Veela Magic

Chapter 9: High Places

A place where she could rest

And a place where she could wash

And listen to the wind blow

She dreamed of children's voices

And torture on the wheel

* * * * * * * *

"Hey, Harry!" Seamus yelled. "Somebody's here to see you!"

"Who?" Harry asked. It was a freezing cold day, and he was curled up beside the fire in the Gryffindor common room. His Potions essay was lying half-finished nearby, but he was too comfortable to sit up and concentrate on it. Why should he bother with it now, when it wasn't due in until Thursday? Harry glanced up, and saw his girlfriend standing shyly by the door. "Cho!" He got up, smiling. "It's wonderful to see you."

"You too, Harry," said Cho, smiling at him in return. She looked around the room curiously - of course, she probably hadn't seen the Gryffindor common room before. "I finished my homework early, and thought it would be nice to spend the afternoon with you. Of course, if you're busy -" she indicated the scroll beside the fire. "We could see each other some other time."

"Oh, the essay can wait," Harry said without even thinking about it. Cho was looking especially lovely today - her hair tied up in a high knot and a blue scarf wound around her throat.

She looked faintly worried. "I don't want you to fall behind because of me, Harry - I'd feel terrible -"

Harry sighed theatrically. "I always knew going out with a Ravenclaw would be difficult. All you care about is boring stuff like schoolwork!"

"Not quite all," Cho said, winking at him.

There was a meaningful cough from the couch. "Are you two done flirting yet?" Seamus asked. "I'd offer you the couch and all, but I'm pretty comfy here."

Harry blushed. "We'll be right out, Seamus." He took Cho's hand in his own and led her out happily, his essay completely forgotten.

"So," Harry asked, once they were out of range of the Fat Lady's well-meant but decidedly unwelcome commentary, "what would you like to do today?"

Cho twined her fingers through his. "I'd like to go for a walk."

"Outside?" Harry asked, trying not to groan. "I don't have my scarf with me."

"Hmmm." Cho was nibbling at her lower lip with her teeth as she thought. She looked absolutely adorable, and probably had no idea at all. "What if we went up to the very top of Gryffindor Tower, beyond the dormitories, and listened to the wind howling through the chimney?"

"I don't think there is a chimney at the top of Gryffindor Tower, actually."

"Really?" Cho looked disappointed. "There is in Ravenclaw Tower."

"Well, would you rather go there, then? I don't mind - in fact I'd like to," Harry said hastily.

Cho turned to Harry suddenly, and pressed herself against him. She gave him a soft, lingering kiss, and whispered, "I don't care about the wind, Harry. You'll be there, won't you?"

All breath gone, Harry could only nod. Then he led her up the creaking staircase that led to the tiny, topmost room of Gryffindor Tower. The pictures along the upper stairs were dusty, and the people in them looked very bored. "Two fine-looking young people," said a young man who hurried to the edge of his frame as Harry and Cho passed. He was wearing an odd ruffled shirt that opened almost down to where his trousers began, and was holding a small bottle of some sort. "All dark hair and bright eyes... you should return, and while away some dull hours with me!"

"Another time, perhaps," Cho murmured. She seemed amused by the odd portrait.

They reached the top of the tower, which was even more dusty than the portraits had been. Harry sneezed and Cho, giggling, kissed his nose. "I love to see your eyes open so widely when I do that," she explained.

"Any time," Harry said. As they settled down on the huge windowsill, with the pale light dappling strange patterns on Cho's skin, Harry realised that he hadn't felt this... content for a long time. Maybe not since the beginning of the Quidditch World Cup, before the Dark Mark had spoiled everything and his hell of a fourth year had begun.

Cho was peering through the window. "Look, Harry," she exclaimed. "It's a flock of ring-tailed marlets - aren't they beautiful?" They certainly were: sleek, silvery-blue birds with shining feathers. "They need cold temperate climates to survive - these ones have probably flown in from Norway, or possibly Iceland, now that the snow has set in there. We've been learning about them in Care of Magical Creatures."

