At What Price?

It was surprisingly quiet in the halls for a Saturday morning, especially a Hogsmeade Saturday. Harry was still surprised that Terry and Jennifer had been able to convince the Headmistress to let them have a special, unscheduled weekend. He rather suspected that certain political activists on the Board of Governors probably had something to do with that. This was the last weekend of the campaign and there were two huge rallies planned in Hogsmeade, culminating in the final debates this evening, which would be aired on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Voting would take place in three days.

After a personal request from Jack Boot and much badgering by Delia, Terry, and Jennifer, Harry had agreed to put in an appearance and make a brief speech. That was why he had been up since six in the morning, and why he was walking to the Hospital Wing now, instead of to breakfast. He opened the door and looked in. Hermione was sitting up in bed, reading, as usual. "Morning, Harry," she called to him.

"Morning," he answered as he walked across the ward. Madam Pomfrey looked out her office door at him and then returned to her work. "You´re looking well this morning, probably the best you´ve looked since before we got here." Her eyes had a sparkle to them, and her cheeks were pink again. It was a vast improvement considering that four days earlier she had been legally dead for almost half an hour.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to chase away the memory of her cold, limp form lying on the bed. Professor McGonagall had given Harry and Ron some time alone with Hermione after her death. They had sat and cried, each trying to support the other and neither wanting to let go of her. At some point Ginny joined them, and tried to comfort them both despite her own grief. Harry was surprised by the strength she had shown. She had been there for them, rubbing their hands and offering words of consolation as tears ran down her cheeks and dripped off her chin.

When Hermione twitched and drew that first spastic gasp of life, none of the three of them had realized it. Each had thought it was one of the others trying to breathe. Then she had coughed, choked, and her body convulsed. Ginny had shouted for the doctor as Harry shoved Hermione into an upright position and thumped her back several times. Then Dr. Patil and Madam Pomfrey were there, shoving the others out of the way and making sure she had a pulse and could breathe.

"Harry, are you okay?" The sound of Hermione´s voice drew him out of his morbid memory.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He sat down on the foot of her bed. "What are you reading?"

"My medical chart. I´m trying to figure out if Dr. Patil is going to release me today." She smiled at him. "What about you, finish your speech last night?"

"Yeah, it´s done. Not terribly inspiring, but its done." He handed her the short parchment.

"Not bad," she said after scanning it over. "Hopefully I´ll get to see you give the speech." Harry rather doubted that. Her face, though colored, was still slack and her eyes had dark circles under them that looked like bruises. He decided not to point this out though. "Where´s Ron?" she asked.

"I didn't wake him up. I wanted some time to talk to you, and I figured you could use a little space."

She gave him a wry, though slightly pained, smile. "Thanks." They sat in silence for a long moment, volumes unspoken between them. Harry was finding himself in a difficult position. On the one hand, he knew exactly how Ron felt. He felt the same way, an almost unreasoning fear that something else would happen to her if somebody wasn't there watching over her day and night.

On the other hand, Ron was smothering her; even Harry could see it. If he wasn't in class, Ron was in here with her. He brought her dinner, studied with her, even sat and watched her sleep. He would normally come dragging up to the common room about midnight, griping about how Madam Pomfrey had kicked him out. Harry was sure that if he could, Ron would sleep in a chair next to Hermione's bed.

"Have you had anymore of those bizarre dreams, the ones with the silver lights?" Harry asked, looking for a change of subject.

"I had another one last night. I actually got some detail out of this one." She sounded very excited by this, and Harry listened close. "The silver light took on the shape of a woman. She's old and bent, and she has a very bitter expression. She was trying to tell me something, but I woke up before I could figure it out." She began plucking at a thread on her blanket. "When I woke up, I felt... worried. Like somebody was in danger, but I couldn't do anything about it. I didn't like it at all."

"I know the feeling." Harry slid closer to her. "You want to be doing something, but you don't know what to do." Hermione picked up his hand and began to fiddle with his ring.

"Yeah, something like that." She began tracing the bones in the back of his hand. "Harry," she paused again, "are you going to be able to..." She pushed his hand away.

"Am I what?" he asked, concern heavy in his voice.

"Nothing. I... you've got enough going on." She snatched up her medical chart again and tried to bury her nose in it.

Harry pushed aside the folder and took it from her. He reached up and cradled her face in his hands. He swept his thumb across her cheek and scattered the tear that was falling there. He tilted her head so that she had no choice but to look at him. "Can I what?"

"It's nothing," she said, trying to turn away from him.

"Hermione, look at me." She stopped struggling. "Tell me. You know I'll listen." He watched her intently, pinning her in place with his gaze alone. Her tears began to fall in earnest now. He scooted over closer to her and pulled her head to his shoulder. "It's okay," he whispered as she began to cry. He held her close and listened for her to talk.

"I'm scared," he heard her say between sobs. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back. "I almost lost you both." She was sniffling now, trying to talk as she reigned in her tears. "What if it happens again? What if I can't come back next time?" Harry squeezed her tight and kissed her temple.

"There won't be a next time." Harry hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should say anything else.

"You don't know that," she sniffled. Harry just decided he would have to risk Ron's anger on this one.

"Hermione, listen to me. This won't happen again. Ron and I are making sure of that." He pulled her upright and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I can't tell you anymore right now. Just, rest assured that you will be safe." He leaned in and kissed her once on each eye. "I can't stand to give you up anymore than Ron can. There isn't anything I won't do to keep you safe." She threw her arms around his neck and buried her head in his shoulder again.

Her cries had a different feel to them this time, not that it made them any easier to bear. He held her and patted her back and stroked her hair until Madam Pomfrey came out to see what the ruckus was about. Harry convinced her that Hermione was just having trouble dealing with the enormity of what had happened to her. She nodded and muttered something about the poor dear, and went back to her office.

They hadn´t moved, though Hermione´s crying had reduced to occasional sniffles, when the door opened a little while later. Harry looked up, expecting to see Ron. "Morning, Harry, how are you?"

"Good, Rama. You?"

"Well." He indicated Hermione, leaning against Harry´s chest, her breathing hitching in her chest. Harry looked down, she was sleeping. "How is she doing?"

"Not as well as she wants us to believe." Harry nudged her awake. "Hermione," he whispered as she started to stir. "Dr. Patil is here to see you." It seemed to have been the magic words.

"Doctor!" She sat up and quickly wiped at her face. Harry noticed that Madam Pomfrey had joined them as well. "Good to see you." To Harry´s ears, she sounded chipper and bright, like someone who was trying appear well and energetic. "I´m doing much better. I was reading my charts and it looks like my vitals are stable and back to normal levels."

"Really?" He pulled out his wand and began to check her over, listening to her heart and lungs, checking her temperature and blood pressure, and looking into her eyes, ears, and mouth. "How are you sleeping, and how much?"

"Well, about eight hours a night, plus a nap in the afternoon." Harry snorted and Madam Pomfrey clucked.

"Want to try again?" the doctor asked her with a smile. "I don´t think your friends believe you."

"But I feel so much better. I´m sure that if I just got up and started moving about, my strength would be back to normal in no time."

"You´re avoiding my question." He picked up her chart and scribbled some notes on it. "Just like you´re avoiding telling you´re parents what happened." Harry looked sharply at Hermione. She was picking at the sheet, not looking at any of them. Rama was looking over his reading glasses at her. "I rang your parents yesterday. They told me you had said that you were doing just fine, and that you thought you would be back in class Monday. Is that what you told them?"

"You lied to Harry and Ron, to protect them from the truth." Her eyes were bright as she stared at the doctor. Harry could see she was getting her snap back, if nothing else.

"Yes I did, because I needed their help. This is different though. Your-"

"No, it´s not different." Hermione retorted. "You don´t understand. Every time I end up in here, my dad threatens to take me back home, where it´s safe. After my second year, Professor McGonagall had to convince my parents to let me come back. If you told them the truth, I´ll never be able to stay." She wiped at her eyes and stared back at the doctor. "You had no right to tell them."

"As your physician, I had every right," he said in a very matter of fact voice, "especially if you won´t."

"I´m going to be eighteen in two weeks. By wizarding law I am old enough that you don´t have to tell my parents. I´m an adult, and I will make those decisions myself."

