The Man of the Moment

Author's Notes- Once again, thanks to everyone who is still keeping up with this story, and thanks to Rose Black, my beta, for her beta-ing. Enjoy.

Chapter Thirty-One: This Woman's Work

The next morning, Harry woke up with a strong resolution not to tease Ron about his date with Hermione. He wasn't sure whether this was entirely down to his own pricking conscience, or the throbbing pain on his left temple that was the result of Ron throwing Neville's Herbology textbook at him the last time he had made another joke about his newly developing sensitive, caring side.

"Morning," Ron grumbled from beneath his bedclothes, "What have we got today?" He suddenly jumped up out of bed. "We haven't got an exam, have we?"

"Not for another month," Neville replied, yawning and stretching as he did so. "We've got Defence Against the Dark Arts today... Why are all our exams starting practically the same week we finish our lessons, anyway? We had loads of time off for studying when we did our O.W.L.s."

"It's the way it is with the N.E.W.T.s," Ron explained, "my brothers were forever complaining about it. You'd have thought the teachers would have done something about it by now."

"Maybe it's the only way they can fit it all in," Seamus suggested. "My mam always says there's never enough hours in the day."

Harry shrugged to himself and began to get changed. It was certainly a bizarre timetable the Seventh years had at the moment. Harry had worked out they had at least one lesson a week for each subject they were taking in their N.E.W.T.s, and the rest of the time they had to fit in revision, and quite possibly any Quidditch matches, although Harry was sure a rematch between Gryffindor and Slytherin had yet to be scheduled. He wasn't too surprised at this; the teachers had far more important things on their minds at the moment. If Persephone's estimations had been correct, they also had the grave looming concern of Voldemort possibly trying to attack the school in less than two months.

"Harry, are you ready yet?" Ron asked, leaning against the doorway whilst tapping his foot impatiently.

"Give me a couple of minutes, Ron- I've only just got my trousers on!" Harry replied, much to the amusement of the rest of the dormitory inhabitants.

"Why the hurry, Ron?" Neville asked, in a teasing manner that Harry was certain reflected upon what Neville had witnessed between Ron and Hermione last night. True to form, Ron coloured up within seconds.

"I've a desperate desire to learn, alright!" Ron retorted. Neville sniggered quietly, but said nothing in return.

As they all made their way down the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room, Seamus surreptitiously took Harry aside.

"Here," he demanded, "What's the deal with Ron? He's been acting really oddly!"

"I think he's suffering from love pains," Neville laughed, as he passed them on the staircase. Seamus looked both confused and bewildered.

"Eh?" he managed to enquire of Harry, who shrugged his shoulders.

"I've no idea," he replied. "Just leave me out of it."

"What's Neville on about? Has Ron split up with Hermione, then?" Seamus continued. "I didn't expect it to last forever, but I reckoned there was a bit more mileage than a fortnight in it!"

"No, they haven't split up," Harry replied. "Just don't worry about it- Ron wouldn't thank you for asking so many questions about it, believe me." He rubbed his left temple subconsciously upon saying this.

"I know," Seamus replied. "That's why I'm asking you."

Fortunately for Harry, they soon reached the Great Hall and Seamus stopped his interrogation upon seeing Hermione sitting with Ginny at the end of the Gryffindor table.

"Morning, Hermione," he said, before sitting down nearby. Harry sat next to him and Neville, and Ron sat next to Neville and Hermione. Dean sat next to Ginny, and Harry was sure he saw Ron's disapproving glance pass over the couple. Hermione attempted to stifle her giggles, and Harry couldn't blame her- Ron was probably more over-protective of his little sister than their own father was.

"What have you guys got this morning?" Ginny asked. "You're all up a bit too early for people who don't have classes anymore."

Ron shook his head.

"I wish," he grunted, as he reached across the table to grab a couple of slices of bacon.

"Yeah, we've got Defence in about half an hour," Dean pointed out. "It's one of the tests of being in the seventh year, I think- the teachers want to make sure we can handle stress."

"Aye, and giving us lessons while we're trying to revise is their favourite way of finding out!" Seamus commented.

"Aww, I really feel sorry for you all," Ginny said, patting Dean affectionately on the arm. Dean looked at her suspiciously.

"Do you really feel sorry for us, or are you just lying?" he asked. Ginny tried, and failed, to suppress a grin.

"I'm lying," she replied. "I've got lessons all of this term, so stop whining about having a few more for a month!"

Dean caught Seamus' eye, and grinned.

"Don't you just love it?" he joked. "My girl's so full of sympathy... I bet Hermione ain't like this, is she, Ron?"

Ron looked horrified for a moment. Hermione merely lifted her head up, and rested her spoon on the edge of her porridge bowl.

"Well, of course I'm not- I'm in the same boat, too," she replied. "In fact, I'm really quiet worried- we're going to be examined on the lessons we're having this month as well."

"That explains why you keep looking down at your lap," Ron replied. Hermione blushed a little, and lifted up three open textbooks to make her point.

"Well, if I can get some revision in during meal times..."

"You work too hard," Ron commented. "If I had half your brains, I wouldn't care that we had exams in a month."

Hermione looked at him.

"If you had half my brains, you'd spend more time revising!" she scolded. Seamus and Dean sniggered.

"Lover's tiff, eh?" Seamus commented, jocularly. Neville grinned.

"Yeah, I think the honeymoon is over," he joked. Ron looked thoroughly annoyed.

"Will you lot knock it off!" he demanded. "We're not having a tiff, we're having a discussion! We've always acted like this, what's the big deal?"

"We're just having a laugh," Seamus replied.

"Yeah, calm down, Ron," Dean said. Ron's ears had gone a peculiar shade of red.

"Just leave it, okay!" he ordered, slamming his knife down. At the ensuing silence, he hunched over his breakfast and began to pick at it, without looking anyone in the eye.

Soon, enough, they began to talk again, complaining about exams and lessons whilst Ron brooded over his eggs and bacon. Hermione loudly asked him for the butter dish, but Harry heard her quietly ask him if he was alright whilst Ron handed the dish to her. He noticed Ron offer he a small smile, before squeezing her hand under the table- although what he actually said to Hermione, Harry didn't catch.

"Bloody hell!" Dean exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. "We've got Defence in about ten minutes! You know what Beauchamp's like- she'll do her nut if we're late."

Seamus nodded.

"Yeah, she's been more snappish that usual. Actually, she's been a bit funny of late, hasn't she?" he commented. Neville nodded.

"Yeah, she's probably got things on her mind," he replied, although only Harry knew he had an inkling more than Seamus and Dean as to what could be bothering her. Harry, naturally, had a great deal more of an inkling than Neville as to Persephone's woes. Nevertheless, he had a nasty feeling there was something she wasn't telling any of them; something she was even keeping secret from the Order and the Brethren. That discussion Harry had overheard last night was bothering him still.

They all got up to go to class; Dean kissed Ginny goodbye, but Ginny didn't appear to be paying much attention to him.

"Harry?" she called, whilst Dean still had his lips pressed to her cheek. "Can I have a word, please?"

Dean tutted.

"Typical," he said loudly to Seamus. "I try to make my woman happy, and she's calling after other blokes!"

Seamus shook his head in mock dismay.

"It's a sad state of affairs," he replied. "Shame on you, Ginny!"

Ginny looked surprised.

"What?" she half asked, half demanded. Dean merely shrugged.

"I know my place," he joked. "See you later, Ginny."

Harry watched as Neville, Dean, Seamus, Ron and Hermione wandered down the corridor towards their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Ginny had backed him into the doorframe of the Great Hall, and beckoned him to lean in a little, whilst other students passed through the doors, apparently oblivious to their secret discussion.

"Look, Harry, I wanted a word about Ron," she said quietly. "Away from the others."

"Sure," Harry replied. "What is it?"

Ginny sighed as she pushed her red hair out of her face.

"Can you try and get the others to ease off the teasing a bit?" she asked. Harry watched as her long hair coiled down over her shoulders, and tried to think hard about what she meant. Ginny evidently noticed he wasn't following her, for she continued to speak.

"This thing about Hermione. I know it's just guys being guys, but he's a bit sensitive about it," she said.

"How do you know?" Harry asked, stunned by her comment. After all, it wasn't like Ron not to take a joke- surely he knew they weren't being purposely cruel?

"Has he said something to you?" he asked. Ginny shook her head.

"No, no; I've just noticed," she answered, before screwing her forehead up in thought. She sighed again. "Look, when it comes to Hermione, he's a bit, well... confused, shall we say?"

"Confused?" Harry asked. Truth be told, he was starting to feel a bit confused himself. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"You know that Ron's liked Hermione for ages, right?" she asked. Harry nodded.

"Well, I do now he's said," he replied. Ginny rolled her eyes again, and shook her head in dismay.

"Let's just say that I don't think he realised quite how much he liked her until he started going out with her," she confided. "He's probably having difficulty trying to behave like the typical boy that he is, whilst doing things like giving Hermione flowers when you lot aren't around. You're not helping! So, can I rely on you to get them to ease up a bit?" she asked, sweetly. Before Harry noticed he was doing it, he subconsciously ran his hand along his hair, in an attempt to flatten it down.

"Yeah, of course you can," he said. "I really didn't realise he..." His brain suddenly whirred into action.

"Flowers?" he enquired. Ginny looked a little embarrassed.

"Did I say flowers?" she babbled. "I meant library books! Thanks, Harry- I knew I could count on you; I'll see you later."

And with those words, she kissed him briefly on the cheek and sauntered off towards her next class. Harry stood where he was, feeling rather bemused; until he glanced down at his watch and suddenly realised he was supposed to be in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Harry reached Persephone's classroom, panting heavily, but fortunately, only a couple of minutes late for the lesson.

