The next month passed rather uneventfully.

Winona and the rest of her friends were kept busy with the piles upon piles of homework given to them every single day. The twins – however – hardly ever seemed to be working on it at all.

"Don't tell me you've done that Transfiguration essay already," she said to Fred one Thursday night, knowing it was due the very next day. "I've been with you pretty much non-stop since it was assigned."

"I'll get to it," he said, flapping a hand indifferently.

"Fred, it's due first thing in the morning. What're you gonna do, wait until midnight to get started? It's two a and a half foot essay!"

"Since when are you so anal about homework?" he asked, sounding unexpectedly irritated.

"I'm not," she said, a tad defensive. "I'm just worried. I've barely seen you or George do any homework at all since we got back to school. I just don't want you to fall so far behind that you have to repeat the year – can you imagine being here without me? You wouldn't last a day," she tacked on, aiming for playful and light.

It seemed to thaw a little of Fred's sudden testiness. "George and I are doing fine," he assured her. "Really. You don't need to worry."

"Of course I worry," she said, a frown furrowing her brow. "That's what you do when you love someone; you worry."

Fred's response was just to kiss her, and they got sufficiently distracted after that, and by the time it was time to go to bed, she'd forgotten all about the moment of confusing frustration and the way it had made her chest feel a few sizes too tight.

Things with the DA were going really well. Winona began to look forwards to their meetings more than anything else. In her other classes it was all about academia and theory and how to score highly on written tests, but in the DA, Harry had them sparring and using magic like it were second nature – it was all fun and exciting again, just like it had been back in first year.

"You should be a teacher," she told Harry after one such lesson, when they'd been working on the Shield Charm, something Winona and her friends had learned under fake-Moody, but never to such a thorough degree.

He seemed surprised. "A teacher?"

"Yeah, you know, after school? You'd make an excellent professor."

Harry was quiet a moment while they worked together to pick up all the strewn about pillows from their lesson. "I haven't given much thought to what happens after Hogwarts," he confessed slowly, as though the realisation troubled him.

"Well, you're in fifth year now, so you'll have to have that career discussion with McGonagall towards the end of final term," she told him. "She was really good with me – I mean, I already knew what I wanted to do, of course, but she helped me flesh out a plan."

He hesitated again. "Do you See what I become?"

"Not yet," she smiled. "But if I do, you'll be the first to know."

They worked in easy silence for a few ore minutes, then once they were done, Harry paused in the centre of the cavernous room and frowned.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" she asked, bumping her hip gently with his.

"I know you said that these lessons with Snape are necessary, but, Win… I think they're making everything worse," he told her, and the way he said it made it sound like a fervent confession. They'd never really lingered in the Room of Requirement before, but now Winona sank down onto one of the cushions littering the floor and leant back on her hands, looking up at him curiously. It was nice even when it was empty, seeming to thrum with magic like this room was the heart of the entire castle.

Following her lead, Harry sank onto a blue cushion, then let himself fall backwards onto another, staring up at the ceiling, brow furrowed in thought. It made her smile, and she was just hoping for something to drink there was a small clicking sound and a nearby piece of mirror on the wall slid away to reveal a tray of what looked like fresh pumpkin juice.

Grinning to herself, Winona fetched them both a glass, placing Harry's by his head then relaxing back against her own cushions and saying, "Talk to me, Boy-Wonder."

"Well, Snape told me that before the incident at Christmas – with Mr Weasley," he added hurriedly, as though there was another incident at Christmas he could have possibly been talking about. "Before then, Voldemort didn't know about this…connection we shared."

Winona took a measured sip of her drink. "That's true," she nodded, glad he knew it, because a loophole in her Vow meant that she could freely talk about anything Harry already knew – she just couldn't be the one to let him in on the secret in the first place.

"Well, these lessons with Snape, I think they're making my head…weaker," he admitted.

"How so?"

"It's like…like I can feel him – Voldemort," he said, tracing a finger through the condensation on his glass. "Not all the time, but more often than ever before. And it all started the night I had my first lesson with Snape. The night all those Death Eaters escaped Azkaban."

Winona nodded slowly, showing she was listening.

"Ron has a theory that maybe Snape isn't on our side after all. That he's still loyal to Voldemort, and his allegiance to Dumbledore is a lie."

"And, what, he's lowering your defences, making it easier for Voldemort to connect with you?"

He nodded, looking a little bit ill. "Is it possible?" he asked, so quiet she nearly missed it. "I mean, once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, right?"

Winona smiled patiently. "Nothing's ever so simple as that, Harry."

"Why does Dumbledore trust him so much?" he asked, nearly whining it.

Winona laughed. "I don't know specifics," she told him, every word of it the truth. "But from what I've been able to gather, Snape did something back during the first war to earn Dumbledore's trust. Whatever it was, I think it holds up even to today. I've mentioned the same thing, you know. Told Dumbledore I don't think we can trust Snape," she added. Harry looked up in surprise. "But he's unwavering. He trusts Snape – probably with his life. Boggles the mind, doesn't it?"

"You're not wrong," said Harry, leaning up onto his elbows to drink some of his pumpkin juice. "Do you trust him?"

"I don't trust anyone," she replied. Harry frowned. "Well, that's not true – I trust the people I love. You, Sirius, my friends; Fred and George and the rest of the Weasleys… But I learned a long time ago that putting your trust in the wrong people can get you hurt."

"Do you trust Dumbledore?"

She took a long moment to ponder the question. Because it was a lot more difficult to answer than he seemed to think it would be. "I trust that he'll do whatever he believes is right, and whatever he thinks will win us this war."

Harry's brow pinched. "Winnie, that's not exactly a glowing review."

"I said what I said," she shrugged, and left it at that. Because while she had her own set of issues with Dumbledore, she wasn't about to go around talking shit about him – especially not to Harry. Her cousin looked up to Dumbledore, trusted him. Winona didn't want to take away the safety net that created for him.

Every little boy deserved to have a hero; someone to look up to.

"So you don't think there's a chance Snape's sabotaging me?" Harry asked, just to be sure.

She arched a single brow. "If he was, do you honestly believe he'd be able to get away with it right under Dumbledore's nose?"

Harry didn't answer, returning his eyes to the ceiling and mulling it over in the quiet.

"I don't know why you seem to be more connected to You-Know-Who than ever, Harry," she said, relaxing back against the pillows herself, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "But as long as you're here, you're safe."

