"How're you feeling?" Winona asked the twins curiously, looking up from her sketch of a werewolf to peer at them, noting that they were frowning anxiously at the fire, a very uncharacteristic expression for the usually-carefree twins to have adopted. "Nervous about the match?" she asked, tapping the tip of her pencil against the plush red lounge and eyeing them, wondering if she should borrow the Map and nick some Sleeping Draught from Snape's stores – they didn't look like sleep would come easy for them tonight, and Merlin knew they needed it.

"Nervous about what Wood'll do to us if we lose," Fred snorted, slouching back into the lounge and pushing the sleeves of his sweater up his arms.

"Can you believe this DADA homework?" George asked suddenly, and Winona could tell that what they needed more than anything was a distraction. "'Write a poem about my achievements'," he said, imitating Lockhart's self-important voice. "What kind of assignment is that?"

"He's a complete tool," Winona agreed, twisting in her seat to throw her legs over the armrest, turning half of her focus back to her sketching, the other half on the conversation. Multitasking always was one of her more useful skills.

"I'm so handsome, the Wailing Banshee fell silent when she saw me!" Fred joined in with a piercing falsetto, mocking Lockhart's ridiculous lessons, where he did nothing but recount the tales from his books, sometimes even going so far as to act them out. Nobody was a winner on those days.

"I'm so famous," George continued blithely, "I'll give signed copies of my book to anyone who can tell me exactly how brilliant I am!"

From across the half-empty common room, Dean and Seamus from Ron's year gave snorts of laughter. There was the loud snap of a book being angrily shut, and then a tiny, puffy haired Hermione was stalking over to them, disapproval painted over her dainty features.

"What can we do for you, Granger?" George asked, collapsing back into the couch and grinning up at her carelessly.

"I don't think you should be mocking Professor Lockhart like that," she said, jaw clenched tight like they were insulting her by insulting him.

"I think you should," Fred argued with a barking laugh. "The bloke's a joke, even you have to admit."

"I think he's brilliant," she declared stubbornly.

"Look out, sounds like someone has a little crush on Lockhart!" George bellowed for everyone to hear, and the second year flushed pink at the attention, ducking her head meekly. Winona rolled her eyes, focusing on her sketch, wanting no part in whatever was happening before her.

"I do not!" Hermione insisted. "He's my teacher!"

"I know," Fred gasped dramatically. "How scandalous."

Hermione began to flush a darker red, though whether from fury or embarrassment, Winona couldn't tell. "Don't be such pricks," she said, breaking her own rule about not getting involved. "Leave the girl alone, you doxies." The twins turned to scrunch their faces at her while Hermione frowned, probably not condoning the foul language. "Need I remind you of Professor Wilton?" she asked, an evil sort of grin stretching across her face.

The twins groaned, throwing their heads back and burying their faces in the couch cushions with the utmost theatrics.

"Who's Professor Wilton?" Hermione asked, quiet and confused.

"The Defence teacher before Quirrell," Winona revealed with a wicked smirk. "She was gorgeous, and had these two lumps completely and utterly bewitched."

Hermione giggled, finding this amusing. The twins, never ones to get embarrassed, took this in stride. "And she will forever be the one that got away!" Fred announced with desperate sorrow, holding a hand over his heart in feigned emotion.

"My one true love!" George added dramatically, letting out a terrible wail.

"And on that note," Winona rolled her eyes, picking up her things, shouldering her bag and standing to her feet, "I'm off to bed." She turned to the twins, who were howling like heartbroken werewolves on the floor at their feet. "Go get some sleep," she instructed the pair, who sniffled pathetically before climbing back onto the couch. "Don't wanna fall asleep during the game. Wood'll have a fit."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," they murmured with great exasperation. Winona knew they weren't going to listen, until Wood looked up at the sound of his name, narrowing his eyes at the twins and pointing sternly towards the dorms, the threat silent yet present. With heaving sighs, the pair of them grumbled as they climbed to their feet, slouching in the direction of the stairs, only to break out in childish sniggers as one of them uttered an obscenity under their breath.

Before Winona knew it, the night had faded and the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was upon them. None of the team could be found at breakfast, but Winona knew Wood probably had them down on the field already, giving them an endless warm-up speech on plays and tactics he'd been drumming into them since the start of term.

"Go on then, Trelawney Junior," Lee cackled cheekily when he met her halfway down to the field, rushing to keep up with her long, determined steps. "Who's going to win?"

"Go fuck yourself with a rake, Jordan," she replied testily, unable to help herself, and her friend sobered.

"They'll be okay, Winnie," he assured her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her to him affectionately. "You're not usually this anxious before a match," he added, pulling away when she only continued to frown. "Know something I don't?"

"I've just got this feeling..." she trailed off, knowing Lee was the person least likely to believe her. He'd consider her concerned words the desperate mutterings of a wannabe Seer, and nothing more. As much as she loved and adored him, Lee was a skeptic at heart. "Don't worry," she shrugged, trying to play it off as she crossed her arms over her chest. It was growing colder with every passing day, and she was wrapped in an old jumper, a Gryffindor scarf knotted tightly around her neck, fighting off the chill.