"Sorry I'm a bit late, Professor," he said. "I got caught up..."

"I was wondering if we'd lost you, Harry," Persephone joked. "Now, hurry up and sit down; we've got a lot to get through today."

Still trying to get his breath back, Harry sat down at the desk next to Ron's. Dean, who was sitting on the opposite side, scrutinised him.

"What have you been doing with my girlfriend, Harry- panting like that!" he demanded, jokily.

"Nothing," he replied, although he could feel himself going a bit red, which served to make him feel even more embarrassed at Dean's questioning. Seamus clearly noticed, because he pointed at him.

"Sign of a guilty conscience, that," he whispered, jabbing at Harry's cheeks.

"We were just talking!" Harry hissed back. Dean laughed.

"I know, I know," he replied, slapping Harry hard on the back.

Draco, who was sitting near by, had raised his hand.

"Professor," he announced loftily. "I feel as though Potter and Finnegan are disrupting my learning environment with their gossiping about their personal lives."

Persephone looked across at Harry, Seamus and Dean.

"He's got a point, lads; break it up," she warned. They did as they were told, and sat up a little more in their seats.

"Sorry, Professor," they said, almost in chorus. Persephone smiled.

"Right; let's get on with today's lesson..."

"Professor," Draco continued. "Aren't you going to give them detention, or at least deduct..."

"You've made your statement, Draco, now be quiet," Persephone ordered, before striding over to her desk and picking up a large book Harry had only ever seen before on the topmost shelf of her office.

"Right," she began, "today, for a change, we'll be having a little history lesson. Now, can any of you tell me what the most ancient defence and attack category of spells ever used is?" She looked around the class, evidentially awaiting a response. A few people gingerly put their hands up.

"Yes, Neville?" she asked, nodding towards where Neville was sitting. He put down his hand.

"Blood magic?" he offered. Persephone pursed her lips momentarily.

"Good answer, Neville, but not quite what I was looking for- I'll give you a point for that, though, because you're along the right lines. Anyone else?"

Draco raised his hand in a rather smug manner.

"Not that we could teach that here- some of us would evidently do far better than others," he announced with a knowing look at Hermione, much to the amusement of the other Slytherins. Hermione merely glared back at him, whilst Ron looked as though he was about to get up and scalp Draco. Persephone, on the other hand, simply tutted.

"Now, now, Draco- any more of that and I'll have to cane you," she replied. Draco looked puzzled.

"Professor," he said, "Corporal punishment isn't part of Hogwarts' regime!"

Persephone leant a little over his desk.

"Look at me, Draco," she said. "Look at my eyes. Do I look bothered?"

Draco said nothing, although it soon became apparent to everyone watching that Persephone was awaiting a reply.

"Not particularly, Professor," he added. Persephone nodded.

"Exactly; now, I suggest we stop wasting any more time and crack on with the lesson- oh, and ten points from Slytherin. Right..."

"Ten points! Potter was disrupting the lesson, and he didn't lose any!" Draco argued, indignantly. Persephone sighed.

"Harry was indeed disrupting the lesson, but he was not inciting racial hatred at the same time. You know I have a warning system, Draco- and you also know it does not cover intolerant behaviour towards other students," she replied, before leaning forward over Draco and whispering something so quietly, Harry could only just make out the words, "By all means, if my methods displease you, be sure to discuss the matter with your father."

Harry had begun to wonder if he had heard Persephone correctly, but then Draco turned rather pale and dropped his quill, which confirmed Harry's initial suspicions.

"What was that about?" Ron whispered.

"Later," Harry replied, gesturing surreptitiously towards Persephone. He had an inkling he knew what it meant- that she was fully aware of the fact Draco was in contact with his wanted father. Considering how much Harry knew Persephone also wanted Draco's father- dead- he thought Draco ought to be looking more concerned than he was.

"Right, would anybody care to venture a guess as to what category the most ancient defence and attack spells might fall under? Hopefully before the sands of time pass over this classroom and fossilise us all, preserving our bodies in this advanced state of not learning?" Persephone enquired, patting her wand against her hand as she wandered up and down the aisles between the desks. Hermione raised her hand.

"Sacrificial magic," she said. Persephone nodded.

"Excellent, Hermione- the perfect antidote to Draco's earlier idiocy." She narrowed her eyes at Draco, who appeared suitably cowed. "Now," she continued, "Care to elaborate, Hermione?"

"Sacrificial magic ties in with the old blood magic- practises that are banned in modern society," Hermione explained. "According to legend, spells like these require much more than simple incantations and wand manipulation. Instead, they relied on acts such as blood-letting and sacrifice- be they animal or human. Very few, if any, of the specific spells remain in the public consciousness; it is rumoured that the tribal people such as the Romanies still possess this knowledge, as it is passed on through word of mouth." She looked directly at Persephone. "So far," she continued, "no written records of the specifics behind these practises have been found; only documentation of their existence and the results of their usage."

"Good girl, Hermione," Persephone replied, as she surreptitiously offered Hermione a wink. "Ten points to Gryffindor. It is true that no written instructions for sacrificial and blood spells have been unearthed for public consumption- but we do know these enchantments exist; and we know, to some extent, the rudimentary beliefs and laws that need to be followed for such spells to work. How much of this knowledge is truth, and how much is fabrication and folklore, is something we do not know as of yet. Can anybody perhaps suggest a few important ideas concerning blood and sacrifice?"

Draco raised his hand. Persephone nodded at him to continue.

"At the risk of being accused of racism," he remarked, at which Harry noticed Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott struggle to suppress their giggles.

"Go on, Draco," Persephone interrupted.

"Purity of blood," he replied. Persephone nodded.

"That's one," she said. "Five points to Slytherin. Purity of blood was considered very important when casting such spells. However, this did not solely encompass blood purity as it is perceived today- that of wizarding heritage. It covered a far more important purity. Anyone care to venture a guess as to what it could be?"

The class appeared bemused by this question- Harry could see Dean scratching his head in an attempt to work out the answer. The Slytherins were all equally confused; even Hermione appeared deep in thought. This surprised Harry, for he was sure he knew.

"Family," he said, quietly. Persephone smiled.

"Five points to Gryffindor," she replied. "Precisely the answer I was looking for. You see, no matter whether you are muggleborn, come from a long line of wizards, or anything in between; there is one link that outstrips any of those, and that is your own blood line. As far as legend behind such ancient spells goes, if the caster used the blood of a wizard with the strongest magical heritage in the entire wizarding world, its power would be nothing compared to the power gained from using the blood of his or her relatives. Any other suggestions?"

Dean hesitantly raised his hand. Persephone looked surprised.

"Dean? Oh, how I've longed to hear your dulcet tones in something other than idle conversation all lesson," she joked, and the class sniggered a little. "Go on, Dean."

Dean smiled.

"Very funny, Professor- my personal life could have been on the line!" he replied, at which Persephone merely grinned, and folded her arms in reply.

"Cheeking a teacher? Your answer had better be good," she said, much to the amusement of the whole class. It was one of those odd things about being taught by Persephone- whereas teachers such as Snape, Ridley or McGonagall would assign you a detention for even thinking about taking back to them, Persephone had always been oddly lenient. Harry often assumed it was down to her age, and her sense of humour- she seemed to enjoy the odd bit of banter with her pupils, providing it didn't become offensive. In fact, Harry was sure if Draco had interrupted to say almost anything other than insinuating muggleborn inferiority earlier in the lesson, Persephone would not have taken any points from Slytherin, no matter how much she might want to strangle his father.

"Surely the right kind of sacrifice is important," Dean suggested. "I mean, if you had the choice between sacrificing a goat, and sacrificing a wizard, you'd pick the wizard?"

"Hmm, five point to Gryffindor," Persephone replied. "Although I must inform you, Dean, goats are more powerful than you might first think. However, your point still stands- the sacrifice itself wasn't as important as the right kind of sacrifice. Documented accounts of such rituals don't specify the particular significance placed upon certain sacrificial figures, but they seem to suggest that there was a certain hierarchy of such figures, depending upon the spell involved. It is also suggested that heritage of a sacrificial victim was considered important; hence why many of the documented accounts appear to suggest that many willing sacrificial victims were, in fact, relatives of the spell casters... Now," she continued, looking across at the class, "there is one important idea that nobody has mentioned yet. We've got magical heritage, blood heritage and specific sacrifice, but there's one more idea that has been considered to form one of the main pillars of ancient magic..."

The class looked on in expectation, as nobody appeared to know the answer. Harry glanced across at Hermione, who appeared to have an inkling as to what this fourth pillar might be, but she also appeared resolute about not sharing this with the class.

"Marriage?" Pansy Parkinson suggested, awkwardly. The other Slytherins smirked.

"Well, you're close, Pansy," Persephone conceded, "I'll give you a point, but it isn't technically correct..."

The class seemed to collectively grasp Persephone's point, as they all grimaced.

"Eurgh!" one of the Slytherins remarked, distastefully. Persephone appeared to be stifling sniggers.

"Oh, come on; we're all adults," she said loudly, clapping her hands in order to command silence from the class. "The fourth pillar concerns bonds of love, which differ from bonds of blood, as they are generally dissimilar to the bonds made with relatives. Bonds of love are formed between people with no blood links, and although the modern marriage ceremony represents an official acknowledgement of this tie, the actual bond is formed only when..." She paused from her explanation to watch her class fall about with laughter, a disapproving expression on her face.

"Honestly," she remonstrated, "you're supposed to be grown up! Fine, I won't say it out loud; its entertaining enough watching your embarrassment at what is a perfectly normal human activity. Let's just say your mums and dads most likely share this bond, and leave it at that."

The class began to calm down from their giggles, and Persephone continued, albeit between shaking her head at her students.

