Disclaimer:All recognizable characters/places are owned by J.K. Rowling and her publishers, and I do not claim ownership over them or their world. No copyright infringement is intended; this piece leads to no financial gain and it is written for the purpose of personal enjoyment and skill development. OC's and plot do belong to me.


Chapter 29 – Cunning

The next morning, I was up at the crack of dawn searching. I scoured the entire Quidditch pitch, illegally entered the Gryffindor locker rooms, made my way up to the astronomy tower and even ventured into the kitchens. But Oliver wasn't anywhere to be found. I tried pleading with the Fat Lady, but all I got were scorned looks from the Gryffindor chasers as they were leaving for lunch. He wasn't in the Great Hall, either.

I skipped lunch myself and began pacing outside. The older students were loitering around, enjoying freedom while the younger ones were inside having their lunch before their final examination.

I frowned, biting the inside of my cheek. I knew what I wanted: I wanted to reverse the clock back twenty-four hours and prevent all of this from happening, but that wasn't a very likely option. Sure, I was still enraged at Darlene and Terrence but a part of me (the part that probably got me sorted into Slytherin) understood their motives. Terrence was scorned and Darlene was jealous and, in their place, Marlins knows I would have behaved in a similar fashion.

I also wanted to explain things to Oliver and make amends. But I wasn't an idiot; in the rare case that he did listen to me, there was no guarantee that things would go back. He had every right to be angry, and maybe it was better if I let him work through that on his own.

And then there was the matter of leaving Hogwarts. Now that exams were done, I was feeling jittery knowing that everything Terrence had said last night was true. I had no family to support me (for I couldn't depend eternally on my brothers or aunt), I had no money and I had no plan. And that, I think bothered me more than anything else: I had no freaking clue what to do with myself.

I came to a halt when I tripped on a pumpkin. Someone nearby laughed but I brushed it off. I had more important issues- like the ferocious hippogriff that was looking at me curiously.

Still sprawled eagle-like on the ground, pumpkin beneath me and all, I tried to remember what Hagrid had said, back in October, about hippogriffs. Were you supposed to blink or was that a turn off? Bugger, it hadn't worked the last time I tried and I had the instructions fresh in my head.

And I had Oliver behind me, but that was a whole different story.

I tested the ground around me, preparing to worm my way out when the beast lowered his front legs into an unmistakable bow. Well if I'll be damned.

Feeling a rush of stupidity, I slowly got up and approached the hippogriff. My hand lingered over his beak as he blinked placidly in the hot, afternoon sun. I patted it and he seemed to enjoy it. "Talk about odd…"

"You get awy!" I jumped when the door of the cabin opened up and Hagrid came out, branding a wooden spoon like it was a sword. He stopped himself short of throwing it to me when our eyes locked, my hand still unconsciously petting the hippogriff's feather-covered head. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, it's me," I replied. Hagrid looked at me first, giving me an appraising sort of look before turning his attention to the hippogriff. He was laying down, his eyes closed as I stroked his head.

"I thought Buckbeak didn't like yeh," he said; I shrugged. Hagrid was scratching his back with the wooden spoon, looking tentative. "Yeh have a bite ter eat?" I shook my head and he grunted. "Come in then," he turned around and opened the door, waiting for me to go through. I gave Buckbeak a parting pat and sauntered towards the cabin. It looked the same it was before: small, wooden and with extra-large furniture. Hagrid walked passed me towards a small kitchen at the back. I took a seat near the table and waited. There were two empty tea mugs on it.

"'ere yeh go," he said placing a bowl of soup in front of me, which resembled a badly brewed shrinking potion than it did food. I took it between my hands, smiling politely, but otherwise leaving it untouched. "Yeh want a cup of tea?"

"Yes please," I said quickly, thinking this man couldn't possible mess up a cup of tea. When he handed me a cup, I sighed in relief, feeling the musky aroma of earl grey filling my nostrils.

"Now, what were yeh doin' with Buckbeak out there?" he asked, slurping as he drunk his soup.