She'd woken up that morning with this sinking feeling in her stomach, the kind that only appeared when something was going to go horribly wrong. Usually the feeling meant there was maiming and/or pain to follow.

As she and Lee were wandering onto the field, she caught sight of the team disappearing into the locker rooms. "I'll see you after the game?" Winona asked him hurriedly.

"'Course," he agreed, turning to head towards the teachers' box.

"Good luck commentating," she added with a distracted smirk. "Try to stay on topic."

Lee snorted indignantly, but she was too busy rushing over towards the twins to bother laying it on any thicker. She hurried towards the doors to the locker room's, shouting out Fred's name and making both twins turn to look at her with raised, expectant eyebrows.

"All right?" George asked, broom balanced over his shoulders.

"You look about ready to lay an egg," Fred added jovially.

"I've got a bad feeling," she murmured back, stepping closer so the few stragglers wouldn't overhear.

"Is it a 'you're going to lose the match' kind of feeling?" he asked slowly.

"Or a 'somebody's going to die' kind of feeling?" George finished carefully.

"If I knew exactly what was going to happen, I would have led with the specifics," she told them grouchily, and they held up their hands in surrender. "Just, please be careful?" she begged, slouching tiredly, the looming feeling of panic clinging to her skin.

"You haven't drawn anything?"

"Nothing," she replied, an unmistakeable note of defeat to her voice. "Keep your eyes on the girls," she added, thinking quickly of Angelina, Alicia and Katie. If anything happened to any of them, she'd be a wreck.

"It is sort of in the job description," George reminded her of their position as Beaters.

"And watch Harry," she said, thinking of the younger boy who seemed to spend more time in the Hospital Wing than the rest of the school combined (excluding maybe the twins).

"Don't be such a worry-witch," Fred laughed, reaching forwards to nudge her gently in the direction of the stands. "Everyone'll be fine!"

She didn't get a chance to argue, as Wood poked his head out and shouted for them to get their hides inside. The twins waved their hands in acknowledgement, then turned to Winona expectantly. She sighed but still went through with their little ritual anyway, smacking a kiss onto each twin's cheek for luck.

With a final shared, reassuring grin, the pair disappeared into the locker rooms, quick as they could.

Winona headed for the stands that were rapidly filling with people. The only one of her friends not on the team was Hope (and Ron and Hermione, but they barely counted; and Ginny was nowhere in sight). She settled down next to the slimmer girl, who was scanning the Hufflepuff stands intently.

"Who're you looking for?" Winona asked, eager to get her mind off the foreboding weight sitting uncomfortably at her chest.

Hope flinched, apparently not having noticed her friend arrive. She pressed a hand over her heart and made an expression that somebody less perceptive might have mistaken as innocent.

"Nobody," she answered when it became clear the blonde girl wasn't going to let her get away with not responding.

"Come on, Hope," she said, goading her just a little bit. "Who was it? Was it a boy?"

"No," she denied vehemently.

"A girl?"

"No!" this time it was hissed, a blush spreading across her face, and Winona got the message loud and clear. She'd been kidding, but seeing the truth of it now, she blinked in surprise, a smile blooming on her lips.

"It is?!" she asked, excited. "Who is it? Marie Darling? Or is it Belinda Brownfield? There's Amber Jones in sixth year, but you're way out of her league..."

"For Merlin's sake, shut up!" Hope hissed, and Winona only smile, falling silent and waiting – however impatiently – for her to continue. Cheeks flooding with pink, Hope ducked her head and tucked a stray lock of straight brown hair behind her ear. "It's Christine Watkins, okay?" she snapped irritably, only making her turn a darker red.

"The tall brunette in fifth," Winona nodded, leaning around a group of rowdy Gryffindors to get a peek at the girl in question, who was laughing at something another student had said. "I can see it," she said kindly, and Hope only ducked her head, a shy smile playing at her lips. Hope was usually so serious and stern. Seeing her blushing and sky, it made Winona want to laugh, if only for how out of place it seemed. "What's she like?" she asked eagerly.

"She's top of her class in Transfiguration," Hope gushed happily, keeping her voice down so nobody would overhear. "And she helped me pick up my things when Flint and his lackeys emptied my bag in the corridor."

Winona grinned, liking this girl already.

"You won't – you won't tell anyone...will you?" Hope suddenly sounded unsure and frightened.

"You don't want anyone to know you're into..." Winona trailed off, and Hope looked down at her feet, "Hufflepuffs?" she finished. Hope was so startled that she glanced back up, gaping at her friend, mouth like a koi fish. Winona grinned cheekily, shooting her a wink and turning to the pitch just as the crowd began to roar, the Gryffindor team making their way out onto the field.

