A/N: I forgot to mention last chapter that in the beginning scene, where Daphne warns Ara not to go into the Great Hall because everyone is talking about the escaped Death Eaters, I embellished a bit – the actual chapter in OotP portrays most of the student body as being unaware of the breakout until later on in the day or week or whatever it is. I wanted the characters to know about it right away, so that's why I decided to have the entire Great Hall buzzing about it. Not a huge discrepancy, perhaps, but I like to explain when I make even the tiniest change to one of J.K.'s settings. I was also going back through my chapters and found a few more things that don't make sense – are there windows in the dungeons? I would assume a dungeon is underground, but I realized I've written several scenes that show the characters looking out of some kind of window either in their dormitory or the Slytherin common room. And I think one of the books mentions the Slytherin common room being under the lake… so, oh well. Lol. I'm an extremely detail-oriented person and I hate when I make a mistake in consistency, no matter how small it is. So we're going to pretend that the dungeons are a sort of ground floor, so that the characters are still able to look out of windows. Haha.

Shout out time! Olinic22, you got your wish, Anthony is featured pretty heavily in this chapter :) ; wildflowers-and-sun, you'll definitely find a Snape scene in here (sometimes I feel like I'm incapable of writing a chapter without one) and don't worry, I will for sure be including Rodolphus and Rabastan in this story. Many thanks also goes out to Guest Star, Guest, bridget237, Carly, Miss Rosier, princeofalmora and priyankita, KateA001, AllTheStars, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, and rosie . horgan . 7 for their reviews and all of their kind words. I love all of you guys!

And now, on with the chapter. This one has turned out to be 13 pages (MUCH longer than I normally write them, I usually go for around 8-9, 10 at the most), so I hope that makes up for a month of not updating. In my defense, I spent August moving into my new apartment and starting at work for the school year again, so I've been pretty busy. And I don't want to ruin anything, but I feel I should warn you now that Bellatrix does NOT appear in this chapter, but I PROMISE that she will be in the next one!

Chapter 27 – Be My Valentine

I wake up early on Saturday morning intensely grateful that it's the weekend. Cassie had accepted my "I'm not feeling well" excuse without question when she'd returned to the dormitory before lunch on Thursday and had found me lying in bed (nearly asleep, thanks to the strength of that Calming Draught.) Dumbledore had been generous enough to excuse me from classes on Friday, too, so the only lesson I'd attended that day had been in the dungeons after dinner, where I'd practiced brewing an Invigoration Draught with Snape. Madeleine hadn't returned at all yesterday, and Cassie had explained to me that Dumbledore had given her and Ariane permission to go home with their parents. Cassie had said that Madeleine hadn't been sure when she'd be back, though the funeral for her aunt would likely be held within a week, so she would probably return shortly after that. She'd also apparently come into the dormitory to retrieve her school books and a few other things that she'd need while at home, but Cassie had informed me that I'd been fast asleep at the time.

Orion jumps lightly onto my legs, his yellow eyes fixed unwaveringly on mine. Cassie's labored breathing reaches my ears from a few beds over, so I know that he's probably sneaked in here some time during the night. "You know better," I scold him quietly, scratching him behind the ears. Orion purrs and rubs his head against my fingers contentedly, obviously not caring that he's not supposed to be in here. "Come on," I say, scooping him in my arms and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "Let's go get you some breakfast, and then maybe we can take a walk up to the Owlery and visit Abraxas."

Orion mews in delight and hops out of my arms – he loves chasing Abraxas around the manor, so a visit to the Owlery, where there are hundreds of owls for him to bother, is a huge treat. He paws impatiently at the dormitory door as I dress quickly, pulling a pair of simple black robes over my head and drawing my hair back into a messy bun. "What, you got in, but you can't get out?" I tease him, slipping into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face.

Five minutes later, I'm ready to go. Orion glares at me as he brushes past me on the stairs to the common room, as if I've delayed him for some ridiculous amount of time. "Get over yourself," I say, rolling my eyes. As it's barely past dawn, the common room is empty, but I have no problem with that. I've done my best to avoid everyone for the past two days and have no desire to see anyone now.

The corridors are eerily silent, too. I'm not sure I've ever ventured out into the school this early in the morning before. I pull a few cat treats from my pocket and offer them to Orion as the "breakfast" I'd promised him; I'll feed him properly later – rather, he'll feed himself, he's pretty adept at prowling through the castle and hunting down his own food. He chews the treats quickly and pounces on ahead of me, looking back every so often to ensure that I'm still there.

We reach the Owlery in record time. It's chillier up here than it had been throughout the rest of the castle; the bitter January wind swirls in and out of the glassless windows, and I shiver, wishing I had thought to bring my cloak with me. Orion skitters around the room, picking happily at the many mice skeletons littering the floor. "That's disgusting," I inform him, grabbing a sheet of parchment from the stone slab in the middle of the room. The Owlery is always well-stocked with parchment, quills, ink, and Owl Order forms for anyone who may decide once they're up here that they'd like to send something off.

Orion just stares at me, chomping slowly on the strings of meat still clinging to a vole carcass.

