All Along the Watchtower

"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,

"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke."

Third year did not start out promisingly. It did, however, start out loudly.

Valentine had bumped into Pansy on the platform, who had immediately started talking about something that was going on at Hogwarts this year - a competition of sorts, her father had told her about it - and when they boarded the Hogwarts Express, the they quickly found Draco in the hallway.

"Of course, you can't enter, Valentine," he said factually, leading her by the arm into a compartment. "It's going to be dangerous and you're disabled. I'm not sure I'll even enter - it's not like we need the money, is it? Plus, Hogwarts is hardly worth the honour; honestly, our Headmaster's an old coot."

"I can't believe we're going to meet students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, too. I always wanted to go to Beauxbatons," Pansy added as she sat down next to where Valentine had been placed.

"Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang, you know. He knows the Headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover--ow, Valentine!" Draco flinched away from her as she lifted her fist to punch him in the arm again.

"Watch your language, Draco," she snapped, trying to imitate Pansy.

It was surprisingly easy to control him, sometimes.

"Whatever, you brute. Anyway, Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do."

"If you give people guns, they're more likely to shoot each other," Valentine piped up, leaning against the arm that she had punched a minute ago. The idiot-twins grunted, but it was hard to tell if it was a real argument or not. "That's why England doesn't have the right to bear arms. It's got to be about the same with the Dark Arts, really."

Pansy snorted. "How about we don't compare ourselves to Americans," she suggested, and Valentine laughed.

"Hey, Valentine," Ginny's voice sounded from the doorway to the compartment, and Valentine stood a little unsteadily and held her arms out to her. "Have you seen Luna?"

"Er, no," Valentine replied, raising an eyebrow and laughing slightly.

Ginny nudged her in a way she often did, then pulled her into a hug. "Hey Malfoy, Pansy," she greeted them, and deliberately left out Crabbe and Goyle. Valentine may have felt bad for this if they weren't such idiots.

Neither Pansy nor Draco verbally responded to her, but Ginny didn't complain.

She sat with them for a while after that, talking quietly to Valentine and occasionally laughing at Draco's attempts to upset her. It was something she adored about Ginny, really; she seemed to know, like Valentine, when to just ignore Draco's tactlessness.

It rained again on that journey, and all was relatively calm until Ginny decided to look for her brother. "I'll come with," Valentine had responded and stood; she wanted to hear Hermione's voice at least once before arriving, just to make sure she was safely on the train.

"We'll come too," Draco agreed. "See what Potty and the Weasel think about this year - I'll bet they think they'll win. Potter's such an attention-seeker, and Weasel could probably use the money to buy his father a better job."

"Win what?" Ginny asked, leading Valentine by the arm. She shrugged; she'd not been too interested in whatever they were talking about, to be honest.

They were in the very next cabin; as soon as they stepped out of their own, Ron's voice was heard. "We saw him right up close, as well," he was explaining happily. "We were in the Top Box--"

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley," Draco snarled, at the same time that Ginny cheerily greeted them, "Hey, guys. Shut up, Malfoy."

Ginny led her further than the Slytherins, to stand somewhere between them and the Gryffindors (where both of them probably belonged, actually). "Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," Potter said in an attempt to sound nonchalant. Valentine snorted.

"Weasley..." Draco said, his voice suddenly sounding slightly horrified. "What is that?" There was a shuffle, and the sound of cloth being pulled against a hard surface, and then Draco spoke again. "Look at this!" The horrification turned to glee. "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about 1890..."

"I thought I heard an argument," Luna's voice sounded from behind the Slytherins. "Are those your robes, Malfoy? They're a very nice colour."

"Eat dung, Malfoy!" Ron snarled, and Pansy's laughter increased either at his not-so-witty comeback, or the fact Luna thought they were Draco's robes.

"So... going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to your family name?" Draco asked, and Ginny's hand slid off her arm.

"Leave it, Malfoy, you idiot," she said, apparently losing amusement. "Ron, just ignore him."

"There's money involved as well, you know... you'd be able to afford some decent dress robes if you won..."

"What are you talking about?" Ron snapped back, and Ginny sighed from somewhere to her right.

"Are you going to enter?" Draco repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?"

"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," Hermione's voice sounded from the corner. Upon hearing that she was all right (if not a bit exasperated), Valentine sighed and turned to the door of the compartment.

She didn't need to hear the same old argument again, after all.

Pansy touched her wrist as she walked past her, and before she could figure out where the door actually was, another arm weaved through hers. "Should we find somewhere less...?"

"Insane?" Valentine suggested to Luna, who led her out of the compartment and down the hall.

Luna made an acquiescing noise. "They'll get worn out, eventually."

They sat in an empty compartment (Ravenclaws were always so superior) and Luna handed her something. "You dropped this," she said. "Who's it from?"

"Professor Lupin," Valentine replied, feeling a little proud. "He wrote to me a few times during the summer. He even translated it all into Braille for me, but I had to get Aunt Lerato to write back for me. I can't wait until we can use magic outside of Hogwarts."

The fact that he had written to her made Valentine more than a little nervous, but she had been reading up on werewolves and trying to convince herself that he wasn't as dangerous as the werewolf she had met. Apparently the insanity related to lycanthropy didn't always result in psychotic behaviour.

She hoped that her books were correct. She really, really didn't want to dislike Lupin.

"Me neither," Luna replied. "Do you think we're nearly at Hogwarts?"

Suddenly a slamming noise was heard, immediately followed by shattering glass. "That would be Ginny's brother," Valentine guessed, trying not to smile.

"Honestly," Ginny said, entering the compartment. "Is it really necessary to pick at everything, Malfoy?"

"It is more fun that way," Draco replied. He sounded amused, which meant that he had probably won the argument. "Did you see his face? Stupid Weasel's probably rambling about how important his father is - and they didn't even tell him about the Tournament!" He laughed again, and Pansy joined in, but Ginny only sighed.

It wasn't long after that before the train arrived. Valentine spent the rest of the time wondering why every year had to begin and end with an argument on the train. It was beginning to feel like a rather mundane tradition: get on the train, be part of a row, get off the train.

Home had been so much calmer, and yet... well, so much more boring, really. If only she could have the excitement of Hogwarts with Botswana's sun.

Thunder rumbled as they exited the train, and the rain bore down on them like tiny bullets of iced water, in such rapid succession that it may as well have been one giant sheet. Valentine clung to Ginny's arm, Luna's hand on her shoulder on the other side and ducked her head. She couldn't see, anyway; what was the point of putting her face in direct line of fire?

They climbed into the same carriage as those who were in their compartment, and they huddled together, trying to find some warmth. "Touch me again, Weaslette, and I'll sue," Draco said, all malice gone from his voice to be replaced with trembling from the cold.

"That wasn't me, Malfoy, you bleach-blond idiot." Ginny said back; it was as if they were attempting to bring normality to the freezing weather.

"My hair is not bleached!" Draco argued, and Valentine hit him across the back of the head and immediately wished she hadn't; his hair gel had come loose from the rain and was now a diluted slime.

"Oh, gross," she exclaimed, wiping her cold hand on her wet robes. "Draco, you moron, stop putting so much bloody gel in your hair!" She hit him around the head again for emphasis, this time scooping up all of the gel that she could find and shaking it away.

Draco didn't hit her hand away, probably because the cold was accented with every minute movement, but he did whine, "Valentine! Leave my hair alone!"

The procession up to the castle continued in this way, and the walk from the carriages to the inside quickly morphed into a run. It was hard enough for Valentine, holding Ginny's arm tightly in the crowd, but the slippery pavement and steps had her falling over several times.

And once they were inside, water-balloons (water-balloons, of all things!) were thrown. Valentine ducked her head, shivering and laughing a little hysterically, as Draco loudly complained that his father would hear about this. There were other voices shouting, and she was pushed roughly from side to side, but soon Draco secured his arms around her shoulders and both Ginny and Luna held her arms.

It might have been fun, if it weren't for--well, most everything.

"PEEVES," McGonagall yelled angrily. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"

There was much more scuffling and a few more water-balloons as the poltergeist and the deputy headmistress argued, but soon the students were safely in the Great Hall. Ginny lead both Luna and Valentine to the Gryffindor table today, in order to sit with her (rather irate) brother.

Unfortunately, however, Gryffindor was the furthest table from the Entrance Hall.

They sat near Ginny's brother and his friends, politely quiet throughout the Sorting ceremony, though by this point Valentine was so hungry that she tapped her fingers impatiently against the table. Every time a Ravenclaw was sorted, two sets of clapping sounded from the Gryffindor table. She had always found it odd that other people didn't take advantage of the fact that sitting at the wrong table was merely frowned upon.

When Dumbledore told them to "tuck in", Ginny took to the job of putting food on her plate. By now she knew exactly what Valentine liked, and it was just a job of arranging the plate and telling her what was there. Valentine smiled at her when she was done, and began eating the green beans to the right.

And trying her hardest to ignore the tempting smell of meat. Goodness. Goodness.

What was happening to her?

"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," the Gryffindor ghost's voice said from across her and at least one seat to the right.

"Why? Wha' 'appened?" Potter asked, voice constricted by food.

Valentine screwed up her nose and snapped, "Don't talk with your mouth full."

"Peeves, of course," the ghost went on as Potter mumbled an apology. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast - well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilised, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghosts' council - the Far Friar was all for giving him the chance - but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down." Valentine couldn't actually remember which ghost was which, but she was interested to know why the water-balloons had been thrown.

"Yeah," Ron said darkly, "we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something. So what did he do in the kitchens?"

"Oh, the usual," the ghost went on, seeming unimpressed. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits--"

There was a small clang as something was upset. "There are house-elves here?" Hermione asked in an appalled voice. "Here at Hogwarts?"

"Certainly," the ghost replied, and Valentine strained to hear over the conversation between Ginny and Luna that was closer. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

"I've never seen one!" Hermione said.