Twenty minutes into the game, and it was obvious that something was desperately wrong. Winona wasn't sure who to watch at first; Alicia, Katie and Angelina were being hammered by the Slytherins, but they were holding their own. The twins, however, were hovering exclusively around Harry, and it didn't take Winona long to figure out why.

One of the bludgers had been cursed or something, tailing Harry like he were some kind of magnet. Holding her breath when it started to rain, Winona could do no more than watch as Wood called a time out, the teams floating to the ground.

It was hard to see through the pouring rain, so she couldn't be sure what was happening, all she knew was that only a short two minutes had passed before the team where up in the sky again, play having resumed.

Concern eating at her gut, she could do no more than watch with bated breath as the game played on, Slytherin winning points thanks to their stupid, unfair, bribery brooms. Harry began an impressive yet ridiculous bout of airborne acrobatics, twirling around on his broom in a desperate attempt to keep the spelled Bludger from hitting him. The twins had given up on protecting him, focusing their efforts on the girls instead, and she was sure this was on Wood's maniacal orders.

With every spin, Winona felt her insides wind tighter and tighter, a sort of looming terror gripping her. She wasn't scared for the girls, nor for the twins, now she knew Harry was the one her feeling of premonition was about.

It was hard to keep track through the thickening downpour, but sometime later she caught sight of Harry catapulting towards the ground in a way that was by no means intentional. Crying out, Winona leapt from the bench in time to see him crash hard into the muddy earth.

"Gryffindor wins the match!" Lee's exulted voice was echoing around the pitch, but Winona could have cared less. She tore off, out of the stands and tripping her way down the rickety staircase held up by strength of will and magic alone.

The ground was thick and muddy, making it exceedingly hard to run towards an unmoving Harry, who laid unconscious and hopefully not dead in the middle of the field. By the time she reached him, Lockhart was already hovering over him, and the Boy-Who-Lived (still alive!) groggily came to.

"Oh, no, not you," he was moaning, and Winona resisted the urge to shove the pathetic excuse for a professor out of her way.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart to the crowd of anxious Gryffindors pressing around them, trying to get a good look at their Seeker. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."

"No!" insisted Harry shrilly. "I'll keep it like this, thanks..."

He was struggling to sit up, and Winona turned to her left where an excited Colin was eagerly taking photographs of Harry's misfortune, the clicking sound loud enough to be heard over the rain and chatter of the crowd.

"I don't want a photo of this, Colin," Harry said loudly, unmistakeable pain stretched across his boyish features.

"Lie back, Harry," Lockhart was crooning, and Winona grit her teeth at the sound. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times —"

"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" Harry growled, voice low with pain as he gingerly held his crooked arm to the side.

"He should really, Professor," said Wood, leaning over the boy too, though he looked far less worried and more thrilled at Gryffindor's win. "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say —"

"Where're the twins?" Winona interrupted him, and Harry shot her a thankful look. Wood gestured behind him to where Fred and George were wrestling the rouge Bludger into the box with tremendous difficulty. Convinced they were unharmed, Winona turned her attention back to a wincing Harry.

"Stand back," said Lockhart to the crowd theatrically, reminding her of a Muggle magician about to perform a stupid, unimpressive trick.

"No — don't —" cried Harry weakly, but Lockhart pointed his ornate wand at Harry before Winona could think of a way to stop him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad? Maybe he'd heal him and it would all be alright?

However, all hope vanished as Harry's arm seemed to deflate in front of her eyes, collapsing in on itself like someone had let go of the hole in a balloon. A gasp rippled through the gathered crowd, and Ron gave a groan of disgust from where he was standing by Harry's head.

"Ah," said Lockhart slowly, blinking down at the disaster he'd created. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken," he said, as though he'd done the boy a favour. "That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing — ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? — and Madam Pomfrey will be able to — er — tidy you up a bit."

Hermione and Ron helped Harry to his feet, the Boy-Who-Lived looking green as he glanced down at his now-boneless arm. Winona considered following them, but decided they had it covered and instead glared furiously at Lockhart who didn't even have the decency to look ashamed.

Spinning around, Winona pushed indelicately through the crowd, heading for the twins, who had finally wrestled the Bludger into its straps, faces turned to the rain as they grinned, pleased to have won the match.

"You're not gonna believe this," she said in lieu of a greeting, and they turned to look at her with teasing irritation.

"'Glad to see you safe and sound, boys'," Fred drawled sarcastically.

"'Yeah, congratulations on winning the match, you two'," George added, the amused curve of their lips giving them away.

"Do you want me to tell you how Lockhart vanished all the bones in Harry's arm, or not?" she asked, irked but somehow at the same time, amused. That was the twins for you, she supposed; they made you wanna tear out your hair and laugh hysterically at the same time.

"He what?" they asked as one, leaning around her to get a look at Harry, only to see nothing but a crowd of dispersing students, Lockhart in the centre, rambling to anyone who would listen about what a favour he'd just done for Harry Potter.

