What Could Be More Challenging?

Harry got up out of his four poster bed, put on his glasses, and crossed to the window, wiping sleep from his eyes. It was the early hours of the morning, and the Hogwarts castle grounds gleamed with the pre-dawn dew. He was about to start his sixth year at the school. Meaning his joyous N.E.W.T.s were finally upon him. Great, another reason for Hermione to stress about homework, he thought.

At breakfast that morning, Ron was to be found already seated and thoroughly engrossed in his usual hearty breakfast meal, consisting of most things on the table. Harry and Hermione sat down either side of him, and whilst Harry began to load his plate up with bacon, Hermione scanned the staff table.

"Does anyone have any idea who's supposed to be teaching the Defence Against the Dark Arts class this year?" she asked the Gryffindor table. Ginny and Dean shrugged, whilst Harry too looked up at the table. "It's strange, they weren't there last night at the feast ... do you think they couldn't get anyone?" she asked in alarm.

Harry thought about this and said, "It's possible, but I doubt it. Dumbledore would've found someone."

"Myeh, Jarry's mright," Ron piped up, a mouthful of food.

"It's-- what?" Hermione asked confused. Ron swallowed.

"Harry's right. If Dumbledore couldn't get a teacher, then no one can," he said, returning to his plate.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the mess that was Ron eating, and turned to Harry.

"True. I just wonder who it could be," she asked.

Before Harry could answer, Seamus interrupted them by passing them all their timetables for the week. Ron scanned through his own timetable before picking up Harry's.

"Sucks to be you mate. Potions first thing, then transfiguration, then double charms? Well this year's going to be fun," Ron said sarcastically, after swallowing this time.

"That's the spirit," Hermione said, not paying attention.

"I was being sarcastic," Ron replied, but Hermione wasn't listening.

"I thought you wanted to be an Auror?" Harry said, flicking through Ron's timetable and noticing that he had Care of Magical Creatures first, and didn't have Potions anywhere on his list.

"I do," he replied. "Well, I did. But another two years with Snape made me change my mind."

"Plus you didn't get the grades," Ginny added from across the table.

Ron cast her a scathing look. "That too. Merlin knows how you did it Harry."

Harry nodded. How he had passed, let alone get an Outstanding at O.W.L. level, was beyond him. Hermione and Harry said goodbye to Ron in the entrance hall, as they headed towards the dungeons; Ron walked out through the great doors. Well, Harry thought sarcastically as he noticed Malfoy saunter down the steps after them. Ron's right. This is going to be fun.

*

Harry met up with Ron outside the Transfiguration classroom after break, tired and vaguely subdued.

"Take it you enjoyed Potions then?" Ron chuckled as they lined up outside their classroom. Harry glared at Ron as they moved in line. He shook his head.

Potions had been awful, even more so than it used to be. Draco had situated himself as far away as possible from Harry, yet that did not stop him from trying to sabotage Harry's potion, mainly by throwing things from across the room. Snape, being Snape, had conveniently 'ignored' these happenings, even when Draco's misdirected slug landed into a Hufflepuff's cauldron, splashing potion over the bench, floor, and the hem of Snape's robe. Somehow that had still been Harry's fault, and ten points were deducted from Gryffindor.

Harry was just about to ask where Hermione was, but then he saw her running, somewhat out of breath and soaking wet, towards them.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked, as Hermione dropped her bag, trying to catch her breath.

"Moaning ... Myrtle," she panted. "She cornered me in the toilets. And when I tried to make a break for it, she made one of the toilets explode!" Hermione finished, still breathing heavily. Before Harry could ask what she was doing in that particular girl's bathroom in the first place, Professor McGonagall strode past them, then did a double-take and walked back to where Hermione was standing, eyeing her suspiciously. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but McGonagall silenced her with her hand.

"I am not going to ask, Miss Granger," she said. "Just clean yourself before you enter my classroom."