"Under Muggle law I have to tell them, because you´re still a minor. You and I are in a difficult position, Hermione. We are bound by both laws." He closed the chart and placed it on the bedside table. He stood up and pulled his jacket back on. "The fact is, I didn´t tell them, I trusted you to do it. I highly recommend you tell them the truth, because if you don´t before the eighteenth, I will. I still have a duty to follow." Hermione started to raise her voice in objection, but Rama cut her off. "If you think you´re an adult, act like it." He motioned to Poppy and pointed to her office. The two adults left the room.

"Harry," she snapped, "I can´t. I," she paused to sniffle. Harry was concerned that she seemed to be so erratic, but said nothing. "I can´t tell them." Harry sat down on the bed next to her and gathered her in against his shoulder. He knew, clinically, how she felt. For years, she had done all she could to protect her parents from what went on in the wizarding world. She did it because she didn´t want them to worry, didn´t want them to be concerned for her while she was away. He understood why she felt that way, but it didn´t mean he had to agree with her.

"It´s okay, Pumpkin." He stopped, almost unable to believe what he had just said. He had been spending way too much time with Arthur, he was starting to pick up his surrogate father´s habits. Hermione seemed to have noticed too.

"Pumpkin?" she said, tears still standing in her eyes, her face screwed up from trying to laugh and cry and do neither. "Pumpkin."

"I´m sorry, Hermione. It´ll never happen again, I swear." She shuddered, and hiccuped against him. She was... laughing.

"If you say so," she snickered. "Mincemeat, no, Berry." She started to laugh even harder now. "Ron can be... Cherry." She snorted and began to laugh even harder now. Harry started to chuckle, unable to help himself in the face of her laughter.

"Now you´re just being flakey," he said with a grin, "like a pie crust." She swatted him, but was laughing too hard to make it count. He chuckled, she had hold of her ribs, and was starting to turn very red. The door opened and Ron came in, a perplexed look on his face.

"What´s so funny, you two? And why didn´t you wake me up Harry?"

"Sorry... Cherry," Harry said and began laughing in earnest. Hermione actually fell back onto her pillows she was laughing so hard.

"Right, I´ll just go get breakfast, shall I?" Ron turned and left much as he had come, apparently confused by the whole situation. By the time he returned with a tray laden with food, Harry and Hermione had calmed down. However, their modicum of decorum threatened to shatter when Ron opened a dish of warm cherry pie filling and spooned it over his waffles.

Their mood immediately sobered when Dr. Patil came out and joined them along with Madam Pomfrey. "Hermione," he began, "I understand why you don´t want to say anything. Here´s the deal though. Before I let you return to classes, I am going to have to start you on a regimen of medication, expensive medications; most of which have to be prepared by a pharmacy or in a professional Apothecary."

"So," Hermione replied in a somber tone. "Not only do I have to tell my parents what happened, I have to ask them for money to cover my medications." She put her fork down in a rather unlady-like manner. "Thanks." Rama furrowed his brow in a rather unpleasant expression.

"Either that, or you stay on absolute bed rest and hooked up to this potion drip for the next month." Harry knew that wouldn´t happen. Hermione was already going stir crazy, the pie incident wasn´t really that funny in and of itself.

"Fine. How long do I have?"

"My wife and I are having dinner with your parents tomorrow night at their invitation." Hermione looked horrified at this prospect, though Harry didn´t understand why. "If you will write your parents and apprise them of the situation, I will talk to them about your medications. If you do it while I´m at breakfast I´ll start your medications today, and you can be back in class on Monday."

Harry felt bad for her, she had really hoped to get out today. Ron looked elated, then his face fell as he too realized the implication of the statement. "I suppose you´re going to want to read it, too?" Hermione did not like people poking their nose into what she considered "her business." Ron and Harry she treated differently, but not much. She let them snoop, but there were things she would not tell them.

"Unless you want me opening my mouth and sticking your foot in it." At first Harry didn´t get it, then realized what the doctor meant. He wanted to make sure that she wasn´t lying, or that he didn´t make her look like she was lying. Hermione agreed and the doctor excused himself to go down to breakfast at the invitation of the Headmistress.

"Well, honey," Ron said, once the three of them were alone again. "I´ll stay here with you then. You don´t mind, do ya´ Harry?"

"Actually," she replied, placing a hand on his arm, "I would rather you went with Harry. Keep an eye on him for me." He started to object, but she placed a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes. "For my sake?" Harry knew that Ron would give her anything she wanted now. He was surprised to see Hermione take advantage of Ron´s slave-like devotion. She turned and looked at Harry. "I´m worried Harry. Lucius Malfoy is going to have a lot of supporters in Hogsmeade today. I don´t want you out there alone."

"There´s going to be hundreds of people there. I´ll be fine."

"Yes, hundreds of people you don´t know." She said the last three words with heavy emphasis. "Now, stop arguing with me. Ron, you make sure you keep an eye on him. If anything happens, I´m holding you responsible." Ron shot Harry a long-suffering look, but was quick to agree with her.

"I´m going to give you two a couple of minutes alone." Harry stood up. "I need to talk to somebody." Without answering questions about who or why, he ran out the door and caught up with Dr. Patil at the base of the stairs. "Rama," he said in a more familiar tone.

"Yes Harry?"

Harry fell into step beside him. " How is she really doing?"

"You´re brave," he said with a chuckle, "but then I already knew that." Rama sighed, "You know I shouldn´t be discussing her condition with you, patient confidentiality and all that."

"I know. I´m just worried."

"Pretty important to you, isn´t she?" Harry replied that he had no idea. "You and she aren´t...?"

"Why does everybody assume that?"

"Harry, my brother and his wife aren´t as intimate as you two were this morning. It´s an easy mistake to make. My apologies." Harry accepted it graciously. The two men walked in silence for a bit. "She´s out of the woods, as long as she doesn´t try to overdo it. Normal everyday activity she can handle. No strenuous physical exertion though. Her heart isn´t ready for it, won´t be for a few months. She took a real beating that night. I need to talk to Ron about that, too. Don´t let him leave without talking to me." He swore half under his breath. "She would have been fine if her potion drip hadn´t been tampered with."

"I´m working on it already." Harry´s voice dropped to a dangerously low growl. "I will find out who did it."

--------------

Marix walked through the throng of people, twisting to avoid as many collisions as possible. She felt a little out of place in her skirt and blouse. She was more "dressed up" than the dozens of students that were milling around in their blue jeans and half shirts and the like, but felt considerably underdressed against many of the older witches and wizards who were wearing the more classic style robe ensembles. The scene reminded her of the two years she had spent travelling the Renaissance Fair circuit in the states before being recruited into the Order of the Magi of David.

She glanced at the pocket watch Arthur had given her, nine-thirty. She had half an hour before she was supposed to meet Charlie at the Three Broomsticks. For the umpteenth time she checked the satchel she was carrying, the box was still secured down in the bottom. The crowd parted and somebody grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back into the crowd. She started to say something but realized that the crowd had gone silent. A dozen figures in imposing black robes marched two-abreast down the street. Each carried a sign except for the two in front, who carried between them a statue of a woman being burned at the stake. The signs were emblazoned with slogans such as "Remember your heritage. Muggles are not your friends. Honor the Triad. Secrecy is our greatest defense."

There were mumbles among the crowd after the group had passed, but they were quiet. Marix thought it odd that no one would dissent such obviously charged political statements, especially in an environment like this where politicos were a dime a dozen. The hushed crowd broke up and returned to what they were doing. She looked around to see if she could find who had grabbed her, but saw only a sea of moving bodies.

"New in town?" a voice asked from behind her. She spun around to see an albino man standing behind her.

"Yes, who were those people?"

"Society for the Purity of Wizarding Heritage. Also known as the Pureblood Coalition. They're trouble, and if you don't know who they are you're probably Muggle born, which could be bad for you. Stay clear of them." He turned and faded into the crowd, she blinked and he disappeared.

Further up the street, a loud cheer went up and there was much applause that lasted the better part of a minute. She headed that way to see what all the commotion was. Then she heard a voice, and stopped dead in her tracks.

"As some of you know, I am Harry Potter." There was more applause, though it lasted only a few seconds. She faded into the shadow of a building so that he wouldn't see her, though he probably wouldn't anyway given all the people between the two of them. "I would like to start... that is I... Jack is-" he hesitated, and looked down at his notes. She noted he looked nervous, he didn't have the confidence she had seen lay over him like a cloak during the summer.

