dawn looked back into the room and grinned at Snape, who scowled darkly. "I know," she answered, as they disappeared into the Hallway, her voice ringing back to him. "I thought it would scare him."

Snape shook his head, a wry smile reaching his lips.

She really was an annoyingly likeable little creature.

Now, if only the sister would follow her lead, as opposed to being sheerly annoying.

***

"So you planted one on her yet?"

With a shriek of surprise, Hermione spun, wand in hand, looking for the owner of the voice that had hailed her. Scrolls she had been carrying bounced across the floor and she heard a chuckle.

"Clumsy, luv, very clumsy."

It was nearly a week and a half since she had last had a run in with the owner of that particular voice and she had been hoping to avoid it a little longer, while she tried to work out what she was going to do.

Unfortunately, it looked like she didn’t have much of a choice now.

Scowling, as she knelt to gather the scrolls up, she shot a glare at the vampire. "How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"

Spike merged out of the shadows that licked the walls, smirking down at her. "You think telling me off is going to stop me, Prof? Nah. That would be too much like good behaviour for my tastes."

The last of the scrolls back in her hands, Hermione straightened up. "So what did you decide to jump out on me for?"

"You heard, luv," Much to her surprise, the vampire took all the scrolls from her and loaded them into a satchel he had on his shoulder. "And the day you work out that bags aren’t evil, there’s going to be a bloody party."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don’t need a bag for carrying a handful of scrolls, Spike, and why do you care if I’ve...er...planted one on Willow?"

Spike grinned. "Got to get my yayas somehow, don’t I?" He offered her an arm, which she took, albeit reluctantly. "So I’m right when I guess you haven’t gotten any further with little Red?"

"Um..."

"Really, Prof, anyone would think you didn’t fancy the knickers off her."

"I don’t!" An eyebrow arched. "All right, all right, maybe I do like her..." They were walking down a hall that was near the transfiguration classrooms and Hermione was wondering just where the vampire was taking her. "Er...Spike?"

"Whatcha going to do about her?"

Distracted by the question, Hermione turned to look up at him. "Pardon?"

"Do I have to throw you and her into a room together to see the two of you get some action?" he asked, as he turned into a room, taking her with him. She didn’t even look round to see where they were, glaring at him and his implication.

"Don’t be ridiculous," Hermione sniffed.

Blue eyes gave her a speculative look. His arm shot past her and she felt the bump of a door banging lightly against her elbow. "Well, we’ll see about that," he said with a wink and giving her a casual shove backwards.

Tripping over something, Hermione uttered a yell of dismay that was echoed by another yell, as she fell into what looked like a cupboard and the door closed to the sound of Spike’s laughter.

"Ow..." the witch winced, her left shoulder holding her painfully upright against the back of the cupboard, her legs askew around something soft and warm on the floor of the wooden structure.

"Pretty much ditto," another voice mumbled from somewhere near Hermione’s legs.

"Willow?"

There was a rustling and someone squirmed up onto her feet, her body brushing against Hermione’s, making Hermione bite her lower lip. "Hermione?" They were practically crushed chest to chest and Hermione shifted her feet.

"Let me guess," she said, her voice a little shaky. "Spike got you in here?"

"Yeah," she could hear the pout in Willow’s voice. "I’ve been in here for a real long time already. I was starting to think he was gonna leave me in here. I’m so staking him when we get out! I’m gonna poof him good."

"Why didn’t you get your wand?"

"Why haven’t you got yours?" Willow challenged. Hermione’s hand slid between their bodies, ignoring Willow’s slim form and soft curves, and into her robes, but her wand was gone. "Spike is good at stealing from you when you least expect it."

"That rotten swine!"

Willow giggled. "He is a jerk," she agreed, shifting again.

Hermione’s teeth caught her lip again, as one of Willow’s knees brushed between her own. She could feel the warmth of the red head’s breath on her face. Sweet and light, like white musk. A gasp escaped her and she tried to think outside the cupboard they were locked in.

Apparently Willow heard the gasp, one hand coming out to touch Hermione’s arm gently. "Are you okay, Hermione? You’re not claustrophobic, are you, cos if you are, I’ll so stake Spike!"

"Uh...no...not claustrophobic..."