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they? They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning... see to the fires and so on... I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

Valentine began to tune out here, paying more attention to her food than the rumble of conversation. The Slytherin table was usually the most interesting, really, for conversation. Sure, she often got insulted and told bluntly to leave, but... well, that was what made it more interesting, she supposed.

"Slave labour," Hermione's distressed voice cut through her thoughts. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labour." When nobody responded, she snapped, "Valentine!"

Valentine swallowed her mouthful and asked, "What?"

"How can you sit there and eat food made by slave labour?" Hermione asked, and Valentine shrugged. She may have cared deeply about the girl, but honestly. "Valentine, after everything Africans have been through in history, you'd really just--"

It was going to be a long meal.

*

"Baruti!" Draco called across the Entrance Hall, and his voice moved quickly closer to her. "Valentine! Have you seen Weasley? Have you?" He sounded ecstatic. That couldn't be good. "I've got something hilarious, have you--Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

He sounded too happy for this to possibly end well. She had the feeling that Ginny's groan of dread meant that she was predicting the same thing.

They needed a plan of escape.

The idiot-twins were still sniggering from somewhere behind Draco when Ron shortly asked, "What?" in a tone that said he wasn't likely to be impressed.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" Draco said in a voice so loud that a gentle hush fell over the crowd in the Entrance Hall. "Listen to this!"

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Specialist Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley, it's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" Draco interrupted his own reading, sounding delighted.

Ginny squeezed her arm. "I know you like him, Val, but..."

"Kill him if you wish," Valentine consented, and Draco rustled the paper and read on:

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with the possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved with a tussle of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of 'Mad-Eye' Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" Draco went on, voice losing the formal tone. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Valentine could practically feel Ginny seething next to her; if she wasn't snapping back, she must have been really angry.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," Potter's voice sounded. "C'mon, Ron..."

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" Draco sneered. Ginny's hand was holding Valentine's arm too tightly, and it twitched faintly. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

Valentine put her hand over Ginny's trying to steady her, and wondered if Draco was about to get his arse kicked. Really, boys that weren't particularly physically strong should never pick fights. It was just basic knowledge.

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" Potter asked. "That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter," Draco warned.

Valentine felt the need to join in. "Leave her out of it, Potter," she snapped, then wondered if she was actually making things worse.

"Keep your fat mouth shut then," Potter said, turning around, and Valentine was just reaching for her wand to disarm Draco when--

BANG. Too late.

A second BANG sounded just after it, and Valentine wrenched her arm away from Ginny--it wasn't coming from the right direction to be Potter--

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" another voice cut through.

"What happened?" Valentine asked, putting both hands out in front of her as she took a step. "Draco? Draco? What did you--?"

"Did he get you?" asked the new voice, low and dark.

"No," Potter answered. "Missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Valentine jumped and almost fell, but was caught by unknown hands.

"Leave - what?" Potter asked, sounding confused, and Valentine ripped herself away from the person holding her. Something was wrong.

"Not you," the new voice growled, "him!"

There was a tense moment of silence, and then the thud of a wooden leg against the floor as the newcomer, the new Defense teacher, Valentine suddenly realised, began to walk in her direction.

Then a small, terrified squeak sounded, and--were those tiny scratches of paws against the stone floor--?

"I don't think so!" the Defense teacher shouted, and--smack! "I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned." Continuous sounds of something hitting the floor, squealing on the way. It was an animal. An... animal? How-- "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..."

Valentine shook once, hard, then shouted at the top of her lungs: "WHAT IS GOING ON?" She was not going to be ignored just because she was blind, someone was going to tell her what the Hell--

"It's Malfoy," Ginny whispered, having moved slightly closer again as the Defense teacher continued to speak. She sounded in shock. "He's--transfigured Malfoy--"

"Professor Moody!" McGonagall's voice cut through the surprise.

Valentine stood still, all of her muscles having stiffened in shock, and her useless eyes widened.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," the Defense teacher replied, over the sound of a small body being hit against stone--

A small body. Being hit against stone.

Valentine wrenched herself into action. "STOP," she screamed, throwing herself toward the Defense teacher. "Stop, NOW, TURN HIM BACK--"

"Miss Baruti, unhand--Moody, is that a student?" Professor McGonagall shrieked, as Moody held a panicking Valentine at arm's length.

"Yep," he grunted, and Valentine took a leaf out of Draco's book and kicked. "Get off--"

"No!" McGonagall cried, and after a brief moment there was a popping noise that indicated-- "Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment, and Valentine Baruti unhand him at once! This is a school, and not a place for THIS KIND OF BEHAVIOUR!"

Valentine let go of Moody, feeling humiliated and frustrated. She was going to get him, he would pay--

And then Draco's voice, quiet and mumbling, was music to her ears.

"Draco!" she gasped, throwing her body in his direction. Her aim was slightly off and she stumbled, but he caught her--must have been in shock, he'd have let her fall any other time--

When McGonagall's voice stopped shouting, Draco said something lowly about his father, arms still full of Valentine. The dull clunk of the Defense teacher's wooden leg approached them again, and he said, "Oh yeah? Well, I know your father of old, boy... you tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son..." And Draco shook against her.

"SHUT UP," Valentine screamed, panicking again. "SHUT UP, YOU EVIL, YOU COWARDLY SON OF A--"

"Miss Baruti!" McGonagall shouted, silencing her, "Fifty points from Ravenclaw!" There was another stretch of silence, and Draco was still holding her a little too tightly.

Then the Defense teacher took another step. "Finley Valentine's daughter, are you? Disappointment, considering the parents you had."

"Don't you dare--" Valentine pulled harshly away from Draco. "Don't you dare, you foul--Call him a coward, do you?" She was still shaking, couldn't stop shaking. "Where's the bravery in transfiguring your opponent and then attacking him, then? Huh? Where's the--"

"Miss Baruti, Dumbledore's office, now," McGonagall snapped. Valentine didn't move. "Now!"

She turned and took a step in McGonagall's direction, before the Professor grasped her arm and led her away. There were books scattered on the floor, and she staggered over them, still feeling vicious and angry and she was going to have him fired for DARING to touch Draco Malfoy--

It took a long time to walk to Dumbledore's office. They had been on the ground floor, after all, and had to go all the way to the seventh before going up the stairs in the tower. McGonagall was silent the entire time, and Valentine couldn't stop herself from shaking, even when she had calmed her anger somewhat.

That wasn't very Ravenclaw at all, she realised, feeling apart from her occasionally stumbling body. Goodness. That was actually very Gryffindor of her.

And she hoped that Draco made his way to the hospital wing, because--that crazed, stupid, cowardly man could have broken one of his ribs or something--

When they were about to go into Dumbledore's office, McGonagall hesitated. "Am I going to be expelled?" Valentine asked, the sudden realisation of what could happen settling over her.

"No, Miss Baruti," McGonagall answered, and did not elaborate. "Twenty points to Ravenclaw."

"For what?" she asked, still trembling.

McGonagall was silent for another moment, then answered: "For knowing when you should stand up to authority, even if a Ravenclaw should be able to think of a more... productive approach."

Valentine shuddered, and then shook some more.

*

The morning after Cedric was picked to be Hogwarts' champion, Valentine ran into Ginny's brother outside of Ravenclaw tower. Literally.

Once she had regained her balance (well, okay, once he grabbed her before she could fall), Valentine spat a thin braid out of her mouth and glared. "What the Hell, are you blind or something?" she asked, pulling away from the body.

"Er, no. Sorry." She recognised Ron Weasley's voice immediately and her attitude lightened.

"Weasley," she greeted, smiling. "What're you doing up here?"

Ron cleared his throat, and then asked, "D'you know if Ginny's in there? She's not in Gryffindor or at breakfast." He didn't sound his usual self.

"No," she replied, quietly, wondering what was wrong. "Luna's not in either, so they're probably together. Is there--Is there a reason you wanted her? I can always pass on a message if I happen upon her."

Ron sighed. "No, it's all right."

He didn't make to move away, and so Valentine didn't, either. "Are you?" she asked. "All right, I mean?"

"'Course I am," he answered, and his voice descended as he sat down. "Why're you on your own? Doesn't someone normally--"

"Cedric's meeting me just here," Valentine said, and promptly sat down next to Ginny's brother. "So, tell me what's wrong." It was a demand, this time, and not a question.

For a long time, Ron didn't answer, which was fine because she had been early anyway. He just sat there, occasionally making a noise as if he were about to speak. She didn't push him, just leant her head back against the wall and waited. For once she actually felt patient; perhaps it was the elation at Cedric becoming a champion.

"It's Harry," Ron admitted eventually. "He won't even tell me how he got his name in the Goblet - and he's meant to be my best mate."

Valentine nodded. "If it was me, I would have gotten an older student to do it," she commented, unhelpfully. "Not that I would have. I mean, can you imagine me in a life-threatening situation? I can't even swim."

"I know he doesn't want everyone to know that he did it, but it's me. And he always gets everything," he said, sounding slightly bitter. There was a pause. "Why am I even telling you?"

Valentine shrugged. "I'm not a bad listener. And I'm not Potter's biggest fan, like your sister, you know." She actually thought Potter was a prat, putting his name in for the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric was the rightful Hogwarts champion. "Maybe you should talk to Draco. He was ranting last night about how Potter's such an attention-seeker, and--"

"Don't ever suggest that I talk to Malfoy," Ron scorned, but he actually sounded amused. "I don't even know how you put up with him, and you're..."

Valentine tilted her head to one side, letting the pause play out. "I'm what?" she asked, and Ron stayed silent. "No, really, go on. This is just getting interesting."

"Well," Ron said, a little slower than he usually spoke, "some people say that you're practically a Slytherin."

She smiled a little, thinking this through. "The Slytherin common room's a bit too cold for me," she ultimately decided.

The footsteps sounding from around the corner may have been Cedric's, so Valentine stretched and stood, waiting. "Hey, V," Cedric greeted, pulling her into a quick hug. "You wouldn't believe--you've got to come down to Hufflepuff--Oh." Cedric pulled away from her. "Do you need a minute?"