"The only exception is the parent-child bond, which is considered to fall under both bonds of blood, for obvious reasons, and bonds of love, given that the first thing a child is supposed to see when he or she is born is their mother. The paternal link within all of this is deemed more complex..." The class began to snigger again. Persephone sighed heavily, and closed her eyes momentarily. "And has no bearing on the usual bonds of love, so stop being perverse before I take house points from all of you!" she ordered.

Seamus put up his hand once the class began to calm down.

"Yes, Seamus?" Persephone asked. "Please make it a sensible question..."

"Oh, it is, Professor," he assured her. "I was wondering; will we be tested on this in the exam?"

"Well, not in the practical exam, obviously," she replied, "but I do set an Ethics question in the theory- it proved quite successful last year. The theory exam will consist of a series of questions, some of which are straight right-or-wrong answers, the others- such as the Ethics question- will be essay based, and therefore require a more open approach. So basically, it's up to you if you think the question set would benefit from adding information from this class."

The rest of the lesson mainly involved discussion about ancient magical practises, and which were still recognised in the modern wizarding culture, such as the life-debt. Harry did his best not to dwell too deeply upon it, given that the life-debt he was still owed by Wormtail hadn't done him much good. They had a debate on the relevance and ethical issues behind such magic, which surprised Harry, for it divided the class into two groups of thought that weren't dependent upon their House. He also got the impression that Persephone had left the more theoretical, discussion-based lesson topics until the end of the year, which Harry was grateful for. It was hard enough trying to revise whilst still being taught examinable material, never mind trying to learn complicated spells as well. He hoped the other teachers were thinking along Persephone's lines; but then he thought momentarily about Professor Snape, and quickly decided that it was likely Persephone would be in the minority.

Three weeks into the temporary regime, and Harry had discovered his initial suspicions about the other teachers had proven correct. Flitwick, Ridley and Snape had not relented as far as teaching new spells, incantations and potions went. Snape, true to form, appeared to have saved his most complicated potions for the month before their exams started, as though he derived genuine pleasure from the slow-building mass panic that set in every time the Seventh years had a Potions lesson.

"I wonder why that is?" Neville said, suddenly, as they made their way to the D.A meeting Ron and Hermione had organised that week.

"Why what is?" Harry asked. Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, Neville- I was busy trying to remember how to make a Confusing Draught," he commented. "I can't wait for the N.E.W.T.s," he added, sarcastically. Ginny patted him on the arm.

"You know, you're making me want to quit now," she said. "I could go and work for my brothers... Sorry, Neville, go on," she finished, upon noticing Neville's persistent stare.

"As I was saying," he continued, "I was wondering why Beauchamp has left all her less complicated theoretical stuff until now, but Ridley seems to be giving us really hard stuff to learn. I'm only just managing to keep up with revising for Camouflage Transfiguration! And the exam is next week!" he exclaimed, his voice steadily rising in panic.

"What about Snape?" Seamus remarked. "He's trying to teach us potions that I can barely pronounce! Surely he should have done that sometime when we're not all trying to revise!"

Harry heard a loud sigh from behind him. He turned around, and saw Hermione following them, along with Ron.

"Because, Seamus," Hermione explained wearily, "Snape teaches Potions, and you have to start with the simple theoretical stuff before you can master the basics of the practical application. Professor Beauchamp can afford to leave some of her theoretical ethical stuff until the end, as it doesn't really affect how well someone can cast a counter-curse."

Dean studied her momentarily.

"Do you ever say anything nasty about the teachers?" he asked. "Snape's vile to you, but I don't think I've ever heard you say one bad thing about him!"

"That's true, Hermione," Seamus agreed. "I've never heard you say anything, either... Oi, Lavender!" he shouted, as Lavender and Parvati caught up with them along the stairs.

"What's the matter?" she asked, as Seamus pushed between the two of them and put an arm around each of their shoulders, as though he needed them to support his weight.

"You two share a dorm with Hermione," he said. "Does she ever slag off Snape?"

Lavender and Parvati looked at each other.

"I don't think so," Lavender replied. Parvati shrugged.

"She doesn't really slag off teachers at all," she commented. "I mean, apart from Umbridge, but who didn't?"

They all laughed at Parvati's remark. However, this didn't deter Seamus, who began to prod Hermione in the arm.

"Come on, then," he goaded, "say something horrible about him!"

"Yeah," Dean said, encouragingly, "he deserves it. Terry would say so, too. He's always going on about how horrible Snape is to you!"

"Just stop it," Hermione demanded.

"Shan't," Seamus replied, simply. "Not until you do it- I mean, what possible reason could you have to be nice to him?"

"Guys!" Neville hissed, "Just leave it, okay!"

He gave them a warning stare, which Dean and Seamus clearly didn't entirely understand, but they backed off none the less. Hermione smiled gratefully at Neville, which made Harry feel a bit better about having told Neville about Snape saving her life last July. At least it made it obvious to Harry that with Neville, keeping secrets was not something he undertook lightly.

"Alright, alright, your girlfriend's safe from our interrogation... Here, Ron, you ought to watch out for him," Seamus pointed out, jocularly. "He's after your missus!"

Suddenly, Ginny's stifled giggles attracted everyone's attention.

"What's the matter with you?" Dean demanded, putting his arm around her as she burst into hopeless hysterics. She glanced up at Harry, and winked. Almost instantly, Harry felt the same desire to laugh engulf him. He knew why Ginny found it all so amusing, and it had everything to do with a short time-travel spell that resulted in Hogwarts being saved from Death Eater attack in 1977, and in Hermione kissing their Potions professor.

"What is wrong with you two?" Dean asked. "I swear something's going on..."

"I'm not stealing your girlfriend!" Harry yelled, out of despair at Dean's ongoing joke more than anything. Unfortunately, he had loudly made this particular fact known just as Professor McGonagall passed them on the stairwell.

"I'll let the school know, Mr. Potter," she replied, before adding, "If they haven't heard already."

"Sorry, Professor," Harry replied, meekly. McGonagall responded with a small smile.

They soon reached the D.A. meeting room- the room Dobby had recommended back in their fifth year. It was particularly useful for holding such a meeting, as anything you could possibly want would appear in that room; such as cushions for practising Banishing Charms, or archery targets for practising their aim with attacking spells. Thanks to Hermione's Protean charmed fake Galleons, it also meant they could hold a meeting within minutes of acquiring the room for their own private use.

"Harry, can we have a word?" Ron surreptitiously asked, whilst the other D.A. members filtered into the classroom.

"Sure," he replied, as he huddled closer to Ron and Hermione.

"We overheard Persephone talking to Frederick earlier," Hermione explained. Harry shrugged.

"So? He's her great, great uncle- they're bound to talk," he reasoned, "especially given the fact that most of their tribe has been wiped..."

"It's what they were talking about that was a worry, mate," Ron interrupted. Harry looked at them both.

"Go on," he replied.

"Well, we don't know exactly what they were on about, but we did hear Persephone say something like, 'That's asking an awful lot of me, Armel.' Then, Frederick was going on about family loyalty, and that if it came down to it, he trusted her to do what is right for their line," Hermione explained

"It all sounded a bit weird," Ron added. Hermione nodded.

"Just thought you ought to know," she replied. "It's probably nothing serious, but... I don't know, she has been acting a bit oddly recently."

Harry nodded; that much at least was true. After everything that has happened, Persephone seemed to have taken the attack in the Ministry building hard. It had resulted in a lot of very untimely deaths; including Tonks, who Harry couldn't think about now without feeling an overwhelming sense of great injustice that she was taken from them at such a young age. Still, the rebuilding process of the Ministry appeared to be going well, according to both the Daily Prophet and Ron's dad, who was now up and about attending his usual meetings and trials. However, even if they could rebuild that place ten times over, Harry doubted they could rebuild the confidence that had been shattered across the UK. He had to admit, it was a clever move of Voldemort's. He just hoped that the Order and the Brethren had something bigger up their sleeves.

Suddenly, Neville was standing in the front of the room, next to a blackboard on which some points had been hastily scribbled down.

"Right, can I have your attention, please?" he asked, clapping his hands slowly as he did so- a move Harry had noticed Ridley use on a few occasions. The gathered students quietened down and listened with rapt attention to Neville's words.

"Well last week we were looking at Confusing Curses and Decoy Hexes, as a way of distracting any opponent to the point that you can make a swift getaway in case of an attack. Now, as these are particularly powerful, when we cast them an opponent should be affected for at least half an hour, or until you end the spell. Now, if all the prefects would like to show everyone how it's done?" he suggested, as fourteen students stepped forward, with their wands raised. Harry recognised the four Gryffindor prefects- Katie McIntyre and Andrew Tracy from the fifth year, along with Colin Creevey and Teresa Smith from the sixth. The others he recognised from Ravenclaw; Michael Corner, for one, along with a small, dark haired girl whom Harry only knew as Marianne- and Hufflepuff; he was sure that he had seen Hannah Abbot and Ernie Macmillan chatting to them on numerous occasions. However, there were two prefects he couldn't account for. Then it hit him- they were Slytherins.

"Serendipity Katenjammer and Odin Bolen, fifth year prefects," Hermione whispered into his ear. "The sixth years weren't interested- in fact, the only other Slytherin students we've got involved are Szeto, Ian Angleson and Violet Darcy-Trentham; all from the first year. Still, it's better than the first year of the D.A."

Harry nodded as he watched the prefects display their accuracy and strength with the various Confusing Curses and Decoy Hexes. At one point, Harry heard one of the prefects announce that he couldn't get out of the big stone hut Teresa Smith had built around him, despite the fact that the only thing surrounding him was thin air. Neville seemed particularly pleased with Teresa as a result.

"How do you know we can trust them? The Slytherins, I mean?" Harry asked. Ron nodded.