Hermione nodded and waved her wand; steam emitted from the end of it, promptly drying her sodden clothes and hair. Ron looked on in dismay. Last time he had tried to do that, he had set the hem of his robe on fire and had to stick his foot in the toilet to put it out. They filed into the classroom.

"Now," began Professor McGonagall, staring around at her new class. "This is your NEWT year, and you must understand that these exams will not be taken lightly. They require dedication, concentration ...."

Harry's mind began to drift off. It was only the first day and already he could feel his focus ebbing away. By the looks of it, Ron's was too, as already he had that same vacant look in his eye as he did when Hermione began to talk about S.P.E.W. Hermione elbowed Harry in the ribs, and he snapped back to life.

"What?" he hissed at her. Hermione pointed, and Harry looked up into the eyes of McGonagall looming over him like a bird of ill omen.

"If you're quite finished day-dreaming Potter, I think your assistance may be required for today's lesson." Harry gulped. Helping out in a Transfiguration lesson was never good. Surely they weren't ready for human subjects yet? The largest thing he'd ever tried was a frog ... that poor, poor frog.

McGonagall took Harry by the arm and lead him to the front of the class, where a table and four wineglasses were situated. "We will be learning how to tell the difference between something that has been transfigured, and something that is real. There are of course some tell-tale signs of a badly configured object, but we won't be finding those things here will we?" She glared around the room again, whilst Neville sank in his seat. "Therefore, there is a spell to force an object to reveal itself for what it truly is. Like so." She pointed her wand to one of wineglasses on the table. "Revelum revalare." In reverse the glass seemed to melt, then what looked like a long nose, fur and what was unmistakably a tail appeared. It was a rat. She turned to Harry. "Now Harry, out of the 3 remaining wine glasses, one used to be a rat. Your job is to identify which one it is. However, if the glass is actually a glass, nothing will happen."

Harry stared down at the table and the daunting task before him. It was bad enough getting things wrong in front of Hermione, but in front of the whole class? She had got to be joking. Knowing there was no way out, Harry took a deep breath and readied his wand.

"Revelum revalare," he said, pointing to the middle glass. Slowly the glass began to melt, sprouting a tail where the stem of the glass should be ... then stopped. The glass wobbled unsteadily, fell to it's side and rolled off the table where it promptly smashed. He looked up at Professor McGonagall hopefully.

"Sit down, Potter," she said, pointing to his seat. Harry returned to his chair. "After Mr. Potter's ... unsuccessful attempt, it is now your turn. Lavender and Dean will place on each table a different object. Use the incantation to find out what it is. Off you go."

"Well, that went rather well, didn't it?" Hermione said, trying to be cheerful. Harry silenced her with a look. This was not going to be a good day.

*

That day at lunch, Harry was quite puzzled to find that Hermione and Ron were no where to be seen. After a vigorous search of both of his friend's usual haunts (for Hermione the library; for Ron the lunch table) Harry decided that perhaps he should go visit Hagrid.

Harry, after searching the Gryffindor Tower for the fourth time, headed along one of the corridors that would lead him downstairs. As he hurried along, he crashed straight into someone, sending them both flying.

Harry sat up and retrieved his glasses, which had been knocked off during the head on collision. Flustered, he began to gather up the papers and whatnot that had been strewn across the floor, apologising as he went.

"I'm so sorry," he stammered, pushing the pieces of parchment into a somewhat disorganised pile. "I didn't look where I was going..."

"No, it was my own fault, I couldn't see over all this anyway..."

Harry looked up and froze. He watched as she pushed her hair from her face whilst she bent to retrieve the fallen parchment from the floor. He intended to help her, he really did, but he found himself mesmerised by her, though he didn't know why. Harry swore he could here the lyrics to 'Close to you' by the Carpenters, (from Aunt Petunia's music collection no doubt), playing somewhere nearby, but he couldn't see anyone else around.