She could still see the mark from where Neville had repelled Parvati's jinx with such power that it had left a scuff in the ceiling. She wondered whether the Room of Requirement would get rid of it once they left, or leave it there forever as a testament to all Neville's hard work.

"Valentine's Day tomorrow," she said after so long that she wondered if maybe Harry had fallen asleep. But at her words he shifted towards her, and she smiled up at the scuff mark in the ceiling. "Any big plans?"

"Is this you attempting to be subtle?" he asked dryly.

"Oh, come on," she laughed. "The whole school knows about your date with Cho." Harry groaned, and Winona laughed again. "Come on, give me all the details. Have you guys spoken since that teary kiss before Christmas?"

"Here and there," he said. "Sometimes we catch each other between classes for a few minutes, but honestly, I've been so busy…"

"Yeah, I get that. I'm lucky Fred and I are in the same year, let alone the same House. If we weren't, I'd see him way less than I do. Which would suck."

"I've never been on a date before," Harry told her slowly. "I, um, what do I…talk about?"

Winona laughed lightly. "Whatever comes naturally. Just be respectful and kind, but don't let her use you for anything."

Harry seemed startled by that last bit. "Like what?"

She shrugged. "Attention. Money. Clout. You're famous, Harry. You wanna make sure that whoever you're with is with you for the right reasons. Merlin knows I've made that mistake before," she muttered, shuddering at the memory of Jeremiah in her life, demanding and cruel, asking for all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons.

"Winnie," Harry began suddenly, sounding wary. "Does a relationship…does it make you happy?"

She considered the question he'd asked her, then she considered what he was actually asking. "A relationship doesn't make me anything. It's Fred who makes me happy." Harry was quiet, arms folded behind his head as he stared upwards, emerald eyes distant. "Find your Fred, Harry," she told him, the best advice she could give him.

"How will I know when I have?"

She smiled fondly. "Trust me," she said, affection making her voice warm, "you'll know."

The next morning George and Lee made themselves scarce, letting Winona and Fred have the room to themselves up until lunch. As the faraway clock chimed midday, there was a loud knocking at the dorm's door.

"It's me!" George shouted through the wood, and Fred lifted his face from where it had been nuzzling into the space between Winona's breasts. "I'm coming in, so make yourselves decent! You have thirty seconds, starting now!"

She and Fred got themselves dressed in a flurry of kisses and giggles, then by the time George was counting down from five, they were reclined in bed, wearing the bare minimum clothing and still tangled together on the bed.

George shoved his way into the room, a hand thrown over his eyes to be safe. "We're decent, you drama queen," sniped Winona, and George hesitantly peeked out from his fingers to check it was true.

"It's Valentine's Day," griped Fred. "Couldn't we have had more than an hour alone?"

George's stare was unimpressed. "You've had three hours since we left, actually."

Fred blinked, then turned to Winona with a salacious smirk, "Time really flies, doesn't it?"

She laughed and carded her fingers through his red hair, made wild from their passionate morning.

"Look, Katie and I are going down to Hogsmeade to grab a bite. You wanna come?" George asked them swiftly, cringing like he wished he wasn't at all.

Fred and Winona glanced at one another, eyebrows raised. "You want us to come on a double date with you and Katie?" Winona asked, just to be sure they were on the right page.

George winced again and Fred laughed. "No, Katie wants to go on a double date with us," he said, throwing his twin a teasing grin. "You're just the messenger, aren't you, Georgie?"

"Shut up," George deadpanned. Fred and Winona broke out into loud giggles. "You know, separately, you're both okay. But together, you're sort of intolerable. You know that, right?" he said over their giddy laughter. He huffed when they only beamed. "Are you coming, or are you going to stay up here joined at the hips all afternoon?"

"Someone needs a shag," Winona whispered in her boyfriend's ear, just loud enough for George to hear. Fred snorted with laughter as George threw his hands up into the air and turned to leave. "Wait! George, wait!" she called after him. "I'm sorry, we're only teasing. We'd love to come have lunch with you and Katie."

"We would?" asked Fred, playfully disappointed. She elbowed him in the ribs and he coughed as he chuckled. "I jest. Give us twenty minutes and we'll meet you in the common room?"

"All right," George said, turning to go, only to pause in the doorway. He turned back to them, a hesitant look on his face. "Uh, she's important to me," he said, the words coming out stilted but no less genuine. "So, I guess what I'm saying is, don't fuck this up for me, all right?"

Fred and Winona immediately sobered. If there was one person they could come together and say they cared for most in this world, it was George. And if he was taking a break from the jokes to ask this of them honestly, how could they ever deny him?

"We'll be on our best behaviour, Georgie," Winona vowed.

"Yeah," agreed Fred. "I promise to only embarrass you once. Twice at a push."

Smirking to himself, George rolled his eyes and left the room. It was tempting to fall back into their earlier activities, but they didn't want to keep George and Katie waiting, so they took brief, separate showers and quickly changed out of pyjamas and into something acceptable to wear in public.

Winona dressed in her thickest jeans and one of Fred's old jumpers – a deep burgundy colour with a golden 'F' knitted into its front – then darted up to her own dorm to quickly slip on some proper sneakers and brush out her hair before tying it up into its usual knot as a place to keep her wand. Then, with her ever-present bag thrown over her shoulder, she stumbled down the stairs to meet the others.

Katie and George were stood near the portrait hole, conversing in low tones. They weren't touching, but something about it seemed intimate, and Winona watched them for a moment, feeling caught off guard by the intimacy she was witnessing.

Then two arms snaked around her middle and she automatically leant back into Fred's embrace. "Our baby boy's all grown up," he murmured into her ear.

"He's gonna smack you when he hears you said that," she warned him.

"Then don't tell him?"

"Nah, I'm definitely going to."

Fred flicked her in the ear in reprimand, and she laughed loudly enough to draw George and Katie's attention from one another. "Hey guys," said Katie brightly. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Katie had always been one to love the holidays – any holidays – and Winona chuckled as the younger girl brought her into a quick hug. "I hope George got you something nice," she said playfully.

George shrugged a single shoulder. "Just flowers."

But Katie's cheeks went pink. "Yeah, but nobody's ever given me flowers before, so they were really special," she said warmly, and George looked cheered by that fact. "What did Fred get you?" she asked Winona eagerly.

"I'd tell you, but I think it might make you blush," she teased. Katie blushed at the mere implication. Winona's smirk was devious; Fred's was smug. "I'm teasing," she added, because Katie actually seemed a little bit scandalised. "Mostly. He also got me a new set of badger-hair paintbrushes."