Willow exhaled a sigh of relief. "Oh good! Thought you were gonna go all freaky-deaky on me and I don’t have my wand to get us out." Hermione jumped when a hand touched her shoulder, then slid over to rest on the wood, bracing Willow’s body close to hers. "Y’know, I’m kinda glad it's you that Spike threw in. Woulda been kinda awkward if it was anyone else."

"Uh-huh..." Hermione closed her eyes.

The bastard.

The sneaky, evil, wicked, bloody marvellous bastard.

When she got out, after Willow staked him, she was going to kiss him so hard he would spontaneously combust.

The sneaky, evil, wretched, wicked, devious, cunning, tricky, wonderful, absolutely bloody marvellous bastard.

"D’you know why he chucked you in?"

Willow’s hair rustled and Hermione assumed she was shaking her head. "Something about getting people started."

"Oh..."

"You know?"

"Um...Willow, do you trust me?"

"Sure! You’re my best buddy of non-Scooby origin!"

"All right. Don’t kill me."

Before Willow could ask anything more, Hermione leaned in and - assessing from the position of the other witch’s face and the puffs of her breath - covered Willow’s lips with her own in a light kiss. Willow gasped against her lips.

It was barely a brush of contact and she pulled back right away, but it was electric.

Hermione could feel the heat rising in her face. She had never kissed another girl before, let alone another witch, but something had drawn her to Willow Weasley from the first moment she had seen her.

At least now, she could at least say that she had tried.

"Wh-what was that for?" Willow’s voice was shaking.

Closing her eyes and praying that she wouldn’t be hated by her friend, Hermione forced a confident tone into her voice. "Spike told me to."

"Spike told you to kiss me?" there was a wondering tone in the youngest Weasley’s voice which the other witch didn’t recognise. "You? He told you to kiss me? In here?"

"Well, not in here, but since I..."

A hand wove through Hermione’s hair and her mouth was pulled down hard against an unseen pair of hot, moist lips, a little gasp of pleasure escaping her as Willow’s other hand slid over her hip and around to rest on her back.

Oh God...

Oh GOD!

Willow was kissing her.

Willow Weasley was kissing HER, Hermione Granger, former Head Girl and the Professor of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts and oh!

It was good.

It was really, really good.

Her hands coming up to frame Willow’s face, she felt a shudder of pleasure when a tongue brushed against her parted lips, the kiss rapidly deepening, the cupboard filling with a dizzying, delicious heat.

Willow tasted of strawberries, she decided. Sweet, ripe summer strawberries.

And she couldn’t get enough of it.

Somehow, she ended up pinning Willow between her own body and the side of the cupboard, one hand spread on the wood behind the red-haired witch, the other around Willow’s waist.

Her mind was too dizzy to work out why.

Although, the dizziness rapidly receded when there was a rush of cold air and light into the cupboard, the door wide open. The two witches broke apart, panting, at a loud and very shocked exclamation.

"What on earth are you doing in my cupboard?" Minerva McGonagall shrieked in surprise, whipping around to glare at Spike, who was leaning against the doorframe of the classroom, grinning from ear-to-ear. "BILLY!"

"Didn’t make ‘em do anything, Minnie," he drawled, blue eyes dancing. "Just gave ‘em directions and locked the door."

Hermione, blushing furiously, flashed a nervous look at the equally-red Willow, who looked as bashful, then darted away, pausing only to grab her scrolls and wand from the satchel on Spike’s shoulder.

"You’re a git," she hissed at him.

"You’re looking utterly snogged," he retorted, grinning. She glared at him once more, before fleeing the scene, hoping she could get her blushes under control before she got back to her own classroom.

***

"Whaddya call that thing?"

"Blast-ended skrewt," Hagrid replied happily. "Lovely things, they are."

The muggle boy gave the skrewt a deeply sceptical look. "Lovely thing. Right..." he remarked cynically. "You do know that those are the kinda things that come outta the Hellmouth when it opens, right?"

The Grounds keeper almost dropped the bar for sealing the skrewts’ pen on his foot, beetle-black eyes widening. "Ye’ve seen the Hellmouth open?"

Hagrid had just been forcing one of the blast-ended skrewts back into its large enclosure, when one of the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor’s friends had approached, actually seeming interested.

Wearing numerous T-shirts and shirts, all under a thick set of robes that looked like they had been borrowed from Dumbledore, no doubt unused to the chill of impending winter that hung in the grey afternoon, the youth couldn’t have looked more like a muggle if he tried.