She gave up picking up the pile of parchment from the floor, and waved her wand so the papers leapt into a neat pile in her arms. He watched as, irritated by her hair, she continued to force it behind her ears, in vain. The loose bun that appeared to be falling out of place was apparently to blame for the unruly strands, and she muttered something about ripping it all out if it didn't behave.

Still unable to speak, he rose slowly, as she did, papers still clutched in hand, staring with his mouth open. She was about a head taller than Harry, which made things somewhat difficult for him, as he was finding it rather hard to tear his eyes away from what was right in front of him. She smiled slightly and motioned towards the papers in Harry's hands.

"Erm ... Mr. Potter? May I have my papers back, please?"

Harry snapped back to reality and shook his head, only now realising that he hadn't spoken in several minutes. He extended his arm holding the papers and passed them to her.

"I ... uh ... sorry," he stuttered, blushing furiously. "Erm ... I ... How did you...?"

"I can see your scar," she said, pointing with her free hand. Harry immediately reached up and felt his head, remembering that he did, indeed, have a scar.

"Oh. Right," Harry said, blushing again and flattening his hair.

She smiled again and Harry's stomach gave a jolt which he was quite sure had nothing to do with anything he'd eaten at lunch.

"Well, I suppose I should be leaving now," she began turning to leave. "Oh, but before I go, I would like to talk to you sometime about the Defence Against the Dark Arts group you were running last year. Quite impressive that you managed to run an entire class by yourself, and of your own accord. Very noble of you to take matters into your own hands like that. I'd love to hear the type of things you covered, and how advanced the year is...." Harry continued to stare, transfixed, and not exactly listening. He had no idea who this woman was, or why she wanted to know about his peers' capabilities, but she thought he was 'noble'. She, this mystery woman, thought he, Harry Potter, was 'noble'.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, I see you've met Professor Nero."

It was McGonagall. She walked up besides them and stopped next to the new professor. "Professor Nero will be taking up our Defence Against the Dark Arts position. Which reminds me," she said turning to the young teacher. "I must discuss some things with you Olivia."

"But of course Minerva," she said nodding to Professor McGonagall. She turned back to Harry. "Well, nice meeting you Mr. Potter. Hopefully we'll meet again, soon." She smiled, turning, and walked away. Harry, still unable to move, still transfixed, and still staring, could do nothing but watch as she walked away, leaving him standing, gormless, in the middle of the hallway.

"Just like me, They long to be, Close to you...."

Harry found himself uncontrollably singing under his breath for the rest of the day.

*

"So what's the deal with this Nero chick then?" asked Ron the next day at lunch.

Hermione stared daggers at him from over her plate.

"Nero what, Ron?" she asked tersely.

Ron, who had been in the process of shovelling food into his mouth, simply stared at Hermione, apparently at a loss for words. "I -" started Ron, clearly trying to think of a word that rhymed with 'chick' and failing. "I just asked what was the deal with that Nero ... professor." He finished lamely.

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said," replied Hermione, returning to her lunch.

"Anyway," continued Ron, turning back to Harry. "You've had her first, what's she like?"

Harry thought about this for a moment, and then realised that he didn't really know how to answer. Sure he could go on about the way she talked about the DA last year, or how even the way she waved her wand sent shivers down his spine, but somehow he felt he was being a little too... obsessive. So instead he said;

"Well, technically, I didn't really have her; I only talked to her a little yesterday. She seems pretty cool though." He stared at his potatoes, trying to act like even a word with her was nothing. "We have her this afternoon anyway, so you can find out for yourself then."

Ron smiled brightly and continued to shovel more and more food into his mouth. Harry began to wonder why Ron never got any fatter. Must be the Weasley metabolism, he thought.

*

Everyone waited with excitement outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom that afternoon. Rumours had been flying around all day, started by the seventh years, who'd been first to have her, including that she was another spy from the Ministry of Magic, Trelawney's niece, and really 102 and had been taking extreme anti-ageing cream to make her look younger.