Katie rolled her eyes. "You couldn't go with something a little more romantic, Fred?"

"Hey, don't knock it," Winona defended him instantly, patting her boyfriend firmly over his heart. "It was the perfect gift. Well, that and the other thing."

Katie blushed again and George glared, so Winona quickly gave up that line of teasing and led them through the open portrait hole and down the stairs in the direction of the entrance hall.

As they walked down to the village, it began to rain. Fred cast an Umbrella Charm above both their heads and George did the same for Katie. It was so sweet Winona was in danger of developing cavities, but she smirked to herself and wrapped an arm tighter through Fred's. Hogsmeade was covered in slushy snow that was disappearing with every minute of rain.

They wandered past Honeydukes and Winona was helpless but to slip inside. She bought herself a small stack of Sugar Quills – they had a new citrus flavour out that she was eager to try – and then grabbed Fred and George a chocolate frog each and Katie a stick of red liquorice – her favourite.

Katie lit up when Winona returned with her haul, handing over the liquorice and frogs, which the twins took with grins of thanks. Then they continued their way up to the Three Broomsticks, avoiding puddles of half-melted snow and ditches full of mud.

The Inn was crowded, but that wasn't unexpected on Valentine's Day. George beelined straight to the only open table – a small booth towards the back of the room. While he and Katie saved their seat, Winona and Fred went to the bar to order drinks and food for them all.

"They're so adorable," she whispered as they waited for Rosmerta to bring them their butterbeer and hot chips. "They'll have gorgeous children," she added, a teasing smile on her lips.

But Fred turned to her, looking unexpectedly thoughtful. "Do you want children?" he asked so abruptly that she choked violently on her own spit. Rosmerta appeared then, a tray of butterbeer balanced on her arm. "Thanks, love," Fred said to the Inn's landlady, quite flirtatiously. Winona might have been jealous were it anyone other than Rosmerta.

"You all right, Winona?" Rosmerta asked as Winona grabbed the closest tankard of butterbeer and gulped it down like her throat was on fire.

"Fine," she croaked, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "You look nice," she added, because anything was better than having that conversation now.

Rosmerta gave a playful little curtsey. "Well, thank you," she said sweetly. "I'll be back with your chips in a mo'."

She disappeared into the kitchen again, and with nothing left to do, Winona turned to Fred who looked particularly smug. "Honestly, Win," he laughed. "What we just spent all morning doing and not a hint of awkwardness, but I mention children and you go bright red."

"It's different," she muttered, gulping down some more butterbeer as if it would help.

"It was just a question," he said, acting far too innocent for her liking. Winona thought it wiser to say nothing and instead turned her attention to the bar, tapping her chipped nails against the wood and acting as though the nearby coasters were suddenly the most fascinating things she'd ever encountered. "I just figured I'd ask, you know?" Fred continued as though she still wasn't red in the face.

"Why?" she asked, still focused on the coasters, acting as if the topic wasn't tearing her apart from the inside out. "Is it a deal-breaker for you?"

To her surprise, Fred snorted. "Winnie, when it comes to you, I don't think there is a deal-breaker for me," he chuckled. Winona's heart was racing harder than it had been the first time they'd kissed, and she smiled down at the stack of coasters fondly. "But, I dunno, coming to the end of school – it's got me thinking about the future."

"Well, you're opening the shop," she said quickly.

From her peripheral vision she watched as he nodded. "Yeah, but after that, in a few years… I guess I was just wondering whether it was something you…saw, for us."

Winona knew she couldn't play off her answer as a joke like she so desperately wanted to. Fred deserved a real, honest, thought-out answer. He deserved an answer from the heart.

"I can't see myself bringing a child into…into this world, as it is at the moment," she told him, voice so soft that he had to lean closer to hear her over the bustle and buzz of the pub. "But maybe once this war ends…if it ever ends, then, well, I mean, maybe I…" She cleared her throat, then said decidedly, "Maybe."

Fred smiled, wide and unmistakeably fond. "I can live with maybe," he said, and Winona fixed her stare on the coasters she toyed with, a smile of her own blooming to life on her lips.

"Here you are, darlings," said Rosmerta, reappearing with a big bowl full of steaming hot chips and a smaller one with what looked like something they hadn't ordered. "Gave you some extra onion rings as a thank you for waiting."

"Rosmerta, you're a gem," beamed Fred, taking the tray of drinks while Winona grabbed both bowls. Rosmerta waved them away, shuffling to the left to deal with a pair of rowdy customers.

Winona was just putting the bowls of food down on their table when her attention was snagged by a massive, familiar shape stumbling out of the doorway, nearly taking out a small handful of goblins with his swaying. Winona looked to where Hagrid had come from, finding Harry sat alone, looking rather like he'd been thunked over the head with something heavy.

"I just wanna go check in with Harry," she told the others quickly. "He had a date today. I wanna make sure it went well."

Katie grinned at her brightly. "You're such a mum," she teased, utterly unaware of the conversation she'd just had with Fred. Her boyfriend managed to hold in his laughter, settling for a smug little smirk that she didn't care for, and she left him with a gentle swat on the back of the head.

Harry looked up when she took the seat Hagrid had just vacated, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Was that Hagrid I just saw stumbling out of here?" she asked, although given the bucket-sized tankard on the table between them, the evidence was fairly damning.

"He's – uh – going through a rough time," said Harry, looking troubled.

Winona smiled sympathetically. "He'll get through it," she assured him. "He always does. Anyway, enough about him. I wanna know about your date. Is she here?" Winona craned her head to scan the pub, looking for the familiar face of the Ravenclaw Seeker.

"Er, no," said Harry, suddenly looking terribly awkward.

"Uh oh," she murmured, leaning back in her chair and readying herself for a horror story. "Let me have it."

"What?"

"Whatever happened to make you look like someone tore out your heart and stepped on it – tell me about it," she ordered him.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're dramatic," he told her, although not unkindly. "It wasn't that bad." At Winona's unconvinced stare, he relented. "Well, it didn't go, um, smoothly. I don't really know what happened, to be honest. One minute everything was fine, and then she was asking about Cedric and when I said I didn't want to talk about him she accused me of being in love with Hermione. It was…confusing."

Winona's eyebrows were high on her forehead. "Yeah, it sounds mental," she agreed. She sat back and flapped her hand dismissively. "Well, sometimes you gotta kiss a few toads to find a prince." Harry stared back incredulously and she grinned. "I admit it doesn't fit perfectly, but you can see where I'm going with this."