She knelt on the windowsill, pressing her nose against the glass to get a better view. She looked utterly absorbed, and beautiful. The edge of her robe was spread over Harry's knee as well as her own, and her lower leg was left bare. Harry leaned against his side of the windowsill and watched Cho's face - the little smile that crept across it as she listened to the birds calling, the way her eyes screwed up as she tried to follow the flight of two marlets at once.

"Harry," she said softly, reaching out her hand. He took it, and got up to kneel beside her. "Look."

The marlets had formed a circle in the air, wing touching wing and their fan-like tails spread out to their fullest extent, catching the sun's rays to create a metallic shimmer which was, quite simply, the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen in his life.

Cho's hair brushed against his cheek, and he gently turned her face to hers and kissed her, trying his best to convey with the touch of his lips all the things he felt too embarrassed to say to her. She kissed him back passionately, curving one hand around his neck to pull him closer and tracing his spine with the other.

Eventually she pulled away, sighing happily. "Oh." She flashed him a grin. "They've gone."

They had indeed, disappeared without leaving even a visible feather to mark their stunning presence. "So that's why they're called ring-tailed marlets!" Harry said, suddenly realising.

"Yes. Their colour is silver and they rarely have markings on their feathers, but wizards gave their name because of that stunning display. They do it when they leave a place, in a sort of celebration of their time there." Cho looked thoughtful. "At least, that's what the textbook says. I don't think anybody's ever asked the birds."

Harry smiled. "So Hogwarts wasn't their final destination?"

"They prefer the mountains, usually. They've probably gone into the Highlands - I doubt they'd go much further south than here, even though it is winter."

"I've never been much further south than here myself," Harry said. Hermione had been to France twice now - Italy, too, if he remembered correctly - and of course Viktor Krum had given her a standing invitation to visit Bulgaria. Even Ron, with his poor family, had been to Egypt. But Harry had never once left Britain.

"What's China like, Cho?"

"I don't remember, really. My mother moved here with me when I was only four. It rained more than it does here - but it was a lot warmer as well." A strange expression came over her face. "I'll probably never go back."

"Why?" Harry asked. "Is it money?" he said impulsively. "I could bring you - I have Galleons I don't need. I could afford the Portkeys."

Cho hugged him. "Oh, Harry," she said, her voice warm with emotion. "You're too good to me. But who knows if we'll even survive this school year? Voldemort's armies are on the march, and there's nothing to keep us safe."

"There is," Harry said, burrowing his face into her hair. He could feel her breasts warm against him. "There is."

"What?"

Harry cursed himself inwardly for breaking his promise, even a little - but he couldn't just watch Cho tear herself apart like this. "I can't tell you - it's important. But there is something that will keep the school and everyone in it safe. I promise you."

Cho drew back and looked him in the eyes, so close he could taste her breath. "I know I can trust you, Harry."

There was a noise from below that sounded like somebody knocking a chair over in the Gryffindor common room, followed by shouts and running feet.

"I think it's time for dinner," said Harry reluctantly. "Shall we go?"

Cho kissed him again, and then they walked downstairs. The oddly-dressed man in the portrait's bottle was empty now, and he was sprawled over a chair, snoring softly to himself.

* * * * * * * *

Even if her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher last year had been a dyed-in-the-wool villain who'd probably have liked to see her dead, Hermione reflected, his classes had still been more interesting than Professor Cinyras'. This was the Advanced class, after all - they really should be doing more practical work, especially with the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s coming up for many of them at the end of the year. But Professor Cinyras seemed determined to stick to the textbook, setting quizzes and discussing methods of defence rather than practising them. Theory was very important, of course, but Hermione was getting worried about the practical component of her Defence Against the Dark Arts exam in June.

The bell rang. Hermione sighed thankfully, and began to gather her books together. She looked around for Harry - he'd come in a bit late for class today, and had had to take a seat at the other side of the classroom. Before she could make her way towards him, Cho went over to his table - of course - and began talking to him energetically. Not much point waiting, Hermione thought, and walked out of the room.

