Harry Potter and the Watcher's Council

"You know, you can laugh, but I have witnessed a millennium of treachery and oppression from the males of the species and I have nothing but contempt for the whole libidinous lot of them." -Anya, "The Prom"

"Okay, Harry. This is an exercise in precision."

Harry looked from Willow, seated on a large, purple poof on the floor, to the single rose lying in the center of the room. The Defense classroom had been cleared for Harry's lesson with Willow, the desks Transfigured into large, colorful pillows. Willow blinked up at him innocently.

"What're all these pillows for?" Harry asked suspiciously. "And why are you looking at me with that expression that says, 'Don't blame me. I'm totally blameless'?" His eyes widened suddenly in realization and he frowned. "You think I'm going to, to screw up and break things!" he accused. "You've gotten rid of anything remotely fragile in case my magic goes all wonky!"

"So maybe I de-fragilized the room," Willow shrugged defensively, "but c'mon, Harry! Last week you broke my favorite quartz and even then, your shield spell, well, let's just say it was of the sucking. It hailed from suckadonia. It was probably the sheriff."

"I wouldn't say it sucked, exactly," Harry mumbled. "And you're making up words again. I'm fairly sure you cannot 'de-fragilize' a room."

"It collapsed when I shot sparks at it. Sparks!" Willow pointed out. "But don't feel too bad, Harry. At least you got it up, even if it was more of a wobbly barrier that didn't actually block anything. It took me forever to gain control over my magic," Willow added soothingly. "You wouldn't believe this Locator spell I tried..."

Harry collapsed onto the poof next to Willow's with a sigh. "All right, so I'm complete rubbish at this. What spell am I going to be failing miserably at today?"

Willow patted his hand comfortingly. "You aren't rubbish, Harry," she said, then ruined it by grinning widely. "Okay, so you are. I just wanted to say 'rubbish.' It's a funny word, isn't it? Rubbish."

"Ahem. If you're quite finished insulting your student...?"

"Right. You're going to float the rose," Willow said, excitement in her eyes. "It's a concentration thing. I figure you've been able to levitate small objects for a while now, so this should be pretty easy. The tricky part is post-levitation. You'll pluck each petal off individually."

Harry looked at her as if she'd gone quite mad. "No wonder you de-fragilized. Er, right. So how do I go about doing this?"

"Got your Defense kit?" Willow nodded in satisfaction when Harry pulled out the canister from his bag. "You need to make a protective circle. What are you going to use?"

"Salt," Harry said automatically, reciting from the first chapter of the Grimmoire. He pulled out a box and opened the lid. "Er, what kind of protective circle?"

Willow grinned. "Good question. Even if you are rubbish--" she giggled at the word, "--at least you know your basics. It's a four point star. Do you remember the design?"

Harry brow furrowed in concentration. He could picture the page of his Grimmoire in his memory containing drawings of all the different types of protective circles. There was the basic circle--obviously, he thought to himself with a roll of his eyes--the four, five, and six-point stars, the hexagram, pentagram, and so on... he could picture the five and six point stars quite easily, but his memory balked at the idea of a four-point star. Four just didn't seem to be enough to even form a star...

"Oh!" Harry said suddenly, resisting the urge to smack himself on the forehead for his stupidity. "It's not actually a star. It's a square inside a circle. But Wiccans like to call everything a star."

"Hey!" Willow protested, smiling. "I take offense to that! Anyway, Mr. Wiccan-hater, draw your star."

With a small smile, Harry stood and moved to the center of the room, where there was more space and knelt down, pouring the salt from the box in a careful circle around him. He began his star with equal care, scraping his knees along the hard stone floor as he scrambled to keep the salt flowing in a smooth, uninterrupted line. When the last grain of salt met the edge of the circle, the entire design glowed white for a brief moment.

Willow Banished the rose to the center of Harry's star. "Okay, go ahead, Harry. Hopefully the protective circle will keep your magic from going all wonky," she told him with a grin.

Harry nodded and closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. Concentrate, Harry, he told himself. It's just a rose, you can do this. It's not like she's asking you to float an x- wing or anything. Then, a bit hysterically, There is no try! Only do!

Harry took another calming breath, forcing his mind away from Star Wars and onto the rose lying in front of his crossed legs. Chewing on his bottom lip nervously, he stared hard at it, willing it to rise. He'd become quite adept at this over the past few months, but was nevertheless strangely satisfied when the rose trembled and began to twitch, rising slowly into the air until it was a few feet above him.