"Yeah, I've been wondering the same thing," he replied, looking at Hermione, who simply shrugged.

"Well, we know we can trust them about as much as we know we can trust everyone else here," she pointed out. "Having said that, we did sign everyone up again. It isn't like we've got no cover at all- plus, they all know something horrible will happen if their tongues loosen..."

"They just don't know what," Ron added, looking somewhat admirably at Hermione, who tried- and failed- to suppress her pleasure at this.

Soon enough, the group were busy working on advanced methods of distraction and binding, and were doing so very well. Harry couldn't help but admire Neville's ability to teach all of the students- Harry had done it before, in the fifth year, but he was sure Neville had the patience of a saint in comparison to himself. What did unnerve him about the whole class, however, was the one fact that nobody could ignore. This wasn't some way of helping them do better in their exams, or even to help them fight some abstract concept of evil that may come their way. It was crystal clear than these lessons were designed specifically to help the students defend themselves against Death Eaters, with the onus on incapacitating them long enough to escape. There had already been a couple of break-ins at the school, but Harry knew that Ron and Hermione were concerned about the big one that had been prophesised by both Professor Trelawney and Professor Ridley; 'On that day, he will descend upon the innocent...'. This attack, whatever it was, would be upon them within three weeks, and nobody seemed any closer to preventing Voldemort from marching his forces upon the school. The Ministry of Magic hadn't exactly proven to be a challenge for him.

"Guys!" Ron called over the noise, and the members slowly stopped their practicing, and removed the incantations they had performed on their sparring opponents so that they could talk, or, in some cases of overenthusiastic Confusing Curses, actually remember their own names.

"Just so you know, me and Hermione want to have a practise run on Friday evening, if that's okay with everyone?" he suggested. The members mumbled amongst themselves, until finally, they all concurred.

"Practise run?" Harry asked. Hermione grimaced.

"Yeah, a practice run of the escape route out of Hogwarts," she replied. "We need to make sure that, if the worst happens, the route Ron and I planned is the safest it can be. We've got to let Persephone know once we've tested it."

Suddenly, Hermione stiffened.

"Someone's at the door," she said. "Hold on, everyone, I'll see what's going on."

Harry could indeed hear an insistent tapping at the door, as well as hushed voices coming from the corridor outside.

"It's probably one of the teachers," Neville reasoned, as Hermione aimed her wand at the door and removed the privacy spell she had cast before the start of the lesson, before turning the handle of the door.

"None of the teachers said they'd be here today," Ron replied, looking somewhat wary. His expression became even more so upon seeing their visitors. Harry glanced across at the now open doorway, and felt his jaw drop in complete, absolute disbelief. Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini were all standing at the doorway, trying to look as though they attended the D.A. meetings every week.

"Well," Pansy said, smoothing down her skirt and waltzing into the room, "nice set-up you've got here."

"Yeah, better than I thought you three could have managed," Theodore commented, casting a mildly disdainful glance at Harry, Ron and Hermione. "I'm almost impressed." He curled his lip slightly, displaying long buck-teeth that Harry now knew Persephone had done her utmost not to stare at during their first Defence Against the Dark Arts classes.

"What do you want?" Ron demanded, folding his arms defensively, and tapping his foot to signify he was awaiting a reply.

"What do you think?" Blaise replied. "We want to join."

Hermione surveyed them with deep suspicion etched across her features.

"Why?" she asked. "Why now?"

Blaise sighed.

"Because, it isn't just about your kind anymore, is it?" he exclaimed, panic setting into his voice. Ron pushed forward between Hermione and Blaise.

"Watch your mouth, Zabini!" he ordered. Blaise merely smirked.

"Sorry, Weasley- didn't mean to upset your wife," he retorted. Pansy glared at Blaise.

"What he means is, You-Know-Who isn't just targeting Mud... Muggleborns, is he? We all know what happened to Draco's mother..."

"Then why isn't he here?" Neville demanded. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, because he'd willingly spend his spare time with a bunch of Gryffindors- he doesn't seem to care much for what's happening. That doesn't mean we're as blasé about it all," she explained.

"Excuse me," Ernie MacMillan piped up, somewhat haughtily, "this room isn't just full of Gryffindors, you know."

Pansy shrugged.

"You know what I mean," she retorted, with a flick of her hand. "I was referring to non-Slytherins in general."

Theodore looked up at the ceiling momentarily, before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in boredom.

"Look, can we join or not?" he asked, irritatedly. Hermione met his glare.

"Of course," she replied. "Some of your House are already here- we don't discriminate."

Blaise rubbed his hands together.

"Excellent- when do we learn how to kill things?" he asked, cheerfully, although his beaming smile faltered upon seeing Hermione's reproachful look.

"In a defensive capacity, naturally," he argued. Hermione raised her eyebrows momentarily, before walking over to her schoolbag and pulling out a length of parchment, and a quill.

"Right," she said commandingly. "If you're serious about this, you need to sign up."

Pansy, Theodore and Blaise gave her one o the most incredulous looks Harry had ever seen.

"Sign up? Do you call a register at the start of class, Mrs. Weasley?" Pansy sneered. Ron glared at her.

"It's a magically binding contract, you idiot," he retorted.

"Idiot? That's rich, coming from you," she spat.

"Look!" Hermione shouted, slamming down her parchment list on the table and making everyone in the room jump at the sudden increase in volume of her voice. "If you want to do this, great- but we've got other plans, too. Whether you want to participate in those or not is irrelevant; what we need is your silence. Therefore, if you want to learn from us, you need to sign this, and keep quiet about everything that is discussed here. If you don't... well, I'll know."

Pansy glared at her, and within seconds the two were almost nose to nose and attempting to outstare each other.

"Ooh, I'm scared," Pansy sneered. Theodore, however, merely looked interested.

"What'll happen if we break the contract?" he asked. Hermione shifted her glare from Pansy, and fixed it upon Theodore.

"Let's just hope you never find out," she warned.

"At least you got a warning about it," Michael Corner piped up, in what Harry thought were somewhat aggressive tones. "Marietta didn't- it took months for the boils to disappear. I saw her in the holidays, and if you look closely, you can still see the word 'Sneak' across her forehead..."

"No, you can't," Terry Boot retorted.

"You can if you squint," Michael muttered under his breath.

"So," Theodore mused. "You got everyone to unwittingly sign a magical contract, which resulted in some girl being cursed with horrendous boils once she broke your silence, as well as marking her out for some sort of social exile. That is the most sneaky, low-down act I've ever heard of, and I'm in Slytherin!" He paused for a moment, before grinning. "I'm impressed, Miss Granger..."

His smile quickly melted away upon being glared at by both Pansy and Ron.

"I mean; we'll think about it," he replied, clumsily backtracking on his previous statement. Pansy grabbed his arm.

"We've thought about it," she said, snatching the quill out of Hermione's hand and leaning on the table that had sprung up out of nowhere. "Where do we sign?"

Hermione spread the parchment out over the table and pointed to somewhere near the bottom.

"There," she instructed, as Pansy scribbled her signature down. Theodore and Blaise did the same.

"You don't tell a soul, okay?" Ron warned. Theodore sniggered.

"Yeah, because we'd want everyone to know we're here," he retorted.

"We have a reputation to uphold," Blaise added. Theodore nodded in agreement.

"Besides, I don't fancy getting on the wrong side of Hermione," he added, with a surreptitious wink aimed in Hermione's direction. Ron looked as though he could have quite cheerfully ripped Theodore's throat out with his bare teeth.

Harry sat down on one of the nearby large cushions that were scattered across the room. This all seemed far too bizarre; having even a couple of Slytherins getting involved in the D.A. had seemed insane enough- but Pansy Parkinson? Behind Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, she was the most aggressive instigator of ill-feeling towards himself, Ron and Hermione. Blaise and Theodore; well, Harry didn't really know that much about them, except their names. They seemed to act somewhat independently of the other Slytherins, so perhaps their interest in learning from the D.A. members wasn't so strange. Pansy, on the other hand- Harry was really starting to wonder what her game was.

"What are those lot playing at, Harry?" Neville asked, sitting down next to Harry, and making it clear Harry was not alone in his suspicions.

"I don't know," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders as he did so. "I'm not sure I like it, though."

Neville nodded.

"Still, at least Hermione has thought things through a little bit- she sort of hinted at what would happen if that contract is broken," he explained, with a dark chuckle. "Let's just say they won't get a chance to share any of our plans..."

"But ..." Harry faltered, before smiling at Neville. "Yeah, that's right."

"It's a good job Hermione's on the case, isn't it?" Neville mentioned. Harry nodded.

"Yeah," he lied. It wasn't that he was concerned about Hermione's methods- he knew that if Hermione had set her mind to something, that it would work. What concerned him were his suspicions about Draco. He had a feeling he must be in contact with his father, and if Pansy, Theodore or Blaise were to say something seemingly innocuous to him, it would only be a matter of time before Voldemort knew of it. And if Voldemort knew that Ron and Hermione were teaching Hogwarts' students to prepare themselves against any possible attack on their lives, he'd likely guess two things. One, that they knew something they shouldn't concerning his plans and two; they knew something they shouldn't about the prophecy. Either way, it meant that Ron and Hermione would have put themselves into a whole lot of danger, and Harry didn't like that idea. It was bad enough that he was at the top of Voldemort's 'Things to Kill' list, and he didn't need his friends being right there alongside him.

A week later, and Harry was exiting the first exam of his N.E.W.T.s- his Potions exam- feeling fairly pleased with his performance. Obviously, he wasn't in the league of Hermione, who was panicking that she wanted to add an extra half a foot about some subject that Harry didn't understand, but he felt confident that he had passed, at least.

"Well, I've got to go and prepare for my Arithmancy exam," Hermione announced, once they had exited the exam hall. Ron looked aghast.