"No, it's all right, I'm coming," she said, and looked down in Ron's general direction. "If you need to talk about him, you know where to find me," she said, and took Cedric's arm.

"Yeah, thanks," Ron said as she walked away, and Valentine consciously thought that she would put an effort into making sure he was okay later.

For now, well. She had a Tournament to look forward to, and Cedric would need her help.

*

"They say 'Support Cedric Diggory, The Real Hogwarts Champion'," Draco explained, as he pinned the badge to Valentine's robes. "And if you press the badge, it says "Potter stinks." He snickered, and Valentine laughed with him - partly for the message, and partly because Draco thought he was being witty. Moron.

"You should give them to the Hufflepuffs, too," she pointed out, and he pulled her away from the Great Hall. "Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you to the third floor," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I have to be down in the dungeons in time to see Potter's reaction." He snickered again, and Valentine pushed him gently.

"I want to go to the dungeons," she insisted, trying to pull him in another direction that may or may not have been toward the dungeons. "C'mon, I'll only be a little late to Charms, I want to be there."

She was ready to have a tantrum if he refused, but Draco didn't actually resist. Instead, he changed direction to go to the downward staircase, and counted the steps downward for her.

The Slytherins were already gathered outside of the Potions classroom, chatting happily amongst themselves. "Valentine!" Pansy's voice called above the rest, and then her cool fingers folded around Valentine's wrist. "Have you come down to see--what is that?" She poked the other badge on her chest.

"Hermione Granger gave it to me," Valentine said, happily. "Something about house-elves and slavery." When Pansy made an annoyed noise, Valentine added: "It's not like I can read them, I just like badges. They're all shiny and nice to the touch."

"You're insane," Draco pointed out, finally letting go of her arm. Some more footsteps approached, but judging by the reaction, they weren't Potter's.

"Hey, Valentine," Ron Weasley's voice sounded, and Valentine turned toward him with a smile. "So--Support Cedric Diggory and Spew?"

"I can't see what they say, who cares."

Pansy, however, scoffed. "Who do you think you're talking to, Weasley?" she asked, disgusted. "She's one of ours."

Valentine wanted to point out that she was actually neither of theirs, but instead chose to ignore the statement entirely. "Still pissed at Potter?" she asked. "Have a badge! Draco has loads."

"Er, no thanks," Ron replied, voice showing his discomfort.

Valentine laughed excitedly and continued, "No, really, Ron, look!" and promptly pressed the wrong badge before feeling for the larger one.

"Like them, Potter?" Draco's voice called from behind her. "And this isn't all they do - look!"

Valentine changed her badge as the rest of the Slytherins laughed - presumably doing the same. She grinned in Ron's direction, then began to laugh with the others.

"Oh, very funny," Hermione said, "really witty."

"Want one, Granger?" Draco offered, and for one shining moment, Valentine was proud of him. And then he had to open his stupid mouth again. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see, don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

Valentine went to hit Draco, but hesitated when Hermione's voice called, "Harry!"

Confused, she withdrew her hand and frowned.

"Go on, then, Potter," Draco baited quietly. "Moody's not here to look after you now - do it, if you've got the guts--"

At the exact same time the two of them shouted curses and Valentine, feeling a strange burst of energy in the air, ducked quickly.

After a moment, Pansy burst into laughter and Valentine straightened up. Hermione whimpered and Ron called her voice, and in the middle of a mess of noise, Valentine stood, confused.

It was Hermione's terrified cry that made her burst into action, moving toward the noise. "What's happened?" she asked, reaching for Hermione.

"And what is all this noise about?" Professor Snape's voice was soft and threatening, and silence was imminent - apart from Pansy's laughter. She always did laugh at inappropriate times; it may have been a significant part of their friendship.

But right now, Valentine did not feel like laughing. She was still moving with her hands out, trying to reach the small noises Hermione was making.

The Slytherins burst into action, each trying to explain what had happened, until Snape said to someone, "Explain."

Valentine's hand closed over Hermione's shoulder, and she tried to pull her closer, but it appeared that someone else was holding her.

"Potter attacked me, sir--" Draco began to explain.

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Potter shouted, from Valentine's direct left.

"And he hit Goyle--" Draco went on, "look--"

Valentine couldn't have cared less about Goyle, but Hermione was standing shock still and not responding to her at all. It--It sort of reminded her of first year.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape calmly demanded.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron exclaimed from near Hermione, and proceeded to struggle with her. "Look!"

Pansy was now not the only person laughing. Valentine found Hermione's hand and squeezed. "Hermione, Hermione, what's wrong--?" she asked quietly, feeling somewhat helpless.

"I see no difference," Snape pointed out coldly, and Hermione whimpered before pulling away. Her steps sounded heavy - she must have been running - and then Valentine was running after her.

She got about three steps before slamming into another body, who quickly pushed her away.

Potter and Ron were both yelling, their voices distorted from echo of the labyrinth of dungeons, and Valentine tried her hardest not to panic. Not to--panic.

"Let's see," Snape went on, as if ignoring their raised voices. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley, and ten points from Ravenclaw for skipping class." Valentine shrugged; she wouldn't be missing much in Charms, and it was just replacing the extra points McGonagall gave back, anyway. "Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions. Mr. Malfoy, you can have the task of walking your blind friend to her classroom."

Valentine balled her fists and stood still until Draco's fingers brushed against her elbow. Then she sprung into action, walking forward without caring that she could be heading for a wall.

"C'mon, Valentine, it wasn't my fault," Draco said in an unapologetic tone, hand closing around her forearm and leading her by force. "Potter tried to hex me, too."

"I don't care about Potter," Valentine replied, and both voices were silent until Draco counted the steps up for her. "What did you even do to her?" she asked, snarling slightly.

"Densaugeo," Draco answered, sounding pleased. "Makes teeth enlarge. Hardly a coincidence that it hit Granger then, is it?"

Valentine, who had heard Draco laughing about Hermione's apparently unattractive front teeth, glared ahead of her into the darkness. "You should have hit Potter."

"You're reprimanding me for attacking at the same time as Potter?"

"Yes," Valentine replied stiffly, and tried to pull her arm away from his hand. She failed.

"If you want you can write me a poem about your pent-up frustrations," Draco said, sounding irritatingly ambivalent, "but for now, please let it go."

Valentine made a small, thoughtful noise. "Yeah, I'm gonna slap-a-bitch."

"Wait, wha--?" Smack. "... Ow."

Valentine led them back into a walk, shrugging her backpack from her left shoulder and pushing it in front of his chest. "Carry my books, cretin."

*

"I still can't believe she said yes," Cedric said once again, walking Valentine to the Great Hall. Valentine laughed and tilted her head back, and Cedric's hand swung with hers. "She said yes, Val."

"She would have said yes if you'd asked her two years ago you know," Valentine pointed out.

"To a Yule Ball that didn't exist yet?" Cedric joked, then twirled her. Valentine stumbled, but caught her step quickly. "What's the matter, Val, don't dance?"

"Can't dance," Valentine replied, and laughed as he span her again. "Good thing I'm too young to go then, isn't it?"

"I would have asked you if you said you wanted to go," Cedric said, and spun her once more before pulling her toward him, as if they were doing some elaborate dance. Valentine stumbled again, awkwardly, and leant her forehead against his chest.

He smelled like snatches of sunlight. "Nah," she replied. "I wouldn't go with you. Your friends already think you're odd for having a thirteen-year-old friend, for goodness' sake."

They began to walk again, still swinging their hands. "Best friend, V."

The noise of the chattering students increased as they passed the threshold to the Great Hall, and she half expected Cedric to let go of her hand. He didn't, and her smile widened as she asked, "Can you see Draco?"

"Course," Cedric responded. "It's hard to miss that blindingly blond hair. Gryffindor."

Valentine tilted her head, and Cedric automatically led her to Gryffindor; he knew who to take her to in the Hall when she asked for them. "What's he doing at Gryffindor?"

"Trying to start a fight, I imagine." Cedric lowered his voice as they approached the table. "Right brat, your Malfoy."

"I know," Valentine replied, and when Cedric stopped altogether, she tightened her hold on his hand before letting it go. "Go. After dinner, we're figuring out that clue. You're not getting burned next time."

"There isn't that much to figure out about that noise," Cedric insisted, then tugged on a few of her braids. "See you after dinner."

Valentine turned to the Gryffindor table and sat down in the seat she accidentally knocked into, tuning into Draco's voice a few paces away. "--Can't work up the guts to ask a girl, can you? Maybe you should ask the Mudblood, I bet she'd be glad for any date she could get--" Yup. Baiting again. Valentine was opening her mouth to scorn him when she heard something unusual.

Two voices approaching, a low murmur, one unmistakably the bossy tone of Hermione Granger and the other--

The other was Pansy. "It's not that I'm against religious ethics, Parkinson--"

"It's not religious ethics, Granger, we're not muggles," Pansy pointed out. "It's just how I--Valentine, if you were pregnant at this age, what would you do?"

"I would name it Pansy," Valentine replied affectionately, as Pansy leant over her to sort out a plate of food. "Who's pregnant?"

"Nobody's pregnant, it's ethics," Pansy replied, at the same time Hermione asked, "What if you had a boy?"

Valentine thought for a moment, then frowned. "Then he would be very unfortunately named."

"Oi, Valentine," Draco called to her.

Pansy tutted. "Don't oi, Draco, it's unbecoming," she said, "and why are you over here? Becoming a Gryffindor, are you? I told you it's contagious."

"Potty and Weasel here reckon I can't ask a girl out, but I'm not as pathetic as them," Draco commented, and Valentine considered saying something about being ashamed that Ron would give in to Potter so easily.

"If you're going to ask, I will repeat what I said to Leonardo earlier: great strength is a seed in the soil of rejection." She paused. "Also, I'll be going with someone I can stand."

"Pansy," Draco said carefully, "though we both know that if neither of us found dates we'd be going together, I'm actually not that interested." While Pansy huffed, Draco raised his voice a little more. "So, Valentine Harper Baruti, go to the Ball with me?"

