Sure enough, the next morning dawned foggy and close: one of those days where it's far too muggy to stay in bed but far too cloying to get up and do anything.

Unusually, Remus was the first to succumb to the need to stretch his limbs; he threw open the curtains and hauled the window open, in an attempt to let in some cooler air. This was largely unsuccessful.

He hummed at the sight that greeted him – Hogwarts' grounds were always a spectacular sight to wake up to, and today looked like being particularly atmospheric.

"Mmm?"

"Severus was right about the storms – the sky's actually dark purple."

"Really?" Amelia joined him at the window. "Ooh."

Dark and moody storm clouds had encircled the nearby mountains with the apparent intention of laying siege to the castle.

"I'm glad I'm not on the train today," Amelia remarked, gazing out into the impending weather. "I hope Hermione and the others don't get too wet on the way in – Flich will have a field day. Just think of all the muddy floors."

But Remus had no intention of turning his thoughts towards Argus Filch and his mop, particularly not with his arm snaked about the waist of his magnificently dishevelled fiancée. All that talk of rain had given him an idea.

"What – where are we –" Amelia sputtered as Remus pulled her towards the bathroom.

"I need a shower," he said, shooting her a rakish grin.

"Erm –"

"You also need a shower."

"But –" Remus cast her a predatory look. "Oh, I see," she laughed, "multi-tasking."

0o0

As it was, they were only ten minutes late for breakfast – and they weren't the last to appear. Professors Vector and Sinistra were apparently taking advantage of their last day of comparative freedom and were determinedly sleeping in.

Chatter was excited, everyone looking forward to the new term. Even Severus had relented a little and was wearing a slight smile as Filius related one of his summer adventures. Amelia couldn't help but notice that it wavered momentarily as he caught sight of them.

After a thoroughly enjoyable breakfast, Amelia took the opportunity to organise some flying lessons with Madame Hooch – despite what Hermione, Remus and Severus had to say on the subject, she rather felt she was missing out on this particular wizarding pastime.

Remus watched her go, the majority of the staff wending their separate ways to make last-minute preparations for the oncoming throng.

Remus spent his day idly tidying those bits of his office that would soon contain homework assignments and several live pixies for his third-year class.

While he understood Dumbledore's reasons for bringing Alastor Moody out of retirement, he couldn't help but feel a little marginalised.

At least I can be sure that Mad-Eye knows his stuff, he mused, thumbing through a book of defensive spells. He'd probably scare his students silly, which would be a good start in terms of preparing them for the darker side of the outside world. He'd got on rather well with the man during his stint in the Order of the Phoenix during the last war, and had rather been looking forward to seeing him again, so it was with some disappointment that he heard Dumbledore's announcement that Moody wouldn't be joining them until later on.

He said as much to Amelia as they sat in the greenhouses that afternoon, watching Poppy and Pomona play cribbage and listening to the roar of the rain pounding the glass roof.

"Really?" said Amelia, surprised. "He seemed a little…"

"Abrupt? Prickly?"

"Bat-shit crazy," Amelia finished; the others snorted. "Quite apart from introducing himself to his new colleagues by interrogating them –" this was still something of a sore point for her – "but Irma told me that he's late today because a cat got into his back garden and his dustbins attacked it. I mean, who charms their dustbins to attack cats?"

"Someone who has spent a good deal of his life putting Death Eaters and the like in Azkaban," said Remus, reasonably. "He's lost an arm and a leg to them – well, an arm and an eye, at any rate – so it's no wonder he's careful."

"Sounds more like he's paranoid to me," Amelia grumbled.

"All I'm saying is he has reason to be," Remus pointed out, with a sigh. Someone as optimistic as Amelia would always find it difficult to appreciate the atmosphere of the war.

"Bollocks," said Pomona loudly, as Poppy cackled triumphantly and started gathering in the cards. "Sorry chaps," she said, not looking the least bit contrite. "Why so glum, Remus? Not still thinking of doing a bunk on young Amelia here, are you?"

Three pairs of eyes rolled skywards.

"No, I was trying to explain why Moody isn't being paranoid."

"You mean this rabid dustbin affair?"

Amelia snorted, and Pomona grinned at her.