"Tried to mend the break, ended up leaving him looking like an empty glove," she told them with a snigger. She was worried, of course, but she also knew Madam Pomfrey would have Harry sorted out in no time – not to mention, the whole situation was, objectively, really quite hilarious.

"Bloody hell!"

"Bloke's a menace!"

"I have a feeling our favourite Seeker could use with some cheering up," she said, derailing their oncoming rant about Lockhart's outstanding ineptitude. "One of you go round up the team, the other and I will go nick a nice hoard from the kitchens."

The two nodded, exchanging a short glance before George threw his broom over his shoulders and set off in the direction of the locker rooms.

"Oi!" she yelled before he could get too far, stepping back to smile at them both. "Congratulations on winning, you two."

They shot her blinding grins, giving humble bows before each turned back to their assigned task. "Come on, poppet," Fred nudged her gently, turning towards the castle. "We've got some kitchens to ransack."

They hurried up to the castle, Winona considering casting an umbrella charm above their heads, only to decide against it – she was too tired to focus on maintaining it.

"Who do you think cursed the Bludger?" she asked him as they moved through the halls of the castle, taking care not to run into Filch who would surely put them in detention for dripping mud all over the stone floors.

"The Slytherins, obviously," Fred replied, ringing out the end of his scarlet Quidditch robes, something she knew would make Filch lose his marbles if he witnessed it. "Must have been some kind of sabotage attempt. It failed, though!" he added gleefully, reaching up to tickle the pear on the painting leading into the kitchens.

The portrait pulled away, revealing the bustling House Elves filling the massive kitchen. The ones closest to them gave squeaks of delight at the sight of them, rushing forwards, talking over one another, each wanting to be the one to fetch them what they wanted.

A familiar elf pushed her way to the front, large black eyes watering as she squeaked eagerly. "Hello, Killy," Winona greeted her, watching as she trembled with pure joy. "We'd like some bottles of pumpkin juice, a nice stash of Cauldron Cakes, and all the sweets you can spare!" she declared, and every Elf in hearing range scurried, more than keen to please their frequent visitors. "If it was a sabotage attempt, why don't you go to a teacher?" she asked Fred once they were alone, leaning up against the wall and running a hand through her thick, damp hair. "McGonagall will listen, she's almost as much of a fanatic at Wood is."

"What makes you so sure?" Fred asked.

Winona laughed indelicately. "She caught Harry flying without permission in first year and instead of punishing him, she put him on the team," she laughed some more.

"Ah, good old Minnie," Fred sighed.

"Don't let her hear you call her that."

"You're right, she'd let Filch hang me by my thumbs," he joked, and the pair laughed. Just then, the legion of Elves rushed back to them, small arms laden with baskets full of treats. "Thanks Killy!" he said gratefully, and before that moment, Winona hadn't known that House Elves could blush.

She took the baskets that Fred wasn't able to carry, hefting them in her hands and shooting Killy a smile before slipping back out into the corridor. The portrait door closed behind them, leaving the pair of friends in an empty, too-quiet hallway.

"I hope Harry's okay," Winona began conversationally, shifting to get a better grip on her basket and letting Fred lead her up through the castle, in the direction of the hospital wing.

"Pomfrey'll give him some Skele-Gro, and he'll be good as new," Fred assured her. Winona wasn't totally sure what Skele-Gro was, but she assumed it was self-explanatory and moved on.

"Can you believe Lockhart?" she asked. "Could he be any more of a tool?"

"I'm so glad you're not falling all over him like the other witches in our year," he admitted, relief splashed over his face. "If you were fooled by him too, I'm not sure I could bear it."

"He's handsome, sure," she allowed. "But as brilliant and drool-worthy as everyone acts like he is? Please."

Fred paused. "You think he's handsome?"

"I have eyes, don't I?"

"Is he as handsome as...Adam?" he asked in a teasing singsong voice that made her flush.

"You don't wanna know what I think about that," she tried to roll her eyes and appear nonchalant.

"No, I really do," he insisted. "Go on, who's more handsome? Lockhart or Adam?"

"Adam," she replied without flinching. She may have been warm in the cheeks, but let it never be said that she was too shy to meet a Weasley's challenge. She grinned at her shoes. She liked that she could talk about anything with Fred – even something as mortifying as boys.

"You really like him, huh?" Fred asked softly, and she realised he'd misread her grin. Still, it stood, so she nodded. "Because he's handsome?"

She rolled her eyes. "Surely you don't think I'm that shallow."

"Why d'you like him, then?" he pressed stubbornly. "He's a Ravenclaw," he reminded her, and she cocked a single eyebrow, wondering exactly what he was implying. "What I mean is that he's…" he hurried to elaborate, "…academically orientated."

She bristled. "And I'm not?"

"No, no, no," he hurried to assured her, then winced as he reconsidered. "Well, I mean, yeah, actually."