"Okay Harry," he heard Willow whispering as if from far, far away. All his concentration was focused on the rose, its blood-red petals shimmering slightly in the faint beams of the setting sun coming in through the windows. "Now try to pluck the petals off, one by one."

Harry's frown deepened. He imagine his fingers reaching up to touch the rose, rubbing one velvet-soft petal between his fingers before gently tugging just so. To his amazement and Willow's excitement, a single petal detached itself from the rose and floated gently down to land in Harry's hair. He tried again, and again he managed to dislodge a petal from the rose. On his third try, however, the petals remained stubbornly attached and the rose began to tremble and weave about above him. After a few more moments, the rose dropped unceremoniously to the floor, scattering the salt of his protective circle and breaking it in a bright flash of light. Petals flew in all directions, torn off by the sudden impact as the rose hit the stone flagging below.

"Well, that's one way to do it," Willow said with a grin. At Harry's disappointed look, Willow added quickly, "I'm joking Harry! That was great. You floated, you plucked... the American judge gives you three and half stars."

"I didn't finish," he pointed out. Despite his words, Harry couldn't help but feel pleased. He'd managed to do a bit of it, anyway, and at least nothing had exploded this lesson.

"You got tired," Willow said. "This sort of magic really takes it out of you. It takes a lot of concentration and energy to do stuff like this."

As Harry began gathering up his salt in large handfuls and pouring it back into his box, Willow gave him a strange, assessing look and cleared her throat pointedly.

"So," she said with an amused smile, "I hear you have big plans for Saturday."

"Saturday?" Harry asked blankly, brushing the last bit of salt into his box.

"Yes, Saturday. Otherwise known as Valentine's Day. The day of looooove. I hear you've got a hot date." Willow had that 'I'm innocent' look about her again. Harry shook his head.

"I wouldn't say it's a hot date, exactly," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"More of a lukewarm date?" Willow asked teasingly.

Harry got to his feet quickly, shoving his supplies back into his bag. "How do you know about it, anyway?" he asked self-consciously.

"Everyone knows, Harry," Willow said with a wink. "I heard Draco Malfoy telling Pansy Parkinson about it the other day during class."

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "You listen in on students gossiping?"

"Sometimes I get bored," she told him. "Anyway," she added, getting to her feet. "I just wanted to say good luck. I'm glad you're taking our advice. On being a normal kid, I mean."

"I'm trying, anyway," Harry muttered. With one last glance back at Willow, who was gathering up the rose bits and looking pleased that he hadn't smashed anything, Harry headed back to Gryffindor tower. Why, he wondered a bit despairingly, were the Slytherins gossiping about him, of all people? Surely they had better things to do with their time...

* * *

"...like drawing up their plans for world domination!" Ron said, lifting his head from his Charms essay to stare thoughtfully into the common room fire. "Or maybe how to get in with Voldemort's inner circle without having to bother with the ugly tattoo!"

"Oh Ron," Hermione said, but didn't scold him further. "Anyway, Harry," she added, not looking up from her essay, "I think it's best to just ignore the gossip. At least Rita Skeeter hasn't got wind of it yet. And Susan is brilliant."

"She's got to be better than Cho though, doesn't she?" Ron commented. "I've never seen her cry, anyway, so that's an improvement."

"I don't even know if I like her," Harry protested. "I mean, I've only ever seen her in D.A. meetings, and it's not as if we're bound to have meaningful conversations between hexing each other."

"I'm just glad you'll have someone to go round with is all," Hermione said distractedly, thumbing through her Charms text.

Harry raised his eyebrows suggestively at Ron, who made a face. "We're revising," he told Harry, his voice laced with disgust. "I haven't gotten very far on my unknown for Snape yet, and Hermione insists that--"

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione interrupted, "you can't expect to pass Potions without trying, can you? You know Snape will chuck you out faster than you can say 'helleobore' if you haven't got that unknown figured out by the end of Spring holidays."

"But Hermione," Ron protested with a smile that Harry thought was meant to be charming, but came off as a bit desperate, "I'd never say 'helleobore.' And it's Valentine's day."

Hermione snorted. "Ridiculous holiday manufactured by the candy and greeting card industries to make more money. Wizards don't even believe in saints."

"What's a saint?" Ron asked blankly.

"My point exactly," Hermione said triumphantly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do. Unlike some people, I actually care about passing my classes!"