Fleur Delacour and Draco Malfoy were leaning against the wall just outside the room, though they didn't seem to be talking to each other. To Hermione's surprise, Malfoy stopped her before she could walk down the corridor.

"Granger - Hermione, I mean. Can I talk to you for a bit? Somewhere more private?"

Hermione had to stop herself from going slack-jawed in shock. Draco Malfoy was calling her by her first name? Being polite? He wasn't even wearing his habitual sneer. It had to be some sort of trick.

Malfoy just stood there waiting for her to reply, a serious expression on his face. Behind him, Fleur disappeared down the corridor.

"Well... okay," Hermione said reluctantly. No harm finding out what he has to say. But if Crabbe and Goyle jump out and hex me as soon as he gets me alone, I swear I'll hit him again.

The nearby Charms classroom was empty. As soon as the door had shut behind them, Malfoy lost his pleading expression. "Right. Thankfully I've got rid of her now. Unless she's equipped all the classrooms with Listening Charms, which I don't think Flitwick would overlook."

"Who?" Hermione was utterly confused.

Malfoy sat down on Flitwick's desk, swinging his legs out as he settled down. "Fleur. She's waiting for me to take you off somewhere quiet, sweetly apologise for all the terrible things I've ever said to you, tell you that really it was just me desperately trying to hide my schoolboy crush and oh, will you be my girlfriend?"

"What?" Hermione was dumbstruck. "You're not - you couldn't be." She drew herself up to her full height. "Malfoy, tell me what's going on or I'll hex you!"

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at her. "Fleur probably wanted me to say "I like a girl with spirit" as well. Actually, I don't like girls with spirit. And I don't like you, but we're going to have to pretend to get along pretty well for the time being."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "Give me one good reason to pretend to get along with you."

For a moment, Malfoy paused. Then he pushed the strands of blond hair behind his ears and said quietly, "Because a year from now, Voldemort will have exterminated the Muggles - and probably you as well - if you don't.

"You could just run to Dumbledore and tell him what I said instead, but then I'd probably get hung, drawn and quartered." Malfoy tried to inject some lightness into his voice, but Hermione could sense the fear behind it. "And you Gryffindors don't usually like that sort of thing."

"I never knew you had any problem with Muggles being exterminated," Hermione said coldly, trying to muster her thoughts.

"Honestly, Mudbloods," Malfoy sighed. "Are you all so prejudiced?"

"You're accusing me of being prejudiced? And don't call me that!"

"Listen, Granger, I don't want to spend time with Muggles or even see them. Actually, I'd rather ignore them altogether. That's slightly different to wanting them dead. If you weren't so busy hating all Slytherins, you might be able to appreciate the difference."

"I can see the difference," Hermione responded guardedly.

"That's a start. Now, do you remember that little conversation we had after Potter was flattened at Quidditch by his girlfriend?"

Hermione frowned. "Yes. But-"

"Turns out there's a reason why Cho - and Fleur, too - have developed a taste for Gryffindor boys recently. They're working for Voldemort."

His words hung in the air, deadened sound like a voice released inside a giant drum. Hermione almost demanded, "What did you say?" or "You're not serious" or something inane like that, to stave off the moment of acceptance. But she knew she'd heard him correctly.

Malfoy had to be lying. He was trying to drive a wedge between Harry and the people he cared about - that was the only thing that made sense. It was such a crazy story!

"I don't believe you. You have to be wrong, or more likely you're just trying to upset Harry." But she wasn't as confident as she sounded.

"Are you really telling me you think those two are behaving like ordinary girlfriends?"

"I - I heard Fleur flirting with another boy, but I didn't know how to tell Ron... and maybe Cho wasn't playing fair in that Quidditch match - but they couldn't be working for You-Know-Who! Look what he did to Cedric Diggory! Cho would never have anything to do with him."