"Yes, well, I can see where you're coming from Amelia – and it's a damned good thing Arthur Weasley went down and smoothed things over, or he'd not be joining us at all… But Alastor's learned from experience not to trust anyone, and to be careful." Pomona peered at Amelia over her slightly pudgy nose. "Something you might want to emulate, if Minerva's to be believed."

Amelia squirmed a little as two pairs of interested and slightly suspicious eyes turned on her; she became suddenly quite engrossed by the plant next to her, which appeared to be eating a sandwich.

"Minerva says," said Pomona, in the manner of someone who knows she has stumbled upon something juicy, "that Dumbledore received a formal complaint about Miss Muggle Studies here, from one Barty Crouch, Head of International Relations."

Amelia attempted to will herself invisible as Pomona continued. "Apparently she accused him of a variety of colourful offences at the World Cup, including negligence and malpractice while he was in office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Gosh," said Poppy, stunned.

"Amelia!" Remus snapped, exasperated. "I know he threatened your friends but honestly! A formal complaint from Crouch is a very serious thing! Why didn't you tell me?"

Feeling suddenly like a naughty student, Amelia bridled, glaring back at him.

"I didn't accuse him of anything he didn't do," she retorted. "And since he spent his evening levelling threats and accusations at every second person he saw he can have no possible cause for reproach."

"Did he?" asked Poppy, interested.

"Yes, including my cousin, Ron Weasley and the Boy-Who-Lived of all people, for casting the giant skull thing."

Pomona said something that sounded a lot like 'What a pillock,' but Remus cut across her.

"Even if he was making an ass of himself, that's no reason to follow suit!" he admonished angrily. "Barty Crouch is a very powerful man and therefore dangerous to offend. If you can't control your behaviour –"

"Control my behaviour?" Amelia demanded, eyes wide. "I'm not one of your students, Remus, you can't just put me in detention because you don't like the way I act!"

By this point it had become plain to Poppy and Pomona that their colleagues had completely forgotten that they were present.

Mindful of their privacy, Poppy leaned over to Pomona: "I think, perhaps, we should leave them to it," she whispered.

"I don't," said Pomona, amused. "I think we should stay and take sides."

They watched Remus go an unattractive shade of scarlet at Amelia's last comment.

"Amelia, you just can't take risks like that! You have no idea what that man can do to us – and he will if you can't learn to control yourself!"

"I can assure you that at no point in the evening was I in any danger of losing control," she insisted. "You'd have let him steal the girls' memories, would you? Let him haul Sirius back off to Azkaban for no good reason but his own spite? Because that's what he was after –"

"You have no right to speak to me like that!" Remus spat, almost shouting now. "You know full well that I would have defended them all, but I wouldn't have acted like a petulant child!" Amelia's eyebrows shot north. "Sometimes you have to be the example when other people act like infants, rather than joining in – and until you learn that, youn-"

He stopped himself, a little too late.

"If the next two words out of your mouth were going to be 'young lady', then you can find somewhere else to sleep tonight," said Amelia, coldly.

There was an uncomfortable silence in which Pomona winced at Poppy, who shook her head in annoyance.

Stay and take sides, indeed! she thought.

"Mel, I didn't mean –"

"Yes, you did. I'm only four years younger than you, Remus, I won't be treated like a child."

Since it seemed that this was going to go on for some time, Poppy decided to intercede.

"That's quite enough, you two."

Remus and Amelia both jumped, remembered where they were and who they were with, and both turned matching shades of crimson.

"I'm sure that Remus didn't mean to imply that you were a child, Amelia, and he's very sorry, aren't you Remus?"

The mortified wizard nodded numbly.

"And while we all agree that Barty Crouch is a prize fool for his behaviour, you shouldn't have provoked him, Amelia."

"We're not saying we wouldn't have done the same," Pomona chipped in, placatingly. "But he's a dangerous man to annoy in your situation, as Remus is all too aware."

It was perhaps unfortunate that the weather took this opportunity to make itself felt with a great crack of thunder that rattled the panes of glass all around them, since the resultant recovery period gave Amelia the opportunity to consider the last statement.

"What situation?"

"Er –" said Remus quickly. "Like Severus said, you're new to our world –"

"No, that's not it," said Pomona dismissively. "It's because she's marrying you."

Remus closed his eyes.

"Pardon?" said Amelia, watching his face carefully.