Hermione moved to a more secluded spot in the common room, levitating her books and parchments in front of her. Harry watched Ron watch her with sympathy.

"Still no luck?" he asked.

"I'm not serious enough now," Ron complained. "Well, so what if I enjoy the occasional joke? And yes, sometimes I am known to crack a smile. But that doesn't mean I'm not serious about her."

"She's under a lot of pressure," Harry offered. "She hasn't got all the elements of her unknown figured out yet, either, and she's taking more classes than us."

"If this is what she's like now, I can't wait for next year," Ron muttered sarcastically. At Harry's blank look, he clarified, "N.E.W.T.s. If that doesn't drive her mad--well, more so than she already is, I mean--I don't reckon anything can."

* * *

Harry had never thought of Susan as much of a chatterbox--hadn't really considered her much at all, to be honest--but she proved him wrong on the long walk into the village. He found himself grinning a little at her near-incessant chatter, made at ease by the fact that it meant he barely had to talk at all. Susan, he was surprised to note, was intensely interested in politics and not at all afraid to give her opinions on everything from Magical Creature rights to the upcoming ministry elections. She and Hermione would get on famously, he thought to himself with a grin.

"So who do you favor for minister, then?" Susan asked, slightly breathless from the long walk in the cold air. Their breath plumed out in white clouds from their mouths, and Susan hitched her black and yellow scarf more tightly about her neck.

"Er, sorry. I don't even know who's running," he admitted sheepishly. "I'm really not up on current events."

"Well, Fudge is up again, of course, but he's trailing way behind in the polls, only pulling about twenty-five percent right now. There's a lot of talk around Amos Diggory. You know--Cedric's dad."

Harry nodded solemnly. He had forgotten that Cedric had been in Susan's house. He wondered if she'd known him well--he'd been quite a bit older than her.

"Er, shall we go into some of the shops then?" Harry asked. Susan was looking wistful and sad, and the last thing Harry wanted was another girl crying over Cedric to him. Besides which, the cold was really starting to get to him, even through his thick woolen cloak.

They explored the shops along the main road. Harry was delighted to find several new Weasley Wizard Wheezes products at Zonko's and bought a nice selection, including a new set of Extendable Ears and even a few Slime Slingers ("Coat your friends in goo! Fun for them and you!"). Susan bought a huge box of chocolates at Honeydukes, flushing a little in embarrassment at the sheer quantity and mumbling something about addiction. They ended up in the Three Broomsticks in late afternoon, along with most of the rest of the students.

Susan and Harry managed to snag an empty table near the fireplace. Harry pushed his way through the crowd to the bar while Susan stayed behind to protect their table. The pub was so crowded that Harry had difficulty making himself heard over the din, and returning to the table bearing two full glasses of Butterbeer was no mean feat. He managed to thread his way through the throngs of students without spilling too much down his front, only to find that while he was gone, Susan had been joined by several of her friends from Hufflepuff. He slid into the empty seat next to Susan, nodding politely to Ernie MacMillan, Justin Finch-Fletchly, and Hannah Abbott, who all gave him equally polite smiles in return. Harry passed Susan a foaming glass of Butterbeer with a questioning look.

"You don't mind, do you Harry?" Justin asked earnestly. He gestured broadly at the over-crowded room. "Only, there wasn't anywhere else."

Harry shrugged. Susan gave him a bright smile and turned to Ernie, looking suddenly determined. "Anyway, I simply can't agree with you. Diggory may be a Department head, but he's far too emotionally involved after what happened to Cedric."

"What do you think, Harry?" Ernie asked a little pompously. All four Hufflepuffs turned their eyes on him.

"Er, what are we talking about?" Harry asked, feeling suddenly nervous. He wasn't used to people asking his opinion on things.

"The candidates for Minister," Hannah explained. "Ernie favors Amos Diggory--you'll know who he is, of course. But Susan's leaning toward Amelia Bones--" "--and not just because she's my aunt!" Susan interrupted. "She's head of Magical Law Enforcement, and she sits on the Wizengamot."

"Well," said Harry cautiously, "I've met both of them. I can't say I know much about their, er, qualifications, but Diggory seemed kind of... off to me."

"What do you mean, off?" Ernie asked, irritated.

Harry flushed. "He accused me of sending up the Dark Mark. A-and he was really pretty mean to Winky," he added quickly. His evidence was starting to sound a bit self-centered and flimsy.

"Er, sorry?" Justin said with a bit of a grin. "Winky?"