Malfoy shrugged. "I didn't ask her why she switched sides. I just know what they told me, and what my father's told me. I'm not sure I'd trust what they did tell me, anyway. They've already lied to me."

"What did they say?"

"Oh, some rubbish about not really killing the Muggles, and just doing some spell to prevent Mu - Muggle-borns being born instead." Malfoy waved his arm dismissively. "My father's letters have told me the real story. I got another one this morning. But Voldemort must have thought that I'd be too squeamish to hear about the real plan."

"Sounds like he was right," observed Hermione.

She saw a flash of anger in Malfoy's eyes. "I'm not squeamish. I'm just not psychotic."

Hermione didn't think it best to press him. She changed the subject.

"How exactly are Fleur and Cho going to help him?"

"It's something to do with Veela blood - they've figured out a way to enhance the Veela power immensely. That way Fleur can seduce secrets out of people here. I have some Veela blood too, and I've been assigned to you."

"I don't know any secrets about the war," Hermione said. Her head was spinning.

Malfoy gave her an amused look. "And yet you've managed to be instrumental in banishing Voldemort how many times? It's no wonder he wants somebody to keep an eye on you."

"And on Ron and Harry... we have to tell them!"

"We are not bringing Weasley into this," Malfoy said sharply.

"My best friends are both going out with Death Eaters, and you don't want me to tell them?"

"If Fleur can charm secrets out of Weasley - and she certainly can - she'll find out that he knows. And then I meet an untimely and messy end."

Hermione fell silent.

"Potter's different. Cho may have sunk her claws into him, but she doesn't have any Veela blood. If we actually manage to get it through his thick skull -"

"Harry's not like that," Hermione said automatically.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "If we actually manage to get it through his thick skull that all the girl wants from him is information on how to bring down Hogwarts, he should be able to keep himself from spilling his secrets to her. I don't care how clever you think Weasley is; Fleur can take what she wants from him. And I'm not putting my life on the line just so you can have your happy little do-gooder trio all together."

"All right; I understand," Hermione muttered. She didn't want to admit to herself, but he was right. They had no chance of defending the school if anybody a Veela would target knew about their plans.

She looked up. "How are we going to stop them?"

Malfoy flopped back down onto the desk. "I don't know. You're the compulsive bookworm, aren't you? Can you think of any sort of antidote?"

"It's hardly the kind of thing we're taught in class. Veela have the same rights as ordinary witches and wizards - anything that would restrict their powers would probably be frowned upon by the Ministry, or even illegal." She frowned. "It probably wouldn't even be in the Restricted Section."

Malfoy sighed. "Time for some independent research, then. Congratulations, Granger. You might be the one to save men the world over from embarrassment at the hands of unscrupulous Veela."

"Me?" Hermione exclaimed. "You're not going to help?"

"In case you haven't noticed," Malfoy announced, "I'm a double agent here. I have quite enough on my plate without messing around in the library. I also have to pretend to be your boyfriend, which is going to cause so many shockwaves in Slytherin I'll probably have to spend two hours a day explaining at top speed why I shouldn't be shipped off to St. Mungo's immediately."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You're also going to have to talk to me a lot nicer than that if I'm to pretend to be your girlfriend."

"This isn't a joke, Hermione," Malfoy snapped, making her jump at the sound of her name in his voice. "Yes, you'd better get used to me calling you Hermione, and you'd better start calling me Draco, too."

"I know," she said reluctantly. "...Draco."

"Good start. I'm sure you'll have graduated to 'My gorgeous, darling Draco, the best boyfriend in the whole wide world!' by tomorrow."

"Don't count on it." Hermione grinned despite herself. "When shall we tell Harry? We'll need his help, and I'd rather not be packed off to St. Mungo's myself."

Draco pursed his lips. "Tonight. We can't risk him passing on information."

"I still don't think he's going to do that," Hermione argued. "Cho doesn't have Veela blood, and Harry knows better than to give away secrets."