Valentine shrugged. "I don't have any dress robes," she pointed out, "and I can't dance."

"The soil of rejection," Pansy said knowingly.

"I'll take care of it," Draco brushed her excuses off. "So?"

Valentine shrugged. "Sure. But I think you should go back to the Slytherin table; I can feel all the red and gold hatred directed at you, and your hair gel is flammable. Inflammable. Flam--? It'll set on fire."

Draco and Pansy left around the same time that Luna and Ginny showed up. Valentine was surprised (and pleased) to hear Luna and Pansy greet each other by first name.

It was looking up.

"I'm going to the Yule Ball with Draco," Valentine told her friends as they sat down.

"He asked?" Ginny said in a surprised tone. "I thought he'd ask Pansy Parkinson."

Ginny and Luna began to discuss the pros and cons of an unholy relationship between Pansy and Draco, and Valentine (not wanting to think about the potential for murder) tuned into the conversation on the other side of her.

"I know who I'm going to ask," Potter admitted uncomfortably. "I just..."

"It's all right, Potter," Valentine cut in, sympathetically. "The worst she can do is say no. Well, the worst would be murder you, but that's not an easy feat, I hear. And there's plenty more girls in the sea."

"Fish," Hermione corrected her.

Valentine blinked. "Where?"

"There are plenty more fish in the sea," Hermione said, sounding bewildered.

Sighing, Valentine replied, "That's irrelevant, Hermione; Potter needs a girl, not a fish."

She was surprised when Hermione laughed at her, but still smiled.

The rest of dinner went peacefully. Ginny and Valentine talked about Herbology plants and ways to remember the names, and Luna read an extract about the Triwizard Tournament (and what it was there to distract people from) to them from her Quibbler. Ginny pretended to be interested, but Valentine knew it was amusement that she was hiding.

Toward the end of the meal, when Valentine was waiting for Cedric to return and pick her up, Pansy's voice sounded from behind her again. "Luna, could I talk to you for a moment?"

Luna sounded surprised as she answered, "Of course you can," in a dreamy voice and walked away with her.

Ginny, a smile in her voice, asked, "I'm the only one that she doesn't like, aren't I?"

Valentine nudged her with her elbow. "She doesn't like anyone, she just doesn't like us less than most people."

*

"It's beautiful. Close your eyes," Pansy suggested as they walked into the Slytherin fourth year girls' dormitory.

Valentine stopped walking in order to raise her eyebrows at her, but was pulled along before long. When they had walked several paces into the dormitory, they stopped. "What colour is it?" Valentine asked, reaching a hand out. Pansy took her hand and guided it to where the dress robes were laying on the bed.

"Pale yellow," Pansy replied. "He's wearing black. It's--the contrast, I think. The ponce. And there aren't any frills. I told him to get frills, but--"

"Getting the picture, Pans," Valentine pointed out, running her hand down the soft material. "It feels nice."

"It's organza, and it's worth several hundred of you," Pansy said, and Valentine screwed up her nose at the words. "I have a gift for you, too."

She'd already given Pansy an astronomical moving model of the galaxy in a glass ball (stating happily, "If you shake it, it rattles!"), and when Pansy had mentioned giving her a gift later, she had a faintly amused tinge to her voice.

"Well there's two parts, actually," Pansy went on, voice moving across the room. "And it's not books, for once."

"I like books," Valentine replied, picking up the pile of material and trying to figure out where the neck was.

Pansy took it out of her arms before long and handed her a rectangle box. Valentine, now curious, opened it with a quick snap and felt the pendant inside. "A bird?" she asked, pulling it out of the box, the chain following.

"It's a raven," Pansy said. "I know it's stupid and sentimental, but I couldn't just give you this." And then a scarf was pushed into her hands. "You're officially an honourary Slytherin."

"A Slytherin scarf?" Valentine asked, laughing. "Goodness, Pans, if anything, that's stupid and sentimental - but maybe I won't get kicked out of the common room anymore." It was happening less and less now, anyway. It seemed that all of the houses were getting used to having her, Ginny and Luna around.

She had originally planned to get ready with Ginny in Ravenclaw, but had decided against it to not rub it in that Luna wasn't going, so instead they had split up. She had almost convinced Ginny to come down to Slytherin, too, but--well, when was that ever going to work?

"You're going to have to hurry up," Pansy pointed out as she helped to clasp the eagle necklace around her neck. It fell with a slight weight, the thin chain cool against her neck. "I've got to make myself up too, you know."

All in all, getting ready (mostly with Pansy's help; she could hardly find one end of the layered dress robes from another) took around an hour. After all, she didn't want much makeup on - she couldn't see it anyway and it made her face feel weird - and there wasn't anything to do with her dreaded braids. Most of the hour was spent following Pansy around.

And while Pansy had gone for a slow walk down the stairs (in proper going-to-a-Ball fashion), as soon as Valentine stepped out of the dormitory and heard Draco's voice she shouted, "You, Draco Malfoy, how much did you spend on these robes?"

Draco apparently ignored her. "You look--"

"Yeah, yeah," Valentine cut him off, feeling uncomfortable in the expensive robes. "Let's just--Pansy, who are you going with?" Pansy was clutching her arm, and was already pulling her out of the Slytherin common room.

"We're meeting in the Entrance Hall," Pansy replied; she hadn't told anyone who she was going with, as far as Valentine knew. "Say thank you to Draco for the robes, Valentine - common courtesy, really."

"Er, yeah," Valentine said, and stopped just as they'd left the common room, waiting for Draco to catch up, then smiled brilliantly at him. "Thank you for the robes, Draco, but if you ever spend this much on me again, I'll--what is it you say, Pans? Rip you apart with my nails and your thoracic inlet." Her smile didn't fade at all.

"You're both bloody insane," Draco replied, and took Valentine's other arm.

The walk to the Entrance Hall saw Valentine stumble three times, as an excited Pansy was walking too fast for her. Draco spoke in her ear every now and then about how he bet Pansy's date was a Hufflepuff and that was why she was being so discreet, but Pansy only laughed at his attempts to have her own up.

Students were waiting in the Entrance Hall for the Ball to open at eight, all chattering amongst themselves. Valentine automatically placed Ginny's voice with Neville Longbottom's, and she had the feeling she and Draco were attracting strange looks. They can't have seemed the average dates, the fascist boy and the half-blood, but Valentine couldn't think of anyone she would rather have come with.

"There you are," Pansy said, suddenly pulling her hand away from Valentine's arm. "I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to walk into the Ball on my own."

Valentine's head shot up, and Draco said, "Er," quietly from next to her.

"I've been here for ten minutes, I was waiting with Ginny and Neville--did you see the mistletoe? They're very prone to Nargles, you know," Luna's voice replied. "You look very nice, Pansy."

"Thanks," Pansy responded, sounding amused. "What on Earth is that in your hair?"

Valentine was silent, and felt that Draco's stiffness beside her displayed that he was silent for the same reason.

"They're pansies," Luna said, and Valentine finally let out a small laugh. "Pansies are my favourite flower."

"You two came together?" Valentine asked. "As dates?"

"Pansy," Draco added, "are you seriously stating that you're a... you know, an invert?"

Valentine, who was about to say something else to Pansy and Luna, suddenly stopped and turned to Draco. "What?"

"Y'know," Draco replied, and then his voice dropped to a stage whisper, "she flies on the other side of the Quidditch pitch."

She spent a few more moments facing Draco, then shook her head slowly. "Are we not allowed to say 'homosexual' or something?"

Pansy scoffed. "I am not homosexual. I just have better taste in girls than you do, Draco."

Valentine laughed for a moment, then stopped and shouted, "Oi!"

"Don't 'oi', Valentine," Pansy scorned, just as someone's arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind. Valentine jumped and almost stumbled, but the arms held her steady.

"V," Cedric said in her ear, sounding happy. "I figured out the clue."

"On your own?" Valentine asked, letting go of Draco in order to turn and face Cedric. "What was it? What's the next task?"

"Champions over here, please!" Professor McGonagall's voice called out. Cedric squeezed her and then let go.

As long as it wasn't dragons again, Valentine thought, then it would be just fine. She'd had a panic attack at the first task; hopefully this time it wouldn't be so ridiculously dangerous. She didn't fancy sitting in the first-aid tent, trying to get her breathing back to normal again, while her best friend tried not to get himself killed.

Though she had admittedly enjoyed the grin in his voice as he gave the small moving model of the Swedish Short-Snout. The one gift that she had from her mother was a tiny carving she had made of a lion that lived in the bottom of her trunk, and the two models were now sitting by her bed together.

It wasn't long after Cedric's leaving before the doors to the Great Hall were opened and students were allowed through.

She found Draco's arm again, and Pansy began to chatter away to Luna. "Taste?" Draco muttered to her as they walked into the Great Hall. "Loony Lovegood of all--oh Merlin."

"What?" Valentine asked, as Draco stopped their pace. "What is it?"

"Have you seen Granger? I mean--never mind." Draco waited another moment, and then began to walk again.

Valentine sighed. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing, actually," Draco replied slowly, and led her back into a walk. Valentine wondered what he meant, what was happening with Hermione, but she supposed it couldn't matter too much or Draco would have thought up an elaborate insult (or regress back to 'Mudblood', at least).

When they sat, it was close to Pansy's voice. Ginny and Neville were somewhere nearby, though whether they were on the same table or not was hard to tell. All she knew was that she got a quick and amused, "Hey, Val, who knew you were actually a girl?" that left Valentine laughing sarcastically and flipping her off.

Honestly. She was small-built and strong (and she wasn't fourteen for twenty-six days, so not having a much of a chest was fine), but she was certainly a girl. She was wearing yellow and Pansy's white heeled boots, thank-you-very-much, Ginevra.