"A house-elf. This was at the World Cup fourth year, mind you, and Diggory and some other Ministry officials were trying to figure out who'd conjured the Dark Mark. He was really harsh with her, made her cry and everything, until she was so disgraced that her master had to give her clothes. She was devastated."

"Humph," said Ernie. "Well I don't see what that's got to do with his potential as minister. She's just an elf--it's not as though she didn't deserve what she got."

Harry frowned. "Siri-er, a friend of mine once told me that the best way to take a man's measure was to see the way he treated his inferiors. Besides, elves are powerfully magical creatures. Dobby's saved my life more than once, and probably saved all of you from expulsion last year when he warned us about Umbridge finding out about the D.A. meeting."

Ernie flushed, but didn't back down. "You sound like Hermione. Going to ask us to join spew next?"

Harry flushed. "It's S-P-E-W," he mumbled.

"Anyway, Harry's right," Hannah said. She sent Harry a fleeting smile and leaned conspiratorially across the table to whisper loudly, "Ernie just likes to argue, even when he knows he's already lost."

Ernie flushed and the tension was broken. "Tell us about this house-elf that saved your life, Harry," Susan said eagerly, taking a gulp of her Butterbeer. "Maybe we'll join spew after all," she added with a laugh.

The walk back to the castle passed far more quickly than Harry would have liked. Most of the students started back en masse around five o'clock to return in time for dinner. Ernie, Justin, and Hannah walked a few paces ahead, discussing the latest prefect meeting, leaving Harry and Susan in relative privacy.

Harry jumped in surprise when he felt Susan's mitten-covered hand grasp his as they walked side by side. She grinned cheekily at him.

"This isn't so bad, is it?" she asked. She laughed at the confused expression on his face. Harry could feel his cheeks growing red, and hoped he could chalk it up to the cold. "I could tell when I asked you out," Susan continued, "that you were totally flabbergasted. We barely know each other, right? But, you know, I admire you Harry. And not because you're famous or any of that, but because you stand up for things. For your beliefs and your friends... you'd have made a good Hufflepuff."

Harry flushed. "Thanks," he said. Susan squeezed his hand gently, and Harry could feel himself flushing even more. "But I'm really not... I mean, I'm not all that great," Harry said earnestly. He didn't want Susan getting the wrong idea about him. "I'm moody, and loads of people think I'm barking mad, and I'd really much rather be playing Quidditch than making embarrassing speeches about how we should be above petty rivalries."

Susan just laughed. "Oh, Harry. Anyone would much rather be playing Quidditch." She wrinkled her nose suddenly, her eyes focused on a group of students several feet ahead of them. "Ugh, look," she pointed to the group with her free hand, "it's the Slytherins."

Harry craned his neck to get a better view. It was difficult to tell who belonged to which house when everyone wore their heavy winter cloaks, but in the back of the group, Harry could just make out a flash of white-blond hair poking from beneath a black ski cap--Draco Malfoy. And next to him, her freckled face tilted up toward Malfoy with a soft smile...

"What does Ginny see in that git, anyway?" Susan asked, echoing Harry's thoughts. "Blech. I can't watch. C'mon, Harry. Let's hurry past before they see us."

Susan ran ahead, pulling Harry along behind her. She turned back to look at him, her long braid whipping around, and made a face; Harry found himself laughing as they ran passed the group of Slytherins. As he tripped through the snow behind Susan, her hand still clasping his, he saw Ginny turn to watch them out of the corner of his eye. She stopped talking to Malfoy to stare, and for a moment, her expression was so lost and sad that Harry had an inexplicable urge to turn back and comfort her.

He tripped in the snow and Susan let go of him, laughing, to scoop up a handful of the stuff and lob it at his head. Harry dodged, rolling in the snow and almost knocking over a timid-looking third year, who squealed and leapt out of the way just in time. Harry paused just long enough to pack together a snowball before jumping to his feet and launching it at Susan, succeeding in giving her a face-full of snow.

Harry hurried to catch up with Susan who, from the looks of things, was preparing for an all-out snowball war as she scooped up the snow around her. Slightly out of breath, he grinned down at her, eyeing the snowball in her hand warily.

"I give up," he panted. "Truce?"

Susan dropped the snow and took his hand again, smiling. Harry couldn't help but notice that she had a very nice smile. "Alright then," she said, brushing snow from her hair. "But next time, you're going down."

