As the children left, Snape smiled a quiet smile - glad that they were still... so childlike. There was much to this world of woe and heartbreak - they didn't deserve to touch it a moment sooner than necessary. And it would come quickly enough, anyhow - the stormclouds on the orizon promised rain.

When the thunder rolls, you'll strap on your breastplate, and unsheathe your sword,

and spare nary a thought for me.

Charging in the vanguard, into the heat of battle and blows furious and wild,

and spare nary a thought for me.

Headlong and heedless of danger or worry, into the fires of Hel themselves -

and spare nary a thought for me.

If you think of me at all, before the poppies break the ground -

spare me only a kiss.

I would stand in Valhalla, and lift my glass in your honor.

Valkyrie mine.

Hermione stood up to catch the letter, noting absentmindedly that it was addressed in a different handwriting this time. Ron nearly grabbed it from her hands, before she could even sit down - let alone read it. "Ron! What the hell are you doing!? That's my mail!"

"You never cared before." Ron said, "Who's it from? What do they have to say?"

"It's private. And I'd hardly know what they have to say, as I haven't opened it yet." Hermione said crossly. "If I don't want to tell you, I'm not going to, and that's final."

"Hermione's got a boy-friend! He's sending her let-ters!" Harry Potter said in a singsong voice - only to break off whatever he was going to say, at Hermione's glare. Wait, he was right about that? His face was a mirror of confusion and dread - he really hadn't meant to pick on Hermione...

Strolling down from his usual perch at the head of the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy said, conversationally, "Personally, I think she's sending them to herself. Self-important bint."

Hermione, already upset, had climbed to her feet at Draco Malfoy's words, "I never! I would never send letters to myself! That's just not true!"

Reeking of arrogance, Draco Malfoy said clearly, "And everyone knows Hermione Granger never lies." With an ironic roll of his eyes that put the lie to what he just said, he sauntered out of the Great Hall, leaving the Gryffindors baffled.

"What the hell was that about?" Dean Thomas asked, "He almost managed that without an insult."

"Well, he was in the Great Hall... not exactly the best place to throw a punch..." Zambini said, his quiet presence revealed as he leaned against the wall near the Gryffindor table, "He was setting the stage, you know - Nott's running the pool, and was getting more than a bit upset with how lopsided it was..."

"The pool? What pool?" Harry Potter asked.

"On who's been sending the letters to Granger..." Zambini said with a sharklike smile.

"They're betting on that!?" Hermione stood up, her face turning red.

"And on the Quiddich cup, and on whether Snape will hex Longbottom this year, and on whether Ernie can make McGonagall smile... On everything, really." Zambini said.

Ron whispered, "I should have known, really."

"Now that everyone's heard you say you weren't sending the letters to yourself, well, the betting's wide open. Whoever it turns out to be - that's much better for business."

Harry looked up at Zambini and asked, "What's Malfoy get out of it?"

"Damned if I know - an unspecified favor most likely. Redeemable tommorrow or the next of never." Zambini said with a shrug, and strolled off - leave it to Draco Malfoy to be a great conversation starter.

[a/n: Zambini has his own plans... read and write me a review, plz!]