"That's well harsh- two exams in one day? It's not like they're short of days, is it?" he asked. Hermione shrugged.

"Still, it gets them done, I suppose," she replied, before Ron kissed her on the cheek.

"Good luck," he replied, the tips of his ears going red- presumably because half of the Gryffindor seventh years were currently gawping at him. Hermione smiled.

"Wow, first public display of affection- I am impressed," she teased, before going off to meet the other students taking Arithmancy.

"Good luck," Harry called.

"Thanks," Hermione replied, stopping to turn around and face him. Harry grinned.

"You don't mind if I don't kiss you, do you?" he asked, at which Hermione laughed.

Ron rubbed his hands together, before stuffing them in his pockets and steadfastly ignoring all of the teasing wolf whistles the other boys in their house were directing at him.

"Are you going back to the common room?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"Yeah...oh, hang on- I've got to go to the library. I've got to pick up a book about Protean Charms. I was going to ask Hermione, but I forgot she was in an exam this afternoon," he replied. Ron shrugged his shoulders.

"Want me to come with you?" he asked.

"I'll meet you back in the common room," Harry replied. "I won't be long."

"Okay, I'll see you in a bit," Ron said, before joining the others on the way back to the Gryffindor common room and berating them for their teasing.

Harry walked briskly up the stairs towards the library, lost in his thoughts about how that Confusing Draught had gone, and nearly jumped when he heard his name being called.

"Harry?"

Harry turned around, and saw that Neville was calling him. He stood still and waited as Neville caught up with him. Bizarrely, he was carrying a huge, snaking plant that was attempting to wrestle out of its pot.

"How do you think your exam went?" he asked, upon getting close enough to him to have a conversation at normal volume. Harry shrugged.

"Well, I did as well at Potions as I thought I would," he replied. "Actually, I suppose I did a bit better than I would have with Snape breathing down my neck."

Neville nodded, as he struggled to hold the large plant in his hands- especially as it kept reaching forward to try and chew at Harry's ear.

"What is that, Neville?" he asked.

"Oh, this? It's Lupine vulgaris, a type of plant bred for security purposes," he replied, tapping it away from Harry. "They begin to crave human flesh after three months- I've got to go and pick up a Decoy Draught from Snape's office to give it... I don't suppose you'd come with me, would you?" he asked, pleadingly.

"Snape hates me, remember?" Harry explained, but Neville shook his head defiantly.

"Strength in numbers," he replied, simply, and Harry saw his point.

"Alright, I'll come," he agreed. "Just don't expect me to chat to him about the weather."

They walked further along the corridor, until they reached the stairwell that led down towards the dungeons of Hogwarts castle.

"Have you had any exams yet?" Harry asked. Neville nodded.

"Yeah, my Herbology practical started yesterday," he explained. "Hence the plant. I'm just worried Snape might try and fob me off with a fake- you know what a vindictive..." Neville looked around cautiously, before whispering an epithet that Ron often used when referring to Snape- "he is."

"I doubt he'd do that," Harry reasoned. "The examiners would kill him. I take it you're not being tested on how to make up any potions for Herbology?"

Neville shook his head.

"No; we're shown how to make them, but they're not in the exam. I think we have to go and see Snape in order to show we know what we need," he answered.

Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks so swiftly, that Harry nearly waked straight into the back of him. The Lupine vulgaris that Neville was carrying appeared to have noticed the collision, for it had slithered over Neville's shoulder and was trying to chew off Harry's little finger.

"What's the matter?" he asked, whilst trying to fend Neville's plant off with his schoolbag.

"Did you hear something?" he asked. "It sounded like a sort of groaning noise."

Harry looked around, but could see nobody.

Neville grabbed Harry's arm so tightly, he was sure it would leave a bruise.

"There it is again," he whispered. "Can't you hear it?"

Harry strained hard, and found that he could hear the noise. It sounded like heavy, laboured breathing, but Harry couldn't see anyone.

"I can hear it," Harry whispered back, "but where is it coming from?"

They crept along the corridor, hoping to find some signs of where the noise was coming from.

"Maybe Mrs. Norris got locked up in a cupboard somewhere?" Neville suggested. Harry smirked.

"Chance would be a fine thing," he replied, before he saw Neville stop dead once again.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked. Neville gulped, and pointed to the floor.

"I don't think it's Mrs. Norris," he managed to say, before he took another deep breath, presumably to steady himself. Harry looked down, and saw what Neville was pointing at- a sticky red trail of liquid. He knelt down and put his finger into the substance, carefully tasting it with his tongue.

"Don't do that!" Neville hissed. "It could be anything! Next thing you know, you could sprout turnips where you eyes should be!"

"I think it's blood," Harry replied, quietly. Neville rolled his eyes.

"Oh really? Here was me thinking perhaps one of the Slytherins had spilt tomato ketchup from their bacon roll on the floor!" His voice became increasingly hysterical with each word.

Harry looked along the corridor to see where the trail of blood led. He looked at Neville, who seemed in agreement with him, as they both followed the trail of gore, which led to a very lumpy curtain. Presumably whatever had happened, the assailant hadn't done a very good job of concealing the body. Harry could still hear that dreadful, harsh breathing.

"Should we... should we look?" Neville whispered. Harry nodded, and began to gently move back the curtain. Almost as soon as he did so, the mass began to move. Harry heard a loud, gurgling cough come from behind the curtain, and suddenly, the body began to move. He pulled the curtain forward more quickly and, to his absolute horror, he found himself staring into the black eyes of Frederick Snape. He was on his knees, and apparently struggling to get up; a small wooden chest lay inches from his side, and it looked as though he had been heading somewhere with it. Harry quickly knelt down and tried to assist him.

"Don't," Frederick snapped. "Leave me, boy."

"But Frederick," Harry began, then trailed off as he saw drips of blood fall from Frederick's body onto the floor, followed by something that appeared to be distending from his stomach. Frederick hastily pulled his cloak further around him, obscuring the sight from view; however, this didn't stop Neville's plant from shooting forward, apparently excited by the smell.

"Don't touch me, boy," Frederick ordered between sharp breaths. "Phagocytosis Curse. It can spread by contact."

Neville grabbed Harry by the arm once more, and pulled him a little away from Harry. He looked incredibly pale.

"They're really nasty, Harry- do you remember what Beauchamp taught us about them?" he whispered. Harry suddenly felt a little queasy. He certainly did remember what Persephone had taught them about such curses- they essentially caused the body to eat away at itself, which at least explained what Harry saw dangling from Frederick's stomach- it was most likely his internal organs.

Frederick attempted to get up to his feet, but only managed to pull himself into a kneeling position; wrapping his clock tightly around him as he did so. This made Harry wonder whether Frederick was performing such an action to ease the pain, or whether it was purely to disguise the action of that terrible curse from Harry and Neville.

"We need to get him to St. Mungo's!" Neville said, in a quaking voice. "I'll get a teacher..."

He made to run in the direction of Snape's office, but Frederick shouted, "No!" so loudly, Neville almost jumped clean out of his skin.

"But, you've been hurt!" Neville protested. Frederick shook his head.

"Too late for that- don't go..." He coughed again, and Harry noticed how very pale he appeared. He gestured towards Harry.

"Boy, take this," he ordered, tearing a strip of fabric from his cloak with his teeth and wrapping it around his shaking hand. He then pushed the small wooden chest over to Harry with his cloth-covered hand.

"What is it?" he asked, but Frederick appeared to ignore his question.

"Take it to Proserpine," he ordered. "She will know.... Take it to Proserpine!"

"I will," Harry replied, as Frederick slumped against the wall.

"Go!" he shouted, with all the energy he could muster. "Away from dungeons!"

"Who's Proserpine?" Neville asked, out of the corner of his mouth, as Frederick pulled his wand from his robes.

"She's..." Harry began to explain, but Frederick distracted him completely. He grabbed his wand with trembling hands, and pointed it towards himself. He looked up at Harry.

"Precautions," he said, as though he could tell what Harry was wondering. "Best not leave any risk of spreading... Incendium!" he roared, as though it took the last of his strength to do so, and a huge rush of flames engulfed his body.

"Oh, Merlin!" Neville croaked. "He was still alive!"

"Yeah," Harry managed to reply. He felt sick to his stomach- and the smell of burning flesh that suddenly assaulted his nostrils made the feeling manifest into an involuntary retching action.

"Are you alright?" Neville asked, once Harry had finished.

"Yeah," Harry replied, feeling rather foolish. Neville looked sideways at him, before thrusting a tissue in his direction.

"Here," he said, sounding rather embarrassed. Harry took the tissue from him and wiped his mouth.

"Thanks," he replied, gratefully, feeling more embarrassed at having vomited in front of Neville than Neville looked at having witnessed it.

"We've got to tell someone," Neville announced. "We can't just leave him- or what's left of him."

Harry nodded, as he rested his hands on his knees in an attempt to help him gulp down more air into his lungs.

"Snape," he replied, finally. "He's the nearest."

"Right," Neville answered, and the two of them sped off as fast as they could towards Snape's office, pausing only to try and stop Neville's Lupine vulgaris from lapping at Harry's sick.

"It's the smell; it reminds them of putrefying meat," Neville explained, as they knocked on Snape's office door.

"Sir!" Harry shouted. "Sir, come quick! There's been..."

The door creaked open, but nobody appeared to be around.

"Sir?" Neville asked, timidly. He looked at Harry with a baffled expression on his face. Harry met it with a shrug.

"We might as well," he said, before boldly entering the office. However angry Snape might be at their intrusion, Harry thought it couldn't possibly be any worse than the sight he had just been forced to witness.

