Perfection

Perfection

Chapter 20: Confrontation

"Has he said anything yet?"

Molly Weasley wrung her hands, staring anxiously at Severus's face.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Are you certain that it was just a dose of Sleeping Potion?"

A nod this time, followed quickly by a furtive glance at Hermione, who was going over notes on the far side of the room. "Go talk to your daughter," he suggested. "She's been waiting just outside all morning."

The redheaded woman nodded, schooling her expression to one that was unreadable, and bustled outside.

Once certain that she was out of earshot, Hermione commented quietly, "Are you sure we shouldn't tell her?"

Severus frowned. "A parent will go to any lengths to protect a child. If we tell her the truth, there's no telling what she might do."

She sighed. "I just feel so... I don't know--guilty, I suppose. You're certain that Percy hasn't been acting under the Imperius curse?"

"If he had, it would make things much simpler. But yes, I am sure. His actions were out of his own free will and if I had known..."

His face crumpled and he turned his back to her, but the sight of his slumped shoulders was almost worse.

"Nothing that you have done could have--"

"Yes," he cut in harshly. "I taught him for seven years. Don't tell me that in seven years there were no opportunities. And Percy hasn't been the only one. These are children, Hermione, and they're throwing their lives away. I remember every single one that I've taught in the last fifteen years and I can tell you the names of everyone who has made the same mistake that I did because I have watched them being tortured and killed for it. And I have yet to do something about it."

A memory came to her, unbidden, of him glaring down at her on the day before Christmas Eve last winter, telling her that he would not watch her destroy herself.

"You're wrong," she replied, and he wheeled to face her. "In fact, you've never been further away from the truth. You've made a difference to a lot of people, whether they know it or not. In fact, I don't think that there's a person in this school that can say you aren't watching their back. You hated Harry and look how many times you've saved his life. Look at what you did for me. If you hadn't forced me to see what I was doing, I could be dead by now. You can't save everyone, no matter what you think."

He shook his head slowly. "But the least I could do--"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Who is that?" Hermione snarled in irritation.

He turned to face her. "Didn't you have an appointment with--"

"You mother, yes I know."

"Then you'd best go."

She nodded. "I'm not finished with you yet, though."

"Don't I know it."

*

The library. He had always hated it--particularly Madam Pince, with her beady eyes that darted to and fro, always anxious to catch an unauthorized student slipping into the restricted section. It had struck him on the few occasions that he had bothered to venture in, that she and Filch were perfectly suited for one another, although the offspring would need to be hidden from innocent eyes at birth.

Now, however, he found it to be a convenient place to catch a decent hour's sleep--no one ever slept deeply in the Slytherin dormitories if they knew what was good for them--and a welcome escape from the suffocating atmosphere of the dungeons. Not to mention that he was no longer entirely welcome in the common room he had once ruled over.

Moaning, he rested his head on his textbook and closed his eyes, transfiguration be damned. He had barely been asleep for fifteen minutes when something began tapping him on the shoulder.

"Malfoy."

"What?" he muttered, wiping away the small puddle of drool that had formed under his mouth.

"Sleepy time's up," Blaise hissed in his ear, following it up with a blow to the head.

A hand roughly grabbed him by the neck, while someone Stunned him. He waited for the numbing sensation to come over him, but his limbs remained functional and a burst of golden light appeared momentarily, blinding the group of boys that had followed Blaise. A hush went over them momentarily as they contemplated this new development.

A scrawny fourth year only shrugged and flexed an imaginary muscle. "Guess we'll have to do it the muggle way. Fitting I suppose."

The miniature mob fell in on him and Draco felt innumerable blows striking him as he tried to roll away. A foot struck him sharply on the temple and his vision began to fade. He welcomed the blackness, sliding in and out of consciousness.

From far away he heard a roar of anger and everything froze. He didn't move from his fetal position on the floor, certain that if he so much as budged it would all resume.

"Malfoy?"