I cradled my mug closer to me, and looked inside it peering at my reflection. "I don't know really," I replied, running my Finger through the hot brim of the cup. "I was walking and thinking and then I fell and he was in front of me and it sort of –happened."

Hagrid grunted and nodded. "Thinkin's 'bout last night?"

My spine jerked and straightened, and I looked up. Hagrid had finished his bowl and was now staring at me through bushy eyebrows. "How did you-?"

"Oliver came by earlier," he said. Why didn't I think of that? "Bloke looked trashed, like 'e hand't slept, yeh know? Worse than when Abigail cheated on him."

I pulled my stomach in, no longer feeling the tiniest bit of comfort. "I told him he couldn't know the full story," Hagrid continued, "that maybe there was something more, but 'e didn't want ter listen to it."

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the wave of guilt wash past me. "There is more to the story," I said, my voice calm and even, "But you are right, he probably doesn't want to hear it right now."

"Nah, that doesn't mean 'e shouldn't hear it," Hagrid got up and walked his bowl back to the kitchen. He poured some more thick soup and returned. "What are yeh going ter do about it?" I shrugged. "Yeh should to him, that's what yer should do."

"I want to make things right," I said looking everywhere but his eyes. I focused instead on a blue and white plaid cloth that was hanging from the ceiling. "But maybe I'm not ready, you know? For something real I mean, with Oliver."

Hagrid grunted. "Then yeh should tell him that; honesty is the best policy, me thinks. But if yeh are not ready, what do yeh need to be? Ever thought of that?"

I shook my head; of course I hadn't thought of that. I had too many things going around in my head to come up with wonderfully witty and wise thoughts at the moment. "I guess I just – I'm just scared. Once school is over, I have limited places to go and few opportunities. I did everything I could to get out of my family's reach – and not I have no bleeding idea of what to do with that freedom."

"Why don't yer start figuring out what yer good at?" he said, scratching his beard.

"Writing," I replied quickly. "I've always been a good writer; as a kid I used to write mock stories for Witch Weekly – but chances of getting a job there are slim, they would have already hired new graduates."

"Yeh won't know until yer try, that's what I think," Hagrid said, patting my hand. "Look at Buckbeak, the ministry is wanting to put him down, but he ain't going without a fight. We're appealing today."

I choked on my tea and coughed. "Today, when?"

Hagird waved his hand. "It don't matter. What matters is that yer try."

"Do you have a good defence?" I asked, putting my mug down on the wooden table. "My brother, William he's a lawyer in the magical creatures division, and I still have some incriminating childhood pictures. I could owl him to represent you if you want." Hagrid smiled but waved his hand.

"I'll be alright, it's you you need to focus on," he said, pointing at me with a sausage-like index finger. "Now off yer go – you have a lot of work ahead of yer."

"Are you sure?" I asked as he walked me to the door. "Malfoy really has no case, he kept the cast on much longer than he really needed to. I could witness-" but Hagrid wanted to hear none of it. He opened the door for me and all but pushed me out.

"Just look after yerself, and whatever yer decide make sure it is what yer want," he waved one last time and closed the door. I stood just outside dumbfounded. Did I just get sound advice from the gamekeeper? And more importantly, was I serious about blackmailing William into taking the case? I shook my head as I approached Buckbeak and began petting him again. Merlin, sometimes I don't even recognize myself, I thought with a sad smile.


Snape sauntered into the common room earlier the next morning, looking like he had ate a live scorpion and told us that Professor Lupin was a werewolf.

A werewolf.

As soon as he had done talking, I had jumped the stairs two at a time in a mad effort to reach Lupin's office. I knocked on the door, out of breath and he cracked it open a few inches, before letting me in. "I'm surprised to see you this early, Elizabeth."

The room looked like it had undergone a battlefield. There were half-empty trunks everywhere, and even an empty aquarium. "You are not leaving are you?" I asked, aghast at all the mess. Lupin smiled and nodded with his eyes closed. "Why?"

He arched an eyebrow and half-sat on the desk. "Why? For the very same reason you are here this morning: you, like the rest of the school soon enough, know what I am."