"Is she really 16?" Lavender asked a Ravenclaw girl next to her.

"I may be young, but lord I'm not that young," said a voice from behind her. "By the way, is being told I look sixteen a good thing or a bad thing exactly?" Professor Nero strolled alongside the line of students and stood in front of the door and stared at it. "Well isn't someone going to open it?" A Hufflepuff boy jumped out of line to hold it open for her.

"Thank you Justin," she said, gliding past him. He seemed quite taken surprised that she knew his name, but smiled at her none the less.

She proceeded straight to the board at the front of the classroom, where her name appeared immediately. The class filed in after her and sat down quietly, not knowing what to expect of their new teacher.

"My name is Olivia Nero, and I am, quite obviously, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." She sat down on the edge of her desk and stared at her class, smiling slightly. "So," she said. "Any questions?"

They looked at each other. She hadn't really given them any information to ask questions about. Harry looked confused, as did Ron. Hermione, of course, was the only person with her hand in the air, which many others seemed to have noticed.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Professor Nero, forgive me if I sound rude, but why weren't you here at the start-of-term banquet?" Professor Nero smiled.

"A few complications arose, which I'd rather not talk about," replied the professor.

A hand flew up in the air from the other side of the room.

"Mr. Finnigan," said Professor Nero, acknowledging Seamus.

"Professor, if you're not sixteen, how old are you then?" he asked bluntly.

The girls in the class seemed to gasp, and even Harry knew the dangers of asking a woman her age, especially a teacher, in a classroom, full of people. She folded her hands in her lap and looked over at him.

"How old do you think I am?" she asked him, not expecting an answer.

Seamus became particularly shy at that point and sunk into his chair. To defer the attention from Seamus, Dean piped up.

"Are you a genius?" he asked.

"What makes you ask that?" she said, still smiling.

"Well, it's just, you're one of the youngest teacher's we've had. You must be really smart if Dumbledore chose you for the job."

"What about Lockhart?" someone asked. The class tittered. Nero waved her hand dismissively.

"I'm somewhat of a ... prodigy, if you will. Anyone else? Ah, Miss Brown."

"How come Professor Dumbledore hired you for the job?"

Professor Nero seemed to be trying to suppress a laugh, as she answered. "Well, let's look at the track record here, shall we? Centaurs carted off Dolores Umbridge. Alastor Moody wasn't Moody at all, but was actually Bartemius Crouch Junior. Remus Lupin had to leave, because parents didn't want their children associating with werewolves. Gilderoy Lockhart got in the way of a bad memory charm ... and Slataro Quirrel had He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named sticking out of the back of his head," she answered, counting them off on her fingers. "Oh yeah, they were queuing up for this job, I assure you."

Nero's smile faded a little and she rose from her desk to look at them all. "It seems to me that the best and brightest of today's society are required to be... involved with what's happening outside these walls. Whilst we have the joy of concentrating on what's within them. I was available, they offered, I accepted," she replied calmly. "So," she said clapping her hands together. "With that rousing game of 20 questions behind us, I ask you to open your books to page 14, and we can start the lesson," she said, walking behind her desk and sitting down.

Harry turned to Ron and whispered, "Well that was one of the weirdest introductions to a lesson we've had."

"Yeah," replied Ron. "She's still hot though."

*

Harry did not have to wait long to see Professor Nero again, for as he walked into the dungeons with Hermione the following day, he saw her talking with Snape at the front of the classroom. Snape turned as he saw people walking into his classroom, and waited for silence. This was completely unnecessary for no one in fact was talking.

"Today's lesson," he began, as the class stood silently behind their cauldrons. "Will be taken by Professor Nero, as it seems that I need to be elsewhere during today's lesson. I will, however, be back before the end." Snape's eyes narrowed and he stared about the class. "I expect you to give the same respect to Professor Nero, as you give to me." He waved his wand, and the ingredients and instructions for a Replenishing Potion appeared on the bored behind him. "Begin." He left the classroom, the door clanging quietly behind him.