Her cousin rolled his eyes. "I don't really…understand what happened," he admitted. "How could everything go so wrong, so quickly?"

"Welcome to the big wide world of dating, cuz," she said. "It's like a game of charades. Only you're blind. And deaf."

His face scrunched in confusion and she guessed her metaphors were probably really off today, but before she could try and spout something that actually made sense, somebody was calling Harry's name.

They looked across the room to see Hermione stood next to one of the booths, waving to get his attention. "She wanted to meet me here," he explained as they climbed to their feet and began to weave their way through the crowd towards her. "Something to show me, she reckons."

When they approached the table, it was nothing either of them were expecting. Luna Lovegood and Rita Skeeter sat in the booth with Hermione, the former happily sipping on a drink while the latter scowled at them unhappily. It was clear to Winona that she was here under duress.

"I should curse you where you sit," Winona said in off-colour greeting. Skeeter glared but otherwise didn't retaliate. Hermione held up her hands, seeming genuinely concerned Winona was about to attack the woman in broad daylight, in a crowded pub, nonetheless.

Well, she'd done more for less in the past. Maybe Hermione wasn't too off the mark.

"Now, she's here because I asked her to come," said Hermione patiently.

"Really?" Winona shot back. "I thought maybe you were all part of a book club."

Luna giggled loudly, but nobody else seemed to find it funny.

"How're things going with the Weasley boy?" Skeeter asked Winona abruptly, digging hastily in her purse. "Want to give my readers the inside scoop on your relationship? Everyone's dying to know more about Britain's favourite Seer."

Hermione shut her down before Winona even had a chance. "You don't have any readers," she said snidely. "Not anymore. And Winona is Britain's only Seer."

Skeeter pouted but otherwise didn't argue.

"I'm going to go," Winona said, glad for an opportunity to escape. "Katie and the guys are waiting for me." She leaned down to stage-whisper into Harry's ear, "If you're going to kill her, let me know when you need to get rid of the body. I know some excellent Vanishing Spells."

Harry rolled his eyes and Skeeter's brightly-painted lip curled back in a sneer. Winona just smiled sweetly and left them to their business. The others hadn't waited to dig into their lunch, but Winona didn't mind. She slid into the booth beside Fred and stole a chip from his pile.

"Sorry, guys, there was a crisis."

"Ooh, sounds interesting," said Katie eagerly.

Winona flapped a hand. "Nah, not really. Apparently Harry's date just went kind of mental on him. I dunno, I wasn't there, but it doesn't seem like a good match."

"That's a shame," Katie tutted. "He deserves a nice girl."

The rest of their double-date went well. They spoke mostly about Quidditch, seeing as Katie had practise that evening. It turned into a lot of griping about Umbridge, but that was fun in its own way, listening to the twins come up with new ways to insult her was always a good time.

They were going to make their way back up to the castle, but Katie said they should stay to watch practise, and they all agreed. If they couldn't play the game, then wasn't the next best thing watching it?

But watching practise turned out to be even more painful. The team were awful without Harry and the twins. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion.

"Merlin's Balls," muttered Fred, one hand held up to keep the sleeting rain out of his eyes. "They're going to get slaughtered, aren't they?"

"Oh yeah," nodded Winona, her body wrapped around her bag to keep it dry even though it was already outfitted with all the most powerful water-repelling charms she knew. "So, my new plan is to poison Umbridge's tea."

It was a game they played sometimes: how they would kill Umbridge next? Granted, it was a little morbid, but they had to channel their hatred into something.

"Ooh, you could put it in the sugar!" called George over the howling wind and Angelina's shouts at the team. "She's always using too much of it – it's the perfect plan."

Trudging back up to the castle once practise was over, Winona and the twins stopped in at the Great Hall to grab a quick feed before hightailing it up to the dorms to have hot showers and change into clean, dry clothes.

Wearing pyjama pants and her favourite old Misfits teeshirt, Winona was combing her fingers through her hair as she took a seat beside Harry and Hermione, who were holed up in the common room, working on their mountainous piles of homework.

"Yeah, OWLs year's a total bitch," she said without prompting. While Harry looked like he were seriously considering feeding himself to the giant squid as a way to get out of doing his star-charts, Hermione was humming merrily as she made slight changes to her Ancient Runes assignment.

"Aren't NEWTs hard, too?" Harry asked, nearly whining it as he rested his chin on his fist, green eyes just a little glassy.

"Well, yeah, but I only have to do the subjects I want to do. I don't have any Potions or History of Magic weighing me down."

Harry grumbled something rude under his breath, but before she could respond the twins arrived, sitting down heavily in the chairs opposite Harry and Hermione.

"Ron and Ginny not here?" asked Fred as he took the seat beside Winona, hand moving automatically to her thigh. When Harry shook his head, he said, "Good. We were watching their practice. They're going to be slaughtered. They're complete rubbish without us."

"Come on, Katie's great. And Ginny's not so bad, either," said George fairly from his place next to his twin. "Actually, I dunno how she got so good, seeing how we never let her play with us."

"She's been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms out in turn when you weren't looking," said Hermione without looking up from her homework.

Winona laughed, and the twins looked mildly impressed. "Oh," said George. "Well – that'd explain it."

"Has Ron saved a goal yet?" asked Hermione, peering at him over the top of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms.

"Only if he thinks nobody's watching," Winona chuckled. "It's adorable, really. He has performance anxiety."

"Winnie, it's not adorable," argued George. "It's going to cost us the season."

"The only solution is to ask the crowd to turn their backs and talk among themselves every time the Quaffle goes up his end on Saturday," Fred added, a tiny bit scornful.

Winona pinched the soft skin on the back of his hand in reprimand, but rather than shoot her a look he pushed away from the table and climbed to his feet, staring out the window at the dark grounds of the castle.

"You know, Quidditch was about the only thing in this place worth staying for," he muttered, unexpectedly bitter. Winona frowned at him deeply, heart skipping a terrible beat in her chest. Fred seemed to quickly realise his error and turned to shoot her a soothing smile. "Apart from my beautiful girlfriend, of course," he hurried to add, but the damage was done.

A frown on her face, Winona leant back in her chair and looked away, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"You've got exams coming, you know?" Hermione scolded them. Winona was just relieved the attention was off of her.

"Told you already, we're not fussed about NEWTs," said George. "The Snackboxes are ready to roll, we found out how to get rid of those boils – just a couple of drops of Murtlap essence sorts them. Lee put us on to it."