He was dark-haired and dark-eyed and wore a genial half-smile at all times, even when he was sounding a little...distant and maybe even a little depressed as he did at this very moment.

"Only a couple of times, before everyone closed it, but yeah. Things like that are all over the place."

The half-giant looked down at the muggle boy. He knew that the group lived on the Hellmouth on the Western seaboard and had heard that they had all fought the Dark Side in some way or other.

Even this normal-looking muggle.

Hellmouths sounded fascinating. Dangerous, but fascinating and he hadn’t had the nerve to ask the tiny and very pretty blonde Professor about it.

He heard that if one of the many Hellmouths ever successfully opened fully, there was more chance of the world going to pot than there ever had been when...You-Know-Who was in power and it was really terrifying to think about.

Summers and her friends had apparently stopped it a few times and he was really very curious how and why and what they could do to make sure it didn’t happen any time in the near future.

"Would...er...would yer be interested in tellin’ me a bit about yer Hellmouth thing?"

The boy smiled as if it was the best thing that had happened to him, since his arrival at the school. "That’d be kinda neat," he answered, looking over his shoulder, back up to the school. "Don’t have anyone to really talk to up there."

"Feelin’ left out cos of magic an’ all?"

The boy smiled faintly. "I guess so."

"I’m not allowed ter do magic either," Hagrid confided, dusting his hands down on his shirt. "Have ter do everything the muggle way." He nodded towards his house. "Want ter come in fer a cup o’ tea? It’s a bit nippy out."

The boy smiled broadly. "That would be great," he replied, following the giant towards the house. "You’re Hagrid, right?"

"S’right," Hagrid beamed down at him. There was something about the muggle boy that reminded him a lot of Ron Weasley in nature, with a bit of Harry Potter thrown in for good measure. "An’ you are?"

"Xander. Xander Harris," the boy replied immediately, looking up at Hagrid with undisguised interest. "And you’re really half-giant?"

Hagrid chuckled, a deep booming sound. "S’right, an’ all."

"This place is crazy," Xander said shaking his head.

"Crazier than a Hellmouth?"

Brown eyes twinkled with amusement. "I don’t know about that...you have met Professor Summers, right?"

Hagrid just laughed. Yes, he could see himself liking this youth, who was so very like Ron and Harry.

***

"Something tells me that it was your fault," Professor McGonagall was scowling at the blond-haired vampire across the table of the staff-room, where a pile of colourful plastic chips and cards were scattered between them.

Spike’s eyebrows rose. "Just because a couple of horny witches decide to get off in your cupboard, which just happened to be locked from the outside, doesn’t mean it had anything to do with me."

The pair were seated at one of the smaller tables in the furthest corner of the large staff room, ignoring the lurking, brooding figure of Snape, who was seated in front of the fire, supposedly reading.

However, at Spike’s words, both of the pair snickered as they heard paper tear.

Minerva flashed a look at the back of Snape’s chair, a smirk on her lips. "You are awful, Billy," she said, as she arranged the cards in her hands. "I mean, had I arrived even five minutes later, who's to say they would have even been clothed."

There was a muffled sound from the chair and Spike looked like he was having trouble keeping a straight face.

"How was I to know that the Prof was so keen to get under Red’s robes?" he demanded in a mock-innocent tone. "I mean, did you see where her hand was off to when we opened that door?"

Another incoherent little sound came from Snape’s direction.

The witch was shaking with barely controlled mirth, gripping her cards so tight that her knuckles were white. "At least we know," she managed to grit out beneath an undertone of giggles, "that we have seen more of your naked form than theirs, so they still have their pride."

"Hey now! It was cold out!" Spike protested indignantly.

There was a thump of a heavy book being slammed closed and Snape was on his feet, sweeping out of the room, McGonagall bursting out laughing almost instantly, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

"My Lord, Professor Summers really has him on edge," she chuckled, shaking her head. "Normally, a conversation like that wouldn’t even make him move, but we had him leave the room!"

Spike’s smirk was purely filthy. "Bet he’s gone to toss off with the image of my naked glory in mind."

Minerva closed her eyes. "Would rather not have received that image," she said, her face creasing in a nauseous expression. "You and nudity I can tolerate, but Severus spanking the monkey..."