Hermione immediately busied herself beside Harry, but he found that, again, he couldn't' concentrate. He stood staring at the board, not taking in the words, and watching the professor sitting at the desk, marking papers, until Hermione kicked him in the shin.

"Ow! What was that for?" he whispered to her.

"You've been staring at her for 10 minutes, and this potion needs exact timing! You better get started now, Harry. You don't need a reason for Snape to fail you."

Harry nodded. He knew she was right, but it didn't mean she had to kick him. He grumbled under his breath, but swiftly started his potion anyway, having to work twice as quickly to catch up with Hermione. It wasn't until a slight commotion began in the corner, that Harry broke concentration. Malfoy, it seemed, was 'borrowing' his workmate's ingredients, which had been freshly prepared, and was proceeding to add them to his own potion, much to their protest. Professor Nero looked up from her papers, and crossed the room to them. Malfoy looked up as she came, smiling.

"Is there a problem, professor?" he asked, in a drawling voice.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," she replied, looking from Malfoy, to the agitated Ravenclaw beside him. "Now, what has been going on?"

"Malfoy," the Ravenclaw began. "Has been stea-"

"Borrowing!" Malfoy interrupted. "Simply borrowing my ... colleagues' things, because, well, I've been somewhat sick recently, and my dear friendly Ravenclaw friend here has been offering to prepare some of my ingredients for me, so-"

"I'm sorry, I believe you were under the impression that I cared. Well, I don't," said Professor Nero, sharply.

"But..." he started in protest.

"Mr. Malfoy," she began, turning to face him, whilst Harry grinned happily. How he loved to see others being picked on in Potions lessons. "While Professor Snape may have enjoyed molly coddling you during his lesson, I do not. Now, either continue with your Replenishing Life potion or-"

"Or what? You'll give me a detention?" he said laughing.

She raised her eyebrows, which seemed to be becoming a particular character trait with her, and crossed her arms. "Perhaps ... or I'm just going to have to fail you, announce that it is necessary for you to take remedial potions in front of the whole school, and suggest to Mr. Filch that you mow the Quidditch pitch ... without magic ... in a thong," she added, her eyes flashing maliciously.

The colour seemed to drain from Draco's face as the rest of the class watched in awe. She continued to smile.

"Your choice Mr Malfoy, though I suggest you opt for the former. What with this frightfully cold weather were having, I daresay it would be quite tragic for you to freeze to death." She looked at the clock. "Ten minutes left everyone. Well, dear Draco, what will it be?"

Grudgingly, Malfoy returned to prodding at his cauldron with his wand, occasionally throwing angry looks over to Professor Nero, who continued to stand, smiling, behind the desk. Just then Snape strode in, with the same indifferent look he wore on his face whenever he was around the young teacher. He peered around the room.

"Good, no one has blown anything up, I see. You may go now," he said, waving his arm towards Nero, who inclined her head towards him, and left the room, smiling brightly at Draco as she passed.

The rest of the lesson was highly uneventful, and as Harry bottled his Replenishing potion, which was almost a crimson red as Hermione's, he found, in spite of himself, he was impatient for his next Defence Against the Dark Arts class, and more importantly, impatient to see her again.

*

Harry found himself throwing furtive glances over to the staff table that night at dinner. She's a teacher, he told himself firmly, after he thought she was looking back at him for the fifth time.

Hermione, who had been watching Harry through most of dinner, said, "Honestly, if you like her so much, why don't you just talk to her Harry?"

Startled that someone had been staring at him, Harry jumped, upsetting his glass of pumpkin juice as he spun around. He began to quickly clean it up. "What? No ... no I don't!"

"Er ... mate, it's a bit obvious," added Ron, looking up from his steak and kidney pie. "Like, everyone knows it."