"You are a great teacher, the best defence teacher I've had," I argued, but Lupin merely smiled and turned around, packing some more books into a travelling trunk. "No other professor would've spent so much time teaching one student an off-curriculum spell."

"I've already resigned," he said, summoning a large mirror. "Let us use the last bits of time together to better endeavours. Have you spoken to him yet?"
I narrowed my eyes, wondering how Lupin had found out, only to remember that all the professors had been present at the ball. A part of me was flattered that he thought my boy problems more important than his career, while the other part wanted to hit him in the head with a candlestick and force him to stay.

"Not yet," I admitted, looking down.

"He deserves to hear the full story from you," he had stopped packing and was looking at me like he could see through my mind. I sighed and sat on an empty chair.

"I know, but he's avoiding me"

Lupin arched an eyebrow and imitated me by taking a seat as well. "There is no better time than the present."

"I've been stalking him since yesterday," I said with a shrug, "He's bound to get hungry soon enough."

"You know him best, I suppose," Lupin replied, getting up and continued packing. I watched him as he put books and shabby clothes into trunks. "Have you figured out your plans for when you leave the castle?"
A new wave of unease waved over me. I had spoken to Snape yesterday, but he hadn't had anything useful for me. My best bet, according to him, was to get any job until I could score an interview. "I didn't apply for interviews in time."

Lupin looked over his shoulder. "What did you have in mind?"

"Journalism," I replied sheepishly. "It's the only thing I could think of. I've always wanted to improve Witch Weekly, you know, make it a worthwhile read instead of a pile of pink junk."

"Well, I'm sure anything you write will be one step forward," Lupin said with a laugh. "Have you worked on any pieces to present?"

I nodded. "Snape recommended it at the end of my career advising. It's not much, but I wrote a recount of the Quidditch final."

"It's a start," Lupin said nodding distractedly. "I have some, acquaintances that have a footing at the Transfiguration Today – I know it's not your venue, but Professor McGonagall said you were one of her top students. If you can send me some of your best essays, I could forward them for you."

My eyes lit up. "You would?" he nodded. Transfiguration Today was not my favourite read, but it was worthwhile, and a foot in was a foot in. You know what they say in Slytherin, get in and then move up. The current editor of Witch Weekly had started at the Quibbler after all. "That would be great, thank you."

Lupin smiled before picking up an old piece of parchment and examining it. "I don't wish to be rude, but I have an appointment with the Headmaster shortly and-"

I got up and waved my hand. "I get it," I said smiling for the first time in three days. "Good luck, Professor."

"Elizabeth?" Lupin called me as I was exiting the room. "Did you manage to produce your Patronus?" I shrugged. "Why don't you give it another try?"

I pursed my lips but nodded and grabbed my wand. Pushing my sleeves back I tried to think of a happy memory, and was surprised that several came to mind. Flying, dancing, Buckbeak, even Hagrid's warm words – but I chose to focus on the idea of going off on my own, and looking towards the future rather than the past. "Expecto Patronum!"

I gasped when a silver fox sprung forth from my wand and rushes across the half-empty room, before vanishing.


"The bloke's got to eat sometime!" I whined, sitting down to sit next to Adrian. It was the afternoon after Lupin left the castle and all my efforts to find Oliver had been quite unsuccessful. "This isn't fair," I punched Adrian's arm to get me some sympathy, but all I got was a scathing look, "if he were a girl, everyone would be calling her a drama queen but because he's a bloke it's perfectly fine to hide in his ruddy tower!"

"It isn't fine," Adrian said with a sigh. He closed the book he had been reading (even though I knew it was Puddlemere's letter of invitation to a try-out that was hidden inside it) and leaned back against the tree. It was a beautiful day, one of the last we'd get to spend at Hogwarts before leaving for adulthood. I should've been enjoying it with my friends: laughing at Willow and Flint arguing about baby names (okay, maybe not), braiding Gwen's hair while she chatted the afternoon away, getting my arse kicked at chess by Adrian… anything but sitting near the Quidditch pitch waiting for Oliver Wood of all people.

