The Man of the Moment

Chapter Eighteen: Blinded by Love- Part One

Harry rushed along the corridor, down seven flights of stairs and down further into the dungeons at a speed that he felt certain was some kind of record. By the time he reached Snape's office, he could barely draw breath to answer Snape's curt, "What do you want, Potter? I'm busy."

Harry saw out of the corner of his eye that Alex was sitting in his office, and fought back Steve's urge to ask exactly what he was busy with. Persephone was too important.

"It's Persephone," he panted. "She's really upset; she wants to speak to you. She thinks... we think..."

"Spit it out, boy!" Snape demanded, although he swept out of the room at such a speed, Harry got a stitch trying to keep up. Alex was also struggling to keep up with the pace.

"Severus, calm down- I'm sure she's not in any danger," she soothed.

"Potter," Snape growled, and Harry quickly finished his sentence.

"We think Porphyria might be dead," he managed. His words resulted in Snape turning at least two shades paler that he had been. He glared at Harry.

"This had better not be some kind of joke," he warned. Alex grabbed his arm.

"Come on, Severus; he wouldn't joke about something like this, and Persephone wouldn't let him," she insisted, in an authoritative manner that seemed to suggest the matter was closed.

By the time they reached Persephone's office again, Harry though his sides were about to come undone. Not for the first time, he wished he were taller than his parents' genes had allowed; at least then he wouldn't have to suffer the shame of struggling to keep up with his perpetually irritated Potions Master.

"Persephone?" Snape barked, though Harry felt a twinge of concern echo in his vocal cords. Persephone was staring deep into the fireplace. For a moment, Harry considered shaking her out of her reverie, but then he noticed the green-tinged face of a chubby looking woman floating there, babbling something in French that Harry didn't understand. Persephone was nodding gravely at her words.

"Ainsi, sera-t-il assez bon pour voyager en Ecosse? Je voudrais qu'il reste avec moi; Je crains pour sa sûreté," Persephone said. It made little sense to Harry- except he just about worked out the word 'voyage' and from her tone, judged that Persephone was making some sort of enquiry. Snape stood as though glued to the spot, and rested his chin on the knuckles of his right hand. The woman in the fireplace babbled some more words that Harry couldn't decipher.

"Très bien; merci," Persephone replied, and the woman's head vanished; the connection broken. Persephone let out a deep sigh, before looking behind her and spotting Snape.

"That was 'L'Hôpital éternel de Foi'," she explained, quietly. "Porphyria died just ten minutes ago- she sustained deep internal curse damage and head trauma. François is in the emergency ward. He's been hit with a few Stunners and a couple of Flaying hexes; the Healers are currently growing him some new skin for his face and neck- he'll be fine. The head of the curse and jinx damage ward told me he was talking about a group of black-cloaked figures with white masks. I don't think we need to open up an enquiry to work out what happened. "

Snape nodded silently.

"Oh, Persephone; I am sorry," Alex gasped, walking towards Persephone and placing a comforting arm around her waist. She shrugged, but did not push Alex away.

"How is he?" Snape asked, eventually.

"How do you think?" Persephone replied, a smidgen of irritation present in her voice. "He's beside himself- keeps asking for Porphyria..." She took a deep breath as though to steady herself. "I've requested that he be moved here as soon as is physically possible. Those Death Eaters will be back for him, no doubt; I want him protected at all costs. Hospitals are far too public places... It was their silver wedding anniversary today!" She looked as though she was about to cry. Alex gave Snape a meaningful look, and pulled gently away from Persephone.

"I'll go and ask McGonagall..." she began, but Persephone soon interrupted her.

"You can ask, but it won't change my course of action," she insisted. Alex sighed.

"Okay, I'll tell McGonagall about François' imminent arrival; then I'll get Madame Pomfrey to section off an area of the ward for him," she replied. Persephone nodded.

"Thanks, Alex," she said, quietly. Alex smiled sympathetically, before rushing off out of the office.

Harry didn't quite know what to do; his first instincts were to go and hug his half-sister with all the force that he could muster- after all, he knew what it felt like to lose somebody that close, so quickly; but something stopped him. She seemed to be trying to compose herself; taking short sharp breaths as she leant her head towards the floor, still gripping the back of her chair as though it were the only reason she was still standing.

Snape stepped forward and placed a tentative hand on her arm.

"Persephone," he began, but Persephone shook him off.

"I can't be upset- I don't have time; we don't have time," she insisted, curtly. Snape let go of her, and his expression conveyed to Harry that he understood what Persephone meant.

"Harry, are you okay now?" Persephone asked. Harry didn't need any more of a hint.

"I'm fine, thanks," he replied, quietly. "I hope you're... I'm sorry about Porphyria."

Persephone smiled at him.

"Thanks, Harry. I'll see you later," she said, as Harry exited her office, and closed the door behind him.

The Gryffindor Common Room was only a couple of yards away, so it didn't take him long to reach the portrait of the Fat Lady and gain entry once more. He felt deeply ashamed of how bothered he had been over that stupid Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match, seeing as Persephone had just lost her mother figure, and appeared to be doing a better job of holding herself together. Harry knew what that felt like, for the pain of having lost Sirius almost eighteen months ago; though less acute, still tugged deep in some area of his heart previously untouched by anyone, or anything.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, as he walked into the Gryffindor Common Room. The rest of the Gryffindors appeared to have forgotten his earlier petulance, and were merely playing the usual games of Exploding Snap, chess, or even finishing off pieces of homework due in first thing on Monday. Harry sighed.

"Persephone's Aunt Porphyria has been killed by Death Eaters," he whispered. Hermione and Ginny gasped, and Ron also looked horrified.

"Bloody hell- when?" he asked. Harry looked up at him.

"About twenty minutes ago; there was an attack at the Beauchamps' house. François has been injured, but he's alive. Persephone's insisting he be brought here for protection," he explained. Ron nodded gravely.

"I suppose that's in case they come back to finish him off?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"I guess so... Can we go somewhere else to talk about this?" he enquired, looking nervously around at the rest of the Gryffindors; one or two of whom were casting curious glances across at Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"I've got to send these off, anyway," Hermione said, pointing at two sealed envelopes in her pocket. "Shall we go to the Owlery?"

Harry nodded, and he, Ron and Hermione exited the Common Room, and headed towards the West Tower. Ron was staring at the two envelopes in Hermione's pocket as though they were explosive devices.