"Crouch was responsible for most of the big anti-werewolf legislation in his time in law enforcement," Pomona explained. "Most of the laws have been repealed, of course, but –"

"Most of them?" Amelia asked unhappily.

"I'd have thought Remus would have told you," said Pomona bluntly.

"So would I," said Amelia; Remus avoided her eyes.

"I wouldn't," said Poppy suddenly. "Most of them have been repealed, as you said, and if I were Remus I wouldn't want you to worry. I also wouldn't want to tell you because however noble your intentions you do tend to shout at people if they're being idiotic – however much they deserve it."

Chastened, Amelia stayed quiet and fixed her gaze on Remus, whose turn it was to be engrossed in the sandwich-eating plant. There was a lengthy and uncomfortable pause, and Amelia had been about to apologise when there was a knock on the greenhouse door.

"Sorry to interrupt –" Filius took in the various levels of discomfort about the room. "Though perhaps not, as it happens… Pomona, the heads of houses are meeting – Peeves is making a fuss about not being invited to the feast again. The Bloody Baron's called a Ghost's Council – we're required to attend."

Pomona heaved a sigh – though Amelia wasn't sure if it was one of relief or disappointment, and got to her feet.

"I'd better do a last minute supply check," said Poppy, with grace. "All those start of term bugs and colds – honestly, I sometimes think the parents are waging controlled germ-warfare on us."

"You two behave yourselves," instructed Pomona as she piloted her diminutive friend out of the room.

Amelia listened to their diminishing footfalls for a moment; she absently fiddled with her sleeve.

"If I'd known," she began, but Remus shook his head. He was standing with his back to her, watching the rain forming rivulets down the sides of the greenhouse.

"I should have told you."

"I should have asked," said Amelia softly, joining him by the potting bench. "Which ones are still in force?"

"Just one," he sighed, "which is why I didn't tell you – it needn't have come up. Basically it means that if I'm refused employment or sacked by some employer because of… because of what I am, I'm not entitled to seek recourse."

As angry as this simple statement made her, Amelia stayed silent. She'd never been very good at keeping her mouth shut around idiocy, but if that meant Remus couldn't trust her enough to tell her about problems like Barty Crouch then that would have to change.

She laid a gentle hand on his back.

"I'm sorry I shouted. I shouldn't have said those things," he said. "I didn't mean them." He glanced sideways at her and she nodded.

"If I'd known, I'd never have gone after Crouch like that – I'd still have defended the girls and Sirius, but –"

"I know."

She looped her arm around his and he rested his head against her. They were quiet again for a time, just watching the rain.

0o0o0o0

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in mid-air. The four long house tables were soon to be packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils.

Chatting comfortably with Remus and Severus, Amelia remembered the previous September, when she had been so nervous at her first ever welcome feast. She smiled slightly. The teachers were all milling around in a happily disorganised throng. The buzz of excitement had started when Hagrid had set off to welcome the first years in a time honoured Hogwarts tradition that apparently ignored torrential rain.

Amelia hadn't, as yet, taken the boat ride across the Black Lake despite Hagrid's exuberant offers to arrange it, and she was profoundly glad that she was nowhere near it tonight.

The ceiling of the Great Hall – enchanted to reflect the changing moods of the sky outside – was alive with boiling clouds and great forks of lightning. As the first bedraggled students filed in, Amelia loitered around the doors trying to spot her cousin and her friends among the drenched witches and wizards.

Finally she saw them dash though the great front doors along with their friend, Neville Longbottom. A fellow Gryffindor, Neville was a round faced, extremely forgetful boy who had been brought up by his formidable grandmother. Amelia, who felt that all Neville really needed was a little more confidence, liked him immensely.

She watched Ron turn to say something to Harry (probably something rude, knowing Ron), when the red-haired boy gave a shout of surprise.

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head, and exploded. Drenched and spluttering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped – narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harry's feet. People all around them shrieked and started pushing each other in their efforts to get out of the line of fire.

Amelia looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above the angry students, Peeves the poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

Minerva rushed past her and down the stairs, skidding on the wet floor and nearly taking Hermione out in the process. She shouted angrily up at the spectre.

Amelia didn't wait to find out the result. She loitered over by the Gryffindor table to chat with some of her sixth years until Hermione and her friends reappeared. As they passed her she muttered a couple of drying spells over the four of them; they looked up in surprise.

