Author's Note:

such such, thanks, forgive me if i am informal. I admit; I've never played chess before in my life. so if some things seem...incomprehensiblein games of chess, it is entirely my fault and no fault of your own. This is new band i like, and one of their songs i truly appreciate. (:

Song: Cheese On Bread - Modern Art Gallery

Chapter 21. ModernArtGallery

KerTHUD.

The girls and their prize gasped and breathed deep in a great pile.

"'Ello, Frankiiiiieee," sighed Lisa.

"Hiiii, Lisa!" exasperated a chipper looking Frankie. Cat, Skye, and Lisa finally got the enough energy to get off their beloved, long lost friend and sit among the steps. They're first words were -

"WHEN DID YOU GET TO BE SO COOL!"

Then complete silence smiling at each other, then yelling again. Sporadically their words collided in a big mess of compliments, and gestures, and gesticulations, and squeals, and general girliness until someone stumbled upon them.

"Well this is suspicious," said a dark, melancholic voice. Above their head appeared the unhappy face of an unhappy man.

"Oh, Professor Snape!" exclaimed Cat surprised. The man was dressed in the usual black attire, but wearing a black scarf and seemed to have been outside. Skye rolled her eyes, and Frankie was startled.

"Oh, Excuse me!" exclaimed the fair maden, Frankie, and she jumped up, and pulled out a folded piece of paper, rather hastily. She unfolded it. "Um, sir, Hello, my name is Francis Faden, and I'm -"

The rather annoyed man snatched the paper from her hands and examined the letter's calligraphy.

"I'm from the University of Magic, you see, and my major is Potions, and well, I -"

"Carry on," he hurried.

"Well…in order to gain title to teach we're required to spend six months as a Teacher Assistant at a designated Witchcraft and Wizardy school and…"

Professor Snape raised a brow, "Yes?"

"…They've assigned me to you."

"Do you know the Gorrilaz?" asked Karen.

They were already well into tutorial. Harry was instructing her on how the last piece moved.

"I don't know what you mean. The species?" he asked. "Now, see it moves diagonally, see?"

"No, I mean, the band. They're a cool band," she said. "Yuh-huh."

"Good, you're all set. Any questions?" he asked. "An American band?"

"Uh, what's the queen do?" she asked. "I dunno."

"Um…."

"You should listen to them. I think you'd like them!" said Karen with a smile. Harry looked up at her from the chess board. She was smiling so warmly. Was it the lingering high of victory, or something new?

"So what's the queen do again?" she asked, her smile fading away like butter in Sahara sun.

"Um…"

Harry explained the queens role and other questions she had. While he explained his mind was elsewhere, and he could tell hers was there too.

It was the place where suns had stopped for them. It was a place where surroundings were all a blur of an impressionist's painting, where they had the round thing, time, in the palm of their hand. It was a place where they didn't have to care for the frivolous things of grades and money. It, indeed, seemed like an imaginary place they both missed.

"Harry, do you ever wish your family had lived?"

Harry looked up at her from the chessboard.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I wish my parents had lived."

"What do you want out of life?"

"I don't know… never thought about that. Just to live, I guess."

"When did you first meet Voldemort?"

"Uh, at the end of my first year."

"When is your first birthday?"

"July 31."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Red."

"Who was your first kiss?"

"Cho Chang."

And Harry fell out of his chair.

"Harry! You fell out of your chair!" exclaimed Karen, pointing at him.

"I KNOW THAT!" he shouted in response quickly getting up and setting his chair back up. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"Gravity?"

"No, Karen! The question! 'Who was my first-" and then he glanced around at the other few Gryffindors in the room, and in a lower voice, he finished, "Who was my first kiss?'"

"Good question," she responded.

"No, bad question!"

"No, I meant, that's a good question. 'Where did it come from?' I don't know. I was thinking about it. It's better to say what is on your mind than what is not."

"Then again, some things are better left unsaid."

"….Honesty is the best policy."

"Children are better seen than heard."

"Freedom of speech."

"Even a fool can seem wise if he is the fool who holds his tongue."

"…now you're just making shit up."

Ron was swabbing a deck.

Ron could not believe he was swabbing decks on board a mother load of a ship. He did not know how got to be in the lake, how it managed to be unmolested by the lake monster, or for what purpose it was here for, all he knew was that he had to swab as much as possible as quickly as possible so he would no longer endure the cries of mad man by the name of Captain Earwiskers Filch who had recently rediscovered his childhood dream of becoming a pirate wizard.

"YOU SCURVY DOGS! PUT YOUR BACKS INTO! NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I SEEN SUCH A PAMBY-WAMBY, NO-GUTS SCALLYWAGS IN ALL MY LIFE! ARR!"

Indeed, Ron was not alone in this misery, he was accompanied by Seamus who was caught with Weasley wheezes amongst sort and Zabini who was found cheating during a test. Yes, they all endured the strange torture of ship crew work and Filch's dreadful pirate singing and eye patch.