Valentine had learnt early on how to fade Draco's voice out, and when she picked up his one-sided conversation again, he was talking about the food. "Just look at your pl--er, just tell your plate what you want from the menu. Should I read it to you?" He sounded as if it would irritate him if she said yes, so she smiled and shook her head.

She reached down and struggled with the robes for a moment, before pulling her wand out of Pansy's boot. A moment later, she was whispering, "Rexeto Designo," and running it down the menu.

It was certainly different than what was usually served at Hogwarts. There were foods from all around the world - especially emphasising French and Southern European foods, but as well as that there were foods she recognised as Chinese and Indian and--oh goodness.

"Draco," Valentine said, in a slightly shocked voice. "Draco, you've got to try this." She turned her face downwards, and following everyone else's tones, told her plate, "Chakalaka and samp!"

Draco's voice sounded less sure as he repeated her request.

One thing that she liked about Hogwarts was the vegetarian food. Botswana, though her country was beautiful and there was nothing like their sun, held meat as a very popular food. Sometimes she felt like the only vegetarian in the country. But chakalaka - now there was a food she missed. She began to eat slowly, savouring the sharp spice, and could almost imagine that she was sitting outside of the small food joint her aunt loved in Johannesburg--

"Valentine!" Draco shouted, and judging by the noise dropped his fork. "That's hot--"

She had something sarcastic on the tip of her tongue (mild little white boy can't handle a bit of spice), but couldn't get it out through the laughter. "Have some milk," she eventually suggested, and Draco quickly ordered it and began drinking.

She could get used to this. "My aunt always wanted me to learn to cook," she said, "but thanks to my father I have Britain in the blood, and British girls use microwaves."

"What business is it of hers, anyway? You'll be staying in Britain once you're done with Hogwarts," Draco replied, voice sounding a little strained thanks to the hot food.

Valentine raised an eyebrow. "I will, will I?" she asked, then shook her head. "I think if I said something like that, she'd send me something awful."

"What, an army of cattle?"

Valentine snorted. "What makes you think she has cattle?"

Draco paused, and then replied in an amused tone: "You're African. It was either cattle or starving children."

Valentine blinked, then blinked again. Goodness. "Is that all you think we have in Africa?" She wasn't sure whether to be angry or amused; after all, Aunt Lerato did have cattle, so it would hardly be fair to--hm. "You're a moron."

"Sand," Draco answered, carefully. "Botswana's mostly desert, isn't it?"

Deciding not to be offended, Valentine smiled. "Kalahari desert. I'll take you there one day. During your summer."

"Summer?" Draco asked, surprised. "Don't be stupid. If I go at all, it'll be during winter."

Valentine sighed, vaguely annoyed at his ignorance. "Your summer, our winter," she explained simply. "I'll take you to Francistown," she promised, missing home, but not as much as she knew she should.

"When are you actually planning to do this?" Draco asked, in a tone of voice that told her he didn't plan to do it at all.

Valentine shrugged. "One day."

They were done eating before long, and Dumbledore told all the students to stand. In a burst of air and a several large noises atop each other, the floor around her was free from tables and chairs, and everyone applauded.

Valentine clapped for a moment, a questioning expression on her face. "Weird Sisters are onstage," Draco explained.

She wasn't a big fan of music, to be honest, and didn't understand other people's fascination with it - if anything, she would be listening to jazz as a preference - but when the Weird Sisters began to play, even she was slightly mesmerised. It was like nothing she'd ever heard before.

Draco nudged her. "Potter can't dance at all, honestly, he's letting her lead." Valentine nodded, uninterested, and then Draco took her hand. "Dance?"

"I can't dance," she admitted, but he was already pulling her forward. "Really, Draco. I can't--"

"Just put your hand here," he said, placing the hand he wasn't holding on his shoulder and holding her by the waist, "and follow my lead."

It wasn't so bad once she got used to it. Pansy's boots didn't help, nor did the uncomfortable length of her wand pressing against her anklebone, but revolving slowly on the spot and letting Draco do all the work was pretty easy. "Not so bad," Valentine admitted, and Draco laughed near her ear.

"You should see the Weaslette," he said, sounding amused. "Longbottom keeps standing on her feet. And Pansy's dancing with Loony; people are staring. She has no dignity."

"Leave her alone, Princess," Valentine joked, and (as punishment, she supposed) Draco turned quickly and dipped her. She laughed, and resisted the urge to kick him as he dragged her back up into place.

When the song ended, Valentine paused and readied herself for another dance, but jumped when another hand tugged on several of her braids. "Could I borrow her for a dance?" Cedric asked, and Draco's hands slipped. "Cho's on her own, if I could ask for a favour...?"

"You want me to keep your date preoccupied?" Draco drawled, sounding mocking.

Cedric, however, didn't miss a beat. "If you could, that would be great. I don't want her to feel abandoned."

Valentine was surprised when Draco made a noise of agreement and left, but the feeling was forgotten when Cedric wrapped both arms around her waist. "Having a good night?" she asked, leaning her head against his collarbone.

"Great," Cedric admitted, and she could tell through his voice. "Cho's--it's fantastic. What about you? That pointy Malfoy been treating you all right?"

"He's been the perfect gentleman," Valentine said ironically, but then decided that he had been treating her--better than usual tonight. "We haven't been bickering, so he must be in a good mood."

"I wanted to ask a favour," Cedric admitted, and they were moving a little slowly for the song, but she didn't mind. "I mean--you know Harry Potter and his friends, don't you?"

"I know Ron and Hermione," Valentine replied slowly, "but Potter, not so much."

"You know how he told me about the dragons?" Cedric had lowered his voice now, and dipped his head as to speak nearer her ear. Valentine nodded. "Well, Moody said--now I know how to get the clues for the second task, I can't--I'm just going to tell him to take a bath, because if you listen to the egg under water you can hear it."

"And what does it say?" Valentine asked, excited.

Cedric shrugged. "I can't--oh, Valentine, don't be like that." She had pushed away from him upon realising that he wasn't going to tell her. "Come here." She was quickly tugged back into place, and held with strong arms.

"Why won't you tell me?" she whispered frantically. "I could have helped with the dragon, and I could help with this!"

Cedric sighed. "Exactly. We're not supposed to get help. But I want to tell Potter about this, only--"

"Only you were hoping I'd do it for you, because you're preoccupied and don't really want to talk to Potter because you don't get the impression he likes you, and also you're a gigantic coward."

"If I say yes, will you do it?" Cedric asked, sounding unsure.

Valentine's mouth curled into a smile. "Tell Potter to take a bath? Sure."

"The fifth floor Prefect bathroom near the statue of Borris the Bewildered's password is Pine-fresh. Try not to be too rude." Cedric laughed and loosened his grip until they were dancing comfortably again. "So these are the robes that Malfoy picked out?" he asked, and she knew he was just trying to change the subject.

"You know him, he probably just bought expensive robes to make him look better," she said, humouring him for a moment. "Can I borrow your egg, then?"

He lifted one hand to pull a braid. "No. You'll just have to wait until February like everyone else."

"You're a terrible best friend," she said, turning her face into his collarbone. "Truly awful. I demand a refund."

He didn't reply; instead he just let out a light breath, something like a laugh, and the song ended soon after. "I should go back to Cho. You'll deal with Harry, right?"

"I will tell him to take a bath," Valentine agreed, wondering how strange it would sound when she said it and how far she should elaborate. "Where's my date?"

"Wait here," Cedric ordered, and then quickly left.

"Well, see, I was so looking forward to wandering around a packed dance-floor with my hands out in front of me, but no, you had to ruin it for me, didn't you?" she rambled, being pushed from several directions as the next song started.

The third song was almost over when Draco came back to her, sounding quite irritated. "That Chang girl..." he said darkly, taking her hand once again and leading her into a dance.

Valentine struggled to find the right pace for a moment. "Hm?"

"Chang," Draco repeated. "We were dancing and I thought she was all right, then she had to open her stupid mouth."

"Don't call Cho stupid," Valentine scorned half-heartedly, and Draco turned in a circle, taking Valentine (rather clumsily) with him. "Can you see where Potter is?"

"Walking with Weasley," Draco asked, a little too quickly. "And now they're talking to the Weaslette and Longbottom. Got sick of him stepping on her feet, did she?"

Valentine smirked - she couldn't help it - and quickly located Pansy's laughter near her, accompanied by Luna's voice. Right. "Take me to Pansy," she ordered, and Draco sighed in a slightly exasperated way (she thought she may have heard the word "girls" muttered in there, but chose to ignore it on the general principle that she was about to ask a favour), and led her to Pansy's laughter. "Pansy."

"Yes?" Pansy asked, laughter still embedded in her voice.

"I hate to break this up--no, wait, I don't care. Do me a favour?" Pansy sighed in a similar way to Draco, and Valentine began to wonder if she was really that annoying. But that would have to wait. "Could you ask someone to dance? Er, I really need to talk to Potter, so Ron, Neville and Ginny need to be distracted."

"Okay, I'm out," Draco said strongly, and promptly let go of her hand.

She flailed slightly and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back. "C'mon, Draco, it'll annoy Ron. Get rid of Ginny for me?"

"...Permanently?"

When Draco sounded thoughtful and Pansy huffed, Luna said, "I'll ask Neville," proving that she was actually in some way attached to the conversation. "If that's all right with you, Pansy?"

"Rather Weasley than Longbottom - is this really necessary? Can't we just hex them unconscious?" she asked, and Valentine laughed and shook her head. "Fine. But if he puts one hand out of line--Luna, you're my date, you do something. Talk to him about Crumple-Nose What's-its, that should do the trick."

"Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," Valentine replied, and then wondered why she should have to know the names of Luna's mythological creatures. "Come on, you'll do this, Pans. It'll be fine. One dance, and you can insult him as much as you want as long as you keep him preoccupied. In fact, I encourage insults."

"You owe me one," Draco said as he led her away, then he cleared his throat. "Weaslette, dance with me. Now."

Ginny's silence may or may not have been shocked. "But--"

"It wasn't a question," Draco pointed out helpfully.

Ron quickly snapped, "Leave my sister alone, Malfoy!"