Then a transformation seemed to strike him. He looked like he was filling from within. She relaxed her concentration and watched him, allowing her second sight to take over. The air that normally surrounded him began to shift and pulse with an internal golden light. She watched as the lion overtook him, though it came from within now, as opposed to being external to him like it had been when she first met him. She blinked and her sight returned to normal.

He stepped away from the podium and jumped down onto a lower stage that put him closer to the crowd, but still a little above them. "I had this speech prepared," he said in a casual tone that reached to every listener. "But I'm not very good at giving speeches." He began to slowly pace back and forth along the stage. He made eye contact with several members of the audience, but never seemed to break the expression of seriousness that had settled over him.

"Like many of you," he said in a serious one, "I fell silent and watched with... awe, for lack of a better word, as the Pureblood Society passed. As I watched them leave, I asked myself `Why do we tolerate this?´ Is it because we fear them?" His eyes swept over the crowd. Marix could see a few people nodding, others looked at the ground. "I understand how you feel, I´ve been there myself." He sat down on the front edge of the stage, his head just barely above the level of those he was speaking to. Behind him, Marix could see a blonde woman of middle years talking to a man about the same age. She recognized the man as Jack Boot from the many pictures she had seen in the news papers.

Harry´s voice pulled her attention back to him as he began to speak again. "Groups like that thrive for two reasons. First, because there are people who agree with them. If we look back fifty years we can see it. An entire nation was caught up in the hatred of a small group, and the world was plunged into war because of it. Even in our own isolated community, we saw it. People were pulled from their homes, beaten and murdered because their blood `wasn´t pure enough´ or their parents weren´t born to the 'right' families. He paused, letting the crowd remember the events he spoke of, some recently, some from farther back.

"Then, just a generation ago, maybe less, it happened again. Voldemort," the crowd gasped and Marix feared he would lose his grip on them. She knew she was firmly in his thrall though. Even though she knew the forces working through him weren´t all him, he absorbed them and became them; and as he did his power over the audience grew. She couldn´t even tell where he ended and the spirit of the lion began. He had become the lion before her very eyes.

"Don´t fear his name. He´s just a wizard. A murderous wizard, yes, but a wizard like you or I none the less. Fear what he stands for, but not him, and certainly not his name." Marix had never seen anything like what was happening here. People, particularly the younger ones, began to stand up straighter. She saw several younger men take up what could almost be called a fighting stance. They puffed themselves up and clenched their fists. "Voldemort," Harry continued, "tried the same thing, and good people stood aside and let him. They did it because they feared for the safety of their friends, their families, and their own lives. He ruled not by virtue of power or vision, but by fear."

Harry stood up now, his expression grave. "That brings me to the second reason. The pureblood society rules by fear. They have nothing to offer except fear, destruction, and hatred." His eyes challenged his audience to hear him and take up his gauntlet. "And because we say nothing, they claim our victory as silence." His voice began to rise in volume and strength. "The time has come for us to speak up, to be one voice. So long as we do nothing, they will thrive. It is time for us to do something, to stand up. Stand up for ourselves, for our neighbors, for our friends, for our families. It is time to stand up."

A murmur of sound swept through the audience like wildfire through dry grass. Voices contemplated whether they had the strength to do what they knew they should. Then one voice rose above all others and drew everyone´s attention back to the stage. "I will stand with you." There was no timidity in Jack Boot´s voice. It was the voice of a man ready to lead troops to war. "I would be proud to stand with you in this." He turned to face the audience fully now. "And I challenge each of you to stand with us. To stand united." The crowd erupted in applause. He clapped Harry on the shoulder, and the two shook hands. The cheering of the crowd grew louder, and a small group began to chant "United we stand!" Soon the entire crowd had taken up the chant.

Marix resisted the urge to join them, she could feel the rising power of the throng, and began to back away from it. As she glanced up toward the front though, she saw something interesting. Harry and Jack seemed to be standing in the center of a maelstrom, like two giants in the eye of a hurricane. The crowd had grown and was flowing around the stage, the chants were growing louder, people had taken up a rhythmic clapping that was growing faster and faster. What drew her attention though was how the two men, seemingly so different on the surface both seemed to be enoying being at the center of this... adulation.

Then Jack held up his hands before the audience. The wave of sound crescendoed, peaked, and fell off. Harry seemed to come out of a kind of stupor as the sound fell off. He blinked, and shook his head. Marix was watching him very closely, then the woman that had been talking to Jack earlier came up and said something to him. He turned and looked at her, smiled, and followed her away from the platform. Jack was left at the front of the stage now, and he began to speak. Marix tuned him out though as she looked around for Harry. He was sitting in the chairs near the back, and talking very animatedly with Ron. She breathed a sigh of relief. He would be okay.

"Fascinating, isn´t it?" said a woman to her left. Marix turned to see a woman a little shorter than herself with dark hair, dressed in jeans and a button down shirt. She was looking at the stage, craning her neck to see Harry. "I never really understood the whole Harry Potter mystique. I used to think it was just a fluke that he lived, but that kid has some real power about him."

Marix almost laughed out loud. "You could say that." She paused for a second. "He is pretty amazing."

"You say that like you know him," the other woman said. "Do you?"

Suddenly, every hair on Marix´s neck stood up. She had heard the stories about Rita Skeeter and some of the other reporters. This woman seemed very interested, maybe a little too interested. She turned to the other woman her voice cold and suspicious. "I´m sorry, I didn´t get your name."

"Oh, sorry." The woman smiled and extended her hand. "Irina. I´m a student and teacher of politics and human behavior. And you are?"

"Marix." She took the other woman´s hand and shook it cautiously. Just then a tall man with shoulder length, wavy black hair stepped into her field of vision. She looked up to see who it was just as he walked up to join them.

"Irina, there you are."

"Sirius," both women said in concert. Then both turned to look at each other with suspicious glances.

"Marix? Wow, small world." He reached over and shook her hand. "You two know each other?" He waved his hand back and forth between them.

"Just met," Irina replied. Marix thought there might be just a tinge of jealousy, or perhaps apprehension, in the woman´s voice. "I take it you two know each other."

"Yeah," Sirius replied. "She lives with the Weasley´s. She´s a special mentor to Ron." For some reason, Sirius chose to stress the words `special mentor.´ Irina raised an eyebrow. Marix thought she might just die of embarrassment. Sirius's face split in a wide grin. "Hey, I got a great idea. Why don´t we head over to the Three Broomsticks and grab us a table and we can all get to know each other a little bit better."

"I´m supposed to be meeting Charlie," Marix began. She was also aware of the dangerous look Irina was giving Sirius. She didn´t want company. Marix smiled to herself. She wondered idly if Sirius knew that the other woman had designs on him.

"Great!" Sirius replied with boyish exuberance. "Make it a table for four and I´ll go get Charlie. Make it six and I´ll see if I can drag Ron and Harry over too." Without waiting for an answer, he took off. Marix was pretty sure that Harry would beg off if he knew she was there. The two women looked at each other for a second.

"How well do you know Sirius?" Irina asked point blank. The question was not unanticipated, but a little more abrupt than Marix expected.

"Not very. Met him a few times at the Burrow over the last month or so. Usually he was with Harry or there to see Arthur." Irina seemed to relax in light of this.

"So you know Virginia then, too?" Now it was Marix´s turn to bristle.

"Yes." She thought for a second. "Look, I don´t want to make things uncomfortable. I´ll just be going, okay."

"I thought you needed to meet with Charlie."

"I do, but-"

"Nonsense. I work with Charlie. And Sirius has already gone off half-cocked, he´ll come back with Charlie, so we might as well wait together." Irina smiled then. "Besides, maybe then we can get off on a better foot, since we both seem to be stepping on each other´s toes." Marix warmed to the other woman almost immediately. A month of dancing around Ginny had reminded Marix why she distrusted other women, but this woman seemed to recognize that there was a problem and hit straight on rather than toying with it. She relaxed and smiled a bit.