A voice. He strained to recognize it, but the edges of his mind felt fuzzy.

"Malfoy, can you hear me?"

He opened his eyes and tried blinking away the multiple faces that swam before him. "Weasley?"

Ron held up his hand. "How many fingers?"

Draco counted slowly. "Seventeen... No, wait, twelve."

"I'm taking you to the hospital wing."

"No," he objected with more strength than he thought he possessed. "I'm fine. I just need a minute..."

"You can't even--"

Draco forced himself off the ground, wiping the blood off of his nose. "Look, I'm all right. I'm standing--" He trailed off mid-sentence as the floor rushed up to meet him.

*

"You want me to learn how to become an animagus by next June?" Hermione asked incredulously, sipping some tea from the delicate china. "Doesn't it usually take a year or so?"

"Yes, but I'm asking you to do better."

Hermione sighed and studied her hands.

"Don't you think that you can do it?" Helena asked, falsely sympathetic.

"Not really, no," she snapped.

"Then you're right. I can see now that there isn't any hope for you."

Hermione's eyes widened momentarily as she slammed her cup of tea on the saucer, splashing the milky liquid on the tablecloth. "Well, maybe I can."

"I wasn't just talking about the animagus, girl. You can't be what I need."

"And what is it that you need?" she challenged, eyes flashing.

"Someone with the mental tenacity to see this through. Someone who will fight to the end. If 'can't' isn't in a man's vocabulary, then it shouldn't be in a woman's either."

Outwardly, Hermione's expression remained fixed, but inwardly she flinched.

Why so worried? a tiny voice in the back of her mind taunted. She's described you perfectly. You stick with things to the end, right to the point where they practically kill you.

Trying to keep her hands from trembling, she took another sip of tea in an attempt to stay calm. "What makes you so certain that I'm not what you need?"

The older woman chuckled.

*

"Poor boy," Molly Weasley whispered, cleaning the cuts on his face. "You say he's been disowned?"

Severus nodded. "Late September, I believe."

"When did this happen?" Ron burst in, bewildered.

He twisted his mouth wryly and glanced at Molly.

"So you're saying that he has no home?" she clarified, chewing on her lower lip.

Another nod.

"He's coming to London with me, then."

Her announcement was greeted by two blank stares.

"But Mum, he'll be there for--" Ron protested.

"Ronald, I'm surprised at you. No, as soon as he wakes up, we'll go. He needs to recover properly and there's only a week left of school..."

Severus wisely kept his mouth shut as Molly continued to lecture her son and watched Draco as the he began coming to. By the time his eyes opened, Severus was already pressing a vial of a painkilling draught to his lips.

"Drink. It will help."

Sitting up, the blonde boy obeyed as the woman trailed off in mid-sentence to resume fussing.

*

She shivered in the December air, stripping down and crouching as she waited for the change to take effect. It happened more quickly than usual, easing the painful thoughts that spun through her head, and, in moments, the wolf sat where a girl had once been.

Sniffing the wind, she relished her freedom and lay down, pushing at the leaves idly with a paw. It was lonely without a pack for company, but the wolf instinctively knew that she was different and they wouldn't accept her, even if she could find them. At any rate, she felt less alone here than she did with the people in the castle, where they pretended to understand.

Here, at least, she felt connected to the world. She was a part of events, she had a defined role. She was allowed to simply exist in a way that none of them could ever know. And it was only because a part of the wolf was still human that she was able to truly recognize this gift that she had been granted.

She remained in that position for a long time, enjoying the barrage of smells and sounds that tugged at her, begging her to come and investigate them as she put off the moment when she would have to change. It was only when the sun began setting that she forced the human to overtake the wolf and donned her clothes so that she would be able to return.

*

"Why did you let Mum take Malfoy?" Ron asked, glaring at Severus. "He's going to drive her insane, especially since she's already worried about Percy."