When Harry looked back at the group of Slytherins, he thought he must have imagined the strange expression on Ginny's face. She had taken Malfoy's arm and was grinning up at him. Harry was just glad Ron wasn't there; the combination of snow and Malfoy touching his sister might prove too much temptation for Ron to handle.

"C'mon, Harry!" Susan said, letting go of his hand and skipping a few steps ahead. She threw a grin over her shoulder. "I'll race you back!"

* * *

Harry spent the next few weeks in a sort of contented daze. Dating Susan was nothing like being with Cho had been. There were no strange, sudden crying jags, no unforeseeable outbursts of unreasonable anger... and dating they were. Susan and her Hufflepuff friends had started sitting at the Gryffindor table at mealtimes, and sometimes Harry, Hermione, and Ron would sit with them at the Hufflepuff table. On the first day of classes after their date in Hogsmeade, Harry was surprised to find Susan waiting outside the Defense classroom to walk to Herbology with him. Harry found he quite liked spending time with Susan, who, unlike most of the people he spent time with, was calm and collected and content not to worry about what terrible things could possibly happen next.

Harry was forced to keep secrets from her--he refused to burden Susan with things like the prophecy and Ginny's betrayal--but this, too, Susan did not seem to mind. She didn't ask him for intimate details of his life or what he got up to with Ron and Hermione, and for this, Harry was grateful. He wouldn't have liked lying to her outright as well as by omission, and Susan seemed to sense this and didn't put him in that position.

Harry also quickly discovered that Susan was very good at potions, nearly as good as Hermione, in fact. As the end of winter term loomed near, Harry began to worry about the unfinished state of his unknown potion. Hermione had finished hers ages ago and was constantly nagging Ron and Harry about their own projects. She flatly refused to help them, however, saying that if they hadn't left it so long they'd have finished by now, and it would be their own faults if they got booted from potions. Harry was beginning to panic. He spent every free moment he had in the dungeons, performing test after test on his unknown, of which he was quickly running out. Finally, after nearly a week of listening to Harry predict his own death and possible expulsion at the hands of Professor Snape should he fail to finish the unknown, Susan dragged him down to the potions laboratory and set him firmly to work.

"Honestly Harry," she told him as they prepared their ingredients for the tests they needed to perform, "Snape's not so awful as all that. Surely he'd never assign an unknown that was impossible."

Harry snorted and continued to cut up his dandelion roots into small, even pieces. "You've got no idea. The man loathes me. His main goal in life seems to be to get me expelled."

"He's a professor, Harry. I'm sure he's got better things to do than think up ways to get students into trouble," Susan said, rolling her eyes. She added her carefully measured ingredients into a small cauldron, prodding its base with her wand to ignite a fire beneath it. After a few more minutes she added a drop of Harry's unknown potion to the mixture, biting her lip in concentration as she watched the reaction. The potion began to hiss and steam, spewing clouds of billowing green smoke into their faces. Harry coughed and waved at the air in front of him; when the smoke cleared, he saw Susan staring from her cauldron to the parchment spread in front of her with a frown.

Harry groaned. "What's wrong?" he asked. "It didn't work, did it?"

Susan tugged the end of her braid in irritation and sighed. "I reckon you might be right about Snape, Harry," she said in frustration. "This just doesn't make any sense! Your unknown tested positive for sneezewort, but according to your notes, it's also tested positive for belladonna."

"Er, why is that a problem?" asked Harry.

"Because you can't ever mix the two--they simply counteract each other!" Susan exclaimed. She shook her head, giving Harry a shrewd, questioning look. "Snape's really got it in for you, hasn't he? No, I don't want to know. Let's just... we'll try a few more before curfew, alright? Something's bound to come up soon."

Harry shrugged resignedly. "At this rate, we'll have tried every test known to wizard kind by the end of Easter hols. At least I'll know how to do this if it ever comes up."

They worked for another hour, diligently performing two more tests, both of which failed to turn up any significant results. Disappointed and frustrated, Harry and Susan cleaned up their ingredients and cauldrons before leaving the dungeon classroom. Susan took his hand as they headed up the dim stairs that led to the front entrance. Harry grinned in the flickering torchlight, feeling much better than now that they were out of his least favorite classroom.

"I'll just walk with you to Gryffindor Tower, then," Susan whispered, tugging him along. "It wouldn't do for you to get lost now, would it?"

"Er, alright," Harry said. They reached the entry hall and began the long climb to Gryffindor. Harry was just helping Susan past the trick step on the fourth floor staircase when a groaning, wrenching sound ripped through the relative silence of the castle.