"He is being a drama queen," I beamed. Finally someone agreed with me! Francis had given me a late-night earful yesterday about how stupid I was, how I should have told him earlier and basically how stupid I was. As if I hadn't figured that one out on my own. Took a while, but I did. Bloody hindsight. "Then again," Adrian continued, "he probably learned that from you."

That earned him a slap.

"In all truth, though," he said while I watched with satisfaction as he rubbed his now (hopefully) sore arm, "perhaps you need a new perspective on this."

I rolled my eyes. Adrian needed to stop reading muggle philosophy books. "What do you suggest?"

He shrugged and closed his eyes. "Nothing special. I would take a fly around the grounds. See it all with fresh eyes. A beginner's mind and all that."

I was ready to slap him again when I caught movement out of the corner of my eyes. I had been vigilantly guarding the Quidditch Pitch, the Great Hall and all the corridors leading to and from Gryffindor Tower (Filch had caught me trying to set up camp outside of the tower and I wasn't allowed near it anymore) – all to grab the idiot, tell him I was sorry and hopefully snog his pants off. But so far, no luck.

Adrian nudged me and I looked up. My inner girl was ready to scream 'hallelujah!" There, no more than a tiny speck over the castle, was Oliver. Flying. As I had figured he would. Except that he was flying over the ruddy building, not doing laps around the Quidditch pitch.

"Can I borrow your-?"

He grinned and passed me the broom that had been resting by his side all morning. "Go forth, my lady."

I grabbed it, took a deep breath and mounted. All those lessons with Adrian had finally paid off: I kicked off the floor without a glitch and rose into the air with only the slightest bit of nausea.

Of course, flying over the ruddy castle took a little more effort than simply doing laps over the stands. Though I had graduated to flying on my own, I still wasn't comfortable with extreme heights. And, of course, Oliver had to choose the tallest bleeding tower to perch himself on.

Sometimes I think he was a dragon on a past life or something.

He saw me coming when I was still several feet away. I must have looked like I was struggling (even though I wasn't) because he mounted his broom and flew towards me.

"Your form is awful."

I shot him an angry glare and, in the effort, I almost de-stabilized myself. Thankfully, I was able to get back up before I leaned too much to the right and shattered my skull. Oliver, predicting that I wouldn't survive, grabbed a hold of my broom, his hand almost touching mine. We both froze, but he didn't let go. "Let me help you land, I don't trust you not to break your neck."

I sighed. Well, at least I knew he didn't hate me enough to let me fall down to my death. Point to me. Oliver guided me, one hand keeping his broom steady and the other one holding onto mine, until we reached a flat part of the roof. He dismounted first and then offered me his hand. Much to my chagrin, I didn't trip and fall and land on his waiting shoulders. After an awkward heartbeat of avoiding looking at each other, he walked away from me and took a seat facing south. I took a moment to compose myself and sat down next to him, careful not to let my legs dangle over the roof's edge (hey, I could lose my shoes that way!).

"Your fear of heights is getting better," he said.

"Mostly," I said, taking a quick peek down and immediately regretting it. I saw Oliver grin through the corner of my eyes. "Not funny. At least I can fly."

"Pucey should've taught you proper form," he turned his head so he was facing me. His brown eyes were hard and unreadable, and it made my stomach churn. "I would've taught you better."

"Well, not everyone is a pedantic-obsessive-dolt like you."

He laughed. And it was contagious.

"Why aren't you yelling at me?" I managed to ask when we were done laughing. Oliver turned around so I could only see the outline of his nose and cheeks. "I mean, you have every right to be angry at me and I understand why you haven't wanted to speak with me…"

"I wasn't just avoiding you," he said with a shrug, "I needed some space."

"And you found it on the roof?"

He shrugged. "Changes in perspective are good for you." Funny, that's what Adrian said. "And I'm not angry at you, not anymore, I reckon," he continued. "I was furious the night of the ball and the day after but then-"

"Then what, the fairy of forgiveness visited you while you slept? I've been trying to speak with you for days and you've been nowhere to be found!"

"Flint and his girlfriend bobby trapped me last night when I went to get some food from the kitchens around four in the morning. They told me everything," Flint and Willow? Did something to help me? When I had almost ruined their creepy-little-romance? Bloody hell. "Pucey's idea, I reckon."