"You leave your--oh, never mind. Weaslette. Come on." Ginny actually laughed at this point, and before Valentine had the time to even feel proud, Luna had happily taken Neville Longbottom away, and all that was left was Ron.

There was a long pause. "Pansy," Valentine warned, and Pansy tutted in retaliation.

"I'm trying to lower my standards here, Valentine, it takes time." After another few moments (in which they all stayed uncomfortably silent), Pansy went on. "Weasley, as much as I abhor you, you're going to ask me to dance."

"I'm not!" Ron argued, sounding quite offended.

Pansy didn't miss a beat. "Yes, you are, Weasel, because if you don't then I'm going to remove your eyeballs - no offense, Val - and feed them to Luna's Heliopaths."

"None taken," Valentine replied, wondering if Pansy realised that Heliopaths were mythological, or if Luna was confusing her magical creatures.

When Ron and Pansy left, Potter sounded quite dumbstruck (though it wasn't that unusual; the boy wasn't particularly bright). "Did she just threaten Ron into dancing with her?"

"Yup," Valentine answered quite happily. "You probably realised that what just happened was usual," she started, fully prepared to go on to explain the favours.

"Well, I'm not blind," Potter replied, and the stretch of silence afterwards found Valentine smirking. "I didn't mean--"

She chose to interrupt him before he embarrassed himself further. "It's fine," she said quickly. "Potter, d'you want to dance? I need to talk to you about something."

"Why would you need to talk to me?" he asked, seeming a little curious but mostly suspicious.

She rolled her eyes. "I was hoping to ramble you to death before the second task--goodness, why the Hell do you think, Potter?"

Potter paused for quite a while, and this was why Valentine didn't like talking to him; he was just so uncomfortable. "I don't dance."

"Fantastic, me neither," Valentine replied. "Are we allowed outside or something?"

Potter seemed slightly confused, but he said, "Yeah, we were... just heading outside. D'you want to--?"

"What a genius you are," she proclaimed, and extended her arm. He led her back, she assumed, to the Entrance Hall in silence, and then they slipped out into the night air.

Unfortunately, he didn't warn her where the steps were.

"Potter!" she shouted, stumbling down several steps - the world lurched before she caught herself, landing badly on her ankle, fifth step down. "You're supposed to--for goodness' sake--I can't see the damn steps!"

"I'm sorry," Potter said, a little quicker than usual. "I'm sorry, I forgot." He grabbed her arm and she almost fell again from the surprise. "Er--"

"Potter, a tip for next time: if you're walking me to the stairs, warn me before I have to take a step down. Count the steps as we walk down them, and say ground before the end. Got it?"

Potter counted the steps for her, and when they reached the bottom, she wrapped her other arm around herself. It was Scottish winter, after all, and the sun was down. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Baths," she answered happily. "The Prefect bathroom on the fifth floor's password is Pine-fresh."

Potter hesitated. "Er... That's nice."

"... Don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor." Valentine opened her mouth to elaborate on the bathroom, but Potter hushed her and she began to tune into the nearest conversation.

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff's voice replied, and Potter stopped walking altogether, his hand perfectly still on her arm. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months, I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it--"

"Then flee," Snape said simply. "Flee, I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts." Their voices were getting closer. "Ten points from Hufflepuff, Fawcett! And ten points from Ravenclaw, too, Stebbins!"

"Potter," Valentine said, and it felt too loud in the cold night. "I'm so cold I could eat a horse. Can we keep moving?"

"Did you hear that?" Potter asked, apparently ignoring her.

"And what are you two doing?" Snape asked, his voice getting closer; goodness, was he cool.

Valentine smiled brilliantly up at him. "We're out for a walk," she said.

"Potter," Snape drawled, "are you seriously taking a blind girl for a walk on an iced path? Five points from Gryffindor, and get her back inside." He continued walking, and in a moment she and Potter were alone again.

"Since when have Karkaroff and Snape been on first-name terms?" Potter asked, turning her around and leading her in the direction they came. "And why's he so...?" he trailed off thoughtfully. "What do you think?"

"I think," Valentine said, stumbling a little, "that you're walking too fast for me."

Potter slowed down so suddenly that Valentine actually slipped and would have fallen, had he not been holding her arm. "Sorry!"

"Why am I in a constant state of danger around you?" Valentine asked, partly annoyed and mostly amused. "Come on, Potter."

Potter moved at a steady pace this time. "What do you think that was about?" he asked, because apparently Potter wasn't able to think for himself.

"Maybe they're in love," Valentine suggested. "'You can't pretend this isn't happening! I can't deny it!'" she misquoted dramatically, then snorted.

Potter made an I-am-seriously-considering-calling-the-men-in-white-coats noise (or possibly an I-am-getting-really-bad-visuals noise, they were hard to tell apart), and then began to count the steps back up.

Upon remembering how the trip down those steps had been, Valentine was brought back to the reason why she had been talking to Potter in the first place. "Right. Toilets and eggs. Listen--"

"D'you think--? Malfoy said on the train that they teach the Dark Arts at Durmstrang," Potter went on, and they were inside the Entrance Hall in the warmth, but Valentine hardly noticed at all.

"Yes, Potter, that's very nice, but--"

Potter made another noise. "Dumbledore wouldn't let him in here if he and Snape were both into the Dark Arts, though, would he?"

She paused for a moment, and upon realising she was actually being asked, replied, "Dumbledore is a madman. Now--"

"I should find Ron," he went on as they entered the (significantly louder) Great Hall. "See you."

As Potter walked away, Valentine mumbled, "Yeah, great talk, Potter. Really good to know you have the capacity to listen like a normal human being!"

"Should I come back at a better time?" an amused voice asked from behind her. She had a hard time placing it.

"Sorry?" she said, turning to face the voice.

The voice laughed. "I was going to ask you to dance, but if you'd rather mumble at the champions..."

"Rain?" she asked, frowning. "Rain Vaisey. Long time no see. Well. Speak."

"Nonsense," Rain replied, and she could hear that he was smiling. "I hear you every week in Herbology, singing the plant names."

Valentine smiled. "Luna's fault," she said simply, and felt a cool, thin hand close around her own.

"Dance with me?" he asked.

"Where's your date?" Valentine asked, knowing that she should find Potter and pass on Cedric's message. She could be wasting him valuable time for preparation of the second task.

On second thought... "Daphne's dancing with a Durmstrang boy," Rain said, uncaringly.

Valentine grinned up at him. Potter could wait. "I'd love to dance. Come on."

Dancing with Rain was strange, because he didn't talk to her like Draco and Cedric had. Instead, he spun her and danced as if it were an art. Meanwhile, she stumbled and laughed and generally made a fool of herself.

Several songs passed with Rain, and though they weren't talking, Valentine found it enjoyable. However, she had to admit to feeling relief when she heard Draco's voice again.

"The Weaslette almost killed me," he said from behind her, and Valentine immediately dropped Rain's hands and smiled a quick goodbye. "Every time I insulted her brother she stepped on my foot - I swear you two are pure unadulterated evil."

"Isn't that the basis of this friendship?" Valentine replied, holding out her hands. "I didn't get to talk to Potter like I should have. Can you see him?"

Draco paused, then replied, "Sitting in a corner with the Weasel. You going over?"

She really should have. It was important, and she'd put it off already. But...

She hugged Draco closer, both arms around his shoulders, and settled into the slow music. She was fine right here.

She was more than fine right here.

"Draco, you know," Valentine started, fully intent on ruining the moment by insulting him, but she didn't get the chance.

"Shut up, Baruti," he said in his usual bratty tone, one hand tangling itself in her braids.

And then he kissed her.

Valentine pulled back in surprise to the strange feeling, and laughed a little nervously, before leaning in again. This time felt less--well, it was still strange, all soft warmth and a slow blush creeping about her cheekbones, but it didn't feel--right.

It was supposed to feel right, wasn't it? Or was that just the conclusion of Harlequin romance novels? Maybe all there was to feel was soft, warm lips and a solid body close to hers.

After a moment Draco opened his mouth gently on hers and the oddest thing happened. His tongue slid into her mouth. It wasn't unpleasant, not at all, she imagined it would be quite nice if they weren't Valentine and Draco Malfoy and oh goodness what the Hell were they doing?

All in all, the kissing lasted about thirty seconds before Valentine pulled back and began to laugh.

"That was weird," Draco said, sounding surprised. Valentine nodded and hugged him closer, resting her forehead on his shoulder as she fought to conceal her laughter.

Eventually she took in a deep breath, still grinning at--well--them, and said, "Friends?"

Draco began to snicker with her. "I really doubt we're cut out for anything else."

Valentine didn't remove her head from its position on his shoulder as they danced some more, and for once thanked goodness that she was blind; she couldn't tell for sure if she was being stared at or not. She didn't... really know if kissing were considered a big deal, to be quite honest.

"Valentine," Draco said eventually, after several bouts of laughter between them, "fancy staying in Slytherin tonight?"

She mocked a gasp, pulling away from him. "Draco Malfoy, I am not that kind of girl!"

"Oh, do shut up, Baruti," Draco snapped back. "You know what I mean. No one's going to get you in trouble if I'm with you."

Valentine smiled with half her mouth. "You want to stay up and have a girly night in? I'm up for that."

Draco sounded exasperated as he pulled her back into the dance and said, "You really are insufferable."

Yes. She was fine right here.

*

She usually slept for endless hours. Most mornings, Luna (who was rather unendurably a morning person) had to drag her out of bed.

However, the next morning she woke with the rest of the roommates. Two sets of heavy footsteps were thumping across the floor and out of the room, and Valentine screwed up her nose and turned her head slightly, before feeling a tendril of soft hair against her cheek.

Now, for most people, waking up to feel hair would have been no more unusual than any other morning; however, when your hair has been locked into dreaded braids since before you remember, the feel of soft, smooth hair can be quite the morning call.