"Thanks Miss!" said Neville gratefully.

"No problem," she dug in her pocket for a hair bobble and handed it to Hermione, whose hair didn't take kindly to drying spells, and wove her way through the students back up to her place at the High Table.

Given the usual game of chair-swapping employed by the staff (with the exception of Dumbledore, who was always seated at the centre) it was often pot-luck who was seated with whom. Tonight Amelia was between Severus and Remus, which would ordinarily have represented an entertaining evening – as both wizards were in a bit of a mood Amelia took her place with considerably less enthusiasm than usual.

She gave Hermione an innocent shrug across the room as her cousin nodded towards Moody's empty chair. Hermione shot her a withering look and Amelia smiled beatifically. She and her friends couldn't have failed to notice the air of anticipation amongst the staff – everyone was wearing their best robes tonight, even Argus Filch (though his idea of 'best' left something to be desired). Amelia glanced along the table.

Filius Flitwick was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Pomona Sprout, whose hat was already askew over her flyaway hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. Next were Remus and herself, then Severus. On Severus's other side, Minerva would soon be taking her seat – once the sorting was over with. Next to her, Dumbledore sat resplendent in his magnificent deep-green robes, his sweeping silver hair shining in the candlelight.

The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought.

Abruptly, the doors to the Great Hall swung open and silence fell. Minerva was leading a long line of first-years up to the top of the hall. If Hermione and her friends had looked wet it was nothing to how these bedraggled bunch of eleven year-olds looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailing. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in front of the school. All except the smallest of them, a boy with mousey hair, who was wrapped in what had to be Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. It was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black marquee. His small head protruded from over the top of it; he was practically radiating painful excitement.

"A Creevey, do we think?" Severus murmured in her ear, and Amelia muffled a laugh. He was probably right.

Minerva now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first-years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty, patched wizard's hat. The first-years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a tear near the brim opened like a mouth, and the hat broke into song.

Amelia toyed with her robes under the table, not really listening to the hat. It wasn't that she didn't respect the august traditions of her school, but the mad, crusty old thing wrote terrible poetry.

She watched the sorting with a similar amount of interest; since she wasn't a head of house it didn't matter much to her where the students were placed. She wouldn't be seeing any of them in class for another three years anyway. Instead she reached out with her mind and tasted the variety of excitement, terror, amusement and boredom emanating from the hall's other occupants.

Sorting concluded she applauded politely with the rest, for the show of the thing. There wasn't much point sharing her criticism with the staff and students, most of whom seemed enthralled – and the Hat probably knew anyway.

Several students, clearly famished after their long and moist journey, seized their knives and forks and looked at their plates expectantly.

Professor Dumbledore had got to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

A few of the students bellowed "Hear, hear!" and Amelia, whose own stomach was rumbling its annoyance, rather had to agree.

Since Remus had engaged Professor Sinistra in a lively discussion about the merits of various telescopes, Amelia turned to Severus and said, mouth full.

" 's good, this. Beatsh the crap we ushed to get at school."

"Classy," he remarked. It was plain to Amelia that he was still struggling to talk to her – or even make prolonged eye-contact – and he continued with effort. "There nearly wasn't a feast at all, you know. There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."

"Not the e-" Amelia paused, finding speaking through a lump of steak a bit of a struggle. "That's better. The elves didn't kick up a fuss, did they?"

"No, nothing like that… Where did you learn your table manners, the local gutters?"

His eyes sparkled with amusement, much to Amelia's delight. She was beginning to think his recent grumpiness would be permanent. Just in time, she remembered her position at the top table and refrained from sticking her tongue out at him. She settled for a gentle punch to the arm instead.

"Well, learn to chew your food," he retorted. "It was Peeves again. The usual argument – wanted to attend the feast. I'm sure you can imagine how that would go."

Amelia could, and she grinned at the mental image.

"So the ghosts held a Council, which we had to sit in on – bloody waste of time, if you ask me – and the Bloody Baron forbade him to come. I'm not sure it was a good thing in the long term," he said, helping himself to more roast potatoes. "He'll be making a real nuisance of himself for months."

"Well, yes," Amelia conceded. "But he's always a nuisance, and at least this way we aren't picking broccoli out of our hair."

"True."