Ah, of course.

"Gwendolyn in on it too?"

"I think Francis leaked the time I left the tower, to be honest."

"The joys of friendship," I said, rolling my eyes. That lot needed to start minding their own ruddy business.

"They were trying to help, no need to hex them," he said as if he were reading my mind. We fell silent for a moment. He was staring out over the horizon and I was keeping my gaze fixated on the solid roof I was sitting on. "They told me the full story," he said, his voice snapping me out of my revelry."

"Alright."

"I really wish you would've just told me," he said, giving me a pointed look. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The now almost companionable twinge of guilt and shame, the one with Willow's voice saying "Just tell him," mixed with Gwen's "don't break his heart, he actually has one," and a speck of Adrian's wit kept me from it.

I shrugged. "I guess I didn't listen to the right advice and chose to follow my instinct to hide. It is hard to break all your bad habits at once." I uncurled my legs and let them hang from the roof, like his were. My toes began prickling and my anxiety mounted to a knot in my throat. But I had already fallen several times this year. I wasn't afraid of heights anymore, so I could just jump.

And jump I did.

Everything that had happened, that could've happened but didn't, that I was afraid was going to happen, that I was afraid wasn't going to happen, and every other ruddy thing in between just came out; all the thoughts, the fears, the anxieties: that Oliver would think different of me and how I couldn't have handled the one person who seemed to see beyond the Slytherin cunning and the actual, fragile, mistake-prone human being inside of me changing his mind; the fear that if I did tell him, he wouldn't have helped me because he cared more for Williams; the confusion about what I wanted when all I've ever know suddenly crushed down on me and I had no other plans to rely on; the fear that I would develop feelings for Oliver and he would break my heart (or I his); the new dream to live my own life, free of everyone else's expectations and the accompanying terror of what that entailed: what if I couldn't survive on my own? What if I was making all the wrong choices? What if I jumped, and couldn't catch myself in time?

Oliver listened to everything without interrupting. He grabbed my hand when I almost cried thinking about my mum and the secrets I (we) had discovered. He laughed with me when I commented on how much I was looking forward to Willow and Flint (especially Flint) having a child – it was bound to be epic. He congratulated me when I told him I got an interview at Transfiguration Today.

"You'll be alright, Sarah," he said. My hand was still snuggled inside his, both resting on his lap. "You're a brilliant bullshitter. Just try not to yell or belittle the person interviewing you."

I laughed. That was what Professor Lupin had suggested when he wrote me back, saying he had managed to pull some strings for me.

"What about you?"

He let go of my hand and gathered his own closer to his belly. My hand didn't feel cold or lonely. "I have try-outs for Puddlemere United in three weeks," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing. I squealed and hugged him, swinging my arms around his neck and burying my head against the side of his so that his short hair tickled my cheek. I let go a moment after.

"Congratulations," I pretended to cough to hide my embarrassment. Oliver didn't look like he minded. "When they offer you the position, let me know."

"You talk as thought we won't see each other anymore."

"It seems odd, though," I said, "the thought of trying again at this time, doesn't it? I feel we each need to figure things out and you still have those feelings for Williams and well-"

"I don't", he said and my ears perked up. Oliver had moved so that his torso was turned toward me. The sun was a little lower and closer to the horizon than it had been before. "I realized I don't. I was trying to protect myself, like you were, except I tried to convince us both that I only thought of you as a friend. I don't think I have ever thought of you as just a friend."

"Yeah," I said, trying my hardest to smile, though a part of me felt like it was breaking apart. Oliver gave me a feeble smile too and grabbed my hand. Perhaps this is what it felt like to jump: one part happy, two parts bitter. "I don't think I ever have either."

He grinned. "But I reckon we'll have to try, won't we?"


"Where are you staying when we leave Hogwarts?" Oliver asked. It was dinnertime by the time we had flown back down. We were walking across the garden, neither one in a hurry to get to the castle. There was an unspoken agreement that this would be it: no more Sarah and Oliver, no more Slytherin dating a Gryffindor, no more shared summers. Just two old friends facing an uncertain future.

