Chapter Eleven

"I'm sure you're all wondering why I've gathered you here," Flint began as the Quidditch team sat in front of the common room fireplace, "We need to talk about our upcoming game against Gryffindor."

Because we were operating on Flint's schedule, we were meeting in the middle of the night. Most of our House was already asleep, and I was already in my black silk pajamas.

I yawned. "What about it?"

"This weather," another player answered. He was wearing green flannel pajamas, "It's ridiculous."

"He's right," said Flint, "It's stormed every day this week. We can play in the rain, but it will put us at a disadvantage. If we agree not to play this weekend, we'll tell Gryffindor that Malfoy's arm isn't well enough to play yet and we don't have a replacement. We can switch our games with Hufflepuff."

The rain never bothered me, but I knew that we had a better chance of winning overall if we waited until the next game. That way, Gryffindor wouldn't have an edge, and Hufflepuff would have already lost an extra game.

Besides, Draco's arm wasn't better yet.

"Is anyone opposed?" Flint asked, eyes resting on me as though he expected me to have an issue just to spite him. But when no one said anything, he continued, "I'll talk to Wood tomorrow then. Everyone go to bed, then. We have practice tomorrow morning. Raven, stay a minute. I want to talk to you."

I pursed my lips. When the team was around, he'd hardly addressed me directly, but as soon as the team was gone - once my shield had disappeared - I had no protection.

"What?" I barked after everyone else had gone to their beds.

Not even Draco had waited for me.

Flint didn't respond right away. Instead, he slowly approached me like a cat and a mouse. His crooked teeth reflected through his teeth, as though threatening to tear my meat from my bones.

I stepped back, but the soft underside of my knees met the couch and I fell onto the leather. Flint stood over me, his predatory smirk turning into a full, toothy smile.

"I know you were there, at Hogsmeade."

"Yes," I replied smoothly, managing a humorless smile of my own, "So does Snape."

"But does your father?"

The smile slid from my face. I could trust Snape with certain things - such as not telling my father something like that. He seemed to like me enough to help me remain among the living.

The same could not be said for Flint.

"I can see he doesn't," Flint taunted, "What if I sent an owl to Daddy telling him how you snuck into Hogsmeade by stealing Polyjuice potion?"

"Don't," I pleaded - trying to keep my shaking voice level and strong.

"Just the thought of your father scares you, doesn't it? I bet he couldn't even hurt you like I could."

"He's already hurt me much worse than you could."

"Has he?"

"Careful. Your arrogance-."

"I'll stop you there. It isn't arrogance. It's a fact. Maybe your father can slap you around, but I know different ways that will hurt more."

"My father's done everything."

"Oh, not everything," he chuckled cruelly.

I swallowed hard even though didn't know what he was saying to me.

He was threatening something I didn't know of. It was as though he was sharing an inside joke with himself, but I didn't understand it. He knew something I didn't, but I could tell he wasn't bluffing.

"What do you want?" I asked in resignation.

"I want you to meet me in the astronomy tower Saturday while everyone else is watching the game."

"Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four," Snape drawled.

I was surprised to find out he was substituting from Lupin as he made his way to the front of the classroom, slamming the window shutters with rapid flicks of his wand. Following his instructions, I flipped through the text until I came to a section on werewolves.

I hesitantly raised my hand.

"What is it, Miss Ashe?"

"This isn't where we are. It's in the back of the book, which means we aren't supposed to be covering this material until the end of the year."

"You are truly the Slytherin counterpart to Miss Granger," he scowled, "I don't care where you were. This is where we are for today. I am teaching, and this is the material we will cover."

Snape launched into his lecture, but I didn't want to listen. It seemed that Draco didn't either because he busy doodling and folding the paper into an origami swan. I started reading on my own until something Snape said caught my attention.

"It is the public opinion throughout the other classes that you students don't know a werewolf when you see one."

"I think we'd know if we've seen one," I interjected, immediately regretting it.

But Snape seemed almost pleased. He looked like he wanted to say something but held his tongue. Then I realized that I'd only proved his point - assuming I had seen a werewolf at some point, which I was confident I hadn't.

As Snape continued with his lesson, I second-guessed myself. Had I seen a werewolf without knowing it? There was something off about this whole lesson. Why would he skip to werewolves? If he wanted us to truly learn something complex, why not do the very last lesson in the book? Did this have something to do with Sirius Black? Was he a werewolf?