The older man sat down and pulled out the stack of marking he had been putting off since September with a sigh. "Draco is precisely the distraction that she needs right now. Molly is the sort of woman who needs to keep busy when she is upset and he will provide that for her. I will be the first to admit that she is remarkably strong, but I do not feel that she is yet ready to confront your brother's betrayal."

"So you're using him to create an illusion for her?" Ron argued. "How is that any better? She'll still have to face up to it eventually."

Severus skimmed through an essay disinterestedly and shrugged. "You misunderstand me. She needs to know that she can still be a mother, even though one of her children has made a drastic mistake. I don't believe that you realise her despair right now."

"But she's my--"

"Precisely. Now, if your arguments have all been made, I have tolerated your presence for long enough."

"But--"

"Out."

Rolling his eyes--a gesture that Severus chose to ignore--the redhead slammed furiously out of the dungeons, leaving him to thoughts that he wished could be brushed aside so easily. By the time Hermione came in, well after sundown, his head was pounding and he had reached a state of near panic. After much coaxing, she convinced him to go to bed and lay down beside him, falling asleep almost instantly.

He, however, stayed awake nearly all night, clinging to the woman next to him as if she was his last tie to sanity.

*

The Christmas holidays had snuck up upon them without anyone noticing. The day before they arrived, all of those who had spent the last few months working on the Shield were packing frantically, including Severus. Hermione had convinced him he needed the rest that could only come with a change of scenery so he was about to spend a second Christmas away from the school, once again in London.

This year, however, he found himself feeling a slight degree of anticipation, although he would never admit it to anyone else. He had accidentally uncovered the package of flavoured coffee Hermione had sent him and all the memories of the past year came flooding back, creating a sense of wonder at how much things could change--how much he could change--in such a short time.

Opening his wardrobe with an absentminded flick of the wrist, clothes began flying into his trunk, all chosen at random. His disregard for what he wore, it appeared, remained the same. It took little more than a few minutes and he was free to complete the far less menial task of selecting his reading material for the next few weeks. Halfway through, he was interrupted by the door opening.

"You'll never guess what I found in the bottom of my trunk," Hermione announced, stepping in without waiting for his invitation.

He turned around to see her holding a vaguely familiar salt shaker and laughed.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" she commented, a little sadly, approaching the bookshelf and running her fingers over the spines.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in. "Indeed it does."

She sighed. "I only wish..." She let herself trail off.

"Wish what?"

Shaking her head, she replied, "Never mind. All in all, I'd say it's been a pretty good year."

He twined a strand of her hair around his index finger carefully. "I would tend to agree."

*

Draco stretched in bed before propping himself up on a pillow. He had one more day to spend alone in this strange house, where people came and went erratically yet all seemed to be welcomed like they belonged to one large, eccentric family. Then, he knew, life would go back to what it always had been and the odd acceptance he had been greeted with would gradually dissipate until he was standing on the outside, peering through the window.

"Would you like something dear?"

Mrs. Weasley bustled in, pulling the curtains away from the window and letting the sunlight in. In the last week he had learned that the woman he had once scorned was made of more than he thought, feeding all the mouths that wandered into her kitchen without batting an eye, all while coddling and scolding him in turns. Some of the dodgiest characters he had ever seen, including those his father had been known to associate with from time, had come through and she had treated them with the same courtesy that had been extended to prominent Ministry members. Not once had she so much as remarked on his parentage or questioned the physical condition that he was in.

He shook his head, reminding himself once again that this wasn't and could never be his home. Swallowing, he pulled out his rusty manners and asked, "Did you need help with anything?"

She laughed. "Of course not. You just rest. You'll be well enough to put to use soon enough--enjoy this."

Smiling, he lay back down and pulled the blankets up around his chin, finding that an odd, soft part of him wished this woman could have been his mother.

*

"No, don't put that--"

"What are you doing? That was my foot!"

"Mum!"