Harry's stomach dropped. How could everyone know? He hadn't told anyone, not even Ron and Hermione. He thought that it was embarrassing to like a teacher, even if she was so young, and attractive, and....

"You who? Harry?" Ron was waving his fork around in Harry's face. "Snap out of it." Harry jumped again, knocking his knife off the table. "You're so jumpy tonight. What's wrong?"

Harry put down the napkin he'd been using to mop up the spillage, and ignored the knife on the floor. He rubbed his eyes. "Nothing, just-"

"In lust?" Luna Lovegood asked as she glided down besides Ron. She looked at the startled look on Harry's face. "Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of, quite natural really. You're not the first to fall for someone older than you are. Don't worry about it. It'll all go in time... unless you become obsessed, and go mad. Wouldn't be the first there either, actually." And, grinning, she floated off again.

"Was that supposed to be encouraging?" Ron asked.

"Apparently," Hermione added, watching her waft serenely away. "But she is right you know. It probably is just some phase you're going through."

"Yeah, so as long as I don't go mad, I'm set!" Harry said, slumping into his seat.

*

Over the next few weeks, Harry found himself dreading Defence Against the Dark Arts Lessons, just in case he said something amazingly dumb or did something amazingly stupid ... again. Last time he did something stupid was in their lesson a week before.

Whilst studying a caged doxy, Professor Nero had come over to comment on how she had heard that the three of them were quite the experts on doxies, having had to fumigate a complete room of them last year. Harry foolishly decided that it was the right moment to feel cocky, and, whilst waving his arm around the cage a bit too much, the doxy decided to take its chance and take a chunk out of Harry's hand. The little antidote Professor Nero had left, for she had already had to use most of it on Neville, was not sufficient for the bite, and so Harry had to spend the next half hour in the hospital wing whilst Madam Pomfrey found her spare antidote.

He promised himself he'd never do something stupid again. Well, at least not in front of her. And, as Ron pointed out, since this was going to be rather difficult to do, avoiding Professor Nero at all costs seemed the best plan of action, though, most daft, as Hermione pointed out, complete with her most recent batch of lectures on the stupidity of men.

Problem was, that wasn't working out too well either. Not only did he seem to be bumping into her more often, he also had a lot of explaining to do after being caught in his various 'hiding' places. The worst of which being when he ducked into a spare classroom one lunch, only to find Peeves levitating glass orbs from the ceiling. Trying to explain to Filch why there was a room covered in broken glass was not easy, and resulted in Harry having to help Filch clean out a deserted, dungeon cupboard. Harry had come back to the common room that night tired, smelly, and covered in mildew. He collapsed onto the sofa next to Ron. Hermione looked up from the Charms work she had laid on the floor.

"Are you all right Harry?"

Harry turned to her. "Oh great, spiffing! So far this week I've been covered in slime, caked in mud, had 3 detentions, and been chased through the grounds by a pack of unleashed Crup's!" he said counting them off on his fingers and shuddering at the memory of the Jack Russell terrier type creatures chasing him through the courtyard. "Oh yeah, I feel great."

"Cheer up mate," said Ron, putting his own Charms work aside. "Here, have one of these." He passed Harry what looked like a paper straw, closed at the ends, and filled with something.

Harry eyed it suspiciously. "Ron ... what is it?"

"Pixie Stick," Ron answered, now reaching for his unfinished Transfiguration essay in his bag. "Dean's cousin from America sent them to him."

Harry looked it over in his hands. "It's not like..."

"A real pixie? Nah," Ron sounded highly disappointed. "Just this sherbet stuff. Quite nice though."

Harry tentatively tore off the head of the stick and tried some of the sherbet. It was very sweet to taste but he could see the appeal. He had some more.

"I can't keep going around avoiding Professor Nero like this. If I get one more detention this week, Filch is reporting me to McGonagall," Harry said sighing.