Spike threw his head back and roared with laughter. "There’s more chance of him and Buffy shagging than him ever getting his rocks off on seeing my arse," he laughed merrily. "That bloke is a straight as a ruler and ten times as stiff."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, he has an affinity for wearing black frocks, but he’s as straight as Flitwick is bent as a hairpin."

McGonagall, who had been taking a drink of her tea, immediately sprayed it all over the table. "Billy!"

"Call it as I see it, Minnie," Spike grinned. "And I see you as a horny old bat, who should have played their card half an hour ago, instead of speculating over two little witches getting off in your cupboard. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were..."

"Mr. T. Bloody, that is enough!" Clearing her throat, McGonagall looked down at the cards on display.

Blue eyes glittered. "Minnie, Herm and Willow," he started to sing-song. "Sitting on a bag, having such a good time, with a threeway..."

"BILLY!"

The vampire laughed. "Well, make your move, then luv. Move faster than a tortoise and I’ll stop singing."

Green eyes narrowed, the vampire leaning forward and watching closely as she took the top one from her little pile. Turning it face up, she slapped it down on the top of the pile in the middle of the table and yelled triumphantly, "SNAP!"

***

Easing into the bedroom, Hermione felt a rush of blood to her cheeks when she saw Willow sitting in the window seat, gazing out at the grounds. They had been avoiding one another since...

The kiss.

That had been just past lunchtime and now, it was almost nine o’clock at night. It was the longest they had ever been apart, since Willow had arrived at Hogwarts and Hermione sincerely hoped it wouldn’t stay that way.

"Er..."

Willow turned and looked over at her. "Hey," she said softly. Hermione could see her cheeks were scarlet as well, which made her feel a tiny bit better. "We...we aren’t gonna be all awkward and stuff now, are we? I mean, cos of what happened?"

"I would rather not be awkward, although it is a little, well...awkward."

Both girls grinned a little at her choice of words, as Willow slid onto her feet and straightened up. "You got a lot of work to do tonight?" she asked, looking at the heap of scrolls in Hermione’s arms.

"Uh...not really."

There was another silence, then Hermione was struck by a thought.

"I never showed you the bathroom!"

Willow looked a little bemused, her expression on of bewilderment. "Bathroom? You get this from me asking about homework?"

"You know me," Hermione laughed, hurrying across to her bed and ditching all the marked scrolls - which she had spent the last four hours in the library marking - onto her bed and reached for the fresh towels that the house elves had placed out. "You want to see one of the best bathrooms in the world?"

"You mean that we go running around the castle, see a neat bathtub in a neat bathroom, come back and do nothing?"

"No, doofus," Hermione laughed, using the nickname that had become so familiar, thanks to the little army of Americans. "We go to the bathroom, fill it, take a bath and then come back and do nothing."

"Take a bath together?"

"When you see the size of this thing, it’ll make sense."

Willow worried her lower lip.

"Oh, come on, Willow! We’re friends! And the incident in the cupboard," she made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Entirely Spike’s fault. We’ll stake him for it later... so, are you going to come with me or not?"

Looking down at her own neatly folded towels, Willow deliberated for a moment, then nodded. "I’m in," she replied. "But we have to have lots of bubbles and you’re not allowed to peek!"

"Nothing I haven’t seen before, Weasley."

"Hey!"

Hermione grinned. "What? Like you were always shy and hiding it, little Miss I-wander-around-the-bedroom-in-my-knickers-and-bra-when-I-think-the-innocent-Miss-Granger-is-asleep!" Willow made an anguished squeaking noise in her throat, her face flaming. "Oh, don’t worry," Hermione added airily. "From what I’ve seen, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of."

"Hermione!"

The brown-haired witch chuckled. "Prude."

***

"What on earth are you doing?"

Dawn looked up from the small cauldron that was balanced just on the inside of the toilet bowl. "Like, duh," she said, rolling her eyes expressively at the boy standing over her. "Since there’s a cauldron in my toilet and it's bubbling and stuff, I’m obviously peeing."

"Dawnie..."

"What are you doing in a girls toilet?"

In fact, it wasn’t just any girls’ toilet. It was the toilet that was made famous by the fact that it lead down into the Chamber of Secrets and apparently, it was still as unused by pupils nearly ten years on.

There was a dank smell that seemed to hang around most public toilets, although there was less of the bitter acidic smell of muggle cleaning agents. No doubt, Filch used something else.