"Darling, I haven't seen you in such a long time, how have--"

"What's he doing here--"

"Watch out for the--"

"Dammit! Sorry, Mum--"

"Ginny, watch your--"

"Don't drop the--"

Hermione was squashed between several people that had piled into the foyer around her and dangerously close to collapsing, taking them all with her. Her mother was attempting to hug her and take her luggage at the same time, which resulted in either Fred or George--she still couldn't tell them apart--being whacked in the groin. Draco hovered uncertainly, slightly away from everyone else, wearing an expression of wry amusement as people continued to trip over one another. It was Harry that finally lost it--by now they had all grown used to Ginny acting through him--and shoved his way through, creating a path for the redhead to follow, much to the peril of several items of furniture.

Pulling herself free from the mass of limbs, Hermione bolted upstairs, leaving her trunk for someone else to deal with and shut herself in the bathroom, collapsing against the door.

I promise to be good for the rest of my life if I survive this, she thought as a strange feeling of claustrophobia overtook her.

Familiar footsteps gradually made their way up the stairs and, seconds later, a knock sounded on the door.

"Hermione? Are you all right?"

She shifted so that she was no longer leaning against the door and opened it.

"Something tells me this will be worse than the time my great-aunt hosted a family gathering when I was eight and someone let my grandmother drink a bottle of vodka," she moaned, eliciting a chuckle from him. In protest, she added, "It's not funny when you have to watch a seventy-five year-old woman table-dance."

"No, I can imagine... It would be like Minerva--"

He broke off mid-sentence with a shudder.

*

"I can't believe I agreed to this," Remus muttered, shooting back another glass of punch.

"Smile," Agrippa advised. "Almost every woman in the room has asked me where I found you."

He snorted derisively. "And what good does that do me?"

She laughed. "My apologies. Sometimes I forget."

Remus resumed the punch consumption as she glanced around the room, idly amused by the chaos of drunken co-workers. Near the entrance, an intern and his fiancée were being greeted by Thom Richter, who was quite obviously looking down the girl's dress while his wife looked on, growing more irritated by the second. Both the intern and the girl were clearly angered by his lack of tact as he leered even closer in, until she snapped something and dragged her date away.

"Looks like a happy marriage," Remus commented to Agrippa, following her gaze to where and argument had now broken out between Thom and his wife.

"I would know," she replied dryly. "He's so much like Steve it makes me ill."

"Men are bastards, I know."

"Excluding the present company."

Remus took another sip and smiled bitterly. "I wouldn't even say that."

*

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Severus didn't reply, only continued to nuzzle her neck.

"I mean, I understand that you're male and you have needs, but anyone could walk--"

He silenced her, then led her to his bed, sliding off her shirt in the process.

"You changed into that skirt on purpose, didn't you?" he growled.

Inwardly, she smiled smugly--he had noticed. She had bought the skirt a couple of years before, not realising just how short it was until she showed it to her parents. Naturally, she had promptly been forbidden to ever wear it in public although she refused to return it.

"Maybe," she replied shiftily as he removed the offending clothing article. He was about halfway through this task when a startled yelp interrupted.

Scrambling, Hermione fixed her skirt and crossed her arms as Severus rolled away, looking every bit as panicked as she felt.

"Herm... Prof... Sick bastard... Shit--"

Ron seemed to be incapable of forming words as he stood in the doorway, so Hermione took the opportunity to jump in.

"Look, it's not what you think--" she tried, but all he did was turn his back on them. A moment later they discovered that the power of speech had returned to him because a single word was echoing throughout the house.

"Mom!"

*

The next three hours would prove to be the longest of Hermione's life. Mrs. Weasley, although thoroughly disapproving, had decided to wait for Agrippa's return before saying anything. The only action she had taken had been to march both her and Severus into the drawing room and sit them down as far away from each other as possible. She almost found herself wishing that Ron would come down and start asking irritating questions, but as soon his mother had taken over, he had sprinted away as quickly as possible and was no doubt huddled in a corner somewhere, whimpering whilst rocking back and forth.