"Very nice," I mutter, choosing a quill and dipping it into an inkpot. I pause for a moment, thinking, then slowly lower the quill to the parchment:

Dear Lyra,

Wherever you are, I hope this letter finds you, and wherever you are, I hope that you're safe.

"What're you doing up here?!"

I jump and nearly upset the inkpot. Filch has just entered the Owlery and is staring at me with immense distaste, his foul cat Mrs. Norris rubbing against his legs. "Sending a letter," I reply, trying to keep my voice even. "Not against the law, is it?"

Filch sneers. "You know very well that in this school, girl, it's against the law unless it's been inspected by myself or the High Inquisitor," he says as Mrs. Norris turns her lamp-like eyes on me, hissing. Orion prances to my side and meows angrily at her in return – even the other cats around the castle hate Mrs. Norris. "Hand it over, now."

With everything going on in my life I'd completely forgotten that Umbridge inspects all incoming and outgoing mail. I can get in huge trouble for writing to Lyra, especially after lying to Umbridge merely days before and claiming that I've had no contact with my sister. "I'm not finished with it yet," I say in the snootiest tone I can muster, folding the parchment neatly and slipping it into my pocket. "Can't inspect it until it's finished, can you?"

"Trying to hide something, eh, girl?" Filch counters, his jowls quivering as he points to my pocket. "Give it here!"

"I'm not hiding anything!" I snap, feeling my cheeks redden. I glance quickly around the room, hoping to find a way out, but the Owlery is located in one of the castle's highest towers and Filch and Mrs. Norris are blocking the only door.

Filch cackles, evidently sensing my anxiety. "Well, well, well, missy, looks like a trip to the High Inquisitor's office is in order," he says, his mouth stretching into an evil grin. "And she won't appreciate being woken up at this hour, oh, no, just you wait –"

BOOM.

Filch practically jumps out of his skin. "PEEVES!" he roars, turning to stare at the door, his eyes bulging. "WAKE UP THE ENTIRE CASTLE, WILL YOU, I'LL HAVE YOU THIS TIME!" He runs out without giving me a second thought, closely followed by Mrs. Norris, Orion hissing in her wake.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and head for the door, not willing to take the chance that Filch won't come rushing back in, even though there's a loud succession of BOOMs continuing to echo in some distant part of the castle. That had been much too close for comfort. I can't believe I'd been so stupid to forget that Filch prowls the castle at all hours of the day and night, searching for "wrongdoers," as well as the fact that Umbridge has all the mail checked. I know I shouldn't have been trying to talk to my sister, but I can't stand not knowing where she is. I've been putting on a brave front, trying to act as if nothing's amiss, but internally, I feel as if I'm losing more and more of myself each day, and it gets harder and harder to pretend that I don't care. The student body has largely left me alone – Draco's been threatening to hex any of the Slytherins who dare to question me on what happened over the holidays, and I rarely speak to anyone from the other Houses, so for the most part, I haven't had to endure much interrogation – but I've definitely overheard students whispering heatedly about it in the corridors. The gossip has only increased now that the news about the escaped Death Eaters has reached the ears of just about everyone in the castle. No one's been brave enough to defy Draco and say something directly to my face, but I can feel their eyes on me everywhere I go, judging me, wondering if I'm innocent or if I've played a part in my parents' escape.

I guess this is how Harry Potter feels every day of his life.

"Hey, Ara!"

It's my turn to nearly jump out of my skin. "Hello?" I whisper uncertainly, my heart pounding furiously against my chest as I scout the corridor for the source of the voice.

Anthony Abarca pops up from behind the nearest suit of armor, grinning. "Don't worry, Filch's on his way down to the Charms corridor," he says, making his way over to me. "I saw you heading up here and figured that he'd try giving you a hard time, so I set off a box of Dr. Filibuster's fireworks to distract him."

"Well, it worked," I say gratefully, bending down to scoop Orion into my arms. "He thought it was Peeves wreaking havoc as usual." I wrinkle my brow. "How did you get over here so fast?"

Anthony shrugs. "I ran."

"Oh."

We're quiet for a moment, each trying to think of something to say. "Well, thanks," I offer finally, stroking Orion's glossy body. I wish I could come up with something better, but any charisma I possess doesn't seem to want to make itself known at the moment. "I definitely would have ended up with detention if it hadn't been for you."

Anthony smiles again, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It was nothing," he says, shuffling his feet somewhat awkwardly. "And I don't want you to think I was following you or anything… I really did just happen to see you; you were walking out of the common room just as I'd come down from my dormitory. And I only went after you because I had something to ask you… Filch just happened to get in the way."

I smile slightly. "And you just happened to have a box of Dr. Filibuster's fireworks with you, did you?"

Anthony chuckles. "Well, I had a feeling you might be trying to write to Lyra… it's what I'd do; get up early to avoid the Umbitch and her stupid mail inspection. But I figured you might run into trouble, anyway, so I thought it best to bring along a little distraction, just in case."