He yawned loudly then, staring out at the pitch black sky, looking awfully forlorn.

"I dunno if I even want to watch this match," he confessed. "If Zacharias Smith beats us I might have to kill myself."

"Kill him, more like," grumbled Fred.

"That's the trouble with Quidditch," said Hermione absent-mindedly, still working on making her rune translations the best they could possibly be, "it creates all this bad feeling and tension between the houses."

She looked up from her task to find the others all staring at her in no small degree of horror.

"Well, it does!" she said impatiently. "It's only a game, isn't it?"

"Hermione," began Harry in the tired voice of an adult trying to explain quantum physics to an infant, "you're good on feelings and stuff, but you just don't understand about Quidditch."

"Maybe not," she agreed, returning her attention to her task, "but at least my happiness doesn't depend on Ron's goalkeeping ability."

George replied with something appropriately scathing, but Winona wasn't listening. Her stare was fixed on the flickering hearth across from them and her thoughts were far, far away.

The past few weeks, Fred had been acting strange. Not all the time, and not to a degree that she felt she needed to address. She'd trusted that if it was something she'd needed to know, he'd have come out and told her on his own. She shouldn't need to chase up his feelings every time something changed.

Wasn't communication key? She was trying to do this relationship right. But what if that effort was one-sided? She couldn't bear to think of Fred keeping things from her. Last time he had, it had been the money they'd lost to that pest Ludo Bagman. That hadn't been the worst secret he could have kept, granted, but it had hurt her just the same.

Now, what? Fred and George were thinking about leaving? The thought tied her intestines up into knots. She'd joked that morning about Fred not coping without her, but the irony was that now she was faced with the reality of exactly the opposite. How was she supposed to face life at Hogwarts without them? It was unthinkable.

Maybe she was being dramatic, and maybe it was co-dependant of her, but she genuinely didn't know how to process it.

Fred seemed the only one to notice her spiralling. She saw him move towards her from the corner of her eye and stood abruptly to her feet, the legs of her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I'm going to get a drink," she declared to the group.

"What, at this hour?" asked Harry, glancing out at the dark sky with a frown.

Winona rolled her eyes. "Relax, Boy-Wonder, I'm just heading down to the kitchens."

Hermione bristled. "Winona, I really can't condone-"

"Then by all means," Winona said with a careless gesture, "condemn away."

With that she marched towards the portrait hole, annoyed but unsurprised when Fred appeared at her side. "I'll come with you," he offered.

"No thank you," she said, perfectly polite. Really, she deserved an award or something for how not rude she was being. "I'd like to go alone." He caught her by the arm, bringing her to a jerky stop. Winona whirled around on him with fire in her eyes. "Let me go," she said, annunciating every single syllable, "or you will lose that hand."

Fred obediently lifted his hand, holding them up as if in surrender. "Look, Win, I didn't mean to make it sound like-"

"Like you and George are thinking about leaving Hogwarts early and hadn't mentioned it to me even once?" she finished bluntly. Fred winced. Winona took a step towards him, lowering her voice dangerously. "You don't get to talk about your wishes for the future one minute then not involve me in your decisions the next. It isn't fair."

Fred's expression twisted with regret. "Win, I know-"

"I need a drink," she snapped, uncaring that a group of squirrelly first-years were staring at them openly. "Don't follow me."

Fred said nothing and she left him there, the soles of her slippers squeaking against the floor, which somewhat lessened the impact as she marched away. The corridor was empty, and for that she was glad. There was nobody to stop her as she made her way down the corridors and staircases that led to the basement where the kitchens waited, its warmth and aroma and safety beckoning.

She was at the painting of the fruit, just about to tickle the pear, when a truly ungodly voice coughed, "Hem hem."

Winona tipped her head back up to the ceiling and groaned. "You've got to be shitting me."

"Now," tutted Umbridge reproachfully. "That's hardly acceptable language for a young woman to be using, now, is it?"

Winona whirled around on her, the same fire in her eyes that had sparked at Fred's touch. "Were you just waiting here for somebody to show up?" she demanded, so lost in her irritation and hurt that she'd begun to self-sabotage herself quite profoundly. "Honestly, you should wear a bell."

"Addressing a superior inappropriately," said Umbridge as though checking it off a list.

"What?"

When Umbridge smiled, it was more saccharine than all the marshmallows in the kitchen added together. "Just adding it to the list of reasons you're getting a detention tonight," she said sweetly.

And because Winona was already in shit up to about her waist, she had no reason not to tip her head back once more and mutter, utterly unrepentant, "Fuck me."


When Winona stumbled out of Umbridge's office sometime after midnight, it was holding her bloodied left hand gingerly against her chest and trying not to let her tears fall. Even if Umbridge couldn't actually see her cry, she didn't want to give the bitch the satisfaction.

There was a scuffing noise and she realised with a start that she wasn't alone in the corridor. She looked up, heart in her throat, to find Fred slouched against the wall, hands in his pockets and a deep frown on his face.

Her lip wobbled traitorously at the sight of him, and when he opened his arms for her she stepped into them gladly, uncaring of all that had happened earlier in the night.

"You okay?" he whispered, pulling far enough away to brush back a lock of her pale hair. She nodded once, but the way she sniffled kind of made it pointless. "I borrowed the Map from Harry," he confessed. "Saw where you were. I wanted to storm in and save you, knight-in-shining-armour style, but George managed to talk me down."

She sniffled again, resting her sore hand gently against his sternum. "I'm glad," she told him, and he smiled, trailing his fingertips down the side of her face again.

"Hem hem."

Winona shut her eyes and prayed none of this was real.

"I'm afraid it's rather inappropriate for two members of the opposite sex to be entangled in such a…promiscuous position," Umbridge said in that shrill, grating voice that just set Winona's teeth on edge.

Fred's entire body had gone rigid. Winona could practically feel the effort he was exuding to keep from cursing the evil professor in unspeakable ways. "Right," said Winona quickly, stepping in front of Fred to keep him from doing anything stupid. "Won't happen again, Professor."

Umbridge's smile reminded Winona of a hungry shark. "I assure you, it won't."

With that foreboding promise she shooed them off back to their dorm, and the two of them walked side by side, not touching at all, until they turned the corridor and Fred immediately wrapped his lanky arm around her waist, pulling her into his side.