He looked worried she was going to yell at him, but instead she just laughed. He sagged with relief. "Ever heard that opposites attract?" she said, nudging him with her elbow. She was finally starting to dry off, and was feeling warm from all the walking they'd been doing.

She didn't want to think about how Adam was somehow interested in her without seeming to know a single thing about her, or how every conversation they'd ever had had pretty much just been him yammering on about himself while she listened patiently, admiring his good looks.

Maybe she really was that shallow. Or maybe she just liked the feeling of being liked. Was that, in and of itself, shallow?

"What about you?" she asked Fred as they took the main staircase up towards the Hospital Wing.

"What about me?"

"Who do you like?" she pressed. Fred seemed surprised by the question, then thoughtful.

"I think Emma Holt, the brunette in third year, is kinda cute," he admitted without worry, and she hummed in agreement. "Sometimes I see her playing Exploding Snap in the common room with Katie and the others."

"I don't know her that well," Winona said with a shrug that pulled hard at her shoulder muscles, weighed down by the heavy baskets she was gripping. She wished she remembered the Feather-light Charm they'd learnt the year before. The twins sometimes said she wouldn't remember the days of the week if she hadn't colour-coded them in her mind.

She really needed to start studying more.

"I can put in a good word, though," she finished.

Fred's eyebrow hiked up in surprise. "I thought you didn't know her well."

"I don't," she shrugged. "But I'm a girl, so I have an automatic in." Fred looked amused, shaking his head and decidedly no responding. "You should ask her to Hogsmeade," she told him.

"What, so I can double-date with you and Adam?" he asked teasingly, and her cheeks grew warm.

"Who's double-dating with Winnie and Adam?" George's voice asked, and they turned to see him heading straight for them with the rest of the team in tow. They were all still wet and muddy from the match, but they looked to be in good spirits. Thankfully they were all chattering excitedly, so nobody overheard what George had said.

"Tell you later," Fred promised, shooting his brother a meaningful look before watching as Angelina surged forwards, pushing open the hospital wing doors. George swiped the heavy basket from Winona's cramping hands, and she shot him a grateful smile.

The team piled in with a roaring cheer, all staggering towards a surprised Harry, who sat wearing hospital pyjamas on a bed, with Hermione and Ron on either side of him. Winona took a moment to breathe before entering the Wing. She managed to sit beside Harry for ages at the end of last year, and besides, she had all her closest friends with her. There was nothing – nothing at all – to fear.

"We've brought treats!" she announced with a grin as they approached, huddling around the bed and smearing mud onto the pristine white sheets. Nobody cared.

The twins hefted the baskets of cakes and pumpkin juice onto the bed, Alicia and Angelina reaching in and beginning to dish out their prizes.

"Unbelievable flying, Harry," George was saying excitedly. "I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy."

Wood stepped forwards to shake Harry's hand, only to grimace when he realised that wasn't possible at the moment. He bounced back, clapping the younger boy proudly on the shoulder. "You did great, Harry," he told him gratefully. "Now, for the next match, we need to work on-"

The team booed him, the twins throwing little handfuls of crumbs in his direction. Winona laughed, the sound obvious over the lighthearted hisses of the team. "We've only just won, Wood," Angelina reminded him. "Take five minutes to bask in it before you go back into Obsessive Captain-Mode."

Wood looked like this sounded terribly hard to do, but with a sigh he nodded, and the gathered group cheered, getting louder as Fred reached into the other basket and withdrew just enough bottles of pumpkin juice to go round.

"Seriously though, Harry," George began, leaning forwards as he spoke. "Sacrificing all the bones in your arm to win us the match? I like the dedication."

Harry rolled his eyes and Winona laughed, swiping up some of the Salt Water Taffy from the pile of sweets and munching happily on a piece as she listened to the group laugh and joke.

Unfortunately, they were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey's sharp voice only a few short minutes later as she barked, "this boy needs rest, he's got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!"

With reluctant muttering, the team stood, shooting Harry murmurs of gratefulness before the school's nurse shooed them from the room. "I just need to speak with him for one moment, then I'll leave," Winona assured her, and though she looked skeptical, Harry was agreeing strongly from behind her, and the aging witch gave up with a huff. "See you in the common room!" she called to her friends, who waved before the doors were shut in their faces.

Winona turned to Harry, who now sat alone on his bed, looking rightly miserable, one arm resting limply at his side like a deflated novelty balloon.

"All right?" she asked quietly, casting a look over at the nurse, who was on the far side of the room at a cabinet full of colourful potions, half buried inside as she searched for something or other.

"I'll live," he murmured, picking up his half-eaten Cauldron Cake and nibbling on the end. "Are you all right?" he asked, frowning at her from behind his glasses.

She didn't bother answering that question. Was she all right? Of course she was. She wasn't the one in a hospital bed. "I just wanted to apologise," she told him quickly, wanting to get it all out before Madam Pomfrey kicked her out of the room.

Harry blinked in surprise. "What for?"