Well, he's got my intentions right, and I'm glad he thinks I'm smart enough to try and find a way around Umbridge's rules, rather than forgetting about them. Lyra, however, is the last thing I want to talk about with anybody. "Well, thanks," I say again, making to push past him. "I've got to feed Orion, though, so I'll see you later –"

"Wait," Anthony interrupts, sidestepping me and throwing his arms out to block my way. "Uh, don't go yet. I still have something to ask you."

"Oh. Right." I can feel my cheeks begin to flame red. "Uh, go ahead, then."

Anthony runs his fingers through his dark brown hair. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you," he says quietly, his eyes connecting with mine. "I'm not trying to force you to talk about Lyra, and I don't care about whatever happened over the holidays. I just… I just wanted to know if you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me on Valentine's Day."

There's no doubt about it, my face is now brighter than the Weasley kids' hair. "Oh. Um. Okay."

Anthony's expression collapses into one of relief. "Great," he says, grinning widely again. "Can I walk you back to the common room? Or would you rather go to the Great Hall? It's still pretty early, but I'm sure there are a few people having breakfast already."

"Oh, um, we can go to the common room," I stammer, my heart still beating wildly. "I, uh, promised Cassie I'd eat breakfast with her." I'd like to smack my head against the wall – I've just been asked out by one of the most attractive, popular boys in Slytherin House, and I'm blushing and stumbling over my words like a complete idiot. I've had crushes, certainly, but I've never had an actual boyfriend, and Anthony… he's extremely handsome and intelligent, not to mention older than me. I've always assumed that he's fancied my sister, or even Ariane or Eleanor, since the three of them are the only girls in his year – not to mention they're all very pretty. Every girl in Slytherin House, whether she admits it or not, has a crush on Anthony Abarca. I've often tried to convince myself that I don't like him, that there could never be any kind of spark between us… but I'd be lying if I said that I've never dreamt about one igniting.

We walk back to the common room in relative silence. I clutch Orion tightly, afraid that Anthony might make another bold move and try to hold my hand. I wouldn't be opposed to it, but I'm fairly certain that both of my hands are disgustingly slimy with sweat. "Parseltongue," Anthony says once we reach the blank stretch of wall in the dungeons. It melts away and we step inside. There are a few people milling about now, and Cassie's seated in an armchair by the fire, taming her damp red hair into a braid.

Anthony notices her and gives me a slight nudge in her direction. "I'll see you later, Ara," he says, flashing me one more dazzling smile before heading over to a couple of seventh year boys sitting in the corner.

"I was wondering where you went," Cassie says as I approach her. "What were you doing with Abarca?"

I shrug and slide into the seat next to her, dropping Orion lightly onto the floor. "He… he just asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him next month."

Cassie's jaw drops. "He what?!"

"Can you keep your voice down?" I hiss, sneaking a peek at the corner where Anthony's sitting. He's deep in conversation with his friends and doesn't appear to be paying us any attention. "He asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him on Valentine's Day. That's it. It's not a big deal."

Cassie snorts as she ties off the end of her braid. "Not a big deal?" she repeats, flipping the finished braid over her shoulder. "Are Bear, you've been pining for that boy since the first day you saw him on the Hogwarts Express."

"I have not. That's rather overdramatic."

Cassie rolls her eyes. "If you say so." She gets to her feet. "Shall we continue this conversation over breakfast? I'm starving."

I shrug again. "I'm not very hungry."

"Well, that's too bad for you, because you're eating something," Cassie commands, grabbing me under the arm and forcing me to stand. "I'm not standing for this 'skipping meals and classes' rubbish anymore. You've had your few days to sulk and you need to start acting like a normal human being again."

I stare at her. How can she possibly have any idea what I'm going through? "Would you like to trade places with me for a day, Cass?"

"That's not what I'm trying to say, Ara," Cassie says briskly, pulling me towards the exit. "I just meant that I can't change the hand you've been dealt, but I can do my best to make sure you don't slip into total darkness." She slides her hand into mine and squeezes it reassuringly. "Now, come on. We have a lot to discuss and exactly one month to get you ready for the biggest date of your life."


"Close your books," Snape hisses on Monday morning, standing in front of his desk with his arms crossed. Some of my classmates – mainly the Gryffindors – exchange uneasy looks as the dungeon begins to echo with the sound of slamming book covers. I shut my own copy of Magical Drafts and Potions quietly and push it to the side, propping my chin up with my palm as I wait for Snape to speak. Cassie fidgets nervously next to me, but I ignore it. I'd tried to skip my classes again this morning, but Cassie, true to her word, had resorted to any means necessary to get me out of the dormitory. When I'd refused to get up, she'd tossed the ice-cold water from the jug next to the window onto me, completely drenching both me and my bed. Pansy had thought it hilarious, of course, but I'd been less than pleased and hadn't spoken to Cassie throughout both breakfast and Transfiguration, our first lesson.

"We are a week into the second term and, based on the astounding amount of ill-researched homework I recently received from the majority of this class," Snape begins acidly, waving his wand and sending a stack of neatly rolled parchments soaring around the room, "I have to admit that I am thoroughly amazed that some of you have made it this far. It would seem that many of you had decided to take a mental vacation as well as a physical one during this past holiday break."