"Dinner was lovely tonight," she tried brightly, hoping that Mrs. Weasley would stop glaring, then winced. "No, I mean it. It was really... great..."

She barely restrained the urge to laugh at the expression Severus was wearing--a mixture between horror and amusement that, when combined on his features, was only slightly comical.

The older woman, however, didn't appear to quite share her sense of humour and remained silent, chaperoning lest they felt the urge to fornicate on the couch.

*

"Africa," Agrippa emphasized, leading a stumbling Remus into the house. "Elephants and the savannah..."

"Also diseases and bloodthirsty lions and civil wars," he slurred, letting out a giggle. "You're drunk. If you could think straight then you would realise what a silly--whoops!"

She caught him as he lost his footing. "I'm not the one who drank the entire bowl of punch," she commented.

"I couldn't help it. If a server that sexy kept--" He paused and smiled at Molly, whose expression was less than forgiving. "Good evening, madam. My name is Fernando and I will be your chauffeur..."

He trailed off when he noticed he was the only one laughing. "I'll just go to bed, then," he growled. "Happy Christmas to all of you too."

Molly watched him trip past her, then turned to the more sober woman in front of her. "Agrippa, as much as I hate to inform at this particular time, your daughter was caught in a rather compromising position..."

*

"You were having sex with your teacher?"

Hermione glared up at her mother from her perch on the edge of the bed, wishing that she could stop pacing.

"Yes, Mum. We established that ten minutes ago."

"Don't get smart with me young lady. Don't you understand how serious this is? I would have thought that you, of all people would have better judgment! You're underage--there's no way a man that old should even be looking at you."

"I'm not, Mum."

"Not what?"

"Underage. I'm seventeen. Legally, I'm an adult."

Agrippa's jaw nearly hit the floor. "When did that happen?"

"A few months ago," she snapped. "So apart from whatever gag reflex it instills in you, there's nothing wrong with it."

"It isn't healthy. You may think that you know what you're getting yourself into, but what happens when one morning he wakes up and he realises that you are just a child? Or you wake up to see an old man?"

"I don't expect it to last forever, Mum," Hermione whispered. "I know it won't. I'm leaving the country at the end of the school year for God knows how long and I doubt that whatever it is that we have is going to survive."

"You're doing what?" her mother hissed, immediately forgetting the subject at hand. "What about a university education? You know that if you put it off, you'll never get it and I don't see what the point in studying abroad is. You told me all about the magical schooling you can have without leaving--"

"But I need to leave," she argued, trying to maintain her calm, but feeling her hands shake all the same. "You don't understand what this place, what the atmosphere in this city has done to me. This world that I live in. What you've done to me."

For a moment, the accusation hung between them and time seemed to freeze as Agrippa stared at her daughter. Then, the inevitable happened and the older woman snapped.

"How can you say that? I protected you. I was the only thing that stood between you and a broken home. If it wasn't because I cared, then your father would have been out on his arse years ago. You have no idea what I suffered while you were away having your little adventures at school. I hated him. I hated him--God, you have no idea how much. And I was holding on because I couldn't bear the thought of--"

"You couldn't bear the thought of being alone," Hermione said coldly. "Don't try to be a martyr. It never works. You'll kill yourself trying to believe that you're helping and the second you think everything's under control, it'll all come caving in. You didn't protect me. You exploited me. You tried to make me into what you wished you could be and the worst part of it is that I was too stupid to realise what it was doing to me. Severus saved my life. I doubt that it was what he wanted to do at the time and I sure as hell didn't want it, but it happened."

Agrippa's only reply was to stare disbelievingly at her daughter.