This being the most she had got out of him in days she would have pursued the conversation further had her internal something's-wrong-with-Hermione alarm not gone off. She glanced along the Gryffindor table: Hermione appeared to be refusing to eat, which appeared to be making both Nearly Headless Nick and Ron Weasley deeply uncomfortable. Nick's head would periodically swing out of his ruff, terrifying nearby first-years. She watched Ron – whose incomprehension at anyone refusing food was palpable even from here – trying to coax her cousin eat all the way through the main course and most of the way through pudding.

When puddings, too, had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four-hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched; Amelia took a sip of wine to prevent her own smile from becoming too obvious.

He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Amelia grinned: all across the Hall, members of the House Quidditch teams were staring at one another in horror. Fred and George Weasley were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak.

Dumbledore continued, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts –"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder, and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black travelling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swivelled towards the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair, and began to walk up towards the teachers' table.

"Now that's an entrance," Amelia muttered as Mad-Eye Moody clunked towards them, every eye in the Hall following his progress. He reached the end of the top table, turned right and limped heavily towards Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling.

Mad-Eye shook Dumbledore's hand as the whispers started up around them like the wind, rising in volume to rival the weather outside. They shared a brief, whispered conversation and Moody gave the staff table an appraising look, taking his seat between Professors Vector and Dockrill. He pulled a plate of sausages towards him, raised it to what was left of his nose and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue one was darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

Amelia reflected that that particular quirk was probably going to take a while for her to get used to.

"May I introduce our new colleague, Professor Moody," said Dumbledore brightly, over the whispers. "He will be sharing the teaching load for Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lupin this year."

Several people turned to stare at Remus and the whispering went up a notch. Remus tried his best to look politely interested and forced a smile; Amelia took his hand underneath the table and gave it a squeeze.

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore, Hagrid and Lupin. All three put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence; Amelia belatedly joined in, for the sake of form, but they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him – or, like Severus, who had coalesced into an icy presence beside her, they disliked the man intensely.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome, which impressed Amelia a little. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his travelling cloak, pulled out a hip-flask, and took along draught from it.

Dumbledore, who was used to such idiosyncrasies amongst his staff, cleared his throat again.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, most of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "We have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley, loudly; Amelia smiled fondly at the boy's complete lack of tact.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke.

Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr Weasley," he said, "Though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who all go into a bar –"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly and Amelia snorted; beside her Remus was also sniggering, but Severus seemed to be so invested in his dislike of Moody that he was glaring out at the Hall, arms folded. Amelia kicked his shin and he grimaced.

"Er – but maybe this is not the time… no…" said Dumbledore. "Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will know that this Tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago, as a friendly competition…"

Amelia let her mind wander freely, thinking unhappily about the attitudes to death and injury in British society in the fourteenth century. A 'friendly' game then would often result in death or maiming, and to play it with children…

"- until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the Tournament was discontinued."

With good reason, Amelia thought, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Remus gave her hand a squeeze under the table.

She listened restively to Dumbledore's assurances about safety – knowing what was coming made it difficult to feel enthusiastic about the competition, even if the student body was now tripping over itself to find ways of defying the age restrictions and getting their hands on the prize money.

At every table, Amelia could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or glaring at their teachers for restricting the contest; many of them were whispering fervently to their neighbours.

She bit her lip: they were all too young for this.

Abruptly, she felt Remus get to his feet – all across the Hall people were making a move; she followed him, still deep in thought. The level of excited conversation went up a notch as they passed into the Entrance Hall; everywhere she looked students were chattering in various stages of excitement and outrage about the upcoming Tournament. Amelia knew that the majority of her colleagues were equally excited, but she just couldn't bring herself to match them. She couldn't place it, but something just felt wrong about the whole thing.

Drifting away from the others, she stood to one side of the Great Staircase as the great flood of students rumbled past, willing herself to cheer up. Distantly, she saw Neville Longbottom sink right through one of the trick steps halfway up the staircase above her. Harry and Ron seized him under the armpits and pulled him out, while a suit of armour at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing wheezily. Ron banged its visor as he passed it.

She sighed. Even if they were of age, she wouldn't want any of her students competing, it was just too dangerous.

And they're so young, she thought again, and shook her head.

There would have been a time when she would have jumped at the chance herself, but now… perhaps this was what growing up felt like…