Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except for the Morgana flower and bizarre ideas about cows and mushrooms.

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Everything To Lose

Chapter 21: Think and Fight
In which Neville fights with some most unwelcome ideas, Ron manages to confuse himself thoroughly, Astraea gets a nasty surprise, and Millicent admits being wrong.

Deserts had a magic not even all wizards understood, but Neville had read enough about it in connection with the Morgana flower, a plant that contributed considerably to the overall mystery. Morgana's fate, it was sometimes called, and even Muggles used that name to describe the phenomenon they explained with sun rays reflecting on the hot air, when in reality it was one not so innocent herb that tempted many to stray from their paths and in search of a nonexistent paradise, never to leave the desert again. Morgana flowers simply wanted company.

Neville wouldn't have minded some company either at the moment. Preferably Lilya so that they could debate over the fact whether these flowers were evil or just lonely, and listen to how one could make a simple but potent Healing Elixir from sand only. But the alchemy girl was not there, and all he had were his own bizarre thoughts which kept going stranger and stranger.

Besides, the desert was eerie and gave him chills, and not only because the temperature had dropped below zero. It was the endless field of sand under his feet, dune after dune after dune, and the cloudless sky stretching over it, scattered with stars unnaturally bright, no artificial light stealing part of their glory. He was starting to really understand Morgana's fate – one couldn't have known the meaning of loneliness before they had walked through a desert.

Moody was like a desert, he pondered, smiling with the realization that that actually wasn't the weirdest idea he had got so far. There had been one concerning cows and mushrooms which was best to leave alone. But Moody – he seemed harsh and dangerous and sometimes even ruthless, but just like the desert he protected his own. The Order wasn't his personal army, it was his baby, his only hope, and even the punishments he barked out were carefully designed to train and prepare them for what was to come in the end.

And he was wise, too. If Astraea had told the truth and he really knew the identity of the spy, wouldn't the smartest thing to do be keeping that person amongst them, letting Voldemort think that he still had a source of information while in reality false facts were fed to his spy. But in that case he must have discovered this after the deaths of Kingsley and Hestia because he wouldn't have sent them out to die just to hide his awareness of the spy. Though the motto of 'kill one to save many' started to make sense after a lot of thinking, which indicated that he had clearly thought too much and needed to stop before he would lose his mind.

Morgana flowers had to be picked at sunrise, meaning he still had some hours left. And that was good since he wasn't there yet.

Moody had specifically told him not to breathe a word about the destination of his mission to Millicent.

If Moody knew the identity of the spy, he would keep information from that person.

Malfoy had said that practically anyone of the Order could be a spy.

The connection was impossible not to make, but somehow Neville managed to cast it away before it had wholly formed.

The desert was treacherous, and it gave one treacherous ideas.

---

The armchair wasn't really that comfortable. In fact, it was rather uncomfortable, which was the only reason Ron got up before the sunrise and dragged himself downstairs for some coffee. A sofa would have been nice as well, he was too sleepy to worry what people would think upon finding him sleeping outside his room, though there was actually nothing exceptional about finding Ron sleeping on some couch or even at the kitchen table.

What was exceptional, however, was Ron wondering into the kitchen so early in the morning, even if all he planned was taking a nap. Fortunately for him, there was no one up at such hour to find this bizarre, figure out the reason, and tease him with it. Unfortunately for him, there was someone up at this hour to find this most strange, figure out the reason, and use it against him.

Astraea was standing by the window, keeping so silent that Ron, hazy with sleep and busy with yawning, didn't notice her at first. He didn't notice her later either, laying his head down upon the table and muttering something about armchairs, and he would have never learnt about her presence had she not decided to make it known.

"Hermione!" he sprang upright, her being there affecting him like a huge cup of coffee.

"Can't sleep?" she mused, stepping away from the window and moving around the kitchen.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, his mind going back to tricky armchairs that looked soft and comfy but turned into genuine torture devices after a few hours of sleep in them.

"Me neither," she admitted. "Coffee?"

He took the offered cup with a murmur of thanks, but instead of drinking he chose to simply stare at it.