Even so, there was still a damp and cold atmosphere around the toilets, which the Scottish boy didn’t particularly like. He was an extremely superstitious person and this place was giving him an unnerving feeling.

He stood over his friend, who was wearing muggle clothes under her thick robes, an invisibility cloak spilling on the floor behind her.

"Well, Scot-boy? You, girls toilet, after I told you not to follow me?"

Duncan Cameron went beetroot. "I saw ye sneakin’ out and figured ye might get intae trouble, so I came tae make sure ye dinnae get caught or anythin’. I had tae see what you were doin’."

"That’s so sweet," Dawn grinned at him, then turned her attention back to the potion that was bubbling in the cauldron. "Anyway, I won’t get in trouble. Hermione knows I’m down here. She gave me the water-proof fire."

"Professor Granger?"

Dawn nodded, carefully stirring the thick, dark, murky concoction once clockwise, twice anti-clockwise with a long, thin ladle. "She knows I’m not allowed to practise potions in the tower or away from the potions class or anywhere that people’ll see, so she said I should come here."

"Does yer sister know yer here?"

Dawn shook her head, raising a test tube of grey fluid, expertly measured. "She went off into the Dark Forest to get back into shape for Dark Arty stuff with Giles," she answered, adding the fluid to her potion. "So she’s not gonna be back until way late, so I’m working here. I woulda done it in the room, but ew! Potions make the room stinky and she would be pissed if she knew."

"Because yer not meant to play with potions outside of class!"

Dawn gave him a look. "And you don’t do charms outside of class?" she said.

"Does Snape know?"

"That I’m practising? Probably, but even if he didn’t, I’m gonna do it anyway. He gave me the cauldron and ingredients. What am I meant to do with them? Wait until class every week? Nah!"

"You could get in big trouble, Dawnie..."

Dawn smirked. "I’m not the one with a ghost behind me," she replied cheerfully, leaning sideways to look beyond him. "Hey Myrtle!"

"Why are you so happy?" Cameron whipped around at the gloomy voice, to find a sulky-looking girl with a pudgy face and thick glasses staring owlishly at him. "And why have you brought a boy," The way she said the word made him wonder if being a boy was a bad thing. "With you?"

"Oh, he followed me," Dawn replied, grinning up at Duncan, who had gone very pale. He was very nervous around ghosts, because of all the legends in his family, which had spooked him since childhood. "You can bug him if you wanna. He thinks ghosts are hotties."

"Dawnie..."

Myrtle’s pearly eyes lit up. "Oooh! You like ghosts?" Sidling up to him, she batted transparent eyelashes. "So, do you like my toilet?"

Dawn snickered over her potion as Duncan tried to babble his way out of the conversation, muttering just loud enough for him to hear, "I told you not to follow me if I went sneaking out."

***

"This is so neat!"

Swimming to the edge of the bath, Hermione shook her hair back out of her eyes and looked across the bath to Willow, who was hanging into one of the gold taps and capturing the bubbles pouring out of it in her hand, then blowing them into the air.

"You are such a child sometimes, Weasley," she chuckled.

Willow pulled a face, then moved onto the next tap, from which a jet of rainbow-coloured water sprayed, making her squeal. "Oh God! Cold!" she squeaked wildly trying to turn the tap off.

Hermione couldn’t help laughing.

The red-haired witch was infatuated with the huge bathroom and Hermione didn’t blame her in the least. It was perfect and beautiful.

It looked like the whole room had been plucked out of Ancient Rome and placed in the school, the bath sunk in the middle of the floor, four steps leading down from the main floor and to the bath.

The bath was the size of an average muggle swimming pool, deep and made of pure white marble. Along three of the four sides, there were dozens of golden taps, each of which issued different bubbles or colours of water or bath mists.

The fourth wall had one flight of marble steps to get in and out of the bath at one side, while - along the end, there were smooth dips in the stone that could serve as a place to sit and enjoy the bath, if one didn’t feel like swimming about.

Columns lined the walls of the room, towering and white, trimmed with gold leaf and soft, white light seemed to glow softly through half a dozen white alabaster disks in the ceiling that was painted in the colour of a summer sky.

It had taken a little more convincing to get Willow into the bathroom, once they reached the door of the room, but as soon as she saw the room, she was more than willing to plunge straight into the tub.