"Mr. Filch," interrupted Ron, and Mr. Filch stopped singing. "Can we go back to the dorms now?"

Mr. Filch eyed him suspiciously

"Arr, have ye swabbed the decks?"

"Yes."

"Cleaned the cabins"
"Yes."

"Scrubbed the bathroom floors."

"Yes."

"The toilets."

Ron gave a shiver. "Yes."

"Ovens?"

"Clean."

"The windows?"

"Spotless."

"The Sails?"

"Done."

"The bow?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, YES!" cried out Seamus. "We have scrubbed and washed and cleaned every nook and crany of this ship! Now! Can we go back, Mr. Filch?"

Mr. Filch narrowed his eyes and with one coat hanged hoot clenched in his right fist he reached out and hooked himself and Seamus, bringing him eye to eye.

"Mr. Whoooo?" questioned the red eyed Earwiskers Filch.

"Ear- Ear wiskers. Excuse me! Cap-CAPTAIN Earwiskers Filch!" studdered Seamus. A thing smile grew upon his lips, and he let go of the poor boy with great happiness(if that could be done). He put his left hand to his chin and gazed thoughtfully to the sunset sky.

"Hmm…Have you cleaned the mermaid, then?" asked the pirate. They all raised a brow at this.

"The what sit?" was Zabini's reaction.

"Our fair maiden, the mermaid in front of the ship, how dare you call this ship clean if it's lady is covered in filth!" declared Mr. Filch. Ron was fed up. He threw his mop to the ground.

"Bloody hell! How're we even supposed to get to the bloody statue!" shouted Ron.

For once, Mr. Filch had not a quick response. But he did come to a conclusion.

"I don't know, Weasely, but since you've found the predicament, you fix it. The rest of us will head back to the castle," said Mr. Filch, finally taking off the eye patch and Pirate's hat. Ron was stunned.

"What the bloody-"

"AND IF I FIND THAT LADY UNCLEAN WHEN I COME BACK YOU'LL FIND YOURSELF AWFUL FOR A WEEK, YOU HEAR ME WEASELY!"

Ron gritted his teeth, his shoulders sprang like a cat's and his fists clenched in tense ferocity.

Oh, what he would give to sock that teacher one!

Albus Dumbledore was a quiet man, in the literal sense of the word. He liked his tea, loved his biscuits, but over all preferred cauldron cakes and acid pops. But recently, it seemed he could not enjoy his tea. It was rather suspicious of him, and whenever he made tea, one thing would lead to another and it would end as a brown puddle on the floor. He had not had tea in days. And recently, it seemed he could not enjoy his biscuits. He was rather suspicious of them. Unexpectedly, a biscuit tried to kill him as he swallowed it. Luckily, Minerva was there to pat him on the back however hard it was and the biscuit was defeat.

Yes, for a while now, Prof. Dumbledore had gained a love and hate relationship with tea time, and thus it did not surprised him in the least when his two less likable company joined forces.

Professor Dumbledore was just pouring himself a cup of tea using magic while wearing ear muffs, an apron, and goggles when the door flew open.

"HEADMASTER, THIS IS HERESY!"

And in marched Prof. Snape in the worst mood Prof. Dumbledore had seen him since he fell asleep in that barbershop in Italy again.

At that precise moment, Professor Dumbledore's biscuits spontaneous combusted and the teacup that was filling itself with nice hot tea exploded like a miniature atomic bomb.

Professor Dumbledore stared at the mini mushroom puff of smoke rising from his cup. He waved away the smoke and grabbed his tea cup looking hard into it. Nothing but a black stain of what was once tea. Dumbledore was so heartbroken of his tea, he forgot about his floating, burning biscuits.

"HEADMASTER, I DO NOT NEED AN ASSISSTANT!" shouted Prof. Snape, slamming Frankie's unfolded paper on his desk.

"Uh, Headmaster, your biscuits," added Lisa. The girls, including Frankie, had followed his march in pure curiosity and in their friend's support.

Prof. Dumbledore had a double take before he leaped into action, quickly withdrawing his wand, pointing and muttering a spell. The biscuits were out, and fell as charcoal to the desk, spreading black crumbs and crumbling parts. Prof. Dumbledore was saddened, but he addressed Prof. Snape's problem immediately.

"What?"

"I do not require a TEACHER'S ASSISSTANT!" declared Prof. Snape. "Why have I been assigned one! When did the Governors discussed this! Ho! Why wasn't I notified earlier!

Albus Dumbledore took off the goggles and adjusted the spectacles on his nose, picking up the paper gently and studying it.

"Well, Severus, this is the first I've heard of it, and rest assured, I do believe you when you say you do not need a T.A. Unfortunately, I do believe it is irreversible. When did the governors discussed this and why you weren't notified earlier, I do not know," Headmaster Dumbledore addressed Prof. Snape. He then looked to Frankie who stood embarrassed beside me.

"Excuse me," began Dumbledore. "are you Professor Snape's Teacher Assisstant?"