With his other hand he took Winona's bloodied hand in his, eyeing it in the moonlight spilling through a nearby window. "She's a hag," Fred snarled, voice hushed so he wouldn't wake the slumbering portraits. "She's a vile, monstrous hag. What was even her reason for the detention?"

"Addressing a superior inappropriately," Winona murmured, shoulders slumping. She was so tired, all she wanted to do was rinse her hand clean of blood and collapse in her own bed.

"Hag," Fred said again. Winona was inclined to agree. "Look, about earlier-"

"I don't want to hear it, Fred," she sighed. "Not now."

"Well tough," he replied. "Because we've still got five minutes of walking to do, and you've no choice but to listen to me. And you know I'm not one to waste such a golden opportunity."

She wished that didn't make her love him all the more, but it did. Her clever, opportunistic Fred.

"George and I didn't want to worry you until we'd made a decision – which we haven't," he hurried to add. "The premises is going to be ready to move into in less than a month, and it just feels like wasted time to wait until the end of term. But I made it sound like there's nothing keeping me here, and that's not true, because you're here, and I want to be where you are, always. But I also see our future. I see you sleeping in my bed and getting paint on everything I own and making all my laundry smell like vanilla and charcoal because you can never be satisfied with just your own clothes. And I see you with me, a part of my life, every single day.

"And when I've got all of that in my mind, the idea of spending maybe a month or two apart doesn't really bother me, because I figure we've got forever ahead of us, y'know? So that's why I didn't tell you, and also why I regret not telling you, because anything that might jeopardise that future is something I'm not okay with."

He paused, dragging his thumb across her hand, alongside the bloody words carved into her delicate skin.

"I love you," he said, then nodded once, like it were punctuation.

And Winona breathed deeply for the first time in hours. "I love you," she told him in return. A promise, an oath, a vow of her own. She wanted that future too. There weren't words to describe how much she wanted that future.

But she was something of an expert when it came to time, and she knew that future they yearned for was further away than either of them would have liked. Things were going to get much, much worse before they got any better at all. And maybe it was hypocritical of Winona to keep that information to herself, but she wanted Fred to live with hope.

Because living without hope wasn't an easy thing to do; she should know. It was how she'd spent the worse half of her life.

"Devil's Snare," Fred said to the Fat Lady, who raised an eyebrow at the late hour, only to frown in sympathy at the sight of Winona's mangled hand. Even the portraits hated Umbridge – a fact that warmed Winona's heart greatly. The portrait swung open and they climbed carefully to the common room.

Winona thought she should probably go back to her own dorm, but the call of Fred's arms and scent and comfort were too tempting to ignore, so she let him lead her up the stairs on the lefthand side and up into the seventh years' dorm.

Lee was snoring so loudly from his bed that Winona could hear it clearly even through his closed curtains. George appeared to have tried to stay awake, but his head had begun to loll and he'd fallen asleep sitting up. At the sound of the door closing gently behind them, he shot upright as if someone had fired a gun and blinked himself awake.

"Win?" he asked in a sleepy rasp.

"It's me," she told him, leaving the safety of Fred's arms just long enough to kiss her dearest friend on the forehead. "I'm fine. Fred's gonna patch me up. Go back to sleep."

She knew George wanted to protest, but he was also very tired, and so he relented with a loud yawn that didn't disturb Lee in the slightest. "'Kay," he muttered, already burrowing beneath his covers. "Night."

"Night."

Fred cleaned her up in the bathroom using some cotton pads and a bottle of Murtlap essence she assumed he'd ordered by mail. The stinging turned into a deep ache, but that was fine. It would all go away once she was asleep. The pair didn't talk as they toed off their slippers and climbed into bed, curling around one another and letting sleep claim them.

When they woke up the next morning, it was to a brand new Educational Decree sat proudly on the wall amongst all its despised peers.

Boys and girls are not permitted to be within six inches of each other.

It was terrible, of course, and everyone the school over loathed it – but Fred found his fun in it, proudly proclaiming that he alone was responsible for one of the Decrees on the wall. He treated it like he were head of the rebellion simply because he'd hugged her in a darkened corridor in front of the wrong person. Ridiculous.

Merlin, she loved him.

They settled down at breakfast – sat beside one another, their sides touching, clearly bait for Umbridge on Fred's part, but she'd let him have his fun – and Harry arrived along with the mail, only to start in surprise when he realised the owl sitting in front of him was there for him.

"You got mail?" she asked, snatching the letter and eyeing the address.

Harry Potter

Great Hall

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

The handwriting wasn't recognisable, and it didn't feel heavy or alive, like it might be cursed. She handed it back to him, meeting his eyes as understanding passed between them. He didn't know anybody who would send him letters, except maybe Sirius or Remus, but they wouldn't risk it unless things were dire.

Winona was about to tell him to open it when another owl landed before them, followed by another, and then another. Winona stared at the owls as they began to congregate in front of Harry, covering the table completely, several having to land on people's shoulders in an effort to fit.

"What's going on?" Ron asked aloud, staring at the scene before them in amazement.

"Harry!" said Hermione breathlessly. "I think I know what this means – open this one first!"

Winona watched as she handed him a copy of some kind of magazine – she recognised it after only a moment as the Quibbler – Luna's father's magazine. Winona would buy a copy, now and then, whenever people were mean to Luna. It was a sad way to make up for humanity's short comings, but she'd never been so great with words.

Winona was surprised, however, when she saw not the usual coloured illustrations of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, but rather an image of Harry, grinning sheepishly at them from the front cover. She leaned closer to read the words scrawled above his face.

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:

THE TRUTH ABOUT HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED

AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN

"This is why you were with Rita Skeeter that day in the Three Broomsticks," said Winona in a moment of flash-like realisation. "Harry, this is brilliant!"

"It was Hermione's idea," he said even as he flicked through the magazine, eyes distant as he scanned his own words immortalised in ink.

"I figured he might as well get his own version of events out somehow, and seeing as the Prophet refuses to publish anything but rubbish…" Hermione shrugged modestly.

Luna appeared, the smile on her face the brightest Winona had ever seen. "It's good, isn't it?" she asked, squeezing onto the bench between Fred and Ron. "It came out yesterday. I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect all these," she waved a hand at all the owls still scrabbling around on the table in front of Harry, "are letters from readers."

"That's what I thought," chimed Hermione eagerly. "Harry, d'you mind if we-?"

He shook his head. "Help yourself."

Winona took it upon herself to help, snatching up the nearest letter and scowling at the owl when it nipped at her fingertips. "Ooh, we should play the Seer game!" said Fred excitedly, plucking the letter from her hand before she could open it.