Splashing her way up to the end of the bath with the grooves in the wall, Willow slid into the seat of smoothed marble with a sigh, leaning back against the water-warmed wall, crisp white foam covering her modesty.

Hermione lazily swam back towards her and slid into the seat next to her, pushing her hair back from her face with one hand.

"Nice, isn’t it?"

"Mmm," Willow replied, her eyes closed.

Hermione nibbled on her lower lip, then carefully asked. "Willow, can I ask you something rather...personal?"

"Sure."

"You don’t need to answer."

Willow half-opened her eyes. "I won’t if I don’t wanna," she replied. "Ask whatever you like."

"Who was Tara?" Green eyes flicked to her. "Spike mentioned her," Hermione said apologetically. "I was a little curious."

Willow’s eyes closed again. "She was my girlfriend for a while, when Oz was in Tibet the first time," she replied quietly. "My first and only girlfriend. Then Oz came back and I...I had to choose between them...Oz...he was hurt by scientist guys...I loved him too much to see him hurt...I chose him."

"What happened to Tara?"

Willow sighed. "She...she said we could stay friends, but we kinda lost touch with me coming here and school and everything..." She sighed again. "And before you ask, I did love her, but Oz...I loved him that little bit more."

"Is she the first girl you...you were romantically interested in?"

"Mmm."

"Why?"

Willow raised her shoulders a little. "I don’t know, but there was something in her that I felt close to. Like there was in Oz," she replied, opening her eyes and staring up at the ceiling. "It didn’t matter whether they were male or female, just as long as we did have that...closeness. That connection. That kind of love."

"Sounds wonderful," Hermione murmured, gazing at the red head’s profile.

"It is," Willow whispered softly, barely audible over the soft lapping of the water around them, her eyes closing again. "To be able to love someone so completely, to trust them with everything and anything, to know what they feel from a touch, from a look. I had it twice and now..."

"You’re alone again?" Hermione put in as Willow trailed off, the red-haired witch nodding silently. "Willow, I’ve only had two boyfriends and only one of them was ever one of my two lovers. I’ve never...been loved to the extent that you have."

"Not even with Ron?"

A bittersweet smile crossed the older witch’s face. "That was a close one, but there were too many differences. I loved him more than anything. I thought we could get over or break through the barriers that separated us, but it was too much. They forced us apart a little at a time. We try to stay friends, but there’s too much between us for it to ever be like it once was."

"And there were others?"

"Viktor Krum, a famous Quidditch player," Hermione laughed hollowly at the memory. "We saw each other briefly, but we split on rather bad terms, which was when Ron and I started seeing each other. I had a lover from the Ministry, briefly, but we only ever saw one another over the summers after I finished school. It wasn’t love, nowhere near close to it. It was scratching an itch."

"Bet you never had a demon computer after you, though," Willow flashed her a half-smile. "Or a vampire version of yourself licking your neck and asking if you wanted to snuggle with yourself."

Hermione blinked. "Um...no...can’t say I ever had that happen."

"Gotta say that it definitely wasn’t of the fun," Sitting up a little in the sloping seat, Willow winced, one hand coming to her neck. "Ow..."

Before she could move to crick her neck, another body had slid over the low arm of her ‘seat’ and behind her body. Warm thighs framed hers in a ‘v’ and gentle hands coming up to her neck.

"Hermione!"

"I did a course on massage therapy," Hermione explained, rubbing her thumbs up the back of Willow’s neck. "Don’t be so worried that I’m going to tackle you and do indecent things to you."

Willow made a little squeaking noise, then cleared her throat. "Y-you did kiss me in the cupboard earlier."

"And, if I remember right, you kissed me back," Hermione murmured, massaging the nape of Willow’s neck, the red-haired witch relaxing gradually against her. "I’m not the forceful type."

"Do...do you like girls that...that way?" there was an odd tone in Willow’s voice, an almost nervous sound.

"I honestly don’t know, Willow," she replied with a sigh. "I mean, I’ve only had two blokes as lovers, but there have been a few women I’ve seen that just make me stop and stare. Not many men do that for me."

"Know the feeling," Willow sighed, leaning back a little. "You’re real good at that, you know."

"Mmm."

Drawing back to lean against the marble, Hermione smiled indulgently as Willow moved back to stay in contact with her, her hands kneading their way down to the youngest Weasley’s creamy shoulders.