"The staircase!" Susan hissed, grasping the railing hard to keep from falling. "It's changing."

"Rotten luck," Harry muttered. They stepped off the staircase when it finally came to a rest, only to find themselves in a corridor neither one of them had ever seen before. They had gone only a few steps when the sound of echoing voices reached them from further down the corridor. Reacting without thinking, Harry pulled Susan behind a large statue of what seemed to Harry to be a half man, half turtle, pressing his finger to his lip to indicate Susan should be quiet. Susan gave him a long, questioning look, but turned when the voices drew closer.

Harry peered through the crack between the statue's right arm and shell-covered torso. There, standing in front of a large, brightly colored tapestry of Maurice the Maligned, were Dumbledore and Snape. Dumbledore looked serious and thoughtful, seemingly considering something that Snape had just told him. Snape, meanwhile, looked as frustrated as Harry often felt lately while in Dumbledore's presence. His black eyes glittered in the dim light of the corridor, and for a moment Harry wondered wildly if Snape could see them through the statue.

Harry was distracted by the scene being played out behind Dumbledore and Snape on the tapestry: over and over again he watched poor Maurice Malbon, England's greatest medieval pastry chef, take what would be his last bite on earth from a poisoned cup cake. Harry thought it must be an awful sort of existence, being a tapestry, forced to replay the same scene over and over again. Susan elbowed him in the ribs and jerked her head in Snape's direction, clearly wondering what she and Harry were supposed to be doing here, hiding behind statues and listening in on private conversations.

Harry blinked and focused on the pair in front of him. "Perhaps you are right, Severus," Dumbledore was saying, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. "I had thought that we could protect them still, even after Sirius's...warning. But alas, I fear the time has come... yes, Harry's vision can only be construed as further proof."

"I'm glad you are seeing reason, Headmaster," Snape murmured. "It is not that I wish to show you any disrespect, sir, it is just that the information we have, from several different sources, as you know, is nearly irrefutable at this time. You know that I, above most others, refuse to put much stock into so-called visions. And we both know that that particular method of obtaining them doesn't normally yield especially trustworthy results. However, combined with Black's warning last term," here Snape paused to sneer, clearly disgusted at having to discuss Sirius, "that all is not as it appears, I believe it is imperative to begin preparations as soon as possible."

Dumbledore sighed wearily. "Right you are, Severus. I suppose a staff meeting is in order? Yes, yes. Tomorrow morning then, before breakfast. Notify the rest, would you?"

"Of course, Headmaster," Snape said, inclining his dark head slightly. He hesitated, looking as if he wanted to say something more but wasn't quite sure he should. Finally, his shoulders tensing up in anticipation and his voice lowering so much that Harry had to strain to hear it, Snape spoke again. "And the girl, Headmaster? What of Ginny Weasley?"

Dumbledore gave Snape a hard, penetrating look over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "I'm afraid, Severus, that Miss Weasley must needs carve her own path in all of this. There is nothing more we can do for her that isn't already being done."

Harry and Susan waited several minutes after Dumbledore and Snape had gone to be sure that they wouldn't come back before sneaking out from behind the statue.

"What do you reckon all that was about?" Susan asked, looking shocked and shaken. Then she shrugged and gave him a half smile. "Well, it's none of our business, anyway," she said finally, "what professors choose to discuss in corridors where anyone could hear them. You'd think they wanted to be caught!"

Harry shrugged. He didn't know what to say. He was sure the conversation had made a lot more sense to him than it had to Susan, but the last thing he wanted to do was explain everything to her now. Instead, he had an overwhelming urge to race up to Gryffindor and spill the story to Ron and Hermione--he was sure if anyone could figure it out, it would be them. But then Susan did something that made him forget all about Ron and Hermione and the strange conversation they'd overheard.

She kissed him.

It wasn't a particularly exciting kiss. In fact, it was rather awkward, with noses bumping while they sorted out the angles involved. But her lips were warm and soft, and did not taste of tears. Her fingers twined into the hair at the nape of his neck and Harry's hands seemed to find her waist of their own accord, pulling her flush against him.

Later, he couldn't say how long they stood there in the dusty, unfamiliar corridor between the funny tapestry and the even funnier statue. When they finally broke apart, Susan's cheeks were flushed red and she couldn't quite meet his eyes, although her fingers remained tangled in his hair.