"You thought you could hide everything that was wrong with your life from me," Hermione continued, barely pausing to breathe, "but I was smarter than you thought. Did you think I couldn't hear you arguing when I was in my room? The walls weren't that thick. And then, when you wouldn't talk about it or I was shoved in the middle of one of your fights, I thought it was my fault. I convinced myself that if I could be your perfect daughter, it would all stop. I would stay up until well after midnight working on assignments that took other people half and hour to complete. I could get a perfectly decent mark, but unless it was perfect I knew it would never be good enough. Sometimes it's still not. I'm never going to be enough for you. You demand perfection--you always have--and I managed to convince myself that it was what I wanted too. Perfection." She spat out the last word with a vehemence that she hadn't realised existed within her and that, once unleashed, she doubted her control over.

Agrippa opened her mouth to protest, but Hermione silenced her.

"It's time for show and tell," she snapped. "And right now I'm doing the showing." Ripping her shirt off, she exposed her ribcage, relishing her mother's slight flinch. "How many bones can you see? Count them. This is what happens when you try to change yourself for others. You can't tell me that what you did was for me. If it was, you would have seen this sooner. And you would have stopped it. Not even my friends realised, though. It took a complete stranger to save me and there's no way in hell I'm ever going to let you hang me on that particular crucifix again."

The older woman's cold expression broke as she crumpled on the bed, sobbing mutely.

"You know what the really stupid thing is? And when I say stupid, I mean stupider than the rest," she continued obliviously, gaining momentum. "I can't let go of it. It's been a year now and every day I have to live with the knowledge of what I've done to myself because if I block it out of my mind, I'll only go backwards. And if there's one thing that this has taught me, it's that I don't want to go there again because I want to live. I didn't realise it fully until the moment that the school nurse told me what was wrong with me, but I want to live and I want to live my life. Not yours, not Dad's, and that's why you should trust me when I tell you that Severus isn't just fucking with me because I'm not living his life either."

She broke off, finally bothering to look at the pitiful figure rocking back and forth, and as she did so, the incoherent fury of moments before evaporated. She remembered in an instant the fragility on the night after she had learned of her condition, when all resolve to tell her had evaporated. It was easy to forget that the cool confidence of Agrippa Granger, PhD and the pained, delicate creature formerly known as Mummy were the same woman. Hermione knelt down and wrapped her arms around Agrippa, letting out all the wracking sobs that she had been holding in.

"Oh my God," Agrippa whispered into her daughter's hair, crushing her with the embrace. "Oh my God."

For an instant, Hermione was five again, falling off her bike and tasting the salt of tears, in a way that she never had before.

"You are perfect," her mother hissed fiercely. "You've never been anything but."

Hermione pulled away briefly. "No, I'm not," she murmured back, wiping her eyes. "But I don't need to be anymore."

In the hallway, Molly Weasley blew her nose and shuffled away to make a cup of tea.

*

It was well past midnight when Draco finally located her, huddled in an upstairs room with silent tears streaming down her face. He wasn't sure why she was crying, but he wasn't sure that her reaction would be comforting if he asked.

"Sod off, Malfoy," she barked, but the usual venom was replaced with--what?

"Very convincing, Weasley."

He sat down beside her and leaned against the wall, not saying anything more as echoes of Hermione's volcanic eruption reached them and reverberated throughout the otherwise still house.

"How do you reckon Granger versus Granger is turning out?" she asked finally, wiping her eyes and making an attempt to smile.

"I'd say that Hermione is kicking some serious arse," he asserted. "When I walked by, she was shrieking something about crucifixes and martyrdom, so I'd say her mum doesn't have a chance."

Ginny snorted with laughter before asking, "Are we actually having a civilized conversation?"

"I believe so. Please don't break it by throwing the furniture. I'm still in recovery."

"Oh, cut it out. You're no more fragile now than you usually are," she snorted. "And this--it doesn't mean I like you or anything, so don't let it go to your head."

"Well, as long as we're behaving reasonably, I want to apologize. I haven't done it properly yet.

"Don't." The redhead stiffened visibly. "It can't change what happened."

Sighing heavily, he replied, "Do you think I haven't realised it yet? I know what you think of me, and I know that you're right, but at the same time I'm starting to think it was worth it."