"It's not poisoned," she laughed, pouring herself another and taking the seat across from him.

"About yesterday..." Ron began, not really wanting to talk about it but very aware that neither of them would get any peace before they had somehow dealt with the subject. He wasn't sure how and what he expected or even wanted, but he had this weird feeling that everything would go fine.

"When I was held prisoner at Zabini's," she began without any introduction or even pause, and she didn't make one now to let him interrupt, "there was a time when I was certain that I was going to die. I'm not saying there was any moment I felt myself safe, but later I accepted this – that I may die the next minute, or live for a while longer. But there was this evening when I was certain I would die the next day. I thought a lot that night. I went over my whole life, from the first memory I remember till that very moment and – you know me – I started to organize them, my memories. The good ones and the bad ones, what I'm proud of and what I regret. It was silly, I know, but it kept me busy, and it kept me from thinking about what was going to happen in the morning. I'm not sure whether I feared death then, or if I do it now, but sure as hell I didn't want to die. I wanted to be happy, that last night of my life, I wanted to concentrate on the good memories, but in the face of the coming doom I couldn't.

"So instead I started to think about things I regretted. Thinking what I should have done differently, and what I would do if I could go back in time and correct my mistakes. Or not even going back in time... what would I do if I managed to escape my certain death. I knew I couldn't, but I still thought about it.

"And one of those mistakes, one of my deepest regrets were you, Ron. Don't misunderstand me, I didn't regret meeting you, knowing you, befriending you, and I never will. But I did start to think, what if. What if we had become something more than friends. We could have, you know it and I know it. Sure, during our last year at school you dated Lavender, and after that we left for the Horcrux hunt and had so much else to think about, and then we came back and once again had so much else to think about. But we still could have, yet we didn't.

"And that's what I regretted – never giving you a chance, never giving us a chance. But do you know what was the worst thing about it? The worst thing was that I was never going to find out what could have become of us. I was never going to find out whether our relationship would have worked out or not, and this was what pained me most. You know how I hate not knowing things. And I absolutely hated, loathed even, the idea that I was never going to find out if I made a mistake not giving you a chance or not. Not knowing what would have become of us."

She paused then, giving him the time he desperately needed to understand her words.

"But we saved you," Ron remarked after a while, once he thought he had more or less figured out her point.

"You did, and I got the chance to correct the mistakes I'd made."

"And do you regret giving me a chance now?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"Never," she smiled.

"But this doesn't work, does it?" he spoke after a while, and it was more of a statement than a question.

"I think," she said, carefully choosing and pronouncing each word, "that we are better friends than lovers."

"Friends?" he repeated, giving his cup of untouched coffee a sharp glare.

"Ron, I do love you," she almost pleaded. "Just not like that."

"Friends is fine," he announced, still glaring at the red cup. He didn't like it, he didn't understand it, he didn't agree to it. But his heart, that treacherous organ, was telling him that being friends with Hermione was indeed fine.

---

Morgana flowers had to be picked at sunrise. Or sunset. But the red sun was an important factor. Because Morgana flowers were invisible. That is, they were invisible during the day and during the night, but under the red sun they burnt like flames. And not only did they look like fire, but they also felt like fire.

Neville fished all the necessary equipment out of his pockets, and reduced it to its original size. He put on the dragonhide gloves, and picked up the special scissors to cut the plant. Besides luring and burning, the Morgana flower was also rather resistant to magic, prone to turn into ashes moments after the severing of its stem, and not very tolerant about all the stasis and freezing spells used to keep it fresh. And like that wasn't enough, incorrect use of it in potions usually ended with major explosions. The Morgana flower was smart and revengeful, not making life any easier for its killers. Of course, therein lay its power.

Many people considered the Morgana flower the most beautiful flower in the world, and at the time of the red sun, its fiery blossom was a sight not many other herbs could compete with. Neville wasn't one of those people. In his opinion, there was no prettier plant than the yellow tulip.

Even he had been surprised at how well and easy that mission had gone.

His hand trembled, and the flower crumbled into dust. With a sigh, he stood and walked up to another one growing nearby.