"What are they for, then?" he asked, in a voice clearly struggling to sound nonchalant. Hermione shrugged.

"One is my re-subscription fee for the Daily Prophet," she replied, breezily. "You know, apparently they'll send me a free gift of a quill and ink holder with this new subscription..."

"Who's the other letter for?" Ron interrupted, in a strained casual voice.

"Viktor," Hermione replied, quietly. Ron coughed.

"That's nice. Anything interesting to tell him?"

"Not really. Just school stuff, that sort of thing," Hermione said. Ron looked cautiously at her.

"No secret messages or anything?" he probed. Hermione glared at him.

"If I told you, then they wouldn't be secret, would they?" she swiftly replied, before speeding up her pace a little and almost jogging up the stairs of the West Tower.

Ron looked at Harry, and grabbed his arm before he put his foot on the first step of the staircase.

"Why does she insist on being so secretive?" he asked. "I swear that girl does it on purpose!"

"How so?" Harry asked. For a moment, he thought he saw Ron blush.

"Just... just to rile me!" he retorted, sharply. Harry tried to suppress a snigger, but failed. Ron glared at him.

"What's so funny?" he demanded. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing," he replied, swiftly. "We'd better catch up with her."

They soon reached the circular room, and it took Harry no more than seven seconds to step on an owl pellet and squash it under his foot.

"Oops," he commented.

"What did you do?" Ron asked.

"Stepped on an owl pellet," Harry replied, trying to scuff away the debris on his foot by kicking it against some nearby straw. Ron watched him pityingly for a moment.

"You're only replacing one kind of mess with another," he insisted. Harry saw his point, and stopped.

Hermione was busy tying each of her envelopes to post owls, but was still able to engage Harry and Ron in conversation.

"How's Persephone taking the news about Porphyria?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"She seems to be holding up..." He trailed off.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked. Harry sighed.

"She's really upset; I can tell. She just doesn't seem to want to talk about it. She said to Snape that she doesn't have time to be upset," he replied. "I guess I just wish she'd talk to me. When Sirius died, I bottled it all up for ages, and it really didn't help. She could talk to me; I know what it feels like..."

"Everyone has their own way of dealing with things," Hermione soothed. "She'll talk if she wants to. Right now, I'd imagine a big concern of hers would be why Death Eaters even attacked Porphyria. It might mean they know about Snape... you know."

Harry thrust his hands into his pockets and closed his eyes tightly for a moment. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind, yet it was one of the worst possible scenarios. If they knew that Porphyria had information about the parent-child relationship of Snape and Persephone, it could lead to many things- Snape's work for the Order could be compromised, Persephone's life in danger, Snape's life could be in danger, too. Perhaps that's what the prophecy meant; would Snape betray them to keep himself alive, or to keep Persephone alive?

An unwelcome guest soon interrupted Harry's thoughts, for Draco Malfoy was standing in the doorway of the Owlery. Upon seeing Harry stare at him, Draco thrust a letter deep into his robe pockets.

"Well, Potter- I see you and Weasley have taken to body-guarding your little Mudblood friend," he spat. "Can't say I blame you- it's only a matter of time before..."

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy, before I shut it for you!" Ron retorted, hotly. Harry noticed he had already drawn his wand.

"Oh dear, Weasley- can't take it when your Head Girl takes a little punishment? You'd really better get used to it..."

Before Harry could react, Draco pointed his wand at Hermione and fired off a Jelly-Legs Curse, causing Hermione to suddenly lose her balance and grab onto a nearby support beam in order to remain upright.

"You're going to get it, Malfoy!" Ron shouted, hotly. Draco merely laughed.

"It's terribly sweet, the way you try to protect her. Anyone would think you two were married," he retorted. Harry saw Ron's ears turn red.

"You little git!" he roared, hitting Draco full in the face with a Scouring Charm. Draco began to foam at the mouth, and Harry was yet again, though for entirely different reasons, reminded of Snape's damn Pensieve memory he chanced a look at during his O.W.L. years.

Spitting out a mouthful of soap, Draco glared at Ron with absolute loathing.

"Not smart, Weasley," he sneered, albeit in a muffled voice. He raised his wand towards Ron's forehead, but Ron was already aiming his wand right at Draco again. Harry didn't like where this was going, and one look at Hermione told him she didn't, either. Pulling out his own wand, Harry stepped forward to try and stop Ron from doing something stupid. Hermione also attempted to rush forward, and began to shout orders in her best Head Girl voice.

Then something went horribly wrong.

"Ron; for heaven's sake, don't give him the satisfaction!" Hermione implored, somewhat aggressively. "He is not worth a sliver of your energy!"

"Ron; put your wand down; Malfoy- if you've got any sense in that thick head of yours, you'll know I'm standing here with my wand on you. One move, and I will have to hurt you," Harry announced, far more calmly than he felt. Draco whirled around to face Harry.

"Oh, shut up, Potter," he sneered. "As if you could honestly hurt me?" He seemed most amused by the prospect.

"Well, I appeared to do some damage to your father, didn't I? Got him put in Azkaban, for a start," Harry taunted. Draco's face turned an angry shade of red.

"Yeah, well he didn't stay there for long!" he yelled back, pointing his wand at Harry.

"Expelliarmus!" he yelled, and Harry's wand suddenly flew into his hand. Harry pondered this new state of affairs. His wandless magic training, coupled with his own regular practise, meant he was fairly confident of being able to fire a few choice counter-curses to defend himself. However, the last thing he wanted was for Draco to know he could perform any kind of wandless magic; especially as it was likely the moment he ever met his father again, he would tell him everything he knew. He had, after all, boasted to Harry and his friends on the train that he had suggested his father should attack the Grangers.

Hermione, who had been propping herself up next to Harry, staggered a little further forwards towards Draco, who still had his wand trained on Harry.

"Malfoy, don't be ridiculous!" she warned. "This is going to get you into trouble- this could get you expelled. Leave now, and we won't say a word."

"Says you!" Ron interrupted, indignantly.

"Receptum!" Draco bellowed, and a jet of yellow light whooshed towards Harry.

Except it didn't. Harry had been so sure that Draco would attack him; he didn't think for one moment that Draco might have been aiming for somebody else. Instead, the spell hit Hermione square in the chest. She staggered, and somehow- most likely because Draco had struck her with the Jelly-Legs Curse earlier- she lost her footing and tumbled down the steep flight of stairs that led up to the Owlery. She screamed, and then Harry heard a hard thump somewhere in the distance.