"He's already losing Quidditch matches because Cho looks sad and pretty." Hermione could hear the sneer as he said 'pretty'. "How long do you think it'll be before she asks him if he knows anything that will keep her safe from the evil outside world? Probably at a time when boys are famous for not exactly thinking with their brains?"

"You don't think..." Hermione stopped. For some reason, she found the idea profoundly disturbing. "Harry's only fifteen, you know. He's very brave and strong, but... I think he's still innocent in some ways."

Draco's lip curled. "I think that's about to change."

* * * * * * * *

At dinner, Hermione had managed to sit beside Harry. Ron was on her other side, which made it difficult to get her message across; so she'd waited for him to start chatting with Seamus before whispering, "Can you meet me in the Arithmancy classroom on the third floor at midnight? Don't tell anybody; it's important." Harry had looked startled, but he'd nodded. "Bring your Invisibility Cloak," Hermione added as an afterthought. She hoped he wouldn't suggest the obvious: why not just meet in the Gryffindor common room if a clandestine meeting was necessary?

He didn't realise Draco Malfoy would also be at the meeting.

It was midnight now, and she and Draco were sitting together in the classroom, waiting for Harry to appear. Hermione was worried, and Draco was fidgeting constantly; tapping his fingers against the desk and pulling at his hair.

"Can you please stop doing that?" Hermione burst out eventually. "I'm trying to think."

Draco shot her an annoyed glance. "Start thinking of a way to stop Potter from getting me spread all over the room as a flashy new wallpaper and I might."

"He -" Hermione began, and then the door opened.

"It's all right, Harry," she called out, focusing her eyes on an empty patch of air near the door. "You can take the Cloak off."

"An Invisibility Cloak?" Draco said. He began to look around the room nervously. "I always thought you might have one of those, Potter."

"Harry, I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but you really need to talk to Draco."

There was a sudden disturbance in the air, and before Hermione could quite make the change out, Harry was standing before them and his Cloak lay in a shimmering bundle on the floor. His wand was pointed directly at Draco.

"Oh, leave it out, Potter," Draco said. "I'm not here for a duel."

"Hermione," Harry said, lowering his wand but not putting it away, "what is he here for?" He looked irritated, and puzzled.

Hermione's thoughts were racing frantically. She really wasn't sure how to start this.

"Harry... this is going to sound very strange, but Draco - he wants to help our side in the war. You-Know-Who has spies in Hogwarts, and Draco knows who they are. They've asked him to join them, and he's going to pass on information to us."

Harry snorted. "Yes, that does sound very strange. Since when does Malfoy not want to work for Voldemort?" He turned to look at Draco. "Why should I believe anything you say? Didn't you tell me I was 'on the losing side' last summer after Voldemort's resurrection?"

Draco stood up sharply. "I don't like Dumbledore and I don't like what he's doing. But - I didn't really believe that Voldemort had been resurrected last summer. I know that he has now. And I don't want to help him destroy most of humanity."

"Why not?"

Draco's eyes flashed. "Slytherins need reasons not to be pure evil now?"

"Malfoys do," Harry responded bluntly.

"Draco's risking a lot to tell us this," Hermione interjected after the boys' stares locked in animosity. "And what he's told me does make sense."

"What has he told you?"

Uh-oh.

"Well... Voldemort recruited his chief spy over the summer. She came to Hogwarts at the beginning of the year, and then she found somebody else who was in a position to help her. They've both been working for him for some time now."

"Her?" Harry said, sounding surprised. He turned his eyes back to Hermione. "You don't mean Fleur, do you?"

"Yes."

"All right," Harry said slowly, after a long pause. Hermione was surprised to see him taking it so calmly, but his betrayal at the hands of Crouch last year had obviously made him less trusting. "I don't trust Malfoy one bit, but it's just about possible that that could be true. We don't know Fleur very well, I suppose."

Hermione was dreading his next question.