---

"It's okay," she said, her tone telling the exact opposite. "I understand you."

Good for you, Ron thought. Because I don't.

He felt he should say something more, tell her that in his opinion they did work, and her leaving him like that was going to turn into one of her future regrets. He felt he should yell, or plead, or promise to change himself, to be better, somehow, to fulfill all her dreams. Perhaps it wouldn't matter, perhaps she was too certain in her decision, but he felt he had to try, to convince her to stay, to love her and make her love him. He felt... no, he didn't feel. He thought all this. It seemed the right behaviour in his mind because he did love her, and he did want to be with her, and he did have to fight for her.

But he didn't feel like he should do any of this. And that he didn't understand.

Perhaps he should have remained in his dreadfully uncomfortable armchair. Perhaps he should have drunk his cup of coffee while it was still hot. Perhaps it was too early for this kind of things, and he was too sleepy to do this.

"No, it's really fine. You're probably right – we are better friends," he said, not understanding why he was saying this, or why did it feel right to say this when it clearly wasn't true.

"Are you sure?" she looked doubtful.

I have never been less sure of anything in my entire life.

"Yes, I'm sure."

Had someone cursed him to say the exact opposite of what he should have? And did that curse also make him feel the exact opposite of what he should have? And why, oh why did it have to happen so early in the morning that he didn't understand a thing?

"You're the best," she declared, and sprang to her feet to walk round the table up to him, only to come to an awkward halt there.

He opened his arms for her, and she threw herself at him with a happy squeal, and he held her close to him, more confused than even before.

---

This particular night seemed stingy towards many, and those among the Order who managed to get some sleep had to consider themselves lucky.

Millicent had given up on it somewhere around three o'clock, and on her way into the bathroom she had found Draco sitting by the fire in the same room they had occupied before, fully awake and deep in thought. She didn't go to seek his company, though, preferring to be alone, but sometime towards the morning he had come to check upon her, and despite her independent nature, she hadn't protested. Much.

After exchanging a couple of questions and answers, they had sat in silence, both thinking their own thoughts and trying to find the solution to their own problems, even though some of those matters happened to coincide. Once it started to dawn, they reached the silent agreement to go into the kitchen for breakfast.

Just like Ron before, they too considered themselves the earliest birds in the nest, since none had actually had any sleep at all, and while Millicent had lain in her bed for a couple of hours, tired but unable to stop worrying, Draco hadn't even tried to, too obsessed with Astraea's words to him and figuring out their meaning. And just like Ron before, they too were wrong, as they realized upon stepping into the kitchen and finding two people already there and hugging.

"Get a room," Milla snapped in greeting, since a sleepless night of worrying made her cranky, and seeing one of her least favourite people didn't improve her spirits.

Astraea pulled away from Ron, winked at the newcomers, and turned back to her companion.

"Mine, no?"

"Your what?" he inquired, not even trying to understand since it was probably a lost cause anyway.

"My room, of course. You're welcome there."

"But you just said... you told... I..." he started, his confusion turning into an even bigger confusion.

"You really aren't a morning person, Ron," she laughed at him. "And it will be more comfy than doing it here."

"Damn right it is!" Millicent announced from a cupboard she was currently attacking. "Not to mention that some people are trying to eat here."

"But... but... but... but you just dumped me!" Ron managed at last.

Milla pulled her head out of the cupboard and wheeled towards the scene so quickly that she almost lost her balance, while Draco barely managed not to drop the cup of coffee he had just made for himself, both clearly surprised at such news and curious of what was going to happen next.

"Sleep, Ron," Astraea chuckled. "You can use my bed to sleep in it, since there's obviously something wrong with yours."

"Why would you think that?" he exclaimed, a little too loud and fast, trying not to blush or look guilty.

"Because you are awake," she grinned.

"I don't know what you're playing at," Milla hissed once a blushing and guilty-looking Weasley had left, "but I'm going to find out, and then you will not escape from me."

"Have some coffee," Astraea pushed the cup into her hands, almost sloshing some of the hot liquid over its rim. "You don't seem to be a morning person either."