She sat up quickly before remembering where she was. Slytherin. She had stayed up with Draco last night, lying on top of his covers and talking about anything that came to mind (from apartheid to Ancient Runes to counting extinct volcanoes in Britain).

Valentine sighed and flopped back down, hitting him with her arm as she did so. "Draco," she said, turning on her side toward him.

The bed shifted as he moved and made a low sound. "Draco. Wake up."

Yep, the sounds were definitely not agreeing with her. She reached for him and found his shoulder, then shook him. "Draco, I want to go to breakfast. Get up."

"No," Draco finally said, his voice muffled. "Go 'way."

Valentine waited for a moment, then rolled onto her back. She should just go back to sleep. It couldn't be particularly late, because she still ached with tiredness, but waking up in Slytherin was just a little--odd. "What's the time?" she asked, drawing her knees up.

Draco sighed lightly, shifted, then said, "Ask someone else," as if it took all the energy he had to speak.

"I would," Valentine admitted, "but you put silencing and locking charms on the curtains and I don't know where the wands are."

It took a few moments of steady breathing before Draco answered, and by that time she was beginning to wonder if he was even awake. "Go back to sleep."

"Take the charms off," Valentine retaliated, nudging him with her elbow. "Go on. Take the charms off. You know you want to."

He mumbled something so lowly that she couldn't hear him, then shuffled around and broke the charms around the bed. "Happy? Now go away."

She leaned heavily on him as she opened the curtain and called out, "Hey guys, what time is it?"

Silence met her for several moments, before Zabini's confused voice replied, "It's just past eight."

"Draco, I'm going to breakfast," she told the boy trying to push her away.

He finally dislodged her and she fell from the bed to the floor with a thump, laughing lightly.

"Then go," he said. She considered jumping on him to make him come with her, but eventually decided that the portraits would help her, and, well--they'd only been sleeping for a few hours.

"Can I borrow something to wear?" she asked, and to the opposing silence, went on, "I can't exactly wear my dress robes to breakfast. I can change my underwear afterwards, but I'd rather everyone didn't know that I'd spent the night somewhere other than my own bed."

"Then how is wearing Slytherin robes going to help?" Nott asked skeptically.

Valentine turned toward the voice. "D'you think that many people realise what house I'm in? Right."

Draco sighed heavily. "Go ask Pansy."

"Wake Pansy up?" Valentine replied doubtfully. "Do you remember what happened last time you tried to wake her up?"

"You have a point." He shifted, the bed making a small noise with the shift, then several noises sounded as he apparently discarded some cloth. "Here."

Something was placed on her lap, and the feel told that it was school robes. "Thanks," she said, and stood unsteadily in the layers of her dress robes, before shrugging and pulling the delicate material over her head.

"Valentine!" Draco yelled, and with a quick thump was next to her, pushing both robes into her front. "What do you think you're doing? Turn around, you three!" Valentine almost lost her balance as he forced the school robe onto her quickly. "You're in a boys' dormitory, Baruti!"

"It's not like there's anything to see," Valentine laughed, and when the robes were fastened he pushed her away and she overbalanced and fell.

He picked her back up by the arm, and pulled so hard that it hurt, but she was still too amused by his behaviour to be annoyed. "Spare toothbrush," he said, placing something in her hand and pushing her across the room and into another. "Bathroom."

Valentine stopped and laughed by herself for a moment when he walked away. How could seeing a girl in her underwear irritate him so much? Boys, she thought, reaching both hands out and tracing across the wall to find a sink. We'll never understand them.

Above that, he seemed to think she would find it important to brush her teeth before she went to breakfast on a day where she hadn't changed her underwear in... well, best not to think about that, wasn't it?

It took her a while to find something that was definitely toothpaste, and by the time she had brushed her teeth and scrubbed her face enough to feel satisfied that none of Pansy's makeup was left, ten minutes must have passed.

Draco brushed past her as she tried to find the way out of the bathroom, grabbing her by the shoulders and steering her back into the dormitory. "Stay," he said, before turning and heading back for the bathroom.

There was a long stretch of silence, then Valentine smiled and said, "Hi."

"Do you know that your underwear doesn't match?" Zabini's voice drawled, clearly aiming to embarrass her. "Red does not go with pink."

She smirked. "How am I supposed to know they don't match? I don't often ask Luna to pick out my underwear for me."

Zabini snorted, moving across the noise; his footsteps had a particular rhythm about them, like he had a unique swagger. "I can see why. She managed to turn Pansy."

"They went as friends," Valentine pointed out, shifting her weight onto her left foot.

"I wouldn't have gone with a member of the same sex, would you, Nott?" Zabini asked. Valentine found it odd, for a fleeting moment, that he didn't call Nott by his first name; however, Nott didn't seem to interact with the other Slytherins that much. Or anyone else, come to think of it.

Nott must have agreed physically somehow, because the conversation died there. The rest of the Slytherins didn't seem particularly fond of her, anyway - well, that wasn't entirely true. Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid to dislike her, and mostly just did whatever Draco ordered, and dancing with Rain Vaisey last night had hardly been unfriendly.

And to be perfectly honest, most of the Slytherins in her year just avoided her. Leonardo had always been quick to comment, and the girls still laughed at Luna's more--eccentric features, but Valentine had begun to notice them laughing at her less and less.

It must have come down to who Draco's father was. She had vague protection by default. Didn't they realise that Lucius Malfoy hated her?

"You're never staying here again," Draco said as he exited the bathroom. "You keep me up until five and wake me up at eight--you're just insane, Baruti. Insane." As he was rambling he crossed the room and walked back, pressing her wand into her hand.

In actuality, she used it so little that she could have just... forgotten about it. It was strange, how much she attributed to learning what she could do by reading books, and how little she actually did.

"See you Zabini, Nott," she said as Draco pulled her out of the room. Neither of them replied.

Draco counted the steps down for her, as per usual, and when she got to the bottom she tripped on his robes, which were an inch or so too long for her.

He kept pushing her on their way to the Great Hall. It rather reminded Valentine of her first year, where he had disliked her greatly and pushed her around in the halls. Not that the occasional bratty hit had died out, but he was holding her quite securely even when he pushed her, and it was upsetting her balance greatly.

"Stop it," she was still mumbling as they came up to the Entrance Hall, and he shoved her and then pulled her back quickly once again. "Stop it, it's early!"

"You woke me up," Draco argued, throwing an arm around her shoulders. He was displaying an odd mix of morning grumpiness and a good mood. "And if you do it again I will kill you to death."

Valentine snickered and fell into him slightly; she knew she'd been affecting him. He was getting stranger by the day. It was as contagious as Gryffindority. Draco counted the steps up to the Entrance Hall as if it were his second nature, and she liked him much, much better than the annoying Potter boy for it.

Speaking of. "What's the matter, Potter, lost your fan club?" Draco called out in his usual tone, and Valentine almost went to pull him away from an argument before remembering her promise to Cedric.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Potter's voice replied, and it was up and up and to the right; Valentine swore gently before disentangling her fingers from Draco's and taking off in Potter's direction.

"Stairs, Baruti!" Draco suddenly called out, voice panicked, and Valentine had just about long enough to remember that Potter's voice had come from up before tripping over the first step and hitting her forehead against another.

Draco's laughter was coming from behind her, and threw a glare and a "go to breakfast, you ponce" over her shoulder before standing up and taking the stairs clumsily. "Potter!" she yelled to him, and when he replied hesitantly it was too late and she was too close and they were both tripping on the stairs. "Ow."

"Are you trying to kill me?" Potter asked, and Valentine sat up and rubbed her forehead. Only she would have the bad luck to hit her head twice on the same staircase.

"In a public place?" she responded. "What do you take me for, a Gryffindor?"

Potter made another you're-completely-insane noise. "What do you want?"

"Is Draco still waiting?" she asked, sitting more comfortably on the stairs. After a pause and a negative answer, Valentine nodded. "Right. Good. Well, Cedric asked me to speak to you."

"Yeah?" The angle of Potter's voice changed as he sat near her.

"It's about the--Potter, nobody's near us, are they?" She couldn't hear anyone, but Valentine certainly didn't want to get Cedric in trouble for cheating.

Potter paused, then replied, "No, there's nobody here. Why...?"

"Second task," she interrupted, leaning her hand against a cold step. "The clue in the egg? You need to listen to it underwater. Cool, right?"

Potter's silence felt startled, and Valentine smiled brightly. "Why are you telling me this?"

Valentine shrugged. "Cedric told me to. He said that the Prefect bathroom on the fifth floor's password is Pine-fresh. Don't go there tonight, though, Draco and I are going there tonight." Upon hearing about the huge bathtub, Draco was suddenly inspired to teach her how to swim. She knew how it would end up; she'd get in, cling to the side, and occasionally swear while he laughed at her.

Potter choked (on what, Valentine would never know), and she raised an eyebrow. "Er--thanks," he said eventually, sounding a tad uncomfortable. "Why does--Why'd Cedric tell you to tell me that?"

"Do I look like Cedric?" Valentine asked. When Potter stayed silent, she snapped, "Potter, that was a question!"

"Er, no, you don't look like Cedric," Potter replied, his tone of voice telling her that he thought her insane.

Valentine sent him another bright smile. "Good. Just checking. Anyway, I'm off to breakfast," she said, and stood up on the stairs.

"Why are you wearing Slytherin robes?" Potter asked, voice level with hers as he stood.

"Curses," she said lowly, then shakily began the journey down the stairs.

So people did know she wasn't a Slytherin.

*

Water water everywhere, water--water? Oh--

Valentine screamed, tried to scream, tried to--

"Calm down!" Cedric's voice shouted as he pulled her to the surface. She continued to thrash, and the water was flooding her lifeless eyes, was choking her-- "For God's--sake--" She hit him in the chest as he pinned her arms, and before the fifth hit he let go and water surrounded her once again.

Valentine gasped as she was held above water, Cedric's hands now under her arms, legs thrashing uselessly in the cold, thick water. She wasn't sure if she was scared or angry, but she couldn't stop coughing and--oh, screw it. She chose angry.