"My father sent me a letter this morning," I said. I rummaged the pockets of my robe and pulled it out. Oliver grabbed it and read it. I had been so surprised, I had it practically memorized.

Sarah Elizabeth,

I write this under the assumption that, if you have learned nothing, at least you know to show some discretion. You actions this past year have been deplorable, and have brought shame on the family name. It is with utmost regret that I disowned you.

Nevertheless, you are my daughter, and no child of mine will go hungry. I have opened a Gringotts account under your name, accessible to you the moment you leave Hogwarts. There you will find five-hundred galleons. It is what your mother would have wanted.

Antonious Montieth.

"Five hundred galleons!' Oliver exclaimed, his eyes still searching the letter. "Merlin, that's a small fortune right there."

"Yes," I said rolling my eyes and pulling the parchment out of his hands, "But you, my dear, have three teams interested in you, including Puddlemere United."

He flashed me a grin, and I knew it took all of his self-composure not to squeal like a little girl. "Adrian also got some gold from one of his uncles," I continued. We were at the steps of the castle, and I was growing desperate to keep the conversation going for just a little bit longer. "We reckon we might have enough to share a place. Living in London can be expensive."

Oliver only nodded, but I noticed his lips had tightened to a tiny line. "He also got an interview with Puddlemere," I said as he opened the door and motioned me forward. "If you both get in on the team, which you will, you'll be teammates."

His face almost turned green before a small smile appeared on it. "I suppose that should make it easier for us to stay in touch."

I beamed and opened my mouth to reply, when screams coming out of the Great Hall echoed. A weird human-sized bird was exiting the Great Hall as far as its duck-like legs would allow it to. However, the creature didn't have good enough control of them and fell beak-first against the floor. It lifted itself up and looked up. I gasped when green eyes stared back at me. "Is that Terrence…?"

But the human bird had already scampered off. Oliver and I barely had time to exchange confused looks when a second animal exited the Great Hall as if it were being chased by dragons. This one was recognizably Darlene, but her face and neck were covered in slimy, green scales, and her hands looked more like a frog's. She too stared at us with horror before running up the stairs.

I doubled over with laughter, holding onto Oliver's shoulder for support. "That was-"

"-bloody brilliant," he finished for me, wiping tears of his eyes.

"Why thank you."
"We do appreciate it when our hard work is recognized," I looked up to see the Weasley twins wearing identical evil grins, and cracked laughing again.

"You did this?" I asked after heaving in some air. They nodded.

"Canary creams and frog fudge."

"Our invention. Although the fudge needs some work but then again, Fred-"

"-She looked enough like a frog that there wasn't much else for the spell to do," Fred shrugged.

George bowed, "True, true. Consider this a debt repaid, my lady."

I grinned at them as I curtsied. "Very well, my lords." Oliver was still laughing hysterically.

"Glad to see you've come around, captain," Fred said and patted his shoulder. Oliver choked. "You two do make a lovely couple-"

"WEASLEYS!"

"Got to run, love," they said and sprinted up the stairs, pushing Oliver away. I watched them try to outrun McGonagall, still grinning.

"Let's go," I said when I was done wiping the tears form my eyes, "All that talk about frogs and birds made me hungry."

Oliver walked beside me until we entered the Great Hall. Dinner was in full swing. He took one look at me and smiled, "I guess I'll be seeing you soon."

"Yes, try not to be a pompous arrogant know-it-all arse when you go for your try-out."

He grinned, "Will try my hardest."

I made my way towards the Slytherin table, trying to control my urge to look back to see where Oliver was. Gwen caught my eyes and followed me until I found my seat. I send her a non-committal shrug and she replied with a roll of her eyes before returning her attention to the girl sitting beside her, a small smile on her face. At my table, Willow was trying to dump potatoes on Flint while Adrian laughed. I smiled. Things were going to work out alright for all of us. We were cunning Slytherins, after all.


Author's notes: Thank you to everyone that followed this story to the end! Cunning is completed :)

Well... an epilogue is on its way and then.. a sequel ;) Stay tuned!