A roll of parchment comes to a stop in front of me and hovers for a moment before lightly dropping onto the table. I unfurl it and realize that it's the essay on antidotes that Snape had assigned us last Monday during our first Potions lesson after break. There's a bright red O shining in the upper right hand corner. I scan the parchment quickly but there's nothing else. No comments, scathing or otherwise – just the O. I sneak a peek at Cassie's essay; it's practically drowning in red ink, and her mouth turns downward into a frown as she glances over Snape's no-doubt cutting remarks.

"You may recall that, at the beginning of this school year, I informed all of you that a substantial amount of time and effort would have to be put to use in both theory and practical Potions in order to maintain the high-pass level that I expect from my O.W.L. students," Snape continues, his tone venomous. Everyone keeps their eyes locked on him, not wanting to be accused of not paying attention. "Many of you seem to have forgotten that you will be taking your Potions O.W.L. in merely a few months' time, as the information contained in these antidote essays was, at best, horribly inaccurate and insufficiently detailed. I would expect first years to come up with the mindless drivel I received from this class."

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown both look as if they'd like to sink straight into the floor. A couple of tables over from them, Neville Longbottom quivers with fear, his face pale. Even some of my Slytherin classmates shift uncomfortably in their seats. Cassie squashes her essay into a ball and grips it tightly in her hand, as if she'd like nothing more than to throw it back in Snape's face.

Snape smirks as his dark eyes travel across the room, obviously enjoying the apprehension he's causing everyone. "I have, therefore, devised a practical exercise for today's class. You will split into pairs and come up with your own antidotes for a poison of your choosing. This, perhaps, will give you a greater understanding of exactly what composes an antidote, as well as aid you in brewing it properly."

"But, sir," Hermione calls, waving her hand in the air, "The composition of antidotes isn't studied until sixth year –"

"I believe, Miss Granger, that I set the curriculum in this class, not you," Snape interrupts icily. Hermione goes red and slowly puts her hand down as Pansy laughs loudly. "I am not asking for anything difficult. Yes, in N.E.W.T. Potions – should any of you make it that far – you will study blended poisons and learn the exact way to create an antidote for those poisons, but that is not what we will be doing today. I want a simple antidote for a simple poison."

"We're not Potions Masters, sir," Seamus Finnigan grumbles, not even bothering to raise his hand. "How're we supposed to come up with an antidote that hasn't already been documented?"

"Yes, Finnigan, I've already made it quite clear that three-fourths of this class is composed of talentless dunderheads," Snape sneers. "And that will be ten points from Gryffindor for taking on Miss Granger's personality and presuming to know antidotes better than I."

Hermione blushes an even deeper shade of scarlet while Seamus opens his mouth furiously to retort. Dean Thomas, seated next to him at their table, kicks him hard in the ankle, effectively shutting him up and preventing him from agitating Snape further.

Snape takes a moment to leer at Seamus before going on: "Often only the most common antidote methods are recorded in school textbooks and household potions books, but there are several different antidotes that can be made to counteract one poison. For example, off the top of my head, I can think of at least three diverse ways in which to concoct an antidote for a Malevolent Mixture."

I can, too, but evidently no one else shares this brain wave; confusion floods the faces of nearly everyone in the room. Neville in particular looks as if he's going to be sick. "Ah, yes, this shall certainly be delightful," Snape drawls, casting an amused eye around the room. "Gather your things; I'm going to be assigning partners."

A collective groan rises as everyone begins to shove their books and other supplies into their bags. Snape catches my gaze and smiles slightly, as if I'm in on his joke. I sling my bag over my shoulder and tear my eyes away, suspecting that he's about to pair me up with somebody that I can't stand. I glance quickly around the dungeon, assessing my options: any of the Gryffindors are out; I doubt Snape will place me with one of them. If anything, he'll pair Draco with Harry in order to make Harry suffer. I wouldn't mind having Cassie (even if I'm pissed at her at the moment), except for the fact that she's terrible at Potions. I think she's averaging a "Poor" at the moment. That leaves only Crabbe and Goyle (either of whom would hinder me, they're both so slow and stupid), Theordore Nott and Blaise Zabini (I suppose either of them would be fine, they're both rather smart) and Daphne and Pansy.

I'm inwardly debating whether I'd rather work with Daphne or Pansy (Daphne's winning out, thanks to her recent kindness towards me) when, predictably, Snape calls out, "Over here, Potter, you're with Malfoy."

Draco shoots a malicious grin at Harry as Crabbe and Goyle get up from the table to make room. Harry, a look of mixed anger and resentment on his face, grabs his bag and struts down the aisle to Draco's table, throwing himself into the seat furthest away from my cousin. Draco chuckles and leans forward to whisper something to Harry. I have no doubt that it's something entirely mean-spirited and won't be surprised if some sort of confrontation occurs between the two of them before the lesson is over.