Except it could. Bellatrix Lestrange was in Snape's office, staring maliciously at them both as though all her Christmases had come at once, as far as torturing and maiming prospects went. Harry swiftly hid the small chest Frederick had entrusted him with behind his back, hoping she wouldn't notice it- for he had no idea as to its importance; for all he knew, it could just be a mere sentimental object Frederick wanted Persephone to have. He had to suppress a morbid snigger at the possibility he might die protecting an early birthday present.

"Sit down," she sneered, pointing her wand over towards the chairs piled up in the corner of the office. "Make yourselves comfortable," she added, with a cackling laugh that set Harry's teeth on edge. Harry began to pull out his wand, but a voice stopped him.

"Do as she says," Snape ordered, coldly, from behind his desk. Neville and Harry looked at each other, before walking over to the chairs, and lifting two from the pile. They had to use their wands, as neither of them had both their hands free- in fact, Harry had to conjure a chair down for Neville as well, because every time he tried to get his wand out, the Lupine vulgaris plant he was carrying kept trying to chew off his hand.

"What the..." Neville began to whisper as he sat down, his plant on his lap, but Bellatrix interrupted him.

"Silence!" she screeched. "We are trying to have a conversation here!"

With those words, she summoned Harry's wand from his hand, and pocketed it.

"You two are troublesome little cretins, aren't you? I'm not about to give you the chance to wreak havoc like you did the last time we met." With those words, she summoned Neville's wand out of his robe pocket before he had time to respond. Harry did his best not to react- he was secretly quite relieved that Bellatrix didn't seem to be particularly interested in the small wooden chest he had managed to hide behind the back of the chair.

It was around this point that Harry began to piece together exactly what was happening. Bellatrix walked over to Snape's desk, and sat down in a chair opposite him. Snape was, bizarrely, pouring out tea into two china cups.

"Sugar?" he asked. "I don't recall you ever taking it..."

"You're right," she replied. "I'm sweet enough, remember?"

Snape smiled in what Harry perceived to be a fond manner. Neville kicked Harry surreptitiously in the chin, forcing him to turn to face him.

"What?" he whispered, before turning to gawp at the scene between Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange. "What?" he repeated, again. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," he whispered back, although something was niggling him at the back of his mind. Something he remembered Lucius Malfoy mentioning about Bellatrix and Snape being firm friends during their time at Hogwarts...

"Yes, I remember," Snape replied, softly. He studied his fingernails momentarily, before looking up at Bellatrix.

"Now then, what are you here for? I mean, besides the obvious," he enquired. Bellatrix sighed.

"I want to know if it's all true," she replied. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"All true?"

"What the Dark Lord says," she added. Snape surveyed her for a moment, before taking a sip of his tea.

"Surely if he told you, it must be true," he answered, placing his cup down on the table. Bellatrix fixed him with a glare.

"Don't play games, Severus," she spat. "You know our ties, everything we've shared; you know me better than my own husband does! I want to hear it from you."

Snape sighed.

"What has he said to you?" he asked. Bellatrix took a deep breath, and her shoulders tensed.

"The Dark Lord, he says you betrayed us all by working for that Muggle-loving fool, Dumbledore- telling him our secrets." She said the words as though they were poison to her. "Not only that, but you have a child- a half-blood child, that you never told me about!"

Neville looked quite surprised by this, but although he looked at Harry inquisitively, they clearly had no opportunity to talk. Bellatrix had turned around, and was brandishing her wand threateningly.

"This is none of your business!" she yelled, reacting at a discussion she clearly perceived Harry and Neville to have indulged in. Brandishing her wand, she commanded, "Crucio!" before Harry could so much as get up. Within seconds, Neville was writhing on the floor in agony, but clearly, the effect it was having on him ran far deeper than the physical pain.

"You evil..." Harry began to hiss, but Snape stood up and interrupted them all.

"Expelliarmus!" he announced, and Bellatrix's wand flew straight out of her hand and into his. Neville pulled himself up into a sitting position on the floor; pale and shaking with what looked to Harry like both rage and fear.

"This is between you and me, Bella," he said, curtly. Bellatrix glared at him, and sat back down.

"Are you alright?" Harry whispered, helping Neville up to his feet and back on the chair, all the while trying to avoid the Lupine vulgaris' snapping jaws as he brushed past the plant pot now rolling on the floor.

"So, it is all true, then," she said, quietly. "I mean, why else would you stop me from hurting that pitiful excuse of a boy?" she added, with a snort. Snape nodded.

"Yes, it is," he replied. Bellatrix's face contorted into an expression of pure hatred.

"How dare you betray us? You were my friend! I loved you, Severus, and this is what you do to me?" she raged, her sunken eyes glittering with malice. Snape looked her in the eye and said nothing.

"I heard about the little Mudblood, too," she continued. "Honestly- it's a phase. You didn't have to turn your back on us for some tart!"

"I turned my back on you a long time ago, Bellatrix," he snapped back, suddenly. Bellatrix looked close to tears.

"How long?" she asked, sounding suddenly vulnerable. Snape took a deep breath.

"About twenty years," he replied, quietly. To Harry's astonishment, Bellatrix began to cry.

"How... how could you? After everything they did to you, Severus?"

Snape hung his head, which startled Harry even more.

"This isn't about what happened at school, or what happened between us. This is about..."

Bellatrix laughed hollowly.

"Wait, let me guess- this is about doing the right thing?" she offered, in a scornful tone of voice. "Well, you tell me, Severus; what is the right thing to do? Purifying our race and making the wizarding world something to be proud of is wrong? Is that what you think? You're a gypsy, Severus! Your entire creed relies on purity of blood! You come from a line of people who would die to preserve their bloodlines!"

"But not from a line that would kill to preserve them," he finished, softly. "Whatever I may think of you, and whatever I may think of your wretched cousin..."

"A wretched cousin that tried to feed you to a werewolf!" she interrupted, shrilly. Snape looked at her, his expression conveying surprise for a brief moment.

"How did you know about that?" he asked. Bellatrix shrugged.

"That Pettigrew, he told me," she replied. "He explained what the four of them did back at school, and about Sirius' plan to lure you to that werewolf... You know, afterwards, he seemed surprised when I hexed him," she added, conversationally. Snape offered her a small smile.

"Appreciated," he replied. Bellatrix returned his smile, then shook her head wildly before slamming her hand down on the table.

"Stop it!" she screamed. "Stop making this so hard!"

Snape sighed heavily.

"There's nothing more to it," he said. "I couldn't be a part of that anymore; no matter whom I hated, or whom I loved."

Bellatrix put her hands over her ears, as though trying to block out Snape's words.

"This is madness!" she retorted. "All that time- all that time I spent in that place..." Her speech became more disjointed. "I always knew that the Dark Lord would reward us for our loyalty- he is gracious and omnipotent. But there were times... the Dementors... I thought, sometimes, I might not make it. They took everything good about my life, all those memories, all that glory... except one thing. They couldn't take you, Severus- they couldn't take our childhood..." Her hands began to shake wildly. "Now I find you'd already been wrenched from me..."

"Believe me, Bella- I didn't want it to end like this," Snape replied, hotly. Bellatrix shook her head.

"It was your choice!" she retorted. Snape gripped his cup so tightly; Harry thought it might shatter from the force.

"And it wasn't easy!" he shouted back, his knuckles growing ever paler. Bellatrix didn't meet his eyes.

"Neither is this," she whispered, pulling out Harry's wand and standing up out of her chair. Snape did not look the least bit surprised.

"You can leave Potter's wand," he sneered. "It won't be half as good as your own."

With those words, he handed Bellatrix her wand back. She looked down at it, puzzled.

"Why?" she asked. Snape stood up.

"I know why you're here," he replied. "I've been expecting this for some time. The Dark Lord wants me to suffer; he also doubtlessly wants you to further prove your loyalty." He held his arms out, as though awaiting Bellatrix to run into them and embrace him. "What better way than this?"

Bellatrix faltered.

"Not yet," she said, quietly- and in an oddly formal manner- as she put her wand away. "We must do it properly; fairly and with honour. However much I may hate your actions, I can do no ill to you in this regard." She sat back down again, and gestured for Snape to do the same.

"I wish to delay it," she said, firmly. "May we talk some more, seeing as it will be the last time we ever do?"

Snape sat down, but Harry noticed that he kept his wand to hand.

"If that is your wish," Snape replied, gently. They fell into an awkward, heavy silence; however, they continued to watch each other, as though trying to read each other's expressions. Bellatrix looked rather emotional- her sunken eyes glistened oddly, and she pushed her long dark hair out of her face and behind her ears often, as though she were a young girl engaging in the shyest of displacement activities. Snape, on the other hand, remained as cold and unreadable as ever. He sat with his arms folded, leaning slightly on his desk, and said nothing.

Eventually, Bellatrix looked up at the ceiling.

"What's she like?" she asked. Snape narrowed his eyes momentarily.

"The woman- your woman," Bellatrix explained. Snape leant back in his chair.

"My wife," he answered, simply. Bellatrix looked surprised.

"Oh, so that's what she's like," she replied, quietly, glancing momentarily at the floor.

"Do you love her?" she enquired. Snape nodded, at which she smiled.

"Of course you do. Otherwise you wouldn't be married. You never struck me as the kind of wizard to marry for any other reasons," she pointed out.

"There would never be a need," Snape added. Bellatrix sighed.

"You know the Dark Lord will kill her, don't you?" she asked. Snape nodded.

"So does she," he replied.

"And your child," she added. "He will kill her, too."

"Well, he hasn't done a very good job so far," Snape replied. "Last time they met, he lost an eye, by all accounts..."

Bellatrix stared at him, open-mouthed. Harry expected her to begin yet another tirade about respecting the Dark Lord, but instead, she just said, "That was your daughter?"

Snape nodded, but said nothing.