"Thank you. Do you know where we´re going?" Soon the women were ensconced at a large table done café style out in front of the Three Broomsticks. Irina ordered a pot of coffee and a tray of cannoli, and the women settled in for a bit of a visit until the others arrived. The first thing Marix did was to define her relationship with the Weasleys, Ron in particular. She was just picking up her second cup of coffee when she stopped with the cup halfway to her mouth.

"They do make a rather dashing pair, don´t they?" Marix had to make sure she wasn´t the one that had said that, because she was definitely thinking it. Walking across the street toward them were Sirius Black and Charlie Weasley. Charlie was in his customary dragon-hide leather trousers and boots. However, he was wearing a white oxford unbuttoned at the neck. His tie was tied loosely about his neck. His red hair was short and spikey, and his goatee was neatly groomed. Next to him, Sirius was no slouch. He wore black slacks and boots with the same white shirt and tie, though his was tied properly, and a black leather jacket over it. His shoulder length hair rode the breeze and moved as he walked. The two men were laughing about something as they talked between themselves. "Not that that's the reason I find Sirius so intriguing," Irina quickly amended.

"Dashing, yes, that´s one way to put it," Marix said without looking away from the men approaching their table. Then she shook her head. She was not going to look twice at him, for heaven´s sake, he hadn´t even gotten her name right the first time they met.

"Marix," Charlie said with a lopsided grin, "a true pleasure to see you again." Damn him. Charlie took the seat next to her and Sirius sat next to Irina. There were two empty seats between the two men. "May I?" Charlie asked her, pointing at the platter of cannoli. Double damn him. Sirius didn´t bother to ask, he just swiped one.

"Harry´s doing okay," Sirius said. "He says he and Ron are heading back to the school as soon as they´re done at Honeyduke´s."

"They don´t want to come hang out with a bunch of old folks like us, huh?" Irina joked. Marix almost laughed at Sirius's expression. He looked injured by being called `old folk.´

"Probably not," he agreed. "The upside though, is we don´t have to put up with them either." He grinned, "We can all be a bunch of old folks together and spend the day hanging out around here, since three of us have to be here anyway." Just then, Ron ran up.

"Hey everybody." He didn´t wait for their responses before turning to Marix. "I thought since I knew where you were, I´d just stop by and pick it up instead of having Charlie bring it to me." Marix looked up at him suspiciously.

"What do you need this for? You know I´m not comfortable with just handing it over to you." She raised an eyebrow at him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and toed the ground, but his gaze never left hers. She could almost feel him trying to will her to understand. "This is no toy, Ron."

He squatted down in front of her. "I know. I need it to figure something out though. None of Trelawney´s decks can carry enough power to break the riddle. Something in here," he tapped his forehead before whispering the rest, "tells me that I have to answer this question, or somebody´s going to be in serious trouble." He gave her a look, begging her to just trust him. Against what was probably her better judgement, she reached into the satchel and pulled out the ancient redwood box. After all, it was his by rights; she was just the delivery person. It didn't change the fact that she was nervous about it though.

"Ron, I´m warning you now, don´t get caught up like you did last time." She was giving him a very serious look, they both knew what was at stake. She turned then to Charlie and Sirius. "I want you two to keep an eye on him. If he starts acting really strange, or starts getting into lots of fights, I want you to let me know right away." She turned fully on Charlie. "Especially you."

"Standing right here," Ron said in an annoyed tone. "Don't worry, Marix. I know what´s at stake. I know what can happen." He took a deep breath and lowered his tone. "It won´t happen again." She looked at him and sighed.

"Ron, I know you mean well. So do I." Her expression softened. "Just, please be careful." Then Ron did something that completely shocked her. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

"I will, and thank you." He hopped the fence out of the small café area. "I´ll owl if I need any help. Come on, Harry." Marix turned around to see that Harry was actually standing by the door. His expression was indecipherable, like he was torn between saying something and just turning his back on her. Then he surprised her as well.

"Thank you, Marix. I´ll keep an eye on him, too." Harry clapped Sirius on the back and left the area as well. When she finally turned back to the table, she saw that Irina was giving her a very curious look. She picked up her coffee and waited for somebody else to change the subject.

--------------

Pansy looked in the mirror of the vanity the seventh year Slytherin girls shared. Unable to bear the reflection staring back at her, she closed the mirror. It wasn´t fair; she was the beautiful one. She was the one that was supposed to be Queen of Slytherin this year. She was the one that all the other girls were supposed to look up to, and all the boys yearn for. Then this had happened, and now she was forced to hide, to become a ghost of herself.

She looked down at the silk gloves that lay on the vanity. She hated the gloves, they isolated her from the world, made everything a dull tactile sensation, like having her fingers numbed all the time. Just like the cloaks, they kept her hidden from the world. She knew it was to keep her safe, protect her from the stares and ridiculing that would come from having her scars be visible, but she still hated them. She yanked the mirror back open and forced herself to stare at the reflection within.

It wasn´t as bad as it had been. The scabs on her face were gone, though the scarring left in their wake was horrendous. Her hair was starting to show signs of growing back, though it was still short and bristly and only grew in patches. She ran her fingers over the rippled and twisted skin along her left cheek where it ran from her nose to her ear. Its pink color was healthy, maybe a little too pink, but healthy. With a little make up she could almost achieve a normal look there were it not for the texture of the scar, and the way it puckered the skin and pulled her lips out of shape. She closed her eyes and tried to remind herself again that she did not hate Draco for pushing her to live through the first tortured hours.

"Damn you," she whispered at the mirror, and the small picture of Draco and her that hung there. "Why couldn´t you just let me die? It´s not like we can be together, not like I can ever be anything now." That was probably the hardest thing. She had known about Draco´s arranged marriage for three years now, ever since she had actually expressed a romantic interest in him. At the time, she had been crushed, and she still resented the girl. However, Draco hated it more than she did, and she had become his outlet, his confidant, and his lover. Now, he wouldn´t come to her anymore. He said it was too risky now that she was here, and that it would be uncomfortable to flaunt a mistress in her face.

As she ran her fingers over her reflection though, she knew it was because he found her repulsive. Hell, she even found herself repulsive. She couldn´t even bring herself to be angry about it anymore, though. Over the last week, her thoughts of revenge and dreams of how power would make her attractive again had waned. The isolation from her fellow students, the boys that no longer flocked to her, the girls that whispered in her wake, the pitying looks from her dorm-mates and friends; they all conspired to remind her that she would never be all that she had been. It was a sickening feeling, and for the last several mornings she had barely been able to get up and face the day.

She closed the mirror again and pulled out the parchment that she had secreted under her pillow the night before. She knew the hardest part would be telling Draco. He would take it hard, she knew that, but there was no help for it. She folded the letter over into thirds and slipped it into a lilac colored envelope. Slowly, deliberately, she wrote Draco´s name on the front in her flowing script. As she leaned the envelope up against the mirror, her eyes trailed over to the crystal vial that stood on the tabletop. She picked the vial up and swirled it, the clear liquid within moved slowly. It was a thick substance, with a viscosity more like liquid caramel than water. She was proud of it, it was perfect. She wished Snape could be here to see it, he would have been proud of her. Professor Viscol hadn´t even realized what she was doing, but he had been pleased that she had spent so much time in the dungeons working on it. With one last glance at her reflection, she opened the bottle and downed the contents. Now, for better or worse, the decision was made.

It burned her tongue as it splashed into her mouth. Her throat seized, and breathing became difficult. The chalkiness of the ash coated the inside of her mouth and left a disgusting taste in its wake. She began to feel heavy as the blood slowed in her veins, then her heart began to hammer in her chest. The pain was unbearable now. She felt the vial slip from her hand, and she heard it crash to the floor. She tried to scream in agony, but nothing would pass through her throat. She looked in the mirror, but could see nothing as her eyes were forced shut by the swelling skin. Her final thought was disbelief. She was sure the potion had been perfect, that it should have worked. It should have restored her.

*

Ayla was sitting in the Slytherin common room with her friends Shara and Jenna. The older students were all in Hogsmeade for the political rally and weekend foray, and most of the younger students had gone outside to watch a pick-up game of Quidditch. The silence was broken only by the sounds of their quills scratching across parchment and the quiet strains of The American Werewolves coming from the Wizarding Wireless in the corner.