Ron turned pale.

"Hermione?" he yelled, "Hermione! Are you okay?"

He received no reply. Harry felt as though his own legs had turned to jelly, but he soon shook himself of the feeling and raced down the stairs, with Ron in hot pursuit. They found Hermione lying on the floor of the West Tower; unmoving and with her leg jutting out from her body at an awkward angle.

"Hermione? Can you hear me?" Ron whispered, gently tapping her cheek with his fingers, in an effort to revive her. Harry looked up and down the corridor, but was unable to see anyone who could help.

Draco had descended the staircase, and was looking even paler than usual.

"I... I... It was an accident," he stammered, clearly shocked by what had happened. Ron turned around and glared at him.

"Yeah, 'course it was, Malfoy," he spat, furiously. "You keep saying you want her dead- well, you might have got your wish. Now get lost before I do something you'll regret!"

To Harry's amazement, Draco did as he was told, and legged it as far away from the scene as possible.

"I hope they lock you up in Azkaban and destroy the Release Charm!" Ron yelled after him, before turning his attention back to Hermione. Harry couldn't help but notice Ron had gripped her hand very tightly, as though he were afraid if he let go, she might never wake up.

Almost as soon as Draco was out of sight, Hermione began to stir.

"Ouch, my head," she moaned, looking up at Ron. "What happened?"

"Malfoy hit you with some kind of hex; it knocked you backwards, and you fell all the way down the stairs," he replied. "Are you okay?"

Hermione nodded, made an attempt to get up, then winced sharply and shook her head.

"My leg feels as though somebody's tried to remove it," she groaned.

"I think you might have broken it," Harry pointed out, quietly. Hermione looked down, and gasped.

"I don't think my leg is supposed to face that way," she said, what little colour left in her face having drained away at the sight.

Harry slipped his arm under Hermione's.

"Do you think you'll make it to the Hospital Wing, if we carry you?" he asked. Hermione nodded.

"I think so," she said, allowing Ron to slip his arm underneath her arm as well. With a swift movement, they hoisted her up onto her good leg, and supported her weight with their arms around her back. She gripped onto their shoulders and the three of them managed to hobble towards the Hospital Wing.

"My head feels as though someone's taken a sledgehammer to it," she complained.

"Well, you did hit the stone floor from quite a height," Harry reasoned, as they approached the Hospital Wing. Ron looked aghast.

"Your head?" he asked, incredulously. "What about your leg?"

Hermione managed a brave smile.

"If I concentrate on the pain in my head, it sort of helps me forget about my leg being the wrong way around," she explained, turning paler with each word.

Madam Pomfrey was pacing nervously around near the entrance, chewing on one of her fingers and casting worried glances towards a hospital bed. It had curtains drawn around it, and Harry was sure he could hear crying.

"Oh, my word!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, upon seeing Hermione. "What in Merlin's name happened?"

"I fell," Hermione explained, swiftly, ignoring Ron's coercing looks.

"Tell her," he urged, in a whisper. Hermione shook her head.

"I tripped over in the Owlery and fell down the stairs. I think I knocked my head on the floor, and I definitely broke my leg," she elaborated.

Without so much as a word, she pointed to the hospital bed next to the one currently closed off with a curtain.

"Put her there," she instructed Harry and Ron, who did as she asked. Gingerly, Hermione climbed onto the bed and lay down on her back. Madam Pomfrey began to swiftly feel her neck, arms, legs and torso.

"Hmm, no other breaks- just a compound fracture near the hip and a nasty twist of the muscles. That I can fix within seconds..."

Harry heard a sudden snap, and looked down at Hermione's now perfectly fixed leg. Madam Pomfrey wasn't lying.

"Now then, Hermione; how many fingers am I holding up?" she asked, holding up her hand and displaying her thumb, index and middle finger.

"Two, and your thumb," Hermione replied, a little groggily. Madam Pomfrey nodded.

"And who is the current Minister for Magic?" she asked.

"Arthur Weasley," Hermione replied. Madam Pomfrey nodded, but did not seem satisfied, and instead pulled out a piece of parchment from her robe pocket and opened it up in front of Hermione.

"Can you read this passage aloud?" she asked, finally, pointing at the piece of the parchment that read 'Martin Muggle Mugged at a Mirror, which Mimicked Martin's Mug'. Hermione frowned.

"Erm... 'Martin Muggled at a Mugging Mirror, which Martined his Mimick...'" She rubbed at the back of her head.

"Miss Granger, I need you to stay here overnight at least, so I can monitor the head trauma. You've got quite a concussion there- it's not unusual for logical visual association to fail a little after such a blow. You'll be quite fine, but you need to take a potion and rest here for a while," Madam Pomfrey insisted. Hermione nodded.

"Can Harry and Ron stay with me?" she asked. Madam Pomfrey nodded.

"I don't see why not- but make sure you behave yourselves. We've got a visitor at the moment, and I doubt very much he wishes to be disturbed by incessant chatter," she warned, before handing Hermione a potion of some description and urging her to drink it.

When Madam Pomfrey had disappeared, Ron jerked his head towards the curtained hospital bed.

"Do you reckon that's François Beauchamp?" he whispered. Harry nodded.

"It's got to be," he replied. It explained the crying; Persephone had mentioned it was the Beauchamps' silver wedding anniversary. They must have been a very close husband and wife.

"The poor man," Hermione whispered, gently. "That must be awful, to lose your wife like that..."

Harry and Ron nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, Harry was able to hear voices from behind that curtain. Straining to listen, he quickly identified them as belonging to a familiar Frenchman, a familiar Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher... and a familiar Potions teacher.

"It could have happened to anyone, given the circumstances we're in nowadays," Snape commented.

"So, you mustn't blame yourself, Tonton," Persephone soothed.

"I do not," François replied, and Harry saw through a gap in the curtain that François' hand pointed at Snape. "I blame heem."

Snape fidgeted but he said nothing in return.

"What's Snape doing with him?" Ron hissed.

"Porphyria was his sister," Harry whispered back.

"Plus, it was a Death Eater attack- I think they'll want as much information about what happened as possible..." He trailed off as the voices became clear again.