"I thought she must be your wife," Bellatrix continued, gravely. "I wasn't privy to most of what happened that night, but Rodolphus told me the Dark Lord was to interrogate a woman. How can a woman be your daughter?" She laughed as she asked this, a disbelieving laugh that didn't entirely mask her bewilderment.

"I was young when she was born," Snape replied, simply. Bellatrix frowned.

"How old is she?" she enquired.

"Twenty three; she'll be twenty four in a couple of months..."

Bellatrix began to count on her wizened fingers.

"So, you must have been fifteen when she was born," she concluded. "That would have probably made you fourteen when she was conceived..." Her face contorted with rage. "You had her before we ever spoke, and you never told me! In all that time, you kept this from me!"

"Can't think why," Harry muttered under his breath. He glanced across at Neville to see if he was alright, and was greeted with the sight of Neville's lower jaw almost touching his Adam's apple.

"I... I didn't think you could get people pregnant at..."

Suddenly, the door opened, distracting Neville from his shocked comments. Persephone had walked in, looking somewhat agitated.

"Severus?" Persephone called, but she stopped in her tracks at the sight that greeted her. Harry wasn't surprised by her expression; the whole scene looked strange enough to him- a wanted Death Eater supping tea with a Hogwarts professor, with two students watching on the sidelines and a chomping plant trying to feed off a nearby table leg- and he was essentially a part of it. Persephone looked at Snape, then Bellatrix, as though they had just urinated into the Hogwarts' supply of pumpkin juice.

"What is this, Death Eaters Reunited?" she asked, tersely. "Did you pay a subscription fee for this?"

Snape looked at her, but did not answer. Instead, he looked sideways at Bellatrix and said, "Bella, this is my daughter, Persephone."

Bellatrix surveyed the increasingly incredulous looking Persephone with interest.

"She looks so much like you," she commented. "Except for the eyes. She doesn't have your eyes. That's sort of a pity; I've always thought you have rather lovely eyes..." She stood up, and held out her hand.

"Nice to meet you," she said, in a manner that conveyed both curiosity and contempt. Persephone glared at her, and laughed a humourless laugh that seemed to stick in her throat.

"Right... You do realise that wasn't the line I was going for?" she asked. "I was thinking more along the lines of, 'Get the hell off these grounds or I'll kill you,' see?" She glared at Snape. "What in Merlin's name are you playing at, Severus?"

Snape sighed.

"It's complicated, Persephone," he replied. "If you'd be so kind as to take Potter and Longbottom with you..."

Bellatrix glared at them both.

"No way," she stated, firmly. "No way. They're not going anywhere!"

Persephone stepped forward, until she was looming over Bellatrix's wraith-like form. She stood a good half a foot taller, and an awful lot angrier.

"Try saying that with no teeth," she threatened. "Voldemort couldn't stop me, you know; I doubt you'll cause me much trouble..."

"Don't say the Dark Lord's name, you impudent little half-blood!" she shrieked.

"Enough!" Snape roared, and the entire room ground to a halt. Harry was certain he had never seen Snape look so furious- and he had done enough things to rile the surly Potions master during the past seven years.

"Persephone, this is between Bella and myself. Please, don't get involved," he begged, before turning to Bellatrix with a stern expression atop his features. "Bella, if you know how the Dark Lord has been trying to avenge me, then you'll know to hold your tongue around Persephone," he warned.

Bellatrix coughed, and stood up.

"Shall we?" she asked. Snape nodded, and stood up too.

"We shall," he replied. Bellatrix turned to face Persephone.

"Say goodbye to your father," she taunted. Persephone smiled coldly at her.

"Say goodbye to your pulse," she retorted, but Snape rested his hand on her arm.

"I said, this is between myself and Bella," he interrupted, smoothly. "We shall duel, and the best shall triumph. No-one else shall be involved. Potter, Longbottom- go," he snapped, jerking his head towards the office door.

Bellatrix stepped forward, and cupped Snape's face with her free hand, kissing him on the forehead as she did so.

"I've always beaten you in duels," she whispered.

"That was twenty-two years ago," Snape replied, before they both brought their wands to their faces and swished them diagonally, before turning on their heel and walking forward five paces.

Persephone grimaced, before grabbing both Harry and Neville by their arms and dragging them out of the office, shutting the door behind her.

"Are you two alright?" she asked. Harry and Neville both nodded.

"We're fine," Harry replied. "But I really don't understand what's going on..."

"Well, that makes two of us," Persephone replied.

Neville simply stared at her as though she were some kind of unearthly demon.

"You're his kid?" he exclaimed. Persephone nodded.

"Yep," she replied. "Came as a bit of a shock to me when I found out, too."

"That's messed up," he replied, shaking his head. "I mean, who was desperate enough to even..."

"Let's not do this now, hey?" Persephone interrupted. "If he thinks I'm just standing by and letting him have this stupid duel..."

She waved her right hand along the ceiling, as though she were pointing out some particular masonry work.

"Dextera; Mobilius!" she announced, and one of the stone blocks in the ceiling began to slide away, exposing some sort of passageway.

"Sinistra; Funis!" she commanded, and a jet of white light quickly formed into a thick cord-like structure, and attached itself to the edge of the gap. She shimmied up this with what seemed like very little effort, and grabbed the edge of the gap with both hands. With a grunt, she slid herself through the gap, until all Harry could see of her was her feet.

"What are you doing, Persephone?" Harry called. The sound of scraping followed, until Persephone poked her head out of the gap. Presumably she had managed to rotate one hundred and eighty degrees inside the gap she had dragged herself up into.

"There's a passage here that leads to Severus' classroom; Augustine found it ages ago- that's how he got to our aid so quick when Malfoy decided to pay a visit," she explained. The conjured cord snaked down to the floor. Harry looked up and could see that the one end was still attached to the gap in the ceiling, and had formed a very makeshift ladder.

"Coming?" Persephone enquired. "I know how you hate to miss anything..."

Harry looked at Neville, who shook his head.

"You go," he offered. "I'll get help, okay?"

There was something a little uncomfortable about Neville's expression as he said this.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, eyeing him carefully. Neville nodded.

"Go," he urged, impatiently. Not needing any more encouragement, Harry hoisted himself up the cord and into the small, cramped passageway that Persephone was crawling along.

"Dextera; Lumos!" Harry whispered, and a flicker of blue light floated in his right palm, allowing him to see his surroundings.

"Dextera; Nox!" he hissed, when he realised that all it helped him to see were four identical stone walls and Persephone's legs.

"This is ridiculous!" Persephone hissed. Harry moved further along the passageway, until he was able to see over Persephone's shoulders, and get a view of the ensuing duel.

As it stood, neither side appeared to be faring any better than the other. Everything that they kept firing at each other, they managed to deflect, or duck, with equal accuracy; at one point, Snape hit Bellatrix in the chest with what appeared to be a Confusing Hex, only to falter as Bellatrix fumbled around in a world known only to her mind.

"Don't hold back on me, Severus," she hissed mockingly, as the Confusing Hex began to wear off. "You can be sure I won't return the favour!"

With those words, she aimed a jet of green light directly at Snape, who didn't block in time. He gritted his teeth and collapsed to the floor- Harry knew she must have hit him with the Cruciatius Curse. What surprised him, however, was how terrified Bellatrix looked.

"Finite incantatem!" she said, pointing her wand at Snape's quivering body. Almost instantaneously, he jumped to his feet, looking most perplexed.

"No Unforgivables," Bellatrix said, pacing wildly across the room. "No Unforgivables..."

"What are they playing at?" Harry found himself asking, as Snape and Bellatrix began to circle each other warily, yet hardly ever struck out with a fierce hex when they had the opportunity. "Why don't they just fight properly? They're both Death Eaters- they must know how to kill each other at least a dozen different, painful ways!"

He heard Persephone sigh deeply, and saw her back arch up with the action.

"It's difficult to win a duel when your heart isn't in it," she commented. "I suppose they're both somewhat apathetic." She exhaled loudly, before announcing, "Sod this for a game of soldiers- I'm putting an end to this!"

With those words, she whispered an incantation that Harry could barely hear, and a flash of bright white light filled the passageway momentarily. Soon after this had passed, Harry became aware of a loud vibrating sound somewhere off in the distance. Peering into the darkness, he came to the conclusion that the vibrating sound was the result of a slab of the stone masonry jolting out of place. Persephone whispered, "Dextera; Mobilius!" and the stone moved away, exposing a route out of the passageway and, judging from the jars of suspicious-looking substances, into Snape's store cupboard.

Suddenly, Harry heard a loud bang. Looking down at the scene below, he noticed that both Snape and Bellatrix had stopped, mid-duel, at the noise, which turned out to be Snape's office door slamming shut. Neville was standing in front of the door, a look of pure rage across his features, and his wand extended out in front of him.

"Come on!" he yelled, gesturing towards Bellatrix. "Come and finish me off, you batty old wench! You just try it- do what you did to my parents, come on!"

Harry had never seen Neville look so angry- his wand hand was quivering with fury as he held it out in front of him. Bellatrix surveyed him with a derisive look, before turning her back on Snape and facing Neville.

"Listen to me, you pathetic little boy," she sneered. "Why would I have any need to do anything to you? You're not important. Your parents' were, but now they are of no threat- they can't remember who they are, much less anything useful. I don't care about you, I don't care about your family- you're less than nothing to me; now, excuse me, I have important matters to deal with..."

She turned away from Neville and faced Snape once more, firing off a hex of some description that Snape deflected by conjuring some sort of mirror. The jet of violet light that shot from Bellatrix's wand hit the mirrored surface, and made the whole object glow purple, before the mirrored surface threw back the hex at what appeared to be ten times the intensity. Panic flitted across Bellatrix's features momentarily, and she ducked under a table. The bolt of violet light smashed straight into a nearby shelving unit holding numerous jars of preserved animals, and the entire contraption melted away into a pool of liquid metal on the ground; the pickled and preserved remains of many once-living creatures smashing to the floor in the process.