Suddenly, a strangled cry rent the air. The three looked at each other. There was only one room close enough to the common room for that to have been heard, and that was the seventh year dorm. The three girls looked around the room, but they were the only ones there. "I should, ah, go and, ah, see what that was." Ayla frowned, that statement was completely unbecoming someone of her station. "I'll be right back," she said more confidently as she stood up. She ran down the hall to the first door.

She paused for a second before knocking. This was Pansy Parkinson's room. Sure it was also the room of Millicent Bulstrode and Candice Nott, but first and foremost it was Pansy's room. Ayla had met Pansy before this year, and had learned then that Pansy was not someone to be trifled with. She gritted her teeth, and knocked on the door. There was no answer, but she did hear the sound of something heavy falling to the floor and cracking wood. She knocked again, more insistently. Still no answer.

With only a second of hesitation, Ayla pulled out her wand and pointed it at the door. "Alohamora." The lock snapped open and she yanked the door wide. Pansy, dressed in her now customary green silk cloak, was lying on the floor. Ayla ran into the room and knelt down next to the older girl, she didn't appear to be breathing and the only movement was some irregular spasms that were causing tremors throughout her body. She shook the older girl, but there was no response. "Shara! Jenna!" Ayla shouted. The two girls appeared almost at once. "One of you go get a teacher. One of you help me." Shara bolted down the hall.

"What do you want me to do?" Jenna asked, still standing by the door.

Ayla didn't know herself what they should do, but she knew enough to know that she had to make a decision. She looked around the room quickly. "Help me get her over by her bed, and make her sit up." The two girls heaved and pulled her across the thick carpet, and pulled her upright to lean against her bed frame. "Get her some... water, yes water, in the common room." Jenna ran from the room.

Ayla's eyes turned toward the desk now, to the item she had seen as she looked frantically about. On the desk sat an envelope addressed to Draco. She rushed over and snatched it up from the table, stuffing it deep into her pocket. Her eyes wandered to the shards of crystal on the floor. She looked again at Pansy, the hood of the cloak had fallen back. Ayla noticed for the first time the horrible scars that disfigured Pansy's hands and face. She stared in morbid fascination. It was repulsive, and yet she could not look away.

"I brought the," Jenna's voice trailed off. "Gross!" Ayla just nodded. "What should I do with this?" Jenna asked, her voice carrying the sound of her look of disgust. Ayla tore her eyes away from the gruesome spectacle before her.

She took the glass of water from Jenna and knelt down next to Pansy. Now that she was closer she could see the vein in Pansy's neck pulsing erratically beneath the skin. She wasn't dead. Not knowing quite what else to do, she reached up to tip Pansy's head back. Quickly she yanked her hand away. The skin with its short, wiry hair felt like it was sliding around on her skull. It was like touching a slimy, hairy frog. Gritting her teeth, she reached up and pulled Pansy's head back and dribbled some water into her mouth. It didn't seem to have any effect, but she thought that maybe it just wasn't enough. She had to find a way to make Pansy breathe.

She poured more water into her mouth, until it began to spill out the sides. "It's not working, Jenn," she said in a frantic voice.

"Rub her throat," Jenn replied in an uncertain voice. "That's what my dad does to make our cat swallow stuff."

Again, she tried to ignore the scars and too-pink skin as she reached up and touched Pansy's throat. She moved her thumb up and down, then felt Pansy's throat contract, then swell and contract again. Then she spluttered, spit forth a fount of water, and collapsed to the floor. Jenna screamed as the water splashed over the front of her robe. Ayla breathed a sigh of relief though, Pansy was wheezing and coughing.

By the time she stopped coughing, Shara came running into the room, shortly behind her was a portly man of medium height that none of the girls recognized. "Who... who are you?" Ayla asked, as though challenging his right to be there.

"Professor Vector-" his voice trailed off as his eyes took in the scene. He knelt down next to Pansy. "Pansy," he shook her slightly. "Pansy," he called again in a louder voice. There was no response. "What's going on here?" he asked, looking up at Ayla.

"We were in the common room. We heard a shout, and we came to see what was going on and we found her on the floor, not breathing." The professor turned Pansy on to her back and lifted her eyelids. Next, he felt at her neck and held the back of his hand just above her mouth and nose.

"Poor dear, poor little girl," he muttered. He caressed her forehead and gently cradled her cheek, seemingly unfazed by her scars or the condition of her skin. "Let's get you up to the hospital wing. Poppy will fix you right up." To Ayla, it seemed he had almost forgotten the rest of them were there. He stood up, pulled out his wand, and levitated Pansy up off the floor. "Come, girls." Unsure what else to do, the girls followed him out and up to the hospital wing.

Ayla looked around the room as they entered. This was the first time she had been here, she hoped it would be the last. The high, cathedral style ceiling gave her a sense of vertigo as she stared up at it. The high windows allowed an enormous amount of light into the room, and on the south wall was a beautiful rose done in stained glass. She nodded in agreement as Shara whistled low. She was brought out of her ruminations by the sharp voice of an older woman.

"What's going on? Another... oh, get her over here." Ayla stood back and watched as the witch untied Pansy's cloak and pulled it away from her face and shoulders. "What happened?" she asked the professor. He motioned for Ayla to join him. She approached cautiously, aware of another girl watching them all closely. She told what she knew of what had happened, aware that the other girl was eavesdropping on their conversation. Afterward, the girls were shooed away so that the nurse could attend to Pansy, and the curtain was pulled around the bed.

"Hold on a minute," Ayla said as her friends prepared to leave. She approached the other girl, who had her nose buried in a thick tome and notes spread across her bed. The other girl looked up as she stopped at the foot of the bed. Ayla thought the girl looked rather... constrained, like she wanted to be somewhere else doing anything other than what she was doing. She also looked curious, like she wanted to know about everything that was going on.

"Yes?" the other girl asked. Ayla guessed her to be about the same age as Pansy.

"You should keep your nose out of other people's business." Ayla said with a rather pointed tone. The other girl raised her eyebrows and looked at her like she couldn't believe she was being spoken to in that manner.

"As Head Girl, it is my business. The safety of the students in this school is my business."

"Granger," Ayla said, putting a name with the face.

"You sound remarkably like Draco Malfoy when you say that." Ayla smiled. The other girl frowned. "I didn't mean that as a compliment."

Ayla held her tongue. She had learned the hard way that she had to choose her enemies carefully. This was one enemy Draco would shield her from, out of pride if nothing else. But she could turn the tables if she played this right. "Oh, sorry. It's just that... well," she smiled shyly at the other girl. "Draco Malfoy, he has a lot of influence, you know, us being Slytherins and all. I guess I just kind of bought into the propaganda." She held out her hand in a friendly gesture. "Ayla Pascal, first year Slytherin."

"Hermione Granger, Head Girl." Hermione reached over and shook her hand with a smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Ayla." Now she looked embarrassed. "Sorry about what I said."

"It's okay. Draco is one of those people you either love or hate, there is no middle of the road with him." Hermione nodded knowingly. "Well, I need to go. My friends are waiting." Ayla turned and strode from the room, Jenna and Shara stood waiting by the door.

"I can't believe you," Jenna said as they headed back down toward the dungeons. "Telling the Head Girl to keep her nose to herself."

"And what's Draco going to say when he finds out that you were being nice to her." Shara tossed her head as she spoke, as though what she was saying somehow lifted her above other people. "I mean really, Ayla, she's a Mudblood, through and through. Not even a half-blood. It's disgusting." Ayla closed her eyes to avoid shaking her head. Not that she didn't have her own prejudices, far from it. She had been raised in a Pureblood household, her father's bloodline was actually older than Draco's. She had grown up her entire life hearing how being pureblood was like being aristocracy and something to be proud of; but really, blood wasn't everything and it didn't prove anything.

"Yes Shara, she's a Mudblood. She's also the Head Girl and they say she's smarter than anyone else in the school. Someday, I want people to say those kinds of things about me. Besides, if I can get in her good graces, maybe I can get around her when Draco needs something."

"Not everything is about Draco," Jenna said.

"You're right," Ayla replied, "but you're not in my shoes."

-----------------------

"Let's not have any misconceptions," Lucius jammed his finger down against the podium he was standing at. "Our opponents are talking about the wholesale opening of our society to the outside world. Their long range plans include no less than exposing magic to the world, and turning our finest witches and wizards over to a Muggle government that will pariah them." He stepped out from behind the podium that served as his shield. "Of course that's not what they're saying. They're saying that we should unite, Muggle and Wizard, to build a better world. Of course that sounds good. They talk of a new golden age." He stopped and swept the crowd with his eyes.