"Worth it?" she snarled, making a motion to stand. "I don't know what your idea of an apology is, Malfoy, but somewhere in there should be regret."

"Believe me, there is. But--" He broke off, choking on his words.

"But what?"

"If I hadn't done any of that, I would never have known you at all."

"Your point being?"

"That's it. That's my apology."

This time Ginny actually stood up, cheeks flaming. "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish with this, but it's not working. Maybe you missed this part, but we're over. Done. There's nothing worse than a lie, and your lies are even more poisonous than the rest of them, so why don't you just go fuck off."

Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall and let her storm away.

*

That night, she dreamed again. She was back in the same room with the same man, only this time he felt stronger, more powerful than he had before.

"Miss Weasley," he greeted her, still polite, still mockingly sympathetic. "Have you thought on my offer?"

"Not really," she replied coolly. "Been a bit busy, what with tracking down my bastard of a brother and all. Hope it's not too much of an inconvenience."

"Ah, yes, how is dear Percy? He was always a bit too ambitious for his own good. Pity, though, I suppose it will be death for him no matter who wins the war. Mind, your side seems to find traitors useful. Take Severus, for example. Brilliant mind, but no loyalty, no integrity. What use do I have for a man like that?"

"Do you ever stop?" Ginny laughed incredulously. "Merlin, even when I was talking to you through my diary, you wouldn't shut up."

He froze for a minute, more than slightly surprised by her flippant tone.

"What's the matter, Tom?" she mocked. "Upset that I'm not scared of you anymore? I stopped checking under the bed for monsters years ago and do you want to know why? Because they don't exist. And because you're nothing but a sad, pathetic excuse for a man."

His fine features dissolved, falling into a face contorted with fury. "And you, my dear, are nothing more than a useless, stupid chit. Because when the time comes for me to claim, you will regret having said that."

"What time?" she asked before realising it was too late because she was already awake. And with her awakening, she knew what she had to do.

*

The first thing that Agrippa thought of when she awoke the next morning was not her daughter having an affair with a man twice her age, nor was it her daughter's confessions the night before. She thought of Africa, with its wide, vast deserts, the Serengeti, the jungles. She thought of Jeanine Howard's proposal the night before.

I'm heading an aid mission into Africa in a couple of months. You always were obsessed with travelling, so I thought I'd ask you since our head dentist had to cancel.

So she'd be the second thought. But somehow that didn't matter. Even in her half-intoxicated state, she had known what the answer would be--yes, a thousand times over. Never mind anything else.

Then all of last night's events came flooding back and she felt guilty. Guilty for not thinking first of her daughter, guilty for what she had watched her do to herself without seeing. Because Hermione was right to blame her. She was the parent, she was supposed to be the support, the light, the advice and, instead, she had refused to really see. And now she had nearly forgotten.

For Africa.

*

Albus Dumbledore paced in his study, feeling the first waves of panic hit him. Minerva watched expectantly, as if hoping that he would walk back and forth enough times and the answer would come. Filibus Flitwick only stared at the ground, twitching every so often and reaching for his wand, as if to find reassurance.

"Where's Hagrid?" the wizened man finally asked, ceasing to pace for a brief period.

"I couldn't find him," Filibus replied.

Albus resumed pacing. Silence. Finally, Minerva tentatively made a suggestion.

"What about Percy Weasley? Maybe he has some idea of what's about to happen."

"What's already happening, you mean," corrected the Headmaster. "And once events begin, there's very little you can do to stop them from happening."

"The Order?" Flitwick squeaked.

"No use," Albus sighed. "Nothing or no one can leave the castle."

"Well then," Minerva said, standing up, "we'll have to protect the students obviously. And we need to interrogate Weasley again. Then we'll have to do our best with what we have."

"Have the students been given any of the Golden Shield?"

Both the headmaster and his deputy stared at the tiny man before them.

"Merlin," the woman breathed. "We didn't think of that."

"There's none left," Albus reminded her gently. "I'm afraid that Percy took the last of it."