"I am sorry, Severus," François said. "Eet eez just... Look, I do not know what eez going on with you, but Porphyria, she seems to... she seemed to zink zere was some reason you needed protecting, somezing you 'ad done, or were doing..." He trailed off, evidently too upset to speak. Harry watched Persephone through the gap of the curtain, as she gently rubbed François' back.

"Do you know why they were there?" she asked. François' silhouette shrugged.

"I am not sure," he replied. "Porphyria- mon amour..." His voice began to quiver a little, but he soon regained his composure. "She said to me, she said, 'They did not want Severus.' I do not understand what she meant by zat; perhaps you do, Severus?"

"I'm afraid I don't," Snape lied.

"Did you see anybody?" Persephone asked, firmly.

"I did not see anybody," François answered. "Except one man. 'E had a mask, but eet had been knocked to ze floor. Porphyria, she put up a good fight, I zink- 'e had a huge gash across hees left eye, and a large bruise on his temple. 'E was blonde, an Englishman, but 'e spoke some French- hees accent was terrible. 'E 'ad anozzer few wounds to match when I 'ad finished wiz heem, but he got away- I was too concerned about Porphyria. She didn't stay for very long, but I 'eld 'er..." He began to cry, and through the gap in the curtain, Harry saw Persephone reach forward and cup his face with her hands.

"Tonton, please..." She was crying as well. François pushed a piece of silver jewellery into her hand.

"Zis- zis was for Porphyria. Silver, see? For ze anniversary. She would want you to 'ave eet. Eet did not belong to 'er, so eet eez not tainted...."

"Oncle, no, please keep it," Persephone insisted calmly, though her voice was shaking a little. François shook his head vehemently.

"Non, non- please, I want you to 'ave eet," he insisted.

As he saw their tears, Harry suddenly felt like a terrible kind of voyeur on their grief. The way Snape got up and announced he ought to inform McGonagall of what had happened suggested to Harry that he felt the same.

"Yes, good idea, Severus," Persephone replied, wiping her eyes. "I don't like this." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "If it's got nothing to do with you; why would they have gone after her?"

Snape nodded brusquely, and walked away from the hospital bed, pausing just briefly to survey Harry, Ron and Hermione with deep suspicion.

"And what are you three doing here?" he asked, in a voice laced with contempt.

"We're watching Hermione, sir," Harry replied, as pleasantly as he could.

"Indeed- does it take two of you to watch one girl?" he replied, smoothly. Ron nodded.

"It does when she was..." He stopped suddenly. Harry took one look at Hermione's vice-like grip on his wrist and understood why. Harry wasn't sure whether Hermione would tell a teacher about what Draco did, but he knew she wasn't stupid enough to try and tell the Slytherin Head of House, who blatantly favours his own students. If she told Snape, he would probably try and claim it was Hermione's fault for standing in front of his wand.

"I just fell, sir. Banged my head, and Madam..."

"Do I look particularly interested, Miss Granger?" Snape replied, coldly, before sweeping out of the Hospital Wing.

Ron stared after him, and called Snape something that made Harry burst out laughing. Hermione folded her arms huffily.

"Ron!" she scolded.

"What? He had no right saying that to you; he brought the question up, after all!" he retorted.

"Well, he's likely to be a bit off. He's just lost his sister," she hissed, in a low voice.

"But, Hermione; he's always like that!" he hissed back.

Suddenly, Harry heard the curtain of the bed next to Hermione's scrape back. Turning around to follow the sound, he found himself face-to-face with François Beauchamp. He looked different to the time Harry had spotted him in the Three Broomsticks; for a start, his beard had vanished. Judging by the marks on his face, Harry assumed this was because the Healers at 'L'Hôpital Éternel de Foi' had replaced the skin around his face and neck. Despite this scarring, or perhaps because he was now clean-shaven, Harry could tell that he was quite a handsome man. He could also tell that François had been asleep for a while, for his brown hair was a bit of a mess. His red-rimmed eyes also made it clear than he had been crying.

"Salut!" he said, flashing a disarming smile at Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Hi," they replied back, almost in unison. François smiled.

"Ah- do you teach these children, Persephone?" he asked, looking at Persephone. She grinned.

"Yes, unfortunately," she replied, with a smirk that made it clear the comment was in jest. "In fact, they're all in my House, too." She jerked her head towards Harry. "And this little reprobate is my half-brother!"

François surveyed Harry with mild curiosity.

"Ahh, zis ees Harry? Hmm- you both have ze same eyes, but zat ees about eet... What are your names?" he asked of Ron and Hermione, who replied to his question.

"Hermione- zat ees a very pretty name," he remarked. "Zen again, you are a very pretty girl; how deed you end up in here? My brozzer-in-law may not be bozzered, but I am."

Harry saw a pink flush creep into Hermione's cheeks.

"Oh, I fell down a flight of stairs. I broke my leg, which is fine now, but I was knocked unconscious, so Madam Pomfrey wants to keep me here overnight, to make sure I haven't done any permanent damage," she replied, tucking her hair behind her ears in a bashful motion.

Ron looked close to furious.

"Harry, what's he playing at? She's seventeen!" he hissed. Harry was about to reply, but François evidently overheard, and beat him to it.

"Please," he laughed. "We French, we like beauty, and we like to praise eet. Zat ees all- your girlfriend is quite safe from me, I assure you."

"Oh, she's not my girlfriend!" Ron protested, quickly. Harry noticed that Persephone was now staring steadfastly out of the window.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "I already have a...." She stopped suddenly, and then smiled nervously. "Well you know..."

"It's my mate, Viktor- you remember Viktor, Tonton?" Persephone prompted, having rejoined the conversation. François beamed.

"Ah, yes- he ees a lovely young man. Do you write often? I presume you must write," he commented. Hermione nodded.

"Oh, yes. Lots, actually- I just sent him a letter today. That's when I fell," she explained. François smiled knowingly.

"Ah, a romance by letter- it can be very romantic, non?" he asked. Hermione giggled again.

"I suppose it is, a little," she replied. Harry couldn't help but notice how pleased Hermione sounded as she spoke about Viktor. He also couldn't help but notice how Ron's face was set into the angriest scowl he had seen in a long time.

Before Harry could comment on both Ron and Hermione's reactions, Professor McGonagall came rushing into the Hospital Wing, closely followed by Neville, Ginny and Luna.

"I just heard from Professor Snape," McGonagall explained to Hermione, missing out the usual greetings of 'Hello', and 'How are you?' one usually offers when in the presence of someone confined to bed rest. "What happened, Miss Granger?" she asked.