She glared at her, then at the beverage, then at the rising sun outside.

"Did no one sleep tonight?" she muttered to herself.

Draco, who had kept his silence this far, trying to figure out what exactly this new development meant, decided to open his mouth now and ask.

"Aren't you sabotaging your own plan by ending things with Weasley?"

Millicent sat at the table, trying to appear totally occupied with her sandwich and tea (despite her sleepless night she had enough mind to realize that drinking something Astraea had given to her might not be a very good idea), but in reality paying very close attention to their every word.

"Care to enlighten me what plan that would be?" she inquired, leaning against the doorway.

"You offered to let go of Weasley in exchange of Potter removing his part of the charm," he explained casually, "Now you have nothing to negotiate with."

The smile she gave in reply was dripping with danger and foul intentions. She made to leave, but instead of walking through the door she suddenly leapt in the very opposite direction, and before either Slytherins could react or even comprehend what was happening, one of them was down on the floor, wand pressed into his neck.

With a fierce cry of battle, Millicent jumped towards them, whipping out her own wand.

"Don't, Milla," he ordered, but she didn't listen, and a moment later the tip of her wand was against her enemy's temple.

"Oh, please do give me an excuse to curse you," she drawled.

"Milla, don't," Draco repeated.

"Shut up! Drop your wand and I just might leave you alive."

"How very generous of you," Astraea replied, not making a move. "And how terrible of me to turn down such a nice offer."

"Milla!" he almost shouted, but she didn't listen, already waving her wand. But before she managed to complete the incantation, something hard hit her stomach, and she stumbled back, grabbing hold of the table to keep herself from falling. Yet as unexpected as this was, both her wand and eyes were trained upon her enemy the whole time.

"You have to do better than that!" she growled.

"I don't take my orders from you," Astraea replied, standing up slowly and putting away her wand. "I don't take orders from anyone."

"Oh?" Milla raised her brow. "And I thought you took them from Blaise."

She felt like doing a happy dance at seeing anger flash in the eyes of her opponent. The war was not over, but she had clearly just won a battle.

"This is not going to end well for you," Astraea said, keeping her tone level.

"Well, that's strange," Millicent admitted. "I just thought the same. About you."

"We'll see about that," she said, walking out of the kitchen.

"Milla..." he began darkly, but she didn't let him finish.

"Astraea – zero, Millicent – two," she announced. "Ah, can't you just smell the victory."

---

Somehow, this little victory managed to brighten up Milla's whole day, and despite still worrying about her boyfriend she felt rather optimistic about his safe return, all thanks to her enemy, as ironic as it was. Nothing seemed to bring her down, not Draco's reprimands, not Potter's suspicious stare, not Moody's barking words at their daily meeting. And towards the evening her spirits only heightened as she was expecting Neville back soon.

So when Astraea stepped into her room that late afternoon, she didn't draw her wand or even glare at her, but merely grinned.

"Back for more?"

She answered by casting a Silencing Spell, and Milla took it as a 'yes', standing up from her desk, and taking in the duelling pose.

"I'd love to kick your ass again," she announced.

"I wasn't aware it was me who got punched this morning."

"You call that a..." Milla started to scoff, but before her sentence was finished, Astraea made her first move, crouching down on the floor and firing a curse. Her shield was up in a fraction of a second, and the spell bounced off, hitting a chair instead and blowing it to pieces.

"I liked that chair!" was Millicent's battle cry this time – not as popular and widely-used as some others, but suiting the situation just fine.

And then they were both firing off spells at each other, both putting up shields to protect themselves, both jumping around and changing positions to get a better aim and dodge the opponent's curses. Millicent briefly managed to wonder why the hell did they have to battle in her room, where it were her things that were blown to pieces or burnt to ash, but then a spell grazed her shoulder, and she quickly turned all her attention back to their duel. Her opponent fought well, even in such restricted conditions as her not overly spacious room, but she was no worse either.