Snape, busy assigning partners, notices nothing. "Miss Granger, you'll be joining Miss Parkinson," he says, and an expression of disgust crosses both Hermione's and Pansy's faces. They loathe one another. "Miss Patil, over here by Miss Moneroy. Finnigan, you can work with Crabbe, Thomas, you'll be with Zabini… Miss Brown, you can partner Miss Greengrass… Miss Abgrall isn't here, so we'll need a group of three… Weasley, you can join Goyle and Nott… and that leaves Miss Lestrange with Longbottom."

I feel as if the bottom has suddenly dropped out of my stomach. A terrified squeak issues from Neville as the rest of the class turns to stare at me, their eyes wide. "Is there a problem?" Snape asks quietly, another nasty smile playing on his lips.

Hermione raises her hand again, waving it more wildly than before. "Please, sir, I'll work with Neville –"

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, and if I have to remind you again that it is I, not you, who is in charge of this class, then it will be detention," Snape spits. He glares around the room. "Well? Get to work! You have an hour and a half to present me with an acceptable antidote."

Everyone begins to shuffle around the room, searching for their partners. Neville, however, remains at his table, clutching the edge of it so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. He's not looking at anyone, just staring down into the depths of his cauldron. "Lovely," I mutter, getting to my feet and wishing that I could curse Snape into a billion little pieces. Not only has he paired me with the worst Potions student in the class, he's paired me with the one who's probably scared to death of me. Once again, I don't always understand Snape. He's compassionate, almost gentle with me one day, and a complete greasy git the next.

"Good luck, Are Bear," Cassie says, her anxious gaze straying toward Neville as Parvati plops down into my vacated seat.

I acknowledge her with a wave of my hand as I weave my way down the aisle, finally coming to a stop next to Neville. He keeps his eyes trained on his cauldron. "Er… hi," I say awkwardly, pulling out the chair next to him and seating myself in it.

No response.

"I… I think we should go for the antidote for the Malevolent Mixture Snape mentioned," I try again, removing my book from my bag. "I can think of a couple of different ways to make it other than the way that's written in the book."

Neville's cheeks turn slightly pink, but he still says nothing.

"Er… okay," I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Really, this isn't uncomfortable at all. "I'm going to grab a few things we'll need from the student cupboard. I'll be right back."

Neville continues to avoid my gaze, but once I walk away he leans over to whisper urgently to Hermione, who's seated at the table next to us. Personally, I have no issues with Neville Longbottom. We rarely have reason to socialize during any of the classes we share and, as we're in different Houses, I never speak to him outside of class time. I've always been aware of the way his family intertwines with mine, and I've never brought attention to the fact that my parents are responsible for ruining his life, though I've known it since I was young. Draco had to be sworn to secrecy before we started Hogwarts – Aunt Cissy and Uncle Lucius didn't want him lording it over Neville and drawing negative attention to our family. Thanks to the recent Daily Prophet article, however, the entire school now knows about Neville's parents, and one of the more popular rumors swirling around the castle (again, no one's been brave enough to say it to my face, but I've overheard it discussed more often than not in the corridors) is that he's terrified I'll come after him.

I reach the student cupboard and study its contents. Malevolent Mixture is the exact opposite of Felix Felicis – a potion that gives the drinker good luck for a certain amount of time, depending on how much is taken. Malevolent Mixture causes bad luck. It's also much, much simpler to make than Felix Felicis, since bad luck is more common to run by than good. Mandrake leaves, mistletoe berries, honeywater, horklump juice, I think to myself, sifting through the cupboard for each item in turn. Cat hair is also an ingredient that can be used in the antidote, and thanks to Orion, I always have plenty of that on hand. It's funny that cat hair should be used in an antidote for bad luck, since cats (especially black ones, like Orion) are often seen as a symbol of that very thing, but I don't question it. I'm certain that it works and that this will be a simple antidote to make, as long as I can keep Neville from screwing it up. "Can you shred the Mandrake leaves?" I ask as I return to the table, my arms laden with ingredients. "Not too thin, though, they still need to have some texture." I set them down and push the leaves towards Neville. Shredding them is a relatively easy task and probably the only one I'll trust Neville with during this particular lesson.

Neville finally acknowledges me with a nod and takes the bowl of leaves with shaking hands. His face is still red and his lips are pursed; he looks as if he's about to burst any second. "Get it out, then."

Neville's head whips towards me. "W-w-what?" he sputters.

"It's obvious that you have something you want to say to me," I reply, pulling a vial full of long, black cat hairs from my bag. "You might as well just get on with it."

Neville opens his mouth uncertainly. "I… I… I…" he begins, then changes his mind and takes a moment to compose himself, setting the bowl down and running his fingers through his hair. "I'm not scared of you," he eventually spits out, avoiding my gaze.

So, the rumors are true. "Good to know," I reply dryly, using my wand to light a fire underneath his cauldron. "Can we start working on the potion now?"