"But let's think about how we get there from here. What do we have to go through to get to a new golden age? Does anybody remember a little thing called the Catholic Church, or the Church of England? How about Puritans?" A murmur ran through the crowd. "That's right, you remember. You are the ones who have studied history, you remember what our enemies have done. You know what they will do again if we challenge their beliefs and their sacred institutions."

He raised his hand, palm up, and an illusion of fire burst from the stage. Within the flames, a woman writhed, tied to a stake. In an instant, the illusion was gone. The crowd gasped and groaned. Draco smiled, his father was a genius; there was no doubting that. As he watched, people in the audience seemed to have one of two reactions, either anger or resignation and fear. He noted that most of the people that had been party to the raucous demonstrations that morning at the other end of town were now among the resigned and fearful. The angry ones were his friends and associates, the ones that fought to maintain the purity of their society, the ones who would not let them go quietly into the oblivion of history.

"I know many of you saw the article in yesterday's paper, about the school in Italy." There was a nod of general consent. According to the article, a school of magic in the lower Alps of Northern Italy had been razed and burnt to the ground. The responsible party was suspected to be the local Cardinal, whose grandson was a second year student at the school. "Then I don't need to impress upon you just how dangerous our enemies still are. My opponent rallies his troops and says 'united we stand.' I for one couldn't agree more. We must stand united against the incursion of Muggles into our society, and the betrayal of our society to outside world."

Draco watched the crowd carefully, the natives were getting restless. He hoped his father sensed it as well. Lucius brought his arms in and crossed them over his chest. "We must protect ourselves, our families, our values, and most importantly our way of life." He reached out to the audience. "Together we must do this, united in cause and purpose." His other hand reached out to the audience now. "United we stand," his voice rose, encompassing everything around him and echoing off the walls. "Protecting our own."

"Protecting our own!" the audience answered in one voice. A small group called it out again. Then a larger group, and soon the audience was clapping and chanting in a wave of sound. Draco cocked his head to the side as his father glanced back at him. He shot a sign of support, then closed his eyes and listened. There was a discordant counter-point building somewhere near the back. He heard it again, it was resolving itself into voices.

"United we stand!" Draco's eyes snapped open as he realized what they were saying. A look to the back of the audience confirmed his suspicion. A group of Pro-Jack Boot politicos were pushing toward the group and chanting in counter-point to the group in front of him. However, the group in front of him was not to be deterred. They seemed to get louder in response to the interlopers. Then the groups were face to face, arguing and shouting at each other. The chants that had held the groups together in their initial confrontation were beginning to break down. Now it was disorganized screaming and name-calling. Soon the first signs of violence and opposing spellcraft began to appear.

"Mum," Draco said, grabbing his mother's arm. "You have to go. This is about to get ugly."

"No Draco, I will stay here with your father. If I leave now, it could cost him points in the polls." Draco wanted to scream, his mother was impossibly devoted. The crowd was getting uglier and more rowdy by the second.

"To hell with the polls!" Draco shouted. "This place is getting dangerous." As though to emphasize his point, someone in the crowd screamed in pain. Lucius was busy trying unsuccessfully to calm the crowd. "You're getting out of here now." Draco told his mother. She looked at him like she wanted to say something. "Don't start," was his first response. "You're the only mother I have, you're not getting killed by some freak mob." It was the truth, but he usually didn't play so underhanded with his mother; he had more respect for her than that. "You can support him at the debates tonight."

She heaved a sigh and smiled at him. "You're such a good boy. I'll see you at the debates." Draco endured her affectionate pat with a roll of his eyes. When she was gone he turned to face the crowd again. It had gone from confrontation to chaos. There were knots of fighting and small groups were banding together to wreak havoc against smaller groups or individuals. Suddenly, a singular shout went up from somewhere off to the left in the middle of a particularly violent fight. The entire crowd gasped, and pandemonium reigned as green light leapt into the sky to form the skull and serpent of the Dark Mark.

"Son of a bitch." Draco grabbed his wand and ran to his father's side. Lucius nodded to indicate that he had seen it as well. "Should we-" but his question became irrelevant as there was a shout and several uniformed Aurors moved into the area. A tall figure in blue robes pointed his wand at it and shouted the dispelling charm. The green stars of the mark scattered like fog in a strong breeze. Suddenly there was a flash of purple light and a puff of smoke. Draco looked over to see someone snapping a photograph of Jack Boot standing with his wand raised above his head, surrounded by Aurors subduing the crowd.

"Who the hell took that picture?" Lucius snarled. "He'd better bloody well not work for me." Draco looked closer and swore again.

"Don't worry dad, he doesn´t." Draco would know that blonde hair and goofy look anywhere. Harry Potter's number one fan, Collin Creevy. As Draco watched, he noticed several students being subdued by the Aurors. There was a group of professors running toward them, but he was closer. Draco jumped down, ignoring his father's call to get back up on the stage.

"Get away from those students!" Draco shouted at the Aurors. One of them, a woman a couple of years older than himself, looked up to question him. "I'm the Head Boy, they're my responsibility now." He felt eyes on him, from all around. The students were looking up at him, some of them gratefully, some of them questioning. The blonde Auror was watching him, trying to ascertain whether or not she should release the students to his custody. His father was watching him, measuring him. Another, older Auror walked up and joined the group.

"What's going on here?"

The woman answered first. "Trying to decide if I should release these students to the custody of the Head Boy."

"Well, Sager, were they observed breaking the law?"

"Ah," she said. Draco smiled at her. She was young enough that he could have that effect on her, and she looked slightly familiar. He wanted her to just hand them over to him, a couple of his friends were in the group. Greg among them, and he had to avoid entanglements with the law at all costs. "No sir. Most of them just seemed to be caught in the crush." Draco winked at her, but she wasn't looking his way.

"Diggory," called a man that was running up to join the group. "I'll take the students from here."

"Like Hell you will Black. I'm not leaving these kids with you."

"Don't be an idiot, Amos. I'm a professor, acting on school business."

"If you'd been here to start with," Draco said with a verbal sneer, "we wouldn't even be having this conversation, Professor. I'll take the students back to the school." There was a pause as Amos Diggory seemed to consider this idea.

"Alright, son," Amos Diggory said turning to Draco, "I'll release the students to your custody. There's a few more that I'm gonna to release to you as well. Couple of 'em got a little banged up in a fracas over that way." He whistled and shouted and several other students were lead over. Most of them were fifth and sixth years. Draco scowled as they approached, several of them looked to be nursing minor injuries. He'd have to lead them back to the hospital wing.

"I'll come back with you," Sirius said.

"You're not going anywhere Black." Amos said. "Not until I've had a chance to check your wand."

"I don't think so," Sirius replied. Draco motioned for the other students to follow him and started to walk away. "You don't have any grounds to confiscate my wand."

"I'm an Auror, and I say you're under suspicion of casting an illegal charm in a crowded area. Hand it over Black, or I'll have you arrested." Draco glanced back over his shoulder as Amos cast Priori Incantatem with Black's wand, but he couldn't see the effect. At any rate, it wasn't the Dark Mark. Not that Draco thought it would be. As they were leaving Hogsmeade they picked up a few more students as well as Professor Pendra who seemed distraught since the injured students had all been there working on a project for her class.

"Greg," Draco whispered. "You were in the area where the Dark Mark was cast, did you see who did it." There was no answer, but he glanced over to see that Greg was grinning. "You moron!" he hissed through his teeth. "You can't do that. Everybody's going to think that the Death Eaters support my father."

"But isn't-" Draco reached up and smacked him on the back of the head.

"If people think that the Death Eaters support my father, he won't be able to get elected. I don't need to remind you how much easier your trial will go if my father is the Minister." He reached out and grabbed Greg's left forearm. "And you saw what they did to Black. What if that had been your wand? You'd be going to jail, not back to school."

"Sorry, Draco." Greg hung his head. "Thanks," he replied in a quiet voice.

"Don't mention it, just remember it." They walked for a bit before Draco said anything else, allowing themselves to separate from the group a bit more. "So why'd you do it?"