Currently Astraea was making a horizontally crescent movement with her wand, and Millicent quickly dropped herself to the floor, feeling the wave of power pass over her head and hit the window behind, smashing the glass. But her own spell was said moments before that, and luckily for her Astraea hadn't been fast enough, letting herself be hurled into a wall. It didn't seem to have much effect on her, though, as her countermove came the second she hit it, and Millicent, hoping it would knock her out, was in for a major disappointment. She was also in danger, rolling on the carpet without a chance to get up, deflecting spells and moving out of their way, so quickly was her enemy firing them off. But she managed to creep behind her desk, or what was left of it, remaining there in silence, keeping her breath and listening intently. When she figured time was right, Milla pointed her wand at the ruins of her desk, blasting it away, hopefully straight at Astraea, preparing to take her opponent down while she was busy with getting hit by her desk. But Astraea wasn't where she should have been, as she realized a moment later when something collided with her, throwing them both down. She held on to her wand with all her might, but it didn't seem to be doing much good, since now she was on the receiving end of kicks and punches instead of curses and hexes. She struck back, of course, never letting go of her wand, at least not before her arm was being twisted rather painfully, and even then she managed to toss it further away, out of the reach of them both.

Now they were rolling on the carpet together, the wizard's duel having turned into a common fistfight, although knees, elbows, and teeth were also used, among other things. Millicent delivered another blow, then bit down upon the hand holding her wrist, but didn't get even a moment to breathe because Astraea's other hand had found her hair and was now yanking a bit too hard for comfort. She kicked and struggled to get free, then raised her arms to do the same, but when she finally grabbed it was not hair that she felt in her hands. Astraea gasped for air, and the next thing she knew, razor sharp nails were biting into her flesh. Quite surprisingly, though, even for herself, Millicent didn't let go. The nail thing was nasty, but not as painful as the hair thing had been, and instead of freeing her hands to give out some punches, she only strengthened her grip. Now she was the one getting kicked, but she answered by gripping even tighter than before. And then, without realizing what exactly she had done right, they rolled around again, only this time Milla managed to end on the top, holding the other girl down. Here her heavy build was a big plus, as she kept her from punching her mainly thanks to her weight, although the firm grip on her neck might have had something to do with it as well.

---

Astraea was most surprised. After practicing with Blaise, then doing it for real with Harry, Ron, and Draco, she had been quite confident of her fighting skills. Down in the kitchen that morning, she had merely tested Millicent's reaction speed, which had been relatively, but not surprisingly, good. Later she had removed herself from the fight, fully aware that Draco had stayed down on the floor only because he had wanted, not because she left him no choice. He could have thrown her off any moment, and if she had continued to duel, he would have separated them soon, disarming or even stupefying them both.

Here and now, alone with Millicent in her Silenced room, it was one on one, just the two of them, against each other. She had planned to knock her out with a spell, nothing too wicked, just to show which of them here the master was. But the girl was quick to deflect all her curses, or jump away from them, so she had changed her tactics and chosen the Muggle kind of fight. She knew it wasn't foreign to her opponent, thinking about their very first close encounter in the second year, but she had counted on the moment of surprise, hoping to knock her down and knock her out before she managed to give the first kick.

She had been mistaken, though. Millicent was a hell of a fighter, both with spells and fists, and now she had a strong grip on her neck, and breathing was becoming harder and harder. She tried to twist, struggle, kick out, but the damn girl was too heavy to throw her off like that; she clawed at her arms, but she was rather resistant to such pain as well, and suddenly Astraea was officially out of ideas. She was also officially suffocating, and that was very, very bad. What the hell did she have to do know to get rid of her? Her wand was... somewhere, but not in her reach, her kicks were too weak... and her vision was slowly starting to darken.

She had to turn the situation to her benefit right this moment. She gasped again, gulping for air, feeling the first notes of panic that she really couldn't afford now. There was nothing but a strange roaring in her ears, and it really couldn't have been twilight yet, but the room was dim, and getting dimmer, and Astraea opened her mouth again.

She felt her lips move, but she didn't know what she was saying, and she heard nothing but the roar. She could only hope that she wasn't pleading for her life, and if she were, then Millicent would listen.