We work in silence. I keep one eye on Neville and another on the berries; I've begun to squeeze them, and too much or too little berry juice can ruin the entire antidote. Neville shreds the leaves slowly, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. He doesn't seem to notice Snape, who's taken to sweeping around the dungeon and criticizing our classmates (well, mainly the Gryffindors) on the various ways they've decided to brew their antidotes. I pray that Snape will leave us alone so that Neville can get his portion of the work done in peace. Everyone knows that he's one of Snape's favorite targets for bullying, and I refuse to fail this project just because Snape enjoys tormenting Gryffindors.

Snape avoids us until there's only twenty minutes left to go in the lesson. "What is this rubbish, Longbottom?" he says acidly, pinching a bit of the leaves that Neville had just finished shredding between his fingers. They're so fine that they can easily be mistaken as particles of dust.

Neville's expression twists into one of complete terror. "Ar – Ara told me to shred the leaves," he whimpers, shooting me a petrified look. "So I did."

"I sincerely doubt that Miss Lestrange told you to reduce them to practically nothing," Snape retorts. "This mess would have rendered your antidote completely useless, Longbottom, are you aware of that?"

I feel horrible. At some point during the lesson I had taken my eyes off of Neville, needing to pay closer attention to other aspects of the potion, and he'd probably been waiting for me to tell him when the leaves had been shredded enough. I'm sure he's thinking that I've tried to get him in trouble on purpose. "It's not his fault, sir," I say, causing Snape to glance at me in irritation. "I wasn't specific enough."

"Be quiet, Miss Lestrange," Snape snaps. "You've done all the work on this antidote, and Longbottom can't even assist with the simplest of tasks. What say you, Longbottom?" he booms, again speaking to Neville. "Shall I give you another 'D?' Perhaps a 'T' this time?"

"If Neville gets a T, then Ara should, too," Seamus blurts angrily. "They're partners, it's only fair!"

"Detention, Finnigan," Snape says immediately, smirking, "And a 'T' for Longbottom it is." The Gryffindors barely have time to bemoan the injustice of this before Snape silences them with a venomous look. "I want a vial of each of your antidotes on my desk. Now. I don't care if you aren't finished, you'll be graded on what you have."

The bell rings, drowning out Snape's last few words. I don't dare to look at Neville as I scoop some of our antidote into a vial and take it up to Snape's desk. I don't have to worry about facing him, though, because he's packed up and out the door before I can even make it back to our table. Someone else is there waiting for me instead. "I'm sorry, Ara," Hermione apologizes as I approach, her brown eyes wide and earnest. "I didn't want this to happen."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, shoving my book back into my bag.

"Well, I've heard the rumors going around the school about… well, you know, about you and Neville, and I just didn't want things to be difficult for either of you. That's why I offered to work with Neville, I figured I'd save you both the discomfort."

"Oh." I'd just assumed that Hermione had been trying to spare Neville. It hadn't occurred to me that she'd try to save my feelings, too. "Thanks, Hermione. That's nice of you, but you don't have to protect me. I'm not sure why you'd want to, anyhow."

"I've told you, Harry trusts you and your sister," Hermione says simply. "And that was very brave of you to stand up to Snape like that. I know Neville appreciated it."

"Perhaps next time he can tell me that himself," I say breezily, hitching my bag over my shoulder and brushing past her. "See you, Hermione."


The rest of January passes in a blur. Madeleine returns on the morning of the twenty-second, and while she's civil with all of us, it's clear that something about her has changed. She doesn't say a word about her aunt, though Cassie and I had followed the funeral coverage in the Daily Prophet. Colette Barteau's service had been well-attended – even Fudge had made an appearance. The article had focused mainly on Colette's life and her years in the Ministry; apparently she'd worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures before transferring to the Department of International Magical Cooperation, but she'd still traveled to Azkaban to communicate with the dementors and check up on the prisoners when the Ministry would ask her to (the liaisons to Azkaban usually come from the Department for the Regulation and Control for Magical Creatures, something I'd learned from Uncle Lucius when I'd been younger.) The investigation into what she'd been doing at Azkaban the night she'd died hadn't gotten very far, though the article did mention that the Ministry had been trying to track down Evelyn Curry, Colette's co-worker in the Department of International Magical Cooperation who had disappeared without a trace not long after Colette had been discovered. It hadn't been specified whether the Ministry viewed her as a suspect or another victim.

The saddest part of the article, however, had been the section detailing Colette's family. She'd left behind a husband and three children (none of them yet Hogwarts age), and, of course, Madeleine, Ariane, and their parents. I'd been worried that Madeleine would continue to try and blame me for this, but again, she's kept surprisingly quiet on the entire matter – and quiet in general. She'll speak when spoken to, but she rarely joins in on conversations in the common room or our dormitory, and she seems to do nothing more than simply go through the motions of everyday life. She'd played in the Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw Quidditch match the weekend after she'd returned (it had been scheduled for earlier in the month, but Dumbledore had allowed it to be postponed until Madeleine could play. Pucey had been pissed; he had spent an entire week going on about how he'd been set to sub for Madeleine in the match and how unfair Dumbledore's decision had been.) She'd performed well in the match, and Slytherin had won, but Cassie's confided in me more often than not lately how concerned she is for Madeleine.