Bellatrix jumped back up to her feet again and laughed.

"You have been practising, old boy," she teased. "Who knows, if the Longbottoms had been as apt, perhaps they wouldn't be eking out their pitiful existence in St Mungo's." She turned around to face Neville, her features taut with malice, and her wand brandished in the offensive. "Come to think of it, I might as well just finish you off- it'll get me in practise for Severus. The Dark Lord wouldn't thank me for failing, and if you're offering yourself as target practise..."

She never finished her taunt. Harry wasn't sure at first what had happened. All he saw was Neville thrust forward with his wand, and then, almost instantaneously, Bellatrix crumpled on the floor, as though somebody had literally sucked the life out of her. Snape looked horrified for a moment; then he swiftly dropped to his knees and cradled Bellatrix's body- Harry couldn't tell if she was still alive or not.

"Neville!" Persephone shouted, frantically, as she burst through the store cupboard, but the expression on her face told Harry that it was too late. Neville merely stood where he was, still holding his wand out as though the whole action was still taking place.

"Neville, what happened? What did you do?" Persephone enquired. Neville didn't move. Eventually, his mouth opened, but no words came out. Persephone rushed over, deftly stepping between the pools of molten metal that were the result of Bellatrix's curse and Snape's defensive manoeuvre, and put her arms around him.

"It's okay, don't panic," she said, in a soothing voice. "We'll sort this out..."

Snape knelt over Bellatrix, and appeared to kiss her on the forehead, before laying her body down and stepping away, as though he were fearful she might be contagious- or, considering the Snape tribal customs Harry had heard about, as though he were fearful he might contaminate her.

"Floo the Magical Murder Department," Persephone instructed. Snape languidly leant over his desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a jar of green powder. He threw a pinch into the fireplace, his entire expression registering complete shock.

Harry decided to follow Persephone's route, and get into the classroom- there wasn't much he could do up in that passageway, that was for certain. He crawled along the small chamber until he found the dislodged stone, but he could see no rope or cord for him to climb down. Harry considered this, and came to the conclusion that if Persephone could get down there without a ladder, then logically, so could he. So, he slid around and crawled out of the gap it left, feet first. He held onto the edge of the stonework, kicking frantically in an effort to find something solid he could stand on. His feet merely kicked at thin air, and it was around then that he remembered that Persephone was a good distance taller than him, and so wouldn't have required any assistance.

"Dextera; Funis," he whispered, and a jet of light shot from the fingertips of his right hand and formed into a distorted looking rope. He hooked one end of this onto the dislodged stone, and threw the other end down into the store cupboard, before proceeding to gingerly climb down the thick cord.

Once he entered the store cupboard and walked through into the classroom, he saw Snape kneeling down at his fireplace, apparently engaged in conversation.

"That's right," he said into the flames. "We have a sudden death... Yes, it was a curse... Self defence, yes, I keep telling you..."

Harry glanced across the room, and saw that Persephone was still hugging Neville, who looked ashen and emotionally numb. His wand lay across the floor, as though it had just rolled out of his slackened grip. His arm was still outstretched.

"Neville?" Harry called out, but Neville didn't so much as flinch; he continued to stare ahead into the distance.

"Harry," Persephone whispered. "Perhaps you'd better leave this to us. Maybe... No," she said, firmly, and Harry wondered whether she was addressing him, or merely talking to herself.

"Persephone?" he asked. She shook her head, and looked up at Harry.

"Don't tell anyone," she said. "We'll... Just leave this to us. We'll sort it out. It'll be fine."

Harry couldn't help but notice that Persephone did not sound entirely convinced. Snape was still facing the fireplace, the green flames licking harmlessly at his face, although the connection he had made with the Magical Murder Department had died out a few minutes ago.

"Just go back to your common room, Potter," he said, in low tones, without so much as looking up.

Harry obeyed him, and left Snape's office, and all of the destruction within, in total silence. His mind was whirling- everything had happened so fast. What was the matter with Neville? It seemed as though he had killed Bellatrix, but he seemed so disjointed, so numb of feeling... Perhaps there was another Death Eater somewhere? Maybe he had been put under the Imperius Curse. That would explain his behaviour. Except that it didn't make any sense- why would a Death Eater kill a fellow member? Surely they would have got Neville to kill Snape, instead. At least Persephone was on the ball; contacting the Magical Murder Department. At least if they knew it was self-defence, Neville would be okay. Bellatrix had needlessly performed the Cruciatius Curse on him, after all, and she had been threatening him anyway; she had as good as promised to kill him. Anyway, it wasn't as if Harry was sad that Bellatrix was dead. His only hope had been that her death would have been more drawn out and painful. After what she did to Sirius, and what she put Harry through as a result... trust Snape to have friends like that.

However, try as he might, Harry couldn't get that vivid picture of Neville's pale, shell-shocked face out of his mind. Even when he reached the Gryffindor common room, and the Fat Lady was shouting at him for the password, he didn't entirely snap out of it. He offered the password, but his mind was still on Neville, with his wand hand outstretched and his entire body seemingly frozen in a dull shock... Harry glanced at his watch, purely because it seemed like something he ought to do, as opposed to having a genuine need to know what time it was. Four o'clock in the afternoon. Hermione would be out of her exam by now.

The common room was empty, save for two figures sharing an armchair in a far corner of the room. Harry looked, and recognised Ron sitting in the chair, with Hermione in his lap. He was languidly stroking her hair with his left hand, his right arm wrapped around her waist so that she didn't slip off the chair. They both looked deeply relaxed, but all Harry could think of was Neville staring blankly into the distance whilst Persephone tried to comfort him.

"Hermione," Ron whispered, clearly having not seen Harry at the other side of the room.

"Hmm?" was her non-committal response.

"I've been thinking..."

"Should I be worried?" Hermione asked. Ron snorted.

"Very funny; I'm being serious, Hermione," he replied, in thoughtful tones that Harry could scarcely recall him having ever used before. Hermione rested her head against Ron's shoulder.

"Go on," she said.

"Well, Persephone kind of made me think about it; you know that lesson about sacrifice and everything the other week?"

Hermione nodded, and lifted her head up, looking Ron straight in the eye.

"Yes?" she asked, her tone far more attentive. Ron looked uncomfortable.

"I was thinking, you know... I don't mean now, or anything... But, you know, some time in the future, perhaps... I mean, we're good, right?"

Hermione giggled.

"I think so," she replied. "Don't you?"

"Yeah!" Ron answered, enthusiastically. "I think we're more than good!" He paused momentarily. "What I've been thinking is that maybe- I don't mean now, but, you know, sometime- perhaps we should think about, you know, taking it to a more serious level..." He trailed off nervously, as though he had said something that might mortally offend Hermione.

"Are you talking about getting engaged?" she asked, suspiciously. Ron shook his head vigorously.

"I wasn't thinking about that serious a level," he replied, quickly. Hermione frowned momentarily.

"Having our picture taken together in that photo booth next to the post office in Hogsmeade?" she enquired, incredulously. Ron shrank back a little in his seat.

"But more serious than that," he answered. Hermione looked puzzled momentarily, then, suddenly, her facial features suggested she understood him perfectly. She blushed scarlet.

"Oh, I see," she replied, with a nervous stutter.

"I don't mean now, or anything!" Ron protested. "I just meant, you know, some time in the future... Forget it," he said, suddenly. "I'm just... It was just that lesson got me thinking a bit, and you know how easy it is for me to not think about actual lessons, especially when you're in the class, too... It was stupid, forget I opened my mouth."

Hermione looked up at him, and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"I don't think it's stupid," she replied, with a small smile. The tips of Ron's ears turned bright red.

"You don't?" he asked, in a small voice. Hermione shook her head slowly.

"No, I don't," she answered. "I mean, obviously not right now, or anything..."

Ron laughed, although the nervousness was still present in his voice.

"Yeah, obviously," he agreed. "But, sometime..."

"In the future..."

"If we're still alive..."

"It's not a stupid idea at all," Hermione finished, before leaning forward and kissing Ron right on the lips.

Harry only noticed this out of the corner of his eye, as he sloped away to the boys' dormitory without so much as attempting to attract their attention. Their behaviour just seemed so alien after what he had witnessed down in Snape's office; all of that death, the shock and the complete lack of feeling didn't sit well when the next thing you were confronted with was your two best friends practically glued together, happy and smiling.

He sat down on his bed, and wondered what would become of them all.

I apologise for the difficulty people have had with accessing my story of late; for some reason, my new chapters do not appear on the publicly viewable Story page, but they can be accessed by pressing the Next Chapter link on the latest showing chapter. I've emailed about this quite a few times, but have heard nothing. I'll keep on trying, as I've a feeling the FA mods must be quite busy at the moment. Anyway, onto my Q and A:

Honoria: Ooh, new readers! Glad you're enjoying the story. I don't know how long it will take to complete submission of this story, but rest assured, I shall upload all of the chapters as soon as possible (it's all in the hands of my beta-reader at the moment). Thanks for your review.

kitty_kyx: Hey, this fic will probably always be here! Aww; I hope you can still sympathise with Neville after this chapter... We'll all keep our fingers crossed for Augustine to turn up safe and well (I can't really say 'alive', because the last time he was alive was in the sixteenth century). Thanks for your review.

Sapnish: LOL- I love it when people like my characters! It makes me feel special... Yes, the Hermione thing can get a bit confusing (I have to remember every time I write). In answer to your question about Faith being suddenly professional and suddenly child-like; it's part of her madness. She swings and switches between the two. Some see it as a sign she is improving; whether this is true or not is another matter. Thank you for your review.