"Yeah, Luna just came to gloat to us about our loss against Ravenclaw when she heard what had happened- it's going around the school!" Ginny added.

"It wasn't... you know, Death Eaters, was it, Hermione?" Neville asked. Hermione shook her head.

"No, no! Not at all!" she soothed.

McGonagall adjusted her glasses.

"Well, Miss Granger; I would like to know what exactly did happen," she said pointedly, as she pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. Hermione looked at the bed and said nothing for a while, though Harry understood why; if she told McGonagall what really happened, Draco would face expulsion for sure. Personally, Harry thought the sooner that little git was out of his sight, the better; but he knew Hermione well enough to know she didn't generally get vindictive pleasure from wielding such power.

"I just tripped on the stairs in the Owlery, and fell. It must have been awkward, that's all," she replied. McGonagall looked unconvinced.

"Are you sure that's all that happened, Miss Granger?" she asked again. Hermione nodded.

"Yes, that's all that happened," she replied. McGonagall smiled, but Harry thought there was something in her expression that said she still believed there was more to Hermione's story.

"If you say so," she said, standing up. "I hope you're up on your feet soon, Miss Granger. Madam Pomfrey seems to think you'll be perfectly fine for lessons on Monday, and I certainly wouldn't want to see you stuck in here when there's Evasive Transfiguration to be learned that afternoon."

Hermione beamed.

"Really? Gosh, I didn't think Professor Ridley was going to start that until next term; that will be exciting," Hermione enthused, ignoring the disgusted face Ron pulled.

"Hang on, Professor- we've got Transfiguration on Monday morning this term," Ron pointed out. McGonagall smiled thinly.

"Well, owing to Professor Ridley's... condition, Professor Snape has been kind enough to move his lessons around to accommodate. All your Transfiguration classes will be either in mid-morning or the afternoon lesson slots. You will have Potions class on Monday mornings instead of the afternoon, as was the original plan for this term," she replied stiffly, before saying goodbye and leaving the Hospital Wing.

Ron groaned loudly.

"Great! I use Monday mornings to gear myself up for Snape's afternoon lesson, and now even that 'precious commodity',"- Ron said the last two words in a very fake plumy accent- "has been taken away from me! So much for me thinking we only had to suffer Monday morning Snape last term; why does Alex need to swap her lessons around, anyway?" he complained. Hermione tutted.

"Ron, she's pregnant. That time she kept throwing up in our lesson; she was most likely suffering from morning sickness," she whispered.

Neville clearly hadn't heard a word of Hermione's quiet explanation, for he asked, "Anyway, why would Snape be so willing to help her out? He doesn't exactly seem the type."

Harry, Ron and Hermione shrugged their shoulders and lied that they did not know.

Luna whistled.

"Ooh, do you know, I think Professor Ridley might be in the Family Way," she said, dreamily. "I passed her in the corridor the other evening. She had that look. She was all glowy."

"All glowy?" Hermione asked. Luna nodded.

"Yeah. She was heading for the Dungeons- perhaps Snape was making a potion to make her feel better?" she suggested. Harry glanced across at Ron, and then quickly turned away. It was clear they were both thinking the same thing; that a potion or two a couple of months ago might have stopped her feeling ill in the mornings anyway.

Ginny sat down on the edge of Hermione's bed.

"So, what really happened?" she asked.

"Malfoy did it," Ron replied, before Hermione could utter a word.

"Ron!" she exclaimed. Ron shrugged.

"What? It's true! He hit you with a curse and sent you flying down the stairs; and come on, you know as well as I do that the curse he hit you with was one designed to knock you over!" he retorted, sharply.

Hermione nodded.

"Yes, but you didn't see his face when I began to fall- he looked genuinely horrified!"

"Yeah, genuinely horrified that he might end up expelled because of it," Ron replied, with a snort.

"Hermione, you can't let him get away with it- he put you in hospital!" Ginny said, hotly.

"I'm sure he meant it- remember what he said to you on the train about his father?" Neville implored. "He wanted you to get attacked- he wanted to get you killed!"

Hermione's voice dropped to a very low whisper.

"Precisely the reason I wouldn't want him expelled, out of Hogwarts, and free to team up with his father. If he really is unrepentant- which I'm not entirely certain about- at least in here, we can keep an eye on him," she said. Harry could see her point.

"So, how are you feeling, anyway?" Ginny asked. "I'm sorry- I know that should have come before the demands."

Hermione smiled.

"I'm feeling fine, to be honest. My head still hurts a little, but this potion Madam Pomfrey gave me seems to be working pretty quickly," she replied.

Suddenly, a figure with white-blonde hair rushed into the Hospital Wing, and stopped dead upon seeing the small group of students clustered around Hermione. It was Draco Malfoy, and Harry was the first to notice his arrival. Ron, however, was the first to glare at him.

"Get lost, Malfoy!" he warned. Draco held his hands aloft in surrender.

"Leave it, Weasley- I just came to see if Granger was okay," he said.

"She's fine- no thanks to you!" Ginny spat, angrily.

"If you've come to gloat, you'll get plenty of chance, because we'll put you in here ourselves!" Neville added, in a tone of fury that was rare to hear from him.

"So, you'd really be best off leaving," Harry finished.

"Guys, just let him say what he's got to say," Hermione interrupted, folding her arms. "Well, Malfoy, what is it?" she asked, loftily. To Harry's amazement, Draco appeared rather humble; he didn't so much as glare at her.

"Granger- I didn't.... I didn't mean for it to go as far as it did," he explained, as though the apology was painful to extract. Harry noticed that Ginny- who had tiptoed towards Draco until she was inches away from him- coughed rather loudly at this comment, and then whispered something in Draco's ear that caused him to blush furiously and retort, "This has got nothing to do with last year!"

"Funny, because that spell you used was definitely planned to knock her over- convenient that she happened to be near the staircase," Ron fumed. Draco appeared to struggle with himself, before thrusting his hands into his pockets.

"It was an accident!" he exclaimed. "I didn't think she'd actually fall..."

"Relax, Malfoy- she didn't grass you up," Harry replied.

"How dare you assume that's all I care about!" Draco retorted, though Harry could see the relief spread across his face. Hermione raised an expectant eyebrow at him, and Draco managed a smile.

"Wow- well, thanks, Granger; you saved my life..." He stammered away, but Hermione abruptly shushed him.