"The Dark Lord said we were supposed to remind people that we're still around. I thought-"

"Say no more." Draco blew out a sigh of frustration. "One thing's for sure, he'll never be able to question your loyalty." He could see Greg smile. He though it was sad that all Greg seemed to want out of life was to be loyal to those with power, but it did serve his purposes so he kept the sentiment to himself. "Let's catch up with the others."

The rest of the walk back passed uneventfully until they reached the hospital wing. When he found out that Pansy had been brought up unconscious and barely breathing, he all but forgot about the other students. However, Madam Pomfrey was too busy with the other students to tell him what was going on.

"Malfoy." He turned at the sound of his name.

"What do you want, Granger?"

"You to come over here so I don't have to shout across the ward." Draco made a snappy retort, but walked over closer since she would probably know as well as anybody. "What have you been telling your younger students about me?" Her tone was waspish.

"What's it to you?"

"Because one of your little firsties came in here with Pansy. She said that you've painting me in a rather unattractive light." Draco held his tongue, she just made it too easy.

"Who was she?"

"What, no clever remarks?"

"Who was it?" he asked more insistently, he wanted that answer. Not making the comment was also about to kill him.

"Ayla... Pascal if I remember right."

"Thanks," he said in a tone that belied his sudden urgency to leave. "And don't think I've gotten soft. Picking on the crippled is too easy." He turned his back on her and walked away, calling for Greg.

"I thought I might stay here with Pansy. In case she... you know... wakes up or something."

"Fine," Draco said with a touch of annoyance. He headed out the door, and down the stairs at a run. He had to find out what had happened, and why Ayla had been with her. He was going to get the full story.

-----------------------

Hermione lay on her back staring up at the ceiling. It was dark and quiet in the ward, the only sound being that of Flory doing some clean up work in the back. As was her wont when she found herself in quiet times like this, she started wondering about what she was really doing here. Ever since she had been a little girl, she had known there was something more, something she was supposed to be doing.

The first time she had set foot inside Hogwarts was the first time the feeling had abated. No sooner had she crawled into her bed that first night though, than she began to feel it again. That gnawing doubt, was she in the right place, was she doing the right thing? Befriending Harry had settled the feeling for a while, helping him with the Philosopher's Stone had been absolutely the right thing to do. For weeks afterward she was calmer than she had ever been. She had even been calm enough to notice that Ron seemed to go out of his way to tease her. She smiled as she thought about that now. She had never been a big believer in fate, but too many things just happened conveniently for her to entirely dismiss the notion; especially now.

She wrenched her mind away from that thought, and went back to her original line of thinking. So why was it, even with all she had done, she didn't feel like she had accomplished anything. There was still that something that needed to be done. Something she needed to do. In her frustration, she brought her hands up to rub her face, and felt her ring catch on her nose.

She slid the unadorned silver ring off her right index finger and began to toy with it. Soon, she had left the other thoughts behind as she contemplated the ring, and how they were going to complete the spells they needed to make these rings work. The plan had been to complete them at her house on the night before returning to school, but there hadn't been time to do all the research. Frustrated by the lack of answers, she rolled over and picked up the large tome she had been reading on cooperative spell casting. Her wand lit, she opened the book.

"Aah! Turn that off!" Hermione looked in the direction of the voice in time to see Pansy yank the blankets over her head. She extinguished her wand and moved over closer to Pansy's bed.

"You want me to go get Madam Pomfrey?" There was a moment's pause.

"Am I in the hospital wing again?" Hermione told her she'd been there since Saturday afternoon. "You think I´d get enough of this place every other night of the week." Hermione was normally sound asleep when Pansy came in about 10:30 every night. The only reason she knew about it was because Ron had mentioned it. "What day is it?"

"About 4:30 on Monday morning." She could see the figure in the bed curl up into a fetal position under the blankets. Unable to assuage her curiosity Hermione reached out to pull back the blanket. Hermione gasped as saw the sight beneath; it was horrific even in the moonlight. Pansy's skin had a waxy appearance, it's color more like chalk than skin under the leeching silver light. The areas where the burns were healing were cast into a deep relief of shadows that contorted and moved as she breathed or the muscles twitched. The skin in those areas almost seemed to pulse with its own rhythm. Then the sight was gone as Pansy shrieked and yanked the blanket over her head.

"Are you happy?" Pansy's voice was bitter, even through the filter of the heavy hospital blanket. "I'm uglier than you are now, and you've seen it for yourself."

"What?" Hermione couldn't believe she was hearing this. But now that the seed was planted, she did draw a certain amount of satisfaction from knowing that Pansy would never be able to say anything about her appearance again. "No, I just wanted to see if you were okay." This was the truth, Hermione had a rather motherly feeling toward most of the students, and just tried to watch out for them whenever she could. "Do you want me to get Madam Pomfrey?"

"You girls is best being quiet and resting." The voice of Flory was, like most elves, high and squeaky. However, it also had the characteristic snap and authority that seemed to be the trademark of elven women. Hermione turned to look at the diminutive elf. "You especially Miss Hermione. Miss Pansy is needing her rest if she is to recover." There was a creaking of mattress springs. Flory was now standing on the bed, leaking eye to eye at Hermione. "Yous got plenty of chance to rest while you was sick, now you leave her alone."

Hermione wondered idly how much of Flory's vehemence was for disturbing a patient, and how much was for her personally. Then she noticed that the elf was in a uniform that resembled Madam Pomfrey's own habit-like dress. She smiled to herself. "Flory, did you accept clothes this summer?"

The look on the elf's face was so angry and hateful that Hermione actually recoiled from it. "No, I is not accepting clothes. I wear this because Miss Poppy tells me if I doesn't wear it, I is not working in hospital." She yanked at the white material. "Is your fault, Miss Poppy was ashamed of way I dressed." The elf's eyes narrowed even more. "So I is making this myself, I is not so low as to take clothes. And if you wasn't student here, I would be doing more than giving you a talking to. You is bad for elves. You makes elves have to find work somewhere else. My sister is having to leave St. Mungo's because she thinks you is right. But doctors there is smart, they knows better than to pay elves. Now, she is having to look for work instead of helping sick people."

Hermione stepped back in shock as Flory snapped her fingers in Hermione's face and disappeared. She thought she had made some real headway in the last couple of years. Several elves had accepted clothes here at Hogwarts, and following the previous year's Boxing Day The Daily Prophet had done a couple of feature articles on how the country was being affected by the large numbers of elves that were starting to demand pay from their owners. It was most common among those working in the 'public sector' such as at St. Mungo's and Hogwarts. The article had decried the loss of services in such locations, and how having to pay elves was forcing those institutions to make cuts in staff and vital services. The hate mail she had received in the wake of those articles had only been offset by the knowledge that what she was doing was right and just, and a couple of letters of support.

"That's kind of funny Granger, even those you're trying to help don't like you."

"Sod off, Pansy." The words had escaped her mouth before she had even realized it.

"Wow, I'm impressed. I didn't even think you knew what that phrase meant." Pansy laughed a harsh cackling laugh that gurgled in her throat.

Hating herself for what she was about to do, Hermione drew breath. Six years of being around Ron had taught her the value of a really biting retort, not to mention some fairly colorful language that she normally refused to use. This was a special occasion though. "That was attractive, you should have the boys just lining up for you now. I'll bet Draco just can't get enough of you. Heaven knows his goon can't." Pansy visibly flinched, then retorted with a snide remark about Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle Dummer. Hermione ignored her though. She turned and walked to the linen closet to retrieve towels and the like. Harry and Ron would be here in less than two hours, and she wanted to be ready to go to breakfast when they arrived.

She returned from the showers to find Ron sitting at the foot of her bed. She started to say something, but decided against it, fearing that Pansy would hear and say something. She glanced down at her watch, it was almost 5:30. As she stepped next to him, she noticed his eyes were closed and he almost appeared to be sleeping. "Morning Honey," he said without opening his eyes.

"Ron, why are you in my bed at five thirty in the morning?" He grinned, she smacked him playfully. "You wish."

"And you don't?" She wasn't going to dignify that with an answer, especially not the truth. "I couldn't sleep, so I decided to come check on you." His mouth opened in a huge yawn that contorted his features and stretched his face.