"I told you it was a stupid idea," Hermione said, making corrections to her Charms work with her wand. "Honestly, why don't you just talk to her Harry? You do know nothing could happen, right? Talking to her will help you get over the obsession. You'll realise that she's just a teacher, and that's it."

Harry thought about this. Of course nothing could ever happen between them. Teacher and student relationships never went well, especially with a fifteen-year age gap. But still, she wasn't exactly the type of person you could get over that easily. How could he just forget her beautiful smile, her hair that seemed to float about her, that body with her amazing, smooth, curves ....

Harry jumped up and ran from the room, up to the boy's dormitory and out of sight. Hermione turned to Ron.

"I'm not even going to ask," she said.

*

Harry woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and not so smelly.

"Why do birds suddenly appear, Every time you are near...." He sang under his breath as he got dressed.

"Who ever's singing, shut up!" Seamus shouted through his hangings as he shoved a pillow over his head.

Harry dressed quietly and crept down into the common room, not knowing where else to go, but knowing that he couldn't sleep. He stared out of the window at the grounds, mulling things over and thinking so much it made his brain ache. He couldn't very well carry on like this. He had to do something about Professor Nero, as avoiding her wasn't exactly going too well. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe he should go talk to her.

By the time the rest of the house was ready for breakfast, Harry had decided what he needed to do.

*

At breakfast that morning, Harry found himself unable to eat much, a feeling of dread accumulating in the pit of his stomach.

"Harry, why aren't you eating?" Hermione asked, concerned. "Here, try some bacon," she said, pushing her fork towards him.

Harry, feeling his stomach lurch, kindly smiled and pushed her hand away. "No, I'm fine, really. Just not particularly hungry right now." She frowned at him. "Really. If I eat will you stop looking at me like that?" Hermione nodded, so Harry forced down a piece of toast. Harry looked up at the staff table, and seeing Professor Nero chatting animatedly to Professor Sinistra, he found himself singing again.

"Just like me, They long to be, Close to you ...." He muttered unfortunately loud enough for Ron to hear. Ron dropped his fork with a clatter.

"Merlin above, he's gone mad!"

Harry looked up; embarrassed again that someone had heard him. "No ... well yes, but I know what I have to do!"

Ron, about to reach for another fork, cocked his head to one side. "Know what you have to do?"

"What is this? Some kind of mission?" Hermione asked, shaking her head.

"We're going on another mission? Great! Where to?" asked Neville as he sat down besides Harry.

"What? No! There's no mission, it's just-"

"Harry's on a mission to get Professor Nero to like him," Ron interrupted.

Neville nodded sympathetically. "Ah, I know how he feels." He turned to Harry. "Liking someone older than yourself is nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. It's just one of those things. I remember when I first started liking Professor Sprout...." He trailed off, a dreamy expression clouding his face and muttering about toadstools and bouquets of snapdragons that really did snap.

"He sounds just like Luna, but twice as loopy," Ron said, continuing his search for another fork.

Neville snapped back to reality. "Hmm, what was I saying? Oh yes. So don't worry Harry, your feelings will go in time." Neville nodded and got up from his seat, walking away towards the Ravenclaw table.

"That kid's spending way too much time with that girl," commented Ron, resuming eating.

*

The rest of the day continued in much the same way. Harry found himself breaking into song without realising it, and couldn't pay attention in any of his classes. After hitting at least 5 people over the head with pillows whilst revising banishing spells in Charms, Professor Flitwick sent Harry outside to sort his head out. Harry was grateful. People had started to throw things back. Namely books.

Harry leaned against the wall outside of the classroom and ran his fingers through his hair. He was going to be fine. He was going to take Hermione's advice and just talk to Professor Nero. Once he talked to her and realised that she was just a normal, average person and nothing to obsess about, everything was going to be okay. At least, that was his plan. It was anybody's guess if it was actually going to turn out that way.