They were silent for a long time, just sitting where they were, Willow’s soft sounds of contentment and the murmur of the water against the sides of the tub the only noises in the peaceful room.

The water stayed hot and the bubbles were starting to dissipate when Hermione’s hands finally stilled on Willow’s shoulders. Willow was surprised to notice that they were shaking and tilted her head.

"Hermione?"

The reply came in a pleading whisper. "Can I kiss you again?"

Green eyes met brown, damp locks of hair plastered to rosy faces. Unable to refuse, her back pressing back against Hermione’s chest, Willow nodded, her eyes closing in pleasure as Hermione’s lips met hers again.

One of Hermione’s hands slid up Willow’s slim throat to cradle her flushed cheek, the other sliding down and around Willow’s body to draw her securely back against her own body.

Beneath the water, Willow’s hands skittered about for something to hold, grasping at the other witch’s thigh, which made Hermione squeak in surprise.

Breaking apart, they stared at each other, then laughed.

"Cute sound effect," the red head noted, averting her eyes and going a furious shade of crimson, when she realised just where Hermione’s right hand was resting, right under one of her breasts.

The older witch brushed strands of damp red hair back from Willow’s cheek.

"I’ve made better," she replied, the impish twinkle that Willow had come to know so well glinting in her brown eyes. "Unless..." A flicker of nervousness crossed her face. "Unless you want to just go back to the room and get some sleep."

This time, it was Willow who initiated the kiss, their lips brushing lightly together as the red-haired witch shifted in the brown-haired woman’s arms, her dripping hands rising to weave through Hermione’s hair.

Despite the steamy haze hovering on the surface of the hot water, the whole room seemed to get several degrees hotter as they pressed back against the edge of the tub, soft sounds of pleasure slipping from Hermione’s throat.

"Call me mad," she gasped, when they broke apart again, her brown eyes shining with emotion. "But I do think I’ve gone and done the crazy and fallen in love with you, Willow Weasley."

"Call me even weirder," Willow replied breathlessly, half-sitting, half-kneeling, her legs tangled around Hermione’s. "But I think I might be on the way to feeling the same. You...you and me...we..." she trailed off into another brief kiss. "Tingles! Cos I only ever got smoochies that gave me the tingles with Oz and Tara..."

"Tingles?" Hermione grinned at her. "I gave you tingles?"

Willow’s green eyes hooded. "Mmm," she replied huskily, one hand spreading on the other witch’s collarbone. "Big time." They shared another kiss, parting with a light sigh. "You?"

"Would it be considered a compliment if I said that you’re the first woman that I’ve ever wanted to make love to?" Willow bit on her lower lip and she buried her face in Hermione’s neck. "Was...is that bad?"

Willow shook her head. "No...not at all. It sounds...perfect," she whispered, then giggled, her head resting on Hermione’s shoulder. "I...I just had a thought, though. You know who's gonna really freak out if...if we start dating..."

"If? You believe there’s an ‘if’ involved? Unless you don’t want..."

"Oh, I want!" Another steamy kiss assured the older witch of this. "But Ron...Ron is going to freak."

Hermione started to laugh. "Oh God...I never thought of that...oh no!" Willow was laughing as well, her hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Poor Ron! Jilted for his baby sister..."

"Well, we better get with making him have a reason for being embarrassed," Willow said, when she finally got control of her mirth, her expression sobering a little. She gazed at Hermione. "You really...like me?"

"No, Will, I don’t," she said seriously. "I love you. Have done for months."

"S-since when?"

Hermione’s lips lifted a little, brushing loose tendrils of damp-curled hair back from Willow’s brow. "Back at the Burrow, when you and I were working together. When you could be so focussed, so intense, about something you were interested in or cared about. I...I wondered what it would be like to have it directed at me."

"And the red hair?"

A lop-sided grin crossed the Professor’s face. "Well, I do have a weakness for it, yes, but you..." Her fingertips trailed down Willow’s cheek in a light caress. "You brought so much wisdom, so much simple knowledge with you. You had a pure goodness and openness that I’ve seen in no one before."

"Openness?" Willow echoed, as Hermione’s hand beneath the water started to move.

"Mmm," Hermione murmured into another kiss.

As the kiss moved down her cheek and jaw, lips brushing her neck, Willow could absently recall asking, "Are we allowed to do this in a bathroom?" and by the time she worded it, it no longer seemed to matter if it was allowed or not.