"If there's a next time, Malfoy, I won't be so generous," she warned. Draco nodded, and was about to leave, except that something stopped him.

It was François' hands around his throat.

"Oncle, no!" Persephone shouted, rushing towards François.

"Malfoy! Vous ressemblez à lui... Vous êtes lié à lui! Où est le meurtrier? Dites-moi!" he demanded, furiously. Persephone quickly prised his hands away from Draco's neck. Draco duly ran out of the Hospital Wing at full speed, clearly unnerved by the violent outburst from a completely unknown Frenchman.

"Oncle, Oncle? Is this true?" Persephone asked. François nodded, his hands trembling with fury.

"Oui, eet eez true. He looked like zat boy, but older, and wiz longer hair..." His explanation was interrupted by Persephone grabbing a nearby glass and throwing it into the wall, whereupon it shattered loudly, and made Madam Pomfrey jump.

"The bastard!" Persephone hissed under her breath.

"Professor!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. Persephone grinned sheepishly, having swiftly recovered from her anger.

"Sorry, Poppy," she replied, apologetically.

Neville looked at Harry.

"What's the matter with Professor Beauchamp?" he asked. Harry smiled darkly.

"I'd hazard a guess that Malfoy's father is causing yet more trouble," he replied, though inside he was concerned. Persephone losing her cool was a rare occurrence; the only time Harry had really seen her this angry was when she had been faced with Dolores Umbridge and Cornelius Fudge, who had ensured her best friend from Beaubaxtons had been locked away in Azkaban for a crime she didn't commit. Harry found a savage pleasure in imagining what the penalty for killing one of Persephone's relatives might be.

Monday morning saw Hermione back to her old self, and perfectly fine after the incident that she claimed had been an accident. Harry thought she was doing a very good job of lying through her teeth about the 'accident' every single time a fellow classmate asked her about why she had been in the Hospital Wing over the weekend.

"Well, I'm jolly glad you're back, Hermione- I don't think I could cope with Potions this early in the morning without you!" Terry Boot commented in a relieved voice, whilst patting her on the back.

"Erm, thanks, Terry," she replied, sounding to Harry as though she was unconvinced.

"I wonder why we've had our lesson times swapped around?" Terry mused.

Harry, Ron and Hermione shrugged and did their best impression of people that didn't know the answer to such a question.

"Beats me," Ron lied. "I'm just gutted I've got to deal with Snape this early in the morning."

Terry stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"I overheard Loony Lovegood today- batty, that girl- she seems to think Ridley's up the duff! As if," he scoffed. Harry couldn't help but narrow his eyes at Terry.

"She's not Loony; her name's Luna," he replied, warningly. Terry shrugged.

"Well, I hate to argue with you, Harry, but she really is one card short of an Exploding Snap deck," he replied, breezily.

"She's my friend!" Harry spat. Terry looked alarmed.

"All right, all right- I didn't mean to cause offence," he said, evenly. Harry was about to respond, when Hermione suddenly interrupted his train of thought.

"Do you know, I got a lovely 'Get Well Soon' card from Szeto and Jeremy," she enthused. "They had made it themselves..." She rummaged around in her bag, and pulled out a large card. It had a picture of a stick person with bushy brown hair sitting up in bed, with a orange ball of fluff balanced precariously on the duvet, and a huge vase of glittering flowers that looked as though the two first years had thrown a whole barrel of fairy dust over the card in the hope that at least some of it would stick.

"Szeto and Jeremy?" Terry asked.

"Szeto Ang and Jeremy Archer- they're both in the first year. Ang's in Slytherin, Archer's in Gryffindor. They're as thick as thieves, and they both fancy Hermione," Ron explained. Hermione swatted him on the arm.

"They don't fancy me!" she protested. Ron smirked.

"Of course not, that's why they spent all of yesterday turning the Slytherin Common Room into an art studio to make you that card," he retorted. Hermione frowned at him.

"And what makes you say they did that?" she asked. Ron jerked his thumb towards Draco, Pansy and a couple of other Slytherin students. It took Harry a moment to see what he was getting at; then he spotted them occasionally brush at their robes in an attempt to dislodge fairy dust and Puffskein fur from them.

"What's that orange furry blob on the bed?" Harry asked, pointing at the card. Hermione squinted at it for a moment.

"I think it's supposed to be Crookshanks," she replied.

"It's... tactile," Terry commented, kindly.

Snape walked into the classroom and shut the door, brushing lazily at his robes as he did so. The sudden lapse into silence prevented Harry from voicing any more opinions without drawing attention to himself, and he really wasn't in the mood for an argument with his greasy-haired Potions teacher.

The Slytherins, bizarrely, stood up at Snape's entrance and held out the hems of their robes, each of them smiling in sympathy. Snape nodded at them.

"Ten points to the first one of you that holds Szeto head-first in a vat of his own fairy-dust," he said, and the Slytherins laughed. Snape pointed his wand at the blackboard and a diagram of a cauldron appeared in white chalk, along with a list of ingredients.

"Open your textbooks to page one hundred and twenty-nine; we shall be covering Vanishing Solutions today. Vanishing Solutions are a particularly tricky group of potions to master, so it is imperative you all pay attention!" Snape spat out the last three words as though they were rotting meat. "Potter, that means you too! Five points from Gryffindor," he added, snapping his fingers at Harry, who had been relatively attentive, for a Potions lesson.

"Sir, I was paying attention!" Harry retorted.

"Five points from Gryffindor for cheeking a member of staff," Snape spat, swiftly, much to Draco's amusement. Harry scowled.

"And a point for pulling that ridiculous facial expression," Snape drawled, lazily, before continuing with the rest of the lesson discussion. Harry sighed; he had long since assumed that seeing as this was going to be Harry's final year at Hogwarts, Snape would be determined to get in as many attacks as he could, whilst he still had the chance. So far, Harry had been proven right.

Soon enough, the class were getting on with making their Vanishing Solutions. Hermione and Terry had already made the standard concoction, and were now experimenting with degrees of strength for stain removal.

"It's not fair," Ron complained, staring as the viscous gloop in his and Harry's cauldron. "How do Terry and Hermione do it?"

Harry shrugged.

"No idea, mate," he replied. The irony of it all was that Snape clearly looked furious with Harry and Ron for their ineptitude at Potion brewing, yet he didn't seem much happier about Hermione and Terry's skill.