"Well, for not stopping this from happening," she said simply, but Harry's frown only deepened, so she hurried to explain. "If I'd seen this happening, if I'd drawn this earlier, maybe I could have done something-"

"Winnie, you can't control your visions," he told her patiently. "I know that. I don't blame you."

"But you're sitting here without any bones in your arm-"

"And it isn't your fault."

Winona sighed, reaching out and picking up more taffy, chewing on it for a moment. "What's the point in even having these visions if I can't stop bad things from happening?" she asked, not sure if she was talking to Harry or herself at this point.

"One day, your visions will help someone," he told her. She wasn't convinced. "Otherwise, why would you have them?" he reasoned.

She supposed he had a point, but she wasn't sure she was ready to listen to it. She was too busy chastising herself for not paying more attention. "Come on, Miss Andrews. Time to leave," Pomfrey appeared at Harry's beside, shooing the fourth year away as though she were an unwanted animal – which was actually kind of offensive.

"Get better, Harry," Winona told him gently, shooting him a final smile before turning and leaving the hospital wing, eager to get out anyway – she'd been there long enough as it was.

The walk back to Gryffindor Tower was quiet, but she enjoyed it, breathing deeply and letting herself relax, almost completely dry. Still, her shoes were gluggy and her pants caked with mud, so she was more than eager to get changed into something clean.

There was a party happening in the common room when she walked in, and though Lee called out to her from where he sat by the fire, she merely gave a halfhearted wave before winding her way across the room to the stairs.

Changing into her favourite pyjama pants and her one of her many Weasley sweaters, she sighed at the sounds of the party happening below her. She supposed she could make an appearance, and she was quite hungry...

But before she could move towards the doorway and head downstairs, a wave of sensation crashed over her, the feeling like ice water unexpectedly hitting her skin, soaking through to her insides.

She knew she didn't have long, and gasped, spinning around and diving into her trunk, fishing out an old scrap of parchment and a simple pencil before she was dragged under the water, losing all feeling to her body.

Eyes, that was all she could see. Massive, large, horrible, glowing eyes. They bounced around her consciousness, and she knew they weren't human, but that of something awful. She saw a flash, a brief blink of white light, then everything froze. Her insides, her lungs, the blood in her veins, the very pump of her heart, it all came to an abrupt halt and she couldn't move at all.

Then, as quickly as it had come, it was over. She blinked, the rushing tide retreating from her strained body, leaving her warm once again.

Almost too scared to look, Winona glanced down at the parchment in front of her. It was done in extreme detail, and had to have taken at least over a half hour to achieve. She could only hope nobody came into the dormitory while she was under…

But it was what was on the parchment that was so shocking.

Colin Creevey lay on the ground, frozen stiff, his camera clutched in a too-tight grip. Winona gasped, nausea rolling through her. She had to find Dumbledore – she had a feeling, a terrible, horrible feeling, that this wasn't in the distant future. She knew, somehow in the way that she always seemed to know, that it was happening right in that very moment.

She bolted, no shoes on her feet and her hair tossed messily atop her head. The common room was still a hive of activity when she tumbled down the stairs, but she made eye contact with no one, rushing through the room and all but tripping towards the portrait hole, the detailed future-sketch clutched tightly in her hand, crinkling the parchment with her grip.

She heard exuberant shouts of her name, but she had no time to stop and acknowledge them, barrelling towards the exit in a panic.

Almost there, and she was caught around the middle, jerked to a stop, Fred's face looking down at her seriously. "What is it?" he asked, sensing trouble without needing words.

"I've got to go find Dumbledore," she said instead of answering. "You need to stay here!" she ordered him. The thought of either twin out and about in the corridors was a terrifying one.

"Is it bad?" George had appeared by his shoulder, worry creasing his brow.

She took a beat to collect herself before deciding lying wasn't an option. "Yes," she answered, brutally honest, before wriggling out of Fred's grip and racing to the portrait hole. Nobody tried to stop her this time, for which she was thankful.

The corridors of the castle were eerily quiet; the silence was just about deafening, but she couldn't even force herself to hum to fill the void. The sky outside was dark now, the thick blanket of clouds covering even the moon, leaving no light spilling through the windows.

She realised two minutes in that she hadn't thought this through. She had no idea where Dumbledore even was. What if he wasn't in his office? Who else was she meant to fetch? Did any of the other teachers know about her, and if not, was it safe to tell them? Would they even believe her?

Thank Merlin, she didn't have to find out, because just when she came to a stop in front of Dumbledore's office gargoyle, it sprang aside before she'd even uttered the password and the Headmaster himself was descending the stairs.

"Miss Andrews," he said, tone urgent but unsurprised, like he'd been expecting her.

She sucked in a deep breath and handed over the crumpled parchment, silent as he scanned what was sketched there with intense eyes. The stone floor absolutely freezing under her bare feet, and she realised how cold she was, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to get warm.