And suddenly the pressure was gone. Suddenly she could breathe again, and see again, and even her hearing started to come back, and the weight was removed from her, and Astraea thought no more. Still drinking up the precious air, she grabbed the wand she only now noticed lying beside her, leapt to her feet, and fired off a spell, hitting Millicent straight in her chest and blasting her hard against the wall.

Without a pause she started to cast another, when the fact that her defeated opponent was laughing suddenly registered in her brain. And it was not the ironic hopeless laugh she might have expected, or the forced one in attempt to make the attacker curious and prolong the coming end, but a laugh filled with true amusement. If they had been duelling for life and death, she would have done away with her then and there, not letting the mystery of the laughter bother her. But since she had no intention to kill Millicent, but was out to simply knock her unconscious, she gave her another moment, trying to figure out what in Circe could be this funny for a person who had just been thrown into a wall none too gently.

"You have no idea what you said, have you?" Millicent had stopped laughing, now displaying an extremely disturbing grin.

"I know very well what I said," she replied coldly. "And I also know why I said it."

"That makes two of us," she smirked, slumping down to the floor. "I was ready to hear you beg, and that clever plan of yours would have never worked. But I didn't expect this."

"Your fault," Astraea shrugged, trying to recall with all her might what extremely stupid thing she had said.

"You said a name," she chuckled. "And it wasn't mine."

Now she finally raised the wand and finished off her opponent, hurling her across the room into another wall, and watching blood flow down her face. Millicent looked like hell, but she was alive, and for that she had to be grateful because this last move in their duel had been done in anger, and she had barely managed to hold herself back from actually killing her.

Because now she remembered what she had said, and someone had to die for this.

---

A couple of hours later, when Millicent had regained consciousness, managed to crawl to her wand, and done some serious restoring of both herself and her room, that she was ready to step in front of wider public again, deciding that her appearance wouldn't make people scream and faint in horror anymore. She wasn't fully healed yet, but she knew that Draco had just the potion she needed.

---

"You fell down the stairs?" he raised his brow at her.

Millicent briefly wondered whether she should have come up with a better excuse, but her head was still hurting and she was not in the mood to get creative.

"You're not my mother," she snapped at him. "Give me the potion before I come and take it."

"Who won?" he asked, throwing the small vial to her. Millicent caught it with some trouble, and then pondered the question.

"It depends on how you define victory," she said at last. "But I have a feeling it was me."

"In that case, she'll want a revanche," Draco remarked, truly surprising Millicent with not yelling or even reprimanding her for duelling with his girl. Her shock must have shown because he let out a mirthless laugh and explained.

"I don't like the idea of you fighting with her, but you were right. She doesn't give a damn about me or my words, and you aren't too fond of listening to me either. Just remember that she is used to duelling with Unforgivables and dark curses, and she is too careful to cast them in this house."

"In other words, I might have beat her, but she's still better," she remarked sourly.

"I'm just saying that outside the Headquarters she might kill you."

She nodded at that, sitting down on the sofa and buying herself a bit of time by swallowing her potion and making a face at the foul taste.

"I think I was wrong," she said at last, handing the bottle back to him.

"Ah," he smirked. "Never thought I would hear these words coming from your mouth."

"Me neither," she admitted after a few moments of scowling at him.

"Good to hear them," he gave her a good-natured smile. "What were you wrong about, then?"

Millicent, already standing by the door, placed her hand on its knob, ready to bolt out once her bombshell was dropped. She didn't want to say too much, in case she happened to be wrong about being wrong, but she felt it was important and she was right about being wrong.

"I think I was wrong when I told you that she didn't give a damn about you. I think your chances with her are infinitesimal, but I think they are there."

Quickly she slipped through the doorway and hurried down the corridor towards her own room, ignoring him calling her name and demanding an explanation. But Milla couldn't quite explain it herself, so surprised had she been at hearing the name of her best friend fall from her enemy's lips. But it had to be important, it had to mean something because she had felt Astraea's rage in that last curse she had cast on her.

-----

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