"Who's the person she's found to work with her? I know Malfoy didn't say Ron; you're much too smart to believe him if he said Ron was working for Voldemort."

"No," Hermione said. "It's not Ron, it's..." she glanced helplessly at Draco.

Draco shook his head. "You tell him."

"What?" Harry said, an edge of real anxiety in his voice now. "Who is it?"

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Hermione said, knowing that nothing she could say could adequately prepare him for the shock, "but it's Cho."

Harry stared fixedly at her for a second, his face going red. For a second, he glared at Draco with a look of such hatred in his eyes that Draco cowered back a little and Hermione thought Harry might attack him. Then, with obvious effort, he turned back to Hermione and said, "It's all right, Hermione. You made a mistake. But I'm surprised you listened to this slimy bastard."

He turned to Draco. "Professor Dumbledore is going to hear about this first thing in the morning. Trying to make us distrust our own friends - it's a clever plan." Hermione shivered at the scorn in his voice. Draco just stayed still as a statue. "But I would never believe the lies of a Malfoy about my girlfriend."

As soon as Harry turned to leave, Draco shot forward, his wand in his hand. Before Hermione had time to react, he pointed it at Harry and yelled, "Obliviate!"

* * * * * * * *

It was dark in the small two-person bedroom, and despite the fact that she was alone, the room felt stuffy to Cho. She walked over to the window and threw up the sash, leaning out to feel the late-night air. It was freezing cold, a shock of iciness on her bare shoulders. She shivered and went to the closet to put on a warm robe, but didn't close the window. Tiny noises drifted through the air from other windows, and she could hear the sounds of the Hogwarts grounds that were never fully quiet, from the Magical Creatures in Hagrid's pen to the trees of the Forest. Not for the first time, Cho was glad she hadn't been Sorted into Slytherin, this time for the simple reason that their dungeon dormitories couldn't possibly have any windows. Perhaps that explained some of the Slytherin mentality - fresh air hadn't blown through their habits and opinions for centuries.

Fleur hadn't come back yet. That was why Cho was busying her mind with sounds and sociology - Fleur hadn't returned, and Cho was trying to stave off her worry with useless distractions. Good Ravenclaw technique, she thought ruefully. It had served her pretty well during the arid, horrifying months after Cedric's death, too. Cho's teachers had been amazed to see how much she had improved between fifth and sixth year - History texts and Arithmantic problems had been her escape from complete disintegration over the summer.

She didn't seem to think about Cedric much anymore, or at least, not with the same misery that had threatened to cripple her only months, weeks almost, ago. That was because of Fleur, of course. Fleur had given her life a new meaning, because now she could help to avenge Cedric, and then finally move past his death.

Where was Fleur? It had to be two in the morning by now. She'd gone to spend the evening with Stephen Summers, but surely she should have returned by now, unless...

The door banged open, and Fleur entered, her hair plastered to her back like a long wet rope, and patches of water seeping through her robe. She was holding her shoes, and her feet dripped on the floor as she walked.

"Fleur!" Cho leaped up, horrified. "What happened? Why are you so wet?"

Fleur grimaced. "I needed to wash. I needed to have a long hot bath, with lots of pretty-smelling soap. I needed to get clean."

"But you're... still wet..." Cho said, her voice trailing off

"The towels were all stained," Fleur said shortly.

"Oh." Cho had no idea what to say. "You... I'm sorry, I didn't think..."

"Prefects have a special bathroom, you know," Fleur said. Her blue eyes were as wet as her hair; they were shining with such a painful clarity that Cho could hardly bear to look at them.

"Yes," she whispered. "I've... seen it."

"The prefects are very fond of the bathroom. All those warm scented bubbles... all those soft towels... all that privacy..." Fleur broke off. She was shaking.

Cho went over to Fleur and wrapped her arms around the taller girl, stroking her back wordlessly until Fleur shuddered convulsively and allowed her tears to spill. She held on to Cho tightly. Cho was getting wet too, but she didn't mind at all.

"It's cold..." she said finally.