"Miss Andrews, please return to Gryffindor Tower at once," Dumbledore told her with stark politeness, turning and beginning to stride away from her, his deep purple robes dragging along the floor after him. "Tell no one of this," he called over his shoulder, her sketch still held in his hands.

Unacceptable, she thought to herself with a flare of courage, spinning around and marching after him. "Professor," she said, finding that he could move surprisingly fast for someone so old, picking up her pace to match his. "What does this mean?" she asked, but Dumbledore didn't acknowledge her. "Is he dead?"

"I don't believe so," he said stonily, usually-twinkling eyes now dark and stony, focused ahead, no secretive twitch of his lips. He was almost scary like this, and she suddenly knew exactly why he was one of the most feared and respected wizards in all of Britain.

"He was petrified, then? Like Mrs Norris?" she asked, jumping to the next possible conclusion.

She thought he might ask how she knew such a thing was possible, but he probably knew she'd heard from Harry, Ron and Hermione, because he didn't so much as falter a step in his march through the school.

"It's the monster, isn't it?" she said, keeping her voice low even though there was nobody around to hear. Maybe she thought the walls might have been listening, or rather, something within the walls. "What kind of creature can petrify people like this?" she asked, but Dumbledore gave her no response. Her detailed sketch was still clasped tightly in his hand, the crinkle of parchment matching with his long strides. "The sketch kind of looks like it's happened on the stairs leading to the kitchens," she told him, the silence too heavy for her to handle. "I recognise the portrait in the background."

"Yes," the Headmaster responded, voice cold, the single word more of an order to cease talking than anything else. She noticed he had his wand held in his hand, arm raised in front of him like he was expecting to come across a threat.

It was unsettling, to say the least.

She wasn't sure she was meant to keep tagging along, but she was desperate to find out what the hell was going on. Just before they rounded the corner to the stairs leading down to the kitchens, Dumbledore came to an abrupt stop, forcing her to pause as well.

"Please return to your common room, Miss Andrews," he said it calmly but seriously, a glint to his blue eyes that warned her not to argue. "And tell no one of this," he repeated himself from before, but now he wasn't distracted, now he was stern and unyielding, telling her that she really didn't have a choice.

She wanted to be stubborn, to put her foot down and insist she had a right to know, but the icy glint to the headmaster's eyes made her wilt. Did she have a right? Just because she saw these things, did that give her permission to go acting like she was better than the rest of the students in the school?

Feeling strangely chastised by her own train of thought, Winona turned to leave.

"And Winona?" the Headmaster called out, the fourth year turning back around to peer at him wearily. She was, as always, surprised by his use of her given name – the rarity of it letting her know what he was about to say was beyond serious. "Come find me if you see anything else. Anything else at all."

"Yes, Sir," she nodded obediently, watching as he disappeared around the corner, wand still held out protectively.

However, she'd come too far to simply accept that as the end, and with silent footsteps, Winona shuffled towards the corner, leaning around it and laying eyes on what laid before her.

Just like in her vision, Colin Creevey lay stiff as a statue on the stairs, camera clutched in frozen hands. It wasn't any easy sight to behold, and she felt almost guilty for feeling as though she was entitled to a look. Why would seeing it in the flesh make it any easier? Now all she felt was ill.

The thought of the monster that had done this, loose in the school, made her want to curl up under her covers until the sun once more broke out over the horizon, saturating them in the false security offered by the light of day.

The common room was calm by the time she got back, the party having finally died down. She could see some seventh years in the corner taking shots of firewhisky, but they weren't causing any trouble, and Winona couldn't have cared less. She wasn't a prefect, and judging by her grades, she probably never would be.

Hermione and Ron were sitting by the window, Hermione elbows deep in an essay while Ron talked to her, the girl nodding along every few minutes to show she was listening. She considered going over to them, letting them know what she'd seen, but that idea was wiped from her mind the moment the twins called out to her from where they were perched on the couch by the fire, waving their hands above their heads obnoxiously, as though it were possible for her to overlook them in the nearly deserted room.

"Well?" Fred asked expectantly as she took a seat in the empty space between them.

"There's been an attack," she revealed, and their eyes went wide at the news. "You can't tell anyone," she added, keeping her voice low, "but Colin Creevey has just been petrified."

"Petrified?" they repeated, bewildered and unsettled.

"By whatever did in Filch's cat," she confirmed, though it hardly needed to be said. What else could it have possibly been?

"Did you see it happen?" George whispered meaningfully, and, feeling sick to her stomach, Winona shrugged.

"Sort of?" she whispered. "They're not full visions, just flashes. So I don't really know anything, except, whatever it is? Whatever's doing this? I know it has glowing yellow eyes."

What with all the evil, murderous creatures and even more evil, psychotic pure-blood fanatics roaming the castle, it hardly seemed like the best time to be prancing around on a date.

"You can't cancel," Angelina argued on the morning of the first Hogsmeade visit, looking despairing, like her entire existence hinged on the outcome of this date – and it wasn't even her own. "You just can't!"