Suddenly, the classroom door opened, and in walked Alex Ridley, looking decidedly worse for wear.

"Good morning, Professor," Snape greeted her, somewhat cheerfully. Alex merely glared at him.

"Shut up, Severus," she spat. "You know what I'm here for!"

She sat down in the chair behind his desk as Snape began rifling through his cupboards, looking to Harry as though he was trying to suppress a smile.

"Is it lessening yet?" he asked, conversationally, but this only served to irritate Alex further.

"No, it isn't," she whispered, through gritted teeth. "And it's entirely your fault!"

Snape handed her a small atomiser, complete with a nozzle and pump. It was filled with a purple-coloured liquid.

"Here you go. Now, remember what I said about obtaining fast relief?" he asked. Alex nodded.

"I know the drill- just spray it under my tongue once every half an hour," she interrupted, fiddling with the nozzle. Snape looked concerned, and surreptitiously put his hand over hers.

"Don't you want to do it somewhere... well, somewhere not in front of the students?" he enquired, in a low voice. Alex shrugged.

"There's hardly much point," she replied. "In a couple of months time, it's going to be pretty obvious."

"You might not show that much..."

"Severus- it's twins! Minerva will have to get the classroom doors magically expanded just so I can fit through them!" she retorted, squeezing a knobbly green object that Harry recognised as the Muggle stress-reliever that Luna had left on Snape's desk last year. Snape leant closer to Alex and pretended to grab a couple of essays. He whispered something to her that Harry didn't catch, although he heard Alex's quiet sniggering afterwards.

"Oh, right- with swollen ankles, a stomach the size of a Mountain Troll and an aching back? You're a terrible liar, Severus Snape," she retorted, before suddenly brushing at his robes with her hand. "How did you manage to get covered in fairy dust, anyway?"

"Long story. Anyway, who said anything about lying?" Snape countered, before glancing around the room, and meeting Harry's stare. He narrowed his eyes, and Harry swiftly returned to his potion.

Ron had just added a handful of Demiguise hairs, when the Seventh year Potions class received their next visitors. Three of them. All wearing long black cloaks, and white masks.

"Get out of here!" Alex bellowed over the din of screaming students, brandishing her wand. She swiftly commanded, "Abripio integumentum!" and the masks of the three figures melted away into nothing. Harry saw Lucius Malfoy staring back at them, apparently horrified for just a moment that his appearance was visible, but not enough to faze him. Upon seeing this, Alex wielded her wand and fired off a steady stream of curses in so low a voice that Harry couldn't pick up her words. However, it seemed pretty clear what the first curse did, at least, for it hit Malfoy directly in the left thigh. Harry watched as Malfoy's left leg buckled under his own weight and made a nasty crunching noise, as though every single bone within were shattering. Another jet hit Malfoy's right leg, and the same thing appeared to happen; but Malfoy put up a deflective spell of some description before any of the other curses reached him. They ricocheted off the swirling wall of light and reflected towards Alex. Fortunately, she also swiftly conjured up an Absorption Charm, which made the fierce red jets of magic melt away before their very eyes.

During this whole affair, the other figures, which Harry recognised from the Department of Mysteries two years ago as Crabbe and Goyle senior, had blocked the doorway to the classroom, preventing the students from leaving. The two Death Eaters brandished their wands, and a sudden, sickly silence descended over the fearful students. Malfoy conjured some sort of walking cane, and leant on it, his face contorted in a pained, but angry, grimace.

"Put it right, Professor," Malfoy sneered, "or else you know what will happen." He glanced across at the students, who seemed to gulp collectively. Alex glared at him, but raised her wand and announced, "Finite incantatem." Within seconds, Malfoy had regained control of his body, and began to slowly pace the classroom.

"Well, this is cosy, isn't it?" he drawled, glancing at both Alex and Snape; the former of whom didn't take her eyes off him for even a second. "I personally find it comforting that in such a time as this, my only child is being taught in an atmosphere of such camaraderie."

Snape stared straight back at him, his expression unreadable.

"I am in the middle of teaching a class. If you have something to say, I suggest you wait until afterwards," he replied, evenly, which caused a number of the students to either gasp in respectful surprise, or mutter darkly to each other. Malfoy glared at him, his eyes glittering strangely.

"Severus, this simply can't wait," he drawled, glancing languidly around the classroom. Harry noticed that Draco looked particularly agitated.

"Well, if you're feeling so impatient; allow me to dismiss my class, and we can have a more private discussion," Snape continued. Malfoy raised his hand, and shook his head.

"And have the whole of Hogwarts alerted as to my presence here? I think not," he replied, chuckling. "No, I think we can all stay here."

One of the students whom Harry did not know began to whimper in the corner. Lucius Malfoy stalked towards him, dragged him to his feet and pointed his wand at his stomach.

"Carry on whimpering like that, and I'll remove your intestines while you're still conscious," he threatened. The student quickly fell silent. Alex continued to watch Malfoy like a hawk might watch its prey. In fact, she looked as though she was about to speak, but Snape beat her to it.

"For a man who claims to be so desperate to speak with me, you're easily distracted, Lucius," Snape commented, loudly enough to cause Malfoy to turn and face him.

"Well, there are so many scores to settle," he replied, looking across at Harry, who stared back at him defiantly, as he was fairly confident in his Occlumency skills. Alex, somehow, had inched across to where Harry was standing, for she grabbed his hand protectively.

"Leave him alone," she spat. Malfoy chuckled.

"Oh, how sweet. Ever the protector, aren't you, Professor Ridley? Oh yes, I remember you. However, if I recall correctly, it didn't help much in Beaubaxtons. That girl didn't survive to thank you for intervening," he said, slyly. With a sickening jolt, Harry understood what he was talking about. Alex had been the one who had rescued a young Persephone from drowning at Malfoy's hands seven years ago. Alex's expression told a similar story, although the sensation of something cold and hard pressing into the flesh of his palm distracted him from his reverie. He glanced up at Alex, who ignored him completely, though her hand was gripping his own with considerable force. Carefully, Harry manoeuvred the cold object around his palm, and stroked his thumb across its surface. He recognised the pattern- the burning sun bound in chains; Alex had given him some sort of distress beacon, something that the Brethren would undoubtedly recognise. He tried to glance up at her, hoping for an extra clue, but she continued to steadfastly glare at Malfoy.