He began to pace. He didn't know why, it just seemed like a good thing to do. He had been staring at the floor, pacing and occasionally muttering to himself, when he hit something. He looked up and saw that he had bumped into Professor Nero. What are the chances of that? Thought Harry. Stupid chances.

"Well Mr Potter, we must stop meeting like this," she said smiling. Harry smiled, (well at least he hoped it looked like a smile) and tried to speak. 'Tried', of course, being the operative word here as all he seemed to be able to do was stutter and mix his words together so they came out as incoherent gibberish. Nero kept smiling. "Well you certainly do have a way with words, Mr Potter." Harry blushed.

They stood there in silence for some time. "I suppose I better be off. Papers to mark, walls to stare at, that sort of thing. Nice seeing you again Harry." Nero had just reached the end of the hallway when he blurted out, "So what do you think of the economy?" Harry took a moment to register what he had just asked, and tried not to audibly groan. He had just asked her about the economy, who asks about the economy anymore? He thought that a Headless Hat would be good right about now to hide the redness of his face.

Nero turned around. "The economy, Mr Potter?" she asked, pushing loss strands of hair behind her ears. "Well, I think it's going quite well, I suppose. Things seem to be going comparatively well, even with certain people out there, don't you think?"

Harry tried another smile, and nodded slightly. "Death Eaters can't exactly be helping much, erm, can they?" Harry replied, in what he hoped was a good attempt at sounding intelligent.

"Well, yes, and, other certain groups that are still outstanding. Werewolves and the like. I almost think that Dolores had the right idea some of the time," she sighed, shifting the books in her arms.

Harry stared. The music that had been playing in the back of his mind whenever he saw the professor became muffled and cracked. He must not have heard her correctly; she couldn't be against werewolves, could she?

"Sorry professor, I'm not quite sure what you mean," began Harry. "What's wrong with werewolves?"

"Nothing in particular. I'm sure they're lovely people; just you can't help but see them as a danger to society. Not to mention the economy...." Harry's mind lost focus, as Professor Nero began a ten minute rant on how werewolves were a danger in the work place, and how Umbridge had the right idea. Harry couldn't quite believe it. This deity he had discovered was unravelling before his eyes. The little things that had made her so appealing were beginning to irritate him. Her constant smile seemed almost patronising now, and the way in which she kept playing with her hair was downright annoying. He waited for a pause in her speech before interjecting.

"I-I should go now." Harry span around sharply and began to walk away.

"Oh. Very well, Mr Potter, we'll continue this discussion another time, hmm?" she called after him, as he entered back into Flitwick's classroom, even with 10 minutes left of the lesson. He returned to his seat, and Hermione looked up from recording her homework to look at him.

"What took you so long?" she asked.

Harry stared at her, then shook his head, quite unable to speak.

*

Harry spoke little at dinner that night, and completed the majority of his homework in silence, Hermione not needing to nag him to start it. Hermione and Ron found this almost strange, but said nothing. Until the next morning at lunch.

"Harry!"

Harry looked up from his bacon and eggs to stare at Ron, whose mouth was hanging open, and Hermione, who peered over her copy of the Daily Prophet at him. "What?"

"Nero just passed and you didn't even look up, that's what!" answered Ron. "Or sing," he added.

Harry turned to see Nero seating herself at the staff table, and found himself without a certain jolt in his stomach. He turned back. "Oh yeah, about that," said Harry, tucking into his breakfast again. "I don't really like her anymore."

Ron dropped his fork with a clatter, and Hermione laid down her newspaper. "What made you change your mind?" she asked.

"Harry looked up at the staff table again and then back to his friends.

"Let's just say she wasn't who I thought she was."

Ron stared in what appeared to be disbelief from Harry to Nero and back again, then shrugged and returned to his food. Hermione meanwhile picked up her newspaper, and muttered, "Men." Harry smiled. Sixth year was going to be okay. He'd already loved and lost, and got through it. What could be more challenging?

*