Frankie looked at him and nodded numbly. Prof. Dumbledore stood up, reaching out his hand to her, and Prof. Snap rolled his eyes.

"It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts," the headmaster introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you, my name is Francis Faden," greeted Frankie.

"I imagine your major must be in Potions? Well, not to worry. Professor Snape will be a fine teacher for you to emulate. His skills in Potions well do exceed even the greatest of concocters," said Headmaster Dumbledore, and then he addressed Prof. Snape again. "Take good care of her, she now under your wing, Severus. Under your wing."

Snape glanced at him oddly, confused and unhappy.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make one more attempt at tea time…"

With that said, the party left Prof. Dumbledore's office, and just as the gargoyle resumed it's post, Prof. Snape turned to his assisstant and gave her a welcoming speech.

"First and foremost, if you are going to be my asisstant, you must do every single thing I tell you. Second, you are not allowed to go into my personal shop of supplies without my permission. Third, you are not allowed, by any means, to retract or give out assignments I have not given permission to retract or give out, and Fourth, you are to address me as Professor," he informed her. "Understand?"

Frankie grinned so brightly and cheerfully with a peace sign, it clashed with the Potions master's overwhelming darkness.

"Okiedokie, Professor!" exclaimed Frankie, and as Frankie dashed to her little friends who had backed away from Snapes once-conquering darkness to tell them the good news, the Professor had an eerie feeling that his mornings were about to get unbearable.

"…Why did you ask the question?" asked Harry, once more. He moved his pawn.

"It's a secret," she replied, she moved her knight. Her knight knocked the pawn down. Harry gave her an annoyed look of displeasure.

"Yeah right," replied Harry, he moved his knight, and it trumped one of her pawns. "You don't even know why yourself, do you?"

Karen bit her lip bitterly, examining the pieces. She moved her bishop, and responded in the same tone, " Fine, so I was just thinking about it, okay? You a happy Harry, now?"

Harry, quite not satisfied and ignoring the bitter addition of "Happy Harry," read the chess board as if it held more answers than she had supplied. He moved his bishop as well.

"Why were you thinking about it?" asked Harry, looking up at her as soon as he moved the soldier.

Karen didn't look at him, watching the pieces instead.

"I don't know. I was remembering the kiss that one time at the table, that's all," she said, moving her knight, that sliced through another pawn. Harry felt something inside of him like the fluttering of icles on fire. It was quiet strange and he didn't know what it was doing there.

There was silence between them as Harry was deciding which piece to move. Their faces were both red with something. Embarrassment, maybe. Desire. Or maybe just from the heat of the fire they sat so close to.

Just as Karen was feeling she should leave, Harry decided to move.

"…I was thinking about it, too," said Harry softly, looking up at her. Karen stared at him, and by some weird magic no one could quite put a finger on, their faces came closer, their lips were slowly drawn together and kiss was made by some romantic books phrase, "the light of the fire."

"I can't believe the left me to clean this…this…lady-person-thing!"

Ron was sitting sideways on a broomstick had had found on deck in front of the ship with floating bucket of soapy water and a sponge. He glared at his job with great discouragement. He wasn't sure how he was going to go around cleaning such a thing. It was wooden, splintering, and covered in fungus and seacrud. Infact, it looked more like a sea hag than a ship goddess.

Nonetheless.

At least Ron tried.

Ron took out the sponge and began lathering up the statue in a grumbling way, scrubbing hard across the shoulders and hair. He was rather insecure about scrubbing the other parts, so he didn't.

As he scrubbed away the filth from the poor neglected woman's face, he started to notice how beautiful the face was. How delicate. How pristine. How much she reminded him of a girl he knew.

Inspired, in a strange to put it, Ron proceeded to take his job more carefully as if handling a china doll instead of a block of wood. He took great care of the eyes, the nose, the ears, the lips, making sure every nook and cranny was clean. He made sure that her face was spotless and beautiful. And as he grew more confident, he washed away the dirt imbedded in the ridges in her wooden, wavy hair, and he scraped away her fungus and her mildew from her body.

When Ron was done polishing her, he took a step back(so to speak), and smiled at his good work.

"Now, that's better," he said to himself, admiring hard work.

And suddenly, and unexpectedly, in a flash he never expected, the ship goddess smiled back at him.

"Good job," she declared.

Hermione could see the strange ship from her window, and for the past hour and a half she had been watching Ron, pretending there was no interest in it and that she had nothing better to do. She had been watching him clean the ship goddess, his gentle care and precision, that she sighed with much longing she did not understand. And as she watched him move back on the broom, presuming he was attempting to look at it in a better view, she realized Ron had gone as rigid as pole. Now this really had sparked her interest, and Hermione picked up Lavender's binoculars from where they usually laid beside the window sil, and looked through them.

The wooden woman who Ron had so diligently cleaned withdrew her arms from the ships front with cracking sounds Hermione could not hear but imagined would make, and in a alarming forward motion, she gently took Ron's startled expression in her hands, her lips moving at first and then landing on his.

This became a frightfully, famous kiss.