"Persephone!" she said, suddenly, and Harry suddenly realised what he needed to do. He needed to get this talisman to Persephone Beauchamp. The only thing was, he wasn't quite sure how. Unless they could somehow get Malfoy and his cronies to let the students go, Harry couldn't see how he could get out to pass the distress beacon onto anybody.

Malfoy smiled.

"Yes; that was her name," he mused, before looking around the room. "But, like I said, I have scores to settle. Not to mention unfinished business." He looked at Hermione as he said this. "I so hate to leave a job incomplete- it isn't good for the soul."

The entire class gasped at this remark. Neville stood up, practically shaking with fury.

"You... You... How dare you!" he spat. Malfoy looked at him with contempt, and smirked.

"Dear me, Longbottom- do you really want to suffer the way your parents have?" he asked, airily. Snape folded his arms and coughed quietly, though the action was enough to cause Malfoy to face him again.

"Problem, Severus?" he enquired. Snape smiled coldly.

"I think the Headmistress might have a problem with you threatening the students..."

"She's unlikely to find out- handy, you having a classroom so far away from all the others," Malfoy replied, calmly. Snape nodded.

"She wouldn't be happy if anything happened to any of her students- I could lose my job, and I'm sure you wouldn't wish for me to become unemployed for... unnecessary reasons," he continued. Malfoy hesitated for a moment, and Harry soon realised why, when he spotted that Snape's left hand was hidden under his folded right arm, and held a wand trained directly on Draco.

Malfoy seemed to falter for a moment.

"Fine- they can leave with my associates," he conceded. "But Ridley stays, and so does the Potter boy."

Snape looked ready to argue these terms, but Alex looked at him, and he nodded.

"All right, but I remind you that it would not be prudent for any of them to come to harm as a result," he warned. Malfoy dismissed his words, and looked across at the students.

"Well, do as your esteemed Professor says!" he demanded. The class hurriedly gathered up their belongings and were ushered out of the classroom. Harry panicked- how was he going to get this talisman to Persephone? He couldn't exactly just march up to Ron or Hermione and hand it to them!

Suddenly, he was reminded of Faith at Christmas dinner, wittering on about Harry Houdini; "Eww! They'd have to use tongues!" Why had she said that? Then he remembered what Alex had said that had resulted in said outburst; "Bess would pass a key to Houdini with a kiss..."

Harry flushed at the prospect, but there seemed little else in the way of options. He couldn't believe he was about to attempt this! He only hoped that Hermione didn't try to punch him; it would be a cold day in Hell that he'd attempt this with Ron- the students talked about Harry behind his back enough as it was.

"Hermione, wait!" he shouted, in a tone he hoped sounded particularly melodramatic. Hermione looked at him.

"Harry? What's the matter?" she asked. Harry looked carefully at her, hoping against all hope that she'd pick up on what he was trying to do. He covered his mouth with his hand and coughed nervously, slipping the small talisman between his cheek and his teeth in the process.

"It's just... what if something happens?" he asked, feebly, feeling the eyes of the entire class on him.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, sounding very confused, but fortunately compassionate enough for Harry's attempts to not appear totally ridiculous. He took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

"Please don't laugh, Hermione," he thought to himself. Surely she wouldn't- she had kept a pretty straight face when Draco had kissed her in the library, by her own admission, and Harry was her friend, at least.

"Hermione, I love you!" Harry blurted out, in his best black-and-white movie voice. Hermione looked stunned, and also a little horrified.

"Harry, I..." she began to protest, but Harry swiftly rushed forward and pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her.

"Don't say anything, Hermione," he replied, hamming it up to preposterous levels. "For Merlin's sake, don't say anything," he managed to whisper, between gritted teeth whilst hardly moving his lips. He quickly pushed the talisman between his teeth, and then slipped it back behind his cheek with his tongue, before whispering, "Persephone, quickly!"

Hermione seemed to cotton on.

"Harry?" she asked, in a slightly theatrical voice. "Why now? Oh, Harry- what if I never see you again?"

"Shush," he soothed, histrionically. "Just... just remember me!" He was reminded, yet again, of Hermione's skill for manipulating situations like this; specifically, he was reminded of how she managed to wrap a seventeen year old Snape around her little finger by batting her eyelids and saying a few choice words. It at least reminded him that she wouldn't think him entirely mad for what he was about to do.

"Kiss me, Hermione!" he proclaimed, as though it were a matter of life and death. Trying very hard not to laugh, he lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers, feeling very stupid indeed. At least the girls in the class were giggling and squealing enough to add a vague distraction, as for the first time since he had conceived this plan, Harry realised he really wasn't sure how to use this kiss to pass the talisman without it looking painfully obvious. Fortunately, Hermione was one step ahead of the game now, and had faked a swoon. He knew it was faked, for she kept prodding him sharply in the ribs every time he let go of her slightly and she felt in danger of losing her balance.

About seventeen seconds later, and the task was complete; just in time for Malfoy to grab Harry roughly by the shoulders and drag him away from Hermione, who deftly fished the talisman out of her mouth and slipped it into her pocket without drawing attention to herself.

"Leave the little Mudblood alone, and get over there," he hissed, shoving Harry in the direction of Alex and Snape, and hitting him with a spell that bound Harry's arms and legs to a nearby chair with some kind of invisible force, leaving him unable to move. Malfoy then swiftly conjured both Snape and Alex's wands from their person, before grabbing Hermione roughly by the arm, and pushing her towards the classroom door.

Suddenly, he stopped.

"Wait a minute," he said, in dark tones, glaring at a now blushing Hermione. Harry felt his heart hammer in his throat.

"Touching as this whole scene has been," Malfoy drawled. "I must admit to being somewhat suspicious..."

Hermione looked up at him as sweetly as she could. He merely looked back at her as though she were something he'd stepped in.

"Hands," he demanded. Hermione gingerly held out her hands, which she had bunched into fists. Malfoy grabbed them and prised them open, revealing nothing.

"Mouth," he ordered, and Hermione reluctantly unpressed her lips. Malfoy put a glove on his right hand, and held her jaw still with his left. He prodded around the inside of her mouth like an inexperienced dentist, ordered her to lift up her tongue, but found nothing.

"We can't help the fact we love each other!" Hermione insisted, and it was all Harry could do to stop himself from laughing out loud. Malfoy pointed at the classroom door.

"Get out, insolent little Mudblood!" he ordered, and Hermione did as she was told.

Then, there were four.