"Of course!" Cho exclaimed. "The window's open, and your hair's all wet - you'll get a chill." She ran over and closed it, and then, since Fleur was still standing there looking lost, she led her over to her bed. They both sat down, and Fleur put one arm around Cho's waist while Cho held Fleur's other hand with her own.

"Are you - in pain?" Cho asked tentatively. She wasn't sure if Fleur wanted to talk about or not.

Fleur's reddened lips curled up in an almost-smile. "No. He wasn't like that. But - it wasn't as easy as I'd thought - I hope I don't have to do it again for some time."

"You will have to, though?" It wasn't really a question.

"Of course I do. It's what I have to do, and I can do it. It's my task."

Cho's grip tightened on Fleur's hand. "You're not the only one. I can help. I can do it too."

"You can't! You're not Veela, and anyway, I won't let you! I wanted to keep you safe!"

"I don't want to be safe at this price," Cho said firmly. She was terribly scared, but she kept on talking. "I can't let you go through this on your own. I may not be Veela, I may not be as lovely as you are, but I can still help."

"You are lovely," Fleur said, her voice muffled by Cho's shoulder. "And I don't want you to be ruined."

"I won't be. It's a task, remember? I'm in this too - I swore my allegiance just as you did."

"It's not the same."

"Yes it is," Cho said. She cupped her hand around Fleur's cheek, forcing her to meet her eyes. "Please. Don't make me see you like this and tell me there's nothing I can do to take some of it away."

Fleur opened her mouth, about to speak, but then shut it again. She blinked away fresh tears, and then smiled sadly. "I can't stop you."

Cho smiled in return. A voice in her head was frantically trying to tell her that she couldn't possibly do this, but seeing Fleur so visibly relieved silenced it. She tucked a lock of Fleur's hair behind her ear. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

Fleur made a sound that was almost like a chuckle. "I'll get the sheets all wet!"

"No you won't." Cho left Fleur for a second to find her wand, and to get a glass tumbler from the nightstand. She held the open end of the tumbler towards Fleur. "Accio aqua!"

Fleur giggled as miniature fountains of water started streaming out from her hair and through her sleeves into Cho's tumbler. "You could have just cast a simple Dryness Spell!"

"I know," Cho said with a wink, "but this way was more fun."

"Aqua, too," Fleur said, lying back on the bed with her hands behind her head, giving a small sigh of content at being dry again. She seemed to have forgotten that it was Cho's bed. "Most people wouldn't bother with Latin when they don't have to."

"I like Latin," Cho confessed. "It sounds more... magical, somehow. Maybe because we don't use it for anything else, most of the time." She walked over to the window, opened it again, and carefully poured all the water from the tumbler away. She saw Fleur shiver, and quickly shut it again. "Still cold?" she asked. Fleur nodded hesitantly.

"Maybe you shouldn't move, then." Cho gently touched Fleur's shoulder. "Well, move over just a little." She smiled.

Fleur looked up at Cho for a moment, seemingly surprised - then moved over. Pale threads of her hair still covered the pillow, and Cho brushed them away gently before she climbed in beside her. "We were both cold," she half-explained, not entirely sure why she was being so forward, except that Fleur needed comfort and Cho was scared too, jokey tricks with water notwithstanding. She didn't want to lie awake alone that night.

"Nox," she heard Fleur say softly, followed by the sound of Fleur setting her wand down on the floor. Then, so quietly Cho almost didn't hear it, "Thank you."

For the first time that evening, Cho felt tears coming to her own eyes. She leaned over and kissed Fleur on the cheek. She felt Fleur smile, and then they both reached out at the same time and drew each other close. Cho nestled her head on Fleur's shoulder, feeling the other girl's pulse slow as she relaxed into sleep.

Cho had forgotten to close the curtains when she had closed the window, and faint moonlight still outlined Fleur's face, throwing her cheekbones and lips into sharp relief. Cho kissed Fleur again, once, before she fell asleep herself.