"I've got to be getting back," she said a little breathlessly. She bit her lip nervously, and Harry thought she didn't look a bit as if she wanted to go.

"Alright then," he said, embarrassed that his voice sounded a bit breathless too. "I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow?"

"Definitely. I mean, right." Susan flushed again. Then, with a last quick kiss, she pulled away and was down the corridor in a flash, robes whipping around the corner and out of sight.

* * *

Harry hadn't thought his relationship with Susan could get much better than it already was, but the following week proved him wrong. Every free moment was spent with her; they used even the weakest excuses to get away from their friends and sneak off for some privacy. Harry even thought he was starting to understand why Ron went back to Hermione time and again, even though she still flatly refused to be his girlfriend. For the first time since coming to Hogwarts, Harry felt as if he were a normal kid.

There was gossip, of course, there always was at Hogwarts, but Harry was content to ignore it. Instead he concentrated on finishing his potions project, kissing Susan, running the D.A., kissing Susan, and trying to finish up all the extra homework his professors had assigned in anticipation of the upcoming holiday.

The last day of winter term seemed to last forever. He sat through a long, thoroughly boring lecture in Transfiguration on partial human transformations. Charms was only slightly better; Professor Flitwick tested them on Animating Charms, which they'd been studying all term, by having them enchant various pieces of furniture to sing and dance. Harry thought he'd done well enough, despite his eagerness for the holiday to begin.

After dinner Harry met Susan in the potions lab. They had only just begun a new series of tests when Harry tossed away his ladle and leaned across the table to kiss her. But Susan leaned away from him with a frown, setting her own ladle down next to her bubbling cauldron.

"Honestly, Harry," she chided. "I'm trying to help you, here. If you can't be serious, I don't know why we're bothering."

"Let's not, then," said Harry, grinning. He stepped around the table and grabbed her hand. "I'm sick of working on this unknown. We both agree Snape's given me some impossible potion--"

"I'm sure it's not impossible," Susan protested.

"--impossible potion," Harry continued, "and at this point I'm beyond caring. If I have to I'll sit the N.E.W.T. without Snape's class. You and Hermione are both brilliant at Potions--you'll help me study."

Susan sighed. "All right. It's your mark on the line, so I guess it's up to you. There's something we need to talk about, anyway," she said, biting her lip nervously.

Harry frowned and sat down. "This sounds serious," he said.

"It is. Well, okay, it's not life-or-death, the world is about to end, women and children first serious, but, well..." She took a deep breath, looking for all the world as if she were afraid to say whatever it was she needed to. "It's just... we've been seeing each other for nearly a month now, right? And I really like you Harry, I do, but I have to ask... Harry, are you, you know, serious about me?"

Harry just stared at her. What did she mean, was he serious about her? They'd only just started seeing each other. Did she want something more from him? Was he doing it wrong, the whole dating thing? He'd never had a real girlfriend before, and until that moment, Harry hadn't stopped to consider what that would mean, exactly. Ron and Hermione were the only people he knew who dated, and they weren't even, not really. Harry wondered suddenly if there was something more to this dating thing that he wasn't aware of. Maybe he was supposed to be taking her out to Hogsmeade for romantic dinners or something, although he hadn't a clue how they'd do that without breaking about ten school rules. Or maybe she was expecting gifts--maybe he'd missed her birthday! Harry frowned again and tried to think up something to say that wouldn't make him look like an idiot for not knowing how these things worked. Finally, he just said the first thing that popped into his head.

"Have I done something wrong, then?" he asked. "I don't... I'm not exactly good at this sort of thing," he admitted.

Susan laughed. "You've been great, Harry. Not done anything wrong except possibly incur the wrath of Professor Snape to such an extent that we've spent a good portion of our time together working on his project."

"Oh," said Harry, relieved. "Well, I guess I don't understand what you're asking, then."

Susan's eyes dropped to the floor. "Um. I just mean... you're not just messing about with me, are you?" she blurted. "Not that I think you're the sort of person who would, but there were all these rumors last year about Cho Chang, a-and everyone thought this year you and Ginny Weasley... and I just thought that if I'm not the one you really want to be with, maybe we should, you know, stop now before I get all attached and--"

"I don't want to be with anyone else," Harry said firmly. Not now, at any rate, he thought to himself with a twinge of guilt. "So... yeah. I guess I am. Serious, I mean. About you."

Susan grinned and gave a deep sigh of relief. Harry smiled back, standing up to move closer to her again. This time she didn't back away.