I'm not concerned. Not because I'm some sort of heartless and shallow person, but because Madeleine has turned into another version of me. I've known what it's like for months now to bury feelings and pretend that everything is okay. And while I can understand what Madeleine is going through, I also know that there's no way for anyone to make it better. That's what Cassie doesn't understand. She always tries to be the one who fixes things, who keeps us together when things are falling apart. But what she doesn't realize is that there are some things beyond repair. I'm not saying that the friendship I have with either of my best friends is irreversibly damaged. But we're all changing, in ways we'd never thought possible, and I don't know what our relationship will be like once all of this is over.

If all of this ever is over… It's the Dark Lord. All of this is his fault.

I try to forget about everything on the morning of February fourteenth. The last thing I need is to be nervous and tense on my "big date" with Anthony. "We're going to curl your hair," Cassie decides, sitting me down on her bed and pulling out her wand.

I snort. "Good luck." My hair is pin-straight and has trouble holding a curl. Aunt Cissy has gotten rather accomplished at curling it over the years, but I'm not sure how much faith I have in Cassie and her ability to style it.

"Don't worry, Are Bear, you're in good hands." Cassie gets to work, making her way around my head a strand at a time. Pansy lies on her bed, painting her nails a vibrant green and watching us warily, while Daphne scribbles in her diary and Madeleine buries herself in Quidditch Through the Ages. "It's uneven, Moneroy," Pansy says finally, waving her hands in the air to dry them. "She's got more curl on one side than the other."

"Thanks, Parkinson, but I think I know what I'm doing."

Pansy rolls her eyes. "I have much more experience in this area than you do," she says, grabbing her wand from her nightstand and coming over to us. "Let me help. Abarca's not going to appreciate going out with a frizzy-haired mess."

"Help?" Cassie repeats sarcastically. "What're you going to do, turn her hair the same color as your nails? You just want Abarca for yourself."

"Lestrange, please just let me help you," Pansy goes on, completely ignoring Cassie. "Moneroy means well, but we all know her fashion sense is a bit limited."

I hesitate, then nod. Pansy and I may not be fond of one another, but I don't believe she'd purposely try to sabotage my date with Anthony.

Half an hour later, Pansy pronounces me finished. "Thanks, Parkinson," I say, admiring my reflection in the full-length mirror in our bathroom. She really has done a great job; the jet black curls cascade over my shoulders like a glossy waterfall. "It looks fantastic."

"Not bad," Cassie agrees grudgingly, crossing her arms. She shoots a suspicious look at Pansy. "Why are you suddenly being so nice?"

Pansy shrugs and flops back onto her bed. Daphne catches my eye in the mirror and grins at me. I have a feeling that, due to everything going on in my life, she may have talked Pansy into dropping the bitch act for awhile. I guess the pair of them aren't so bad… not all of the time, at least.

"Abarca's going to faint when he sees you," Cassie goes on, throwing open the doors to my closet. "Do you know what you're going to wear?"

"Didn't I already point out your lack of fashion sense, Moneroy?"

"Thanks, Cass," I say, before she has a chance to respond to Pansy's taunt. "But I've got it from here."

Cassie hovers around as I do my make-up and choose a pair of robes to wear. Pansy spares enough attention to approve my choice in clothing before she moves on to painting her toes, and Daphne, having finished her diary entry, perches herself on the edge of my bed offers her opinions as well. Madeleine never once looks up from her book, though I can tell she's listening to the conversation. "All right, well, that's it," I say finally, my voice trembling a bit as I survey my entire reflection one more time. I smooth out a few wrinkles in my robes and turn to face the other girls. "Wish me luck!"

"You won't need it," Cassie assures me. "Anyone can see that Abarca is crazy about you. Everything will be fine, I promise."

"Yeah, Ara, you'll be fine," Daphne chimes in. "Do you want us to walk you downstairs?"

I'm supposed to be meeting Anthony in the common room in exactly five minutes. "No, don't worry about it." I'd rather arrive without an entourage.

"Then we'll be waiting here for all the dirty details," Cassie responds, smiling playfully. None of them had decided to take advantage of the Hogsmeade visit, due to the overwhelming amount of schoolwork our teachers had continued to throw at us over the past few weeks. "And I mean it, Ara, I want to hear everything."

What does she think is going to happen, we'll end up engaged after one date? "Yes, Cass," I say dutifully, heading for the door. "I'll see you guys tonight, okay?"

"Go get 'em, tiger!" Cassie calls after me. I roll my eyes and jog down the stairs to the common room, taking care not to tangle my hair. The common room is crowded with people, but a quick sweep tells me that Anthony isn't here yet. I drop into an armchair and take a moment to compose myself. It had been easy to be distracted while Cassie, Pansy, and Daphne had been fussing over me, but now, with nothing to do, my mind won't stop racing with thoughts of my impending date.

"Ara!"

Oh, Merlin, there he is. "Hi, Anthony," I greet him, getting quickly to my feet. He looks absolutely stunning, clad in dark green robes, his brown hair swept to the side.

"You look great!" Anthony says, taking me in from head to toe. "I don't think I've ever seen your hair curly before."