"The what?" asked Harry, pausing his scan of the letter he held, looking up in confusion.

Fred beamed. "Watch," he said, holding the letter out to Winona with a flourish. She rolled her eyes but still pressed her palm against the letter, thought for a moment, and said, "Positive."

Fred eagerly tore into the letter, swiftly scanning its contents before his grin widened and he held it up like a medal at the Olympics. "They agree with you!"

"What? She guesses what's in the letter before you read it?" asked Ron, sounding distinctly unimpressed. Winona scrunched her face at him but otherwise didn't engage.

"It's a 50/50 shot," said Hermione without looking up from her letter. "Statistically, she's bound to be right at least half the time."

"Except she's right every time," said Fred triumphantly.

"He's not wrong," said George where he was sat across from them, also helping himself to Harry's mail. "She also predicted exactly how many OWLs we'd get. And she always guesses which card is in a chocolate frog package before you open it."

"What can I say?" Winona said airily. "We all have our talents."

"What's this one?" Ron asked, holding out a letter with skepticism written clear as day across his face.

Winona pressed a hand to the paper and declared, "Negative."

Ron tore into it. "Merlin's beard, she's right," said Ron, sounding so blown away by this fact that Hermione nearly gave herself an aneurysm from rolling her eyes so hard. "This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker, Harry!"

"Brilliant," said Harry warily, seeming a little thrown by it all.

"This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo's," said Hermione as she scanned a letter of her own without asking Winona's input. She didn't seem the type to enjoy frivolous games such as theirs.

Instead of scanning the letters with the rest of them, Winona swiped the copy of the Quibbler off the table and began flicking through it, eagerly reading Harry's interview.

"This one looks OK, though," said Harry slowly reading a long letter. "Hey, she says she believes me!" He seemed astounded by the fact.

"This one?" Fred asked, holding out an unopened letter.

Without looking up, Winona pressed a hand to the envelope and muttered, "Neither."

"Neither?" asked Hermione skeptically, eager as ever to poke holes in Winona's ability. Winona had long since stopped getting offended by it. "How can it be neither?"

"She's right!" cried Fred, endlessly delighted by her little parlour trick, like a child with a toy he loved a little too much. "This one's in two minds. Says you don't come across as a mad person, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now. It really was neither," he added to Hermione with a pleased, wicked grin.

Hermione didn't deign to comment.

They continued to open the mail while Winona read through Harry's article, soaking up his every word. She was so proud of him – he'd found a voice when the world had seemed intent on taking his away. Maybe it was Hermione's idea – and that really didn't surprise her – but Harry had still done it. She was proud, and she always would be.

And some people actually believed him!

"What is going on here?" came a terrible, sickly voice from over her shoulder. Winona flinched at the sound of it and Fred's hand dropped to her leg, the gesture hidden beneath the table but comforting all the same. "Why have you got all these letters, Mr Potter?"

"Is that a crime now?" Fred asked loudly. "Getting mail?"

"Be careful, Mr Weasley or I shall have to put you in detention, just like your little girlfriend," Umbridge spat the word like it sickened her, "last night."

Harry's eyes darted to Winona's hand, which he seemed to only just now realise was bandaged up tight. She grimaced at the reminder of the dull ache in her hand, shifting the sore extremity out of sight as Harry's eyes turned bitterly cold.

"Well, Mr Potter?" Umbridge demanded impatiently.

Harry hesitated a moment, but in the end told the truth. In this place, keeping any secret was a task and a half, even from somebody as wildly despised as Umbridge. He probably didn't see the point in lying.

"People have written to me because I gave an interview about what happened to me last June."

Umbridge paused a moment, like the words just didn't quite compute. "An interview?" she echoed, her voice thinner and higher than ever. "What do you mean?"

"I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered them," said Harry with little fanfare. Winona smirked proudly down at the copy of the Quibbler she still held, but before she knew what was happening, Harry had snatched it out of her hands and tossed it squarely at Umbridge. "Here."

"Dammit, Harry," she muttered from the corner of her mouth. "I was going to frame that one."

Harry's smile was a tad mischievous, but there was no time to laugh. Umbridge was slowly turning a truly brilliant shade of purple.

"When did you do this?" she demanded, her voice trembling slightly with either rage or terror – or perhaps a strange mix of them both.

Harry shrugged. "Last Hogsmeade weekend."

She seemed to settle into anger and fixed him a glower that could have probably fuelled a small city out of pure, unadulterated rage and absolutely nothing else. Winona shifted closer to Harry, eyebrows raised, waiting for the inevitable explosion. But when Umbridge spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper, like she was too furious to so much as raise her voice.

"There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr. Potter," she whispered, the purple hue gone from her face, replaced by a deathly pallor. "How you dare … how you could …" She took a deep, steadying breath. "I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions."

"You can't give him detention for something he did in his own time-!" Winona began to stand to her feet in protest but was yanked down by both Harry and Fred at once, cutting off her rant before it could truly begin. Umbridge, somehow, didn't notice Winona had spoken at all. She was trembling with rage and seemed too horrified to so much as issue a second detention for her.

By the time breakfast was over and they were on their way to their first class of the day, gigantic signs had been posted throughout the school, declaring: Any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled.

Winona was grinning like a madman, a skip in her step as she and Fred made their way down the hill towards their Care of Magical Creatures class, even despite the icy rain falling from the blanket of clouds above.

"You look like you just got away with murder," Fred said, holding her hand extra tight, clearly concerned she was going to slip in the mud with the way she was skipping like a seven-year-old girl playing hopscotch.

"My cousin stuck it to Umbridge," she sang. "Did you see that? It was amazing. That kid's going places."

Fred shook his head with the faintest hint of a smirk hanging crooked on his lips. "Well, it was rather brilliant."

The days melted together and Winona was surprised by how easy it was to avoid Umbridge. The Defence Professor (and she used that title very reluctantly) was in a right foul mood, but she seemed to have bigger fish to fry than Winona and her proclivity for disobeying pointless rules.

Winona's hand healed, but she was left feeling skittish and weary. She wouldn't say she was afraid of Umbridge, but there was something about the thought of being locked in that office again – stifling and reeking of sugar as it was – that had Winona tugging at the tie knotted around her throat, fighting for breath.

Fred and George were open now about the fact they were considering leaving Hogwarts. They didn't talk about it with the others – just Winona and Lee, during late nights up in the dormitory while the twins worked tirelessly on filling owl orders while Winona and Lee reluctantly worked on the homework that was piling up like snow before them.