"Now about that kiss..."

* * *

By the time Harry and Susan left the Potions lab that night, Harry was shocked to discover it was already well past curfew. Sneaking back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry found himself grinning stupidly and going back over the past few hours in his head, imagining them again and again. Ron would tease him mercilessly for being out so late, but it had been worth it. Definitely worth it.

Harry was so lost in thought he almost didn't notice that the portrait hole was already open when he arrived at the common room. It started to swing shut but Harry caught it just in time to slip through, inducing an irritated huff from the Fat Lady. He climbed through the hole only to find himself face to face with the one person he'd been avoiding all term--Ginny. The common room was empty except for the two of them. Ginny stood in the center, her robes hanging from her fingers. Her clothes beneath were old, worn Muggle things; Ginny looked as if she'd been sneaking around in the tunnels again, her clothes stained with mud. For a moment they just stared at each other in silence, the air between them palpable with anger.

"What're you doing here?" they said at the same time.

Ginny answered first. "It's my common room too, Harry," she said snidely. "I'm still allowed to be here."

"What were you doing sneaking in so late?" Harry asked, eyes narrowing.

Ginny laughed. "I could ask you the same thing."

Harry stared at her for another moment, his head whirling with too many thoughts. He was still so angry with her, and so confused by her as well. For all the world it seemed as though she and Draco Malfoy were, for lack of a better word, dating. And despite the admittedly unreliable results of the Vrai Vue potion, Harry didn't think Malfoy had put her under a love spell. She was with him by choice, and Harry simply couldn't understand how she could betray him like that. Betray them all. How she could be so close to someone who'd done them so much harm, whose family was right in there with Voldemort? Not unless she was with Him too...

"Look Ginny," Harry said finally, "can't we just... talk? We used to be friends, or at least good acquaintances. Last year you practically demanded to come to the Department of Mysteries with us. And now... you're a different person. I don't even know you anymore."

"There's nothing to talk about, Harry," Ginny said, and her voice sounded as tired as Harry felt. "We've been through this. When are you going to get it? We've never been friends. We never will be friends. You lost that chance a long time ago."

"You're under a spell!" Harry blurted out. He couldn't take it anymore--the lying, the deception, everything they'd done just to brew the Vrai Vue. He didn't care any longer what she thought of them, only that she know Malfoy had done something to her, twisted her in some way. And maybe if she knew... maybe she'd come back to them and be the old Ginny again.

Ginny frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"We--Hermione and Ron and I--we did this potion to see... well we thought maybe Malfoy had put a Love Spell on you. Because you were acting so... not yourself. And we found out, well we don't know what it is, but there's definitely something affecting you!"

Ginny's cheeks flushed and her hands fisted at her side. "You did what?" she said, her voice trembling with anger. "You did some sort of potion... my knife! You're the ones that stole my knife."

"We didn't mean to! Oh, well, yes we did, but we thought you were in danger, Ginny. And you wouldn't talk to any of us. What else were we supposed to do?"

"You could've trusted me," Ginny said, her eyes suspiciously bright.

"You didn't give us that option, did you? And we were right, Ginny! You are under a spell. Something so complex and strange that Hermione can't make any sense out of the Arithmantical readings."

"I'm not, Harry," she denied vehemently, her trembling hands clutching her worn robes between them like a shield, "but if that's what you want to believe..."

"What I want?" Harry sputtered. "Why would I ever want that?" D'you think I like seeing you with Malfoy? That I enjoy watching you cozy up to him in the Great Hall? 'Oh Draco,'" he mocked, "'you're so clever and pointy. Someday you'll be a real ferret.'"

"Shut up!" Ginny yelled, her mouth working in inexpressible rage. "Just... shut up! What would you rather--that I were with you? Spare me. You don't want me, Harry--you never have! You just can't stand it that I don't want you any longer. Did you honestly think I'd just wait around for perfect, brave, noble Harry Potter to come to his senses because of, oh, I don't know, some childishly romantic sentiment that we're somehow meant to be?"

She snorted derisively, her eyes raking over him in distaste. "Well you know what, Harry? It's true, what everyone's always said about my pathetic school girl crush on you--I'm not worthy. I'm beneath you, Harry. I'm not good or honest or anything else like that. I'm a liar, Harry. I've done things that would curdle your blood. So, you hate seeing me with Draco? Funny, Harry, because that's exactly where I belong."

"It's not," Harry said softly, but Ginny had already turned away.