My eyes scanned the page open in front of me, looking for any reason Snape picked this random lesson. My eyes paused over the words 'Werewolves transform at a full moon'. Of course I'd known that from fairytales, but reading it reminded me that it would be a full moon that night.

Maybe Snape was just in the spirit, or…was Snape a werewolf? That would explain everything!

No, wait. If he was transforming later that evening, I doubt he'd be feeling well enough to fill in for Lupin. Besides, why would he want anyone to know he was a werewolf?

Sirius Black was the only reasonable explanation I could think of, but most of us had never seen him. Also, if he'd been in Azkaban for the past twelve years, people would know if he were a werewolf by now.

Snape must have been trying to warn us about someone else.

But who?

"I'm surprised you came, Ashe," Flint said, his back to me as he leaned over the railing of the astronomy tower. Large gusts of wind crackled around us, but we were safe from the rain that fell in sheets around our covered circle.

"What do you want?" I snarled, "I had to lie to Draco. I told him I wasn't feeling well."

"I highly doubt this is the first time you've lied to your boyfriend."

The way he spat the word made my blood boil and freeze at the same time.

"And I just wanted to talk to you," he added.

When he turned, he was grinning like Borgin the day when Lucius took me and Draco to Knockturn Alley. The day Borgin had massaged my shoulders and pet my hair. I took a step away from Flint, my hand shooting into my cloak for my wand.

"Oh please, Ashe," Flint chuckled, "Come here. I won't hurt you if you behave."

I sneered at him but forced myself to come closer. He grabbed my arm, yanking it away from my wand and pulling me closer, up against the railing with him so that I could feel the mist of the rain against my cheek.

"You're a pretty tough girl, yeah?" he began, making me narrow my eyes in distrust at his compliment, "Makes me wonder why you'd settle for a Malfoy."

"A Malfoy," I laughed, "Draco is more than you'll ever be."

Then he grabbed the back of my neck and forced me to lean so far over the railing that my feet were just barely touching the ground. The only thing keeping me from plummeting to my death was Flint's hand.

"Your life is literally in my hands, so if I were you, I'd be a little more polite."

"I'm sorry," I squeaked, nearly paralyzed coming face to face with death, even though I'd done so at least twice facing the Dark Lord.

"Now, where was I?" he taunted, pushing me further so my toes skimmed the ground, "Ah, yes. Why a Malfoy when you could have me?"

I remained silent. I had so many things I wanted to say. So many insults and curses I was dying to throw at him, but I couldn't. Not when he could kill me so easily if I offended him.

"You don't need to answer, but when I help you stand up, you'll let me kiss you."

"What if I don't?" I shot back.

I hadn't even kissed Draco yet.

"I haven't decided whether I'dl throw you over the edge or tell your father about you sneaking off the Hogsmeade, but I can promise you neither will be pleasant."

I felt like I was going to vomit. At first, I thought it was because I was dangling from the astronomy tower, but it only got worse as Flint pulled me back to my feet. Then he pushed me against the closest column and attacked my mouth with his.

I kept my lips firmly sealed against his probing tongue until he inched me back over to the railing as a warning. I opened my mouth reluctantly, and his tongue shot inside, exploring me. I held my breath to keep back the bile I felt rising in my throat. After what felt like a very long time, Flint released me and I staggered away.

That's how I would always remember my first kiss.

"That's it? You'll let everything go now?" I asked, out of breath.

"Not quite," he chuckled, clearly pleased with himself, "I expect you to give me whatever I want when I want it. If you don't, my threats still stand."

I felt my eyes glimmering with tears, but I bit the inside of my cheek hard so that the pain shocked me out of my hopelessness.

"Fine," I growled.

I told myself it would only be for the rest of the year, then hopefully he'd graduate.

Then he wrapped an arm around me and turned us towards the Quidditch pitch, the silhouette of the hoops were only semi-visible through the wall of rain. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could make out a sea of black slowly rising up on the field.

"What's happening?" I wondered out loud.

"Dementors," he answered.

We sat in silence. My eyes strained to see clearer, but the rain only fell harder, making it impossible.

Finally, I watched as a red dot fell from the sky into the sea of black.