"Couldn't, or wouldn't?" As she looked closer, she could see that he looked to be desperately short on sleep. His skin was paler than it had been, his freckles stood out in sharp relief, and his eyes were sunken and dark. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"How did you sleep?" he asked in response.

"Ronald. Stop avoiding my question." He restated his question. "I slept just fine." She felt relief, not her own, but his. She suppressed the feeling, sometimes it was just bloody annoying to feel how he felt. As she thought about it, she slept better last night than she had in a week. There were no strange dreams, and when she had awoken at four, she was wide-awake and refreshed. "As a matter of fact, very well," she said in a suspicious, almost accusing tone. "What did you do?"

He opened his eyes, stood up, and smiled. "Good. Well, I just wanted to check on you. I'll leave so you can finish getting ready now." He leaned over and kissed her, she pursed her lips. He turned and walked away without another word till he reached the door. "I'll see you in an hour, love you."

She glared as he walked away, something was going on, something she didn´t like. She reached up and tugged at a lock of hair. She was going to find out what was going on, he couldn't lie to her without her knowing it. Avoid her questions, yes; lie to her, no.

Harry and Ron arrived just before Dr. Patil. "How's my favorite patient?" he asked her as he pulled out his wand and began a cursory examination.

"Depends, how are my parents?"

"Nice people. Your father and I getting together for a round of golf on Thursday." After a brief pause while he checked her ears and Hermione made some unpleasant mutterings, he spoke again. "Yes, I know I didn't answer your question." He opened her mouth and looked down her throat. "Your parents are justifiably worried. However, they understand that the worst has passed and that you are well enough to get up and start moving around again. They are not going to try to bring you home, but they did ask me to check up on you periodically for the next couple of months." He set the point of his wand over her heart, the sound was amplified loud enough they could all hear it. "Want to see something neither medical science nor magical theory can explain?" She nodded. "Ron, come here."

The doctor leaned over and whispered something in Ron's ear, causing him to blush. He walked around Hermione and leaned down close to her ear. "I love you," he whispered in her ear. She actually heard her heart skip a beat, then do four very loud, very rapid beats before returning to normal. "That's cool," he said in an excited tone. He leaned down and did it again with the same results. He chuckled, "you can't help yourself around me."

"Oh really. The first time was a surprise," she said. "It can't happen like that every time, I'll bet it doesn't happen if I know you're going to do it." Ron and Dr. Patil both accepted her challenge. He set the wand back over her heart, and she steadied her breathing in anticipation of Ron's words. "And no funny business either. No blowing in my ear or anything."

"Would I do that?" he looked around, "don't answer that question in mixed company." He leaned over and whispered, "I love you." She had been ready for it, she had been expecting it, and had the exact same reaction. Ron did something that resembled a victory dance.

"Okay, Ron, that's enough," Dr. Patil told him. "She probably has an even stronger effect on you. Men are actually more susceptible to it than women." Ron lost some of his bravado, and Rama was business-like again. "Hermione, your parents did ask me just how touch and go you were. I told them that your heart stopped beating once, but I didn't tell them for how long. They probably wouldn't have believed me even if I did tell them." He put his wand back in his jacket. "Now, you are well enough to go to class. I want you back up here at lunch time so that Poppy can check your vitals." She nodded. "I also expect you to be fully exhausted by the end of the school day, and I want you to sleep in here for the next couple of nights."

"I still can't go back to my room." Hermione realized she was whining, and made an effort to change her tone of voice. "You'll excuse me if I'm a bit less than excited about this?"

"Yes, honey," Ron replied, "we'll forgive you for being whiney about this." Harry chuckled, and even Dr. Patil smiled.

"I know you want to go back to your room. Tonight though, you're going to sleep like the dead, and I want somebody close by just in case." He pulled on his overcoat and picked up his briefcase. "I know you're not going to listen to me, but try and take it easy. If you overdo it today, you'll miss tomorrow. And don't get any bright ideas about Pepper Up potions or anything like that, they have nasty reactions to your heart medication." Hermione sighed, how was she going to get anything done under this litany of new rules imposed by her medications? "I'll see you at eight next Saturday morning for a check up."

"Dr. Patil?" She asked. He responded with a nod. "Do you do this for all of your patients?"

"No. I'm doing this for Harry, since he's," Harry coughed, "...Harry Potter. Sometimes it pays to have friends in high places." Hermione drew breath for a retort and to say she didn't want his special treatment, but Harry was silently begging her not to and the doctor gave her a look that said he didn´t want to hear it. She held her tongue until the doctor left.

"Harry," she said with an icy tone. "I am not in this for charity. I will not be treated special because I'm your friend. You tell him that. If I have to make arrangements to travel to St. Mungo's or wherever, I will do it."

"Calm down, Hermione." Harry ran his hands through his hair, then pinned her with a steely gaze. "He isn't doing it because I'm Harry Potter, but he is doing it because I asked him to. He's protecting his own. I can't, and won't, say anymore than that."

"Fine," Hermione said, and gathered up her bag of stuff she was taking back to her room before breakfast. As she pushed past both Harry and Ron she hissed, "I thought we were done keeping secrets from each other." Harry and Ron followed her out into the corridor, when they were in an area where no one else was around, she felt a hand grab her arm and spin her around. "What?" she said acidly to Harry.

Harry met her icy stare with one that was equally strong, he wasn't backing down. "I didn't come up here to pick a fight with you. I came up to see my friend, and walk her back to Gryffindor tower." He blew out a long breath. "This isn't just about you and me and Ron. This is about other lives at stake, and secrets I have to keep because of who I am. I don't like it any more than you do, but I'll be damned if I'm going to endure your temper because I'm trying to help you."

She locked eyes with Harry, determined that she wasn't going to back down on this. She felt Ron's hand in the small of her back. "Guys, this is supposed to be a happy occasion, remember?" She turned and pinned Ron next.

"Don't even start. You're just as guilty as he is. Don't think I don't know. Remember, I feel it when you're hiding something." He at least had the decency to be guilty about it. "So what about it, what are you hiding from me?"

"If you and Harry will apologize to each other so we can get out of this hall, you'll find out." Unfortunately for Ron, she had all of her attention on him at the moment and she could feel the half-truth. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he knew that she knew. "Can you not just accept that Harry and I are trying to protect you, keep you safe?"

She sighed and her expression softened. "Yes, I can accept that. What I can't accept is that the two of you are keeping secrets. Nothing good has ever come of us not talking." She looked pointedly at Ron. "Nothing." Ron slipped an arm around her and kissed her cheek.

"I'll tell you as soon as everything gets back to normal, or at least as normal as anything ever is with us." He looked over at Harry, "Deal?"

"As soon as I can," Harry replied. He slipped an arm around her as well, forcing her to give up her bag to Ron. They led her down the hall, at first frog stepping so that she had no choice but to go along with them. By the time they had gone a few steps and had started singing "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow," Hermione felt her mood lighten. She was actually laughing at the boys' antics when they reached the portrait hole.

She tried four or five different items she thought might be passwords, based on the people who could change the password, but each of them failed. She looked at Ron. "You're going to make me use it in front of Harry, aren't you?"

"I would never, " Ron said in an overly-innocent voice, "never make you tell Harry your secret, made-up word." He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"I'm going to hex you into the middle of next week for this." She turned on Harry next. "Don't ask what it means, because you'll think I'm silly, and I won't have you teasing me about this." Harry crossed his heart and held up his hand, but only smiled. She turned back to the painting and drew breath.

"Welcome home, Hermione," Harry interrupted her and pulled the portrait open.

"You mean to tell me it was open the entire time?" Harry and Ron both smiled and shrugged. "I'm going to have to kill the both of you." She stepped through the portrait hole and into the common room.

"WELCOME HOME!" The room exploded with sound and light. There was a flash of purple light somewhere in front of her. Hermione looked around in shock. The entire student body of Gryffindor Tower had turned out to welcome her back. The wall behind her usual study place was decorated with the get-well cards she had received. Banners welcoming her back festooned the walls, and streamers and confetti seemed to be exploding from everywhere. She was surrounded by people, many still in their pajamas, wishing her well. She felt Harry and Ron behind her. Ron leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "It's good to have you back where you belong."

"It's good to be back," she said with a teary smile, and kissed him back. It was very good to be back home.

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