"Oh, uh, yeah. It's too much to carry on with every day, so I save it for special occasions," I reply, immediately mentally kicking myself. Am I going to blurt out such stupid responses to everything he says to me today? I may as well give up now and go back to my dormitory.

Anthony, thankfully, doesn't comment on the ridiculousness of my remark. "Shall we go?" he asks, offering me his hand.

I try to discreetly wipe my damp hand on the inside of my sleeve before placing it in his. "Yes, let's go."

Holding his hand is nice. It's warm and strong, and he doesn't grip mine too tightly, but he doesn't hold it too loosely, either. I rack my brain for something to talk about on our walk to the entrance hall, but Anthony takes the lead and goes on about his Defense Against the Dark Arts class and how much he hates Umbridge (she'd pushed through another decree after the Death Eaters had broken out of Azkaban, forbidding the teachers from talking about anything unrelated to their class subject. I hadn't thought it possible that any of the students or staff could despise her any more than they already did, but I'd been proven wrong.) I try to contribute to the conversation where I can, but for the most part, I'm too nervous, so I just listen.

"All right, all right, over here, now."

Filch is standing by the front doors, jabbing everyone with Secrecy Sensors – another of Umbridge's ridiculous rules. Everyone entering or exiting the castle is now checked for "dark" objects. We submit to his search – he gives me a nasty look as he runs the Secrecy Sensor up and down my body; he clearly hasn't forgotten our run-in in the Owlery a few weeks ago – and finally we're free, tromping through the melting snow towards the beautiful village of Hogsmeade.

It gets surprisingly easier to talk to Anthony. At first, we chat mainly about school and our classes and how difficult O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. years are, but we eventually branch out onto other subjects. We discover that we both don't care for grand parties (something that we'd started talking about at Carina's birthday, before he'd been Imperiused) and that we share a love of Honeydukes' toffee (it's one of the first shops we go to and, upon finding out it's one of my favorite sweets, he buys me a huge slab of it.) I don't say a word about the Dark Lord's role in my life, of course, and he doesn't mention Lyra's name at all, so really, it's no harder to talk to him than it is to talk to Cassie or Madeleine (at least, when Madeleine had still been friendly towards me.) We're just about to head to The Three Broomsticks for a drink when we run into Carina outside of Sally Scythe's, Hogsmeade's premier hairdressing salon.

"Ara!" she exclaims, pulling me into a hug. I'm so surprised to see her that I don't immediately hug her back. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, it's a Hogsmeade visit day," I mutter, disentangling myself from her and stepping back towards Anthony. "What are you doing here?" It's Valentine's Day. I'd expect she and Elliot would be out somewhere, spending the day together.

"Sally Scythe is Bianca Page's sister store. They were a bit shorthanded today and my boss asked if I could help out. Elliot's busy at the hospital," Carina explains. I hadn't noticed that she's dressed in her work uniform. I recall what Umbridge had said about being unaware that Carina is employed at the Ministry and open my mouth to question her on this, but she's taking in Anthony before I can do so. "Who is this?"

I change tack. "This is Anthony Abarca," I introduce him, making a mental note to write her tonight and ask about the job. Anthony smiles politely and extends his hand to my sister. "He's in Ly – in seventh year. Anthony, this is my sister Carina… You remember him from Hogwarts, don't you, Carina?"

"Oh, right," Carina says, taking his hand. She observes him for a moment, then cocks her head, smirking. "Isn't he the one Draco keeps going on about?"

I cringe. Draco had made sure to tell his parents about "Anthony's" indecent behavior the night of Carina's engagement/Lyra's birthday party, and while they hadn't been overly concerned about it, Draco had continued to pester me about it every chance he'd had. He had been less than thrilled when he'd heard that Anthony had asked me out, though luckily, he'd chosen to send dirty looks in Anthony's direction whenever they'd been in the same room, rather than say something to him. Ever since the party he's seemed to feel that actually speaking to Anthony in any way will somehow degrade him. This is perfectly fine with me; I don't need Draco blurting something out and having to explain to Anthony that he can't remember attending such a huge event because he'd been impersonated. "Yes. It's great to see you, Car, but we were on our way to The Three Broomsticks –"

"Well, Ara, could you act a little more as if you don't miss me?" Carina huffs, crossing her arms. "Can I at least talk to you for a second?"

I resist the urge to scream. "I suppose," I agree through gritted teeth, turning to Anthony. "Do you mind? I'll be right back."

Anthony smiles again. He's so nice. "Sure, no problem."

Carina returns his grin and grabs my hand, dragging me down a nearby alleyway. "Look, Carina, I really don't have time for this," I say, my tone more than a little irritated. "It's not that I don't miss you, I'm just on a date right now, and –"

"Shut up, Ara, we don't have much time," Carina interrupts. She grasps my other hand, too, and stretches our arms out between us.

And the next thing I know, my body is bending, twisting, being squished through a tiny tube, and before I can even remind myself to breathe, I'm on the ground, lying on the same street Snape and I had Apparated to the last time I'd met with the Dark Lord.