Cedric pulled her as he swam, and the water halted her breathing on every other stroke. She was shaking from the cold, and--bits of slime were clinging to the gaps between her fingers.

Someone was going to pay for this.

Before long her leg kicked something hard, and she flinched and withdrew in on herself for several moments before stretching her foot downwards again. There. There!

Solid.

Valentine snatched her arms away from Cedric and stood, water up to her armpits and wind lapping at the cold skin of her face, spat out a mouthful of bitter water and said, "Okay, now where the fuck is land?"

"Calm down," Cedric ordered, sounding partly amused which only served to annoy her more. He took her hand and led her toward the sound of cheering, until she was climbing up a muddy bank and onto the grass.

Someone was throwing a towel around her shoulders, but the entirety of her being was focused on the near-by sound of Dumbledore's voice.

"You didn't mention anything about water," she said loudly, moving toward him. "Not even a puddle." When she was close enough she grabbed a handful of the first thing she felt--his beard--and pulled him until they were face-to-face. "My vengeance will know no limit."

"Miss Baruti!" Professor McGonagall's voice scorned, but Dumbledore was chuckling as if she had said something particularly witty and was gently disentangling her fingers from his beard.

Cedric was saying something soothing that was completely lost on her, and pulling her to the left and downward until she was sitting on a bench. "Are you--?"

"I'm not talking to you," Valentine hissed, face screwed up with the concentration it took her not to break something. "How could you do this? You know I can't swim!"

"I didn't--"

"I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU!" She suddenly had the feeling that she was being watched, and glared ahead of her into the darkness. Cedric let out a loud sigh. She hoped he didn't find it funny anymore, the prick. With every ounce of articulation for strong emotions that Valentine held, she slowly said, "Cedric, learn from this. If it ends up with me drowning, don't do it."

"What, liking you?" Cedric asked.

Feeling that he had finally gotten the point, she replied, "Precisely. Quit it."

*

"... Earth is that smell?" Valentine asked. Breakfast at any table was usually met with the sickeningly enticing smell of meat, but never-- "Is that petrol?"

"They're all like it!" Hermione said, her voice desperate. "'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you'," she quoted, and Valentine suddenly felt a wave of guilt at the fact that she had laughed hysterically at Pansy's interview about Hermione. "You deserve to be boiled in--"

"Wait!" Valentine shouted. The smell had gotten stronger. "Did you just move something?"

"Another letter," Hermione replied, and it sounded like she was about to cry. Valentine held her hand out and a soft envelope was placed tentatively there. She lifted it to her face and inhaled. "Odd," she said, even more confused now that she had found the source of the smell. "That smells like--" She tore into it from the right, then gasped.

Some sort of thick liquid was coating her hands, it felt like they were on fire--

"Bubotuber pus," she finished, voice now tight as she felt the hot liquid begin to eat at her skin--stretching, moving around new boils--

Hermione was saying something loudly and rubbing at her hands with a napkin, but the scrape of the paper was only making it worse. Valentine ripped her hands away, cupping them near her chest and gasping for breath. "Ow," she said quietly, clenching her jaws together as the pain increased. "Ow, ow, ow--"

"Valentine, Valentine," Cedric said quietly near her ear, somehow louder than Hermione's panicking. "Come on--hospital wing--"

She allowed herself to be pulled away by the elbow, Hermione still loud as she followed, her panic only serving to ebb on Valentine's own. "Sorry, I'm so sorry, that was my fault, I should--" But there was nothing Hermione should have done, and Valentine wanted to yell that it wasn't her fault, but every time she tried to say something her focus was redirected to the sting of her skin.

By the time they were hurrying up the stairs the Slytherins had somehow found them, and the voices around her were merging and arguing and--and goodness, this hurt, why would anyone send this to someone--?

Madam Pomfrey was brisk with her; she sat her down and ordered her to drink something that Draco fed to her (which didn't taste much better than the damn pus smelt), and was quickly smearing another liquid onto her raw hands. Valentine frowned as the pain slowed down to a throb, unsure of whether it was the painkiller or the paste on her hands that was doing it.

"Can't you do anything quicker?" Pansy asked, her voice tight and upset. Valentine had almost forgotten what a wuss she was when a friend was hurt. "She's still in pain, look at her!"

"You should be in class, all of you," Madam Pomfrey snapped, moving across the room. "She doesn't require four people to escort her here."

"But--"

"No 'but', Mr. Malfoy," she said. "One of you may stay for the next fifteen minutes, but three of you will go to class immediately."

"I'm staying," Cedric said stiffly from where he sat next to her on the bed. Draco scoffed at him and muttered something, but Cedric did not respond. "Go on."

"I'm so sorry, Valentine," Hermione told her one last time before her footsteps led away.

"Try to go a week without having an accident, will you?" Draco asked, and Pansy sobbed once before they left.

Valentine sighed as Madam Pomfrey wrapped her hands in something, the throbbing beginning to dull away. "Bloody wusses, the lot of them," she said, wincing and pulling her bandaged hands into her lap.

She would not admit to being humiliated at the fact that she had realised what the smell was before opening the envelope. It was a mixture of Professor Sprout's top-rate teaching and her own idiocy.

Ravenclaw. Yeah, right.

"Does it still hurt?" Cedric asked, moving one arm around her shoulder.

Valentine smiled in his direction. "Well, I've been better," she admitted; her skin still felt raw, and the burn wasn't gone. She bet she'd feel it for days.

"Better or worse than drowning?" Cedric asked her, a smile in his voice.

She elbowed him. "I can learn to swim; I'll never learn to not open envelopes that smell of undiluted Bubotuber pus."

"One can hope," he replied. "I'll teach you to swim if you want." She shook her head. "Oh, come on. My neighbour has a pool."

She rolled her eyes upward and leant against him. She could never quite place what he smelled like, but whatever it was, it was home. "Have you forgotten that I live in Africa?"

"Stay with me for a while," he suggested. "My parents'll love you and you'll learn to swim. I might even tan for once."

"You want to tan?" she asked, the idea seeming suddenly appealing. "No better place to tan than Africa. I don't suppose--?"

"It's a deal," Cedric interrupted, sounding a little surprised. "Half the summer in Botswana and half in England?"

Valentine leaned back, planning in her mind exactly where she would take him; the jazz club in Gabrone, the stalls in Francistown, and even to South Africa, Johannesburg, for her Aunt's favourite little food joint.

And in return, well. She'd cling to the side of a pool to humour him.

*

Our father.

She clasped her hands together, pulling away from Ginny. Who art in Heaven.

"Should we...?" Ginny's voice faded into the darkness, and Valentine drew in a sudden, sharp breath. Held it.

It was life, she tried to tell herself; life did this. It gave and it took away.

Hallowed be Thy name.

She turned her face away; from what, she wasn't sure, but everything was pressing in on her chest and she was going to throw up or--pass out, if she didn't start breathing again soon.

Her lungs were going to collapse. Or burst. Everything was so tight, and so dry and dark and she was going to pass out if she didn't breathe again soon.

Her hands shook and she clasped them tighter, nails biting into the skin. Her heart was palpitating, thudding in her chest, deep and heavy and she was going to pass out.

She let the breath out slowly and drew another.

"Valentine," Luna said softly, moving closer. "Are you all right?"

She had to be. She knew this--had known it when her father died. This was life. It gave and it took away. Thy kingdom come--

She wasn't at her father's funeral. She wasn't there, damn it, she wasn't-- She could still feel her Aunt's hand on her shoulder, if she tried not to, and hear that strangely hollow voice pray. Thy will be done. On Earth--as it is in Heaven.

"I--yes," Valentine replied, and her voice trembled even when she told it not to. It had been over a month, and she was still--was still. Perhaps it was the train moving steadily away from Hogwarts that was making it harder. It was the end. Give us this day our daily bread.

Or it could have been Draco. He had stayed distant since Cedric--and it was the time that she needed him most. Cho's constant crying only reminded her of what she couldn't do for relief, and--everyone was trying so hard, but none of them were doing anything.

Sometimes she wanted to scream.

Most of the time, however, she just slept. Between dinner and breakfast she did nothing else, and the weekends had seen only a handful of hours outside the dormitory. She barely remembered anything that happened over the past month, which meal was which, whether or not she had attended most classes.

"Let's find Hermione," Ginny suggested, touching her arm again. This time she didn't pull away. Didn't have the energy to stand without help.

Every movement she made felt weak compared to the slight jerks the train gave as it moved.

"Very clever, Granger," Draco's voice sounded, and Ginny and Luna pulled her toward it. There was a dull ache in her chest for him, and her footsteps sped up. She wanted to go back to the night they had spent in his bed, talking and laughing and--back when things were flawed but everything was okay. "So," he went on, "you caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favourite boy again. Big deal." There was a pause in the speech, and then they stopped walking, standing by what must have been the compartment door. "Trying not to think about it, are we? Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"

Valentine turned her face away, feeling sick. "Get out," Potter said darkly.

"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day of Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riff-raff like this!" She wanted to tell him to shut up, that he wasn't helping anything, but her mouth was dry and her throat was still. "Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back!" Valentine flinched as if she'd been hit, and her fingers uncurled from holding her hands. "Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well - second - Diggory was--"

Before she knew what had happened, Valentine was on top of Draco on the floor, smashing her fists into his chest so hard that she couldn't breath. "Don't--you--talk--about--him!" she shouted as loud as she could, and in the background two voices were cheering her on.

As suddenly as the burst of energy had came to her it was gone, leaving her panting, pushing herself away from him and sitting on the floor. "Valentine--" Draco started.

"Don't call me that. Don't call me anything," she hissed, and Cedric was gone, oh goodness, Cedric was gone. "I'm not coming back."

"You're--" Ginny said, and Valentine shook her head.

She could go to South Africa. Apartheid had broken down, and she couldn't come back here. She couldn't.

She told herself that she would write to the friends she had here, but somewhere inside of her, she knew that she wouldn't.

She was done here.

There was nothing left.

And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.