They spoke about the premises in Diagon Alley (which was all but theirs at this point; there was just a little bit of paperwork left to sign, and they'd officially own it) and everything that was going into setting it up. In her spare time Winona was hard at work drafting packaging designs for their products.

"You don't have to do this if you need to finish that essay for Flitwick," Fred told her one evening, as she lay on her stomach on his bed and he wrote a letter to their potion-ingredient supplier with one hand, the other tugging at a loose lock of her moonlight hair.

She looked up at him, thunder in her eyes. "I know I don't have to," she said, a touch stern. "I want to. So shut up and let me work, Weasley."

Fred smiled to himself – perhaps a little dreamily – and went back to his task.

It was one such night that Winona was working, trying to get the designs right for their upcoming WonderWitch line ("Are you sure you want to go messing with love potions? That stuff's dangerous. It's like you're just asking for a lawsuit." "Asking for a what?") when Winona was hit with a sudden vision.

Uncontrollable sobbing. A sharklike smile. A flash of pink and a high-pitched giggle that made Winona's hair stand on end. The sort of sadness that sank to your bones and made you feel heavy with the weight of it.

Coming out of it, she found herself on the floor where she'd been showing George the final draft of the cover art for their mailing catalogue, only instead of the draft in front of her, there was a spare piece of parchment, and in her hand was one of Lee's self-inking quills.

"Umbridge is going to drag a hag into the castle?" asked George, leaning over her shoulder as he sensed she was coming out of it and staring down at the image she'd sketched with a curious eye. Her instinct was to pull it away, but she stopped herself. It wasn't the end of the world if George saw this one – everyone would know about it come Monday, anyway.

"That's Professor Trelawney, actually," she corrected him, although she could see how he'd been confused. The way the divination professor looked in the sketch, you'd have thought she'd been living on the streets the last eight weeks. "And be nice; she's very distressed."

"Or, going to be, you mean," said Fred from where he was sprawled on his bed, painstakingly going over the final settlement for their premises for the third night in a row. He wanted to make sure they were getting a fair deal, and George hadn't ever been very good with words. Fred was a self-proclaimed Loophole Guy.

"Right," Winona nodded as she climbed to her feet and began pulling on her shoes without bothering to find socks. "I've gotta go see-"

"Dumbledore," said Fred and George in sync, both without looking up from their tasks. Fred paused then, a frown pulling at his brow. "Will you at least take the Map? To avoid another run in with old Toad-Face?" She agreed, kissing him fleetingly before sweeping from the room, ignoring the ball of scrunched up parchment George threw their way in protest.

Dumbledore was in his office – hardly a surprise; sometimes she wondered if he even needed to sleep like the rest of them – and she made sure the Marauder's Map was tucked back into her pocket before stepping into the room. Dumbledore probably knew about it already, but it felt wrong to flaunt it in front of him.

"What can I do for you tonight, Winona?" the Headmaster asked quietly, his fingers steepled in front of him.

She showed him her latest drawing, explaining this slice of the future she'd been given by the unknowable aether as it was handed over, because the image itself wasn't particularly easy to understand. "Looks like Umbridge has finally decided who to sack," she said, dropping into one of his chairs with a huff.

Dumbledore's expression was stony. "When?"

"Monday night, towards the end of dinner," she told him. "She wants a spectacle."

The Headmaster's mouth pursed like he were holding back some truly wonderful choice words about their High Inquisitor. Winona was quite looking forwards to whatever he would say, but to her disappointment he swallowed them back and dutifully made his usual copy of her sketch in silence.

"What are you going to do?" she asked when he said nothing. "I mean, you can't just let her sack Professor Trelawney."

Dumbledore's lips twitched – finally, a reaction!

"I was under the impression she wasn't your favourite of teachers," he said mildly.

Feeling strangely chided, Winona grimaced. "Well, no," she admitted. "But she's one of us, and she doesn't cause any harm. She doesn't deserve to be thrown out like – like this week's rubbish!"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers again, peering at her with cool blue eyes over the tops of them. "Unfortunately, there's little I can do about Professor Umbridge's decision. She has the full authority of the Minster behind her. When it comes to the High Inquisitor, I must – as one might say – choose my battles wisely."

Winona sank backward in her chair, aware she looked petulant, but wholly uncaring. "So she wins. Again."

Dumbledore waited a beat, then said, "Perhaps…"

He didn't continue, and Winona felt a stab of annoyance. "Perhaps?"

"I may have a solution," he said, eyes twinkling in a way that somehow both put her at ease and made her terribly wary at the same time. "It's a rather unorthodox solution to the problem, but it will… Well, it will irritate our dear Umbridge most profoundly."

"Hey, anything to get under that old hag's skin has my vote, no matter how unorthodox," Winona grinned, wolfish and sly. Dumbledore didn't quite smile, but he didn't chastise her either, so she counted it as a win. "Need any help with whatever you're planning?"

"In fact, I think there is something I might require of you."

She frowned at the way he'd said it. "And, er, what is that, exactly?"

Now, Dumbledore truly smiled, eyes twinkling in that way that told her he knew something she didn't. "Monday afternoon, once your classes have concluded for the day, would you meet me down at Hagrid's Hut?"

She noted that Dumbledore looked significantly younger when he was scheming. "Oh?" she asked, still slouched in her chair, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Yes. I have someone I would very much like you to meet."


A/N: Hi guys, hope you enjoyed this one, it's a slower one – really more day-in-the-life, but we're really working our way up to the big stuff, and trust me, I think you'll all be excited to see what's coming.

Quick update on the YouTube front, for those of you who were curious – I officially posted my first video up there tonight. It's just a newbie tag, to introduce myself online, but I have a bunch of videos planned around fanfiction – not just my own, but the art form as a whole – that I think a lot of you will (hopefully) really enjoy. Anyway, you can find me over there under ArrianeReads. I'd really appreciate the support, but as always, there's absolutely no pressure.

It's enough just that anyone reads this story at all. I'm so glad I've helped make 2020 and the past month a little more bearable for a few of you. It's the best thing a writer can hear.

Review of the week goes to: Aldiggity – getting all your reviews over the last few days has been so much fun! I've loved hearing about you experience the story as you read, it's really been a bright spot for me over the past week, so thank you! I'm so glad you like the story, and I'm honoured that Winona is in your top 10 OC's. And I think she would be very chuffed if she knew, too.