"I'm sure Adam will understand," Winona reassured her with a hint of awkwardness, not understanding the situation. "It hardly seems right to go sauntering about Hogsmeade like nothing's wrong, while Colin lies petrified in the hospital wing."

"But Colin wouldn't want you to skip this date," Angelina insisted.

Winona bristled. "I don't think Colin particularly cares about the state of my love life."

"Which is why you should just go!"

Winona didn't say anything, keeping her eyes on her task.

"You're just nervous and looking for any excuse to get out of it!" Angelina proclaimed a moment later. Winona whirled around to glare at her, indignant and offended and maybe slightly embarrassed, being that it was true. "Come on, Winona," Angelina sighed, crouching down to her level. She was folded on the floor, halfheartedly digging in her trunk for her favourite scarf. "I know you like him," she said matter-of-factly, "so what's the problem?"

Winona huffed, closing her eyes as she gathered her Gryffindor courage. "I've never been on a date before," she murmured, keeping her gaze locked onto the pile of clothes gathering in front of her. "I don't even really know what you do on a date," she admitted, frowning as she spoke.

"You talk, you flirt, you snog," Angelina singsonged. Winona flushed pink, tossing a pair of rolled up socks over her shoulder, satisfied when her friend yelped at the impact. "Look, would you just go?"

"Why do you care so much?"

Angelina sighed rather loudly. "Is it so hard to believe that I just want you to be happy?" she asked, sounding much too tired for her young age.

Skeptical but not in the mood to argue, Winona grunted as she finally produced her scarf, wrapping it around her neck, feeling warmer already. She stood to her feet, and Angelina stood with her, already pushing her out of the room. "Ange," she whined, trying to glue her feet, though it seemed to make little difference.

"Would you just go already?" Alicia shouted exasperatedly from where she was still bundled up in bed.

Humphing, Winona opened her mouth to argue, but with a well timed push she was forced out into the corridor, the door of her dormitory slamming in her face, the lock clicking shut pointedly.

"Just so we're clear, I hate both of you!" Winona yelled through the wood. There was only unbothered laughter from the other side. Just glad she'd already put her shoes on, Winona took a beat to collect herself, sucking in a deep lungful of air to calm herself down.

It was just a date, which was pretty much just hanging out with someone you liked being around. What could be so bad about that?

Thankfully Fred and George were nowhere to be found in the common room, and she happily escaped with nothing but a quick hello to Ginny, before she was slipping from the Tower and heading down towards the front steps where she was meeting Adam.

He was already waiting when she arrived, and he turned to look at her with a smile, the expression lighting up his face. "Hello!" he greeted her cheerfully, ducking in to press his lips to her cheek, making her skin turn a rosy pink. He pulled away, grinning at her before taking her hand and beginning to lead the way down towards Hogsmeade.

It didn't feel that intimate, because both of them were wearing thick gloves, but she found she appreciated the effort.

"What did you have in mind for today?" she asked him, keeping her cool and not showing how nervous she really felt. She always had been good at seeming perfectly fine on the surface, it was one of the main reasons she was the twins' go-to alibi whenever they were (rightly) accused of causing trouble.

"Ever heard of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop?"

"I think Alicia went there last year," Winona nodded, recalling it vaguely from memory. "She liked it."

"Do you like tea?" he asked pleasantly.

The snow falling onto her face was making her nose turn numb, so she said, "yes," very eagerly, then looked away in an attempt to not let her hastiness embarrass her.

Adam began to talk, murmuring soft words about the essay he was writing, and how professor Flitwick was giving him special tutoring on advanced Vanishing Charms, since he was so good at them. Winona listened to him talk, enjoying the sound of his voice and the weight of his hand in hers. He led her through the small Wizarding town, smiling pleasantly at all the passing students, continuing to talk.

She found that she didn't mind, happy she didn't have to madly search for something to say as he kept the conversation flowing for both of them. Finally he came to a stop outside a small shop with fogged up glass and too-bright, pink painted windowsills.

If Winona thought the outside was bad, the inside was even worse – everything was decked out in white lace and delicate looking china. It smelled of strong perfume that made Winona's head swim, and it was so completely packed that she had to do an awkward sort of shuffle to wind her way through to one of the empty tables.

"Two teas, please," Adam ordered when a stout woman with shiny black hair pulled into a dangerously high bun who she assumed was Madam Puddifoot appeared beside them, a wide, saccharine smile on her glossy lips. Winona supposed that was the perfect word to describe the place – saccharine. "Do you like it?" he asked once they were alone.

"Yes," she said, and although it was a bare-faced lie, Adam didn't seem to notice.

"So, tell me about yourself," he began a moment later, eager hope plastered across his handsome face. Winona supposed he was trying to make up for not knowing about her family, and she quickly tried to think of something interesting to say.

"Er, not much to tell," she replied, smiling up at Madam Puddifoot when she arrived a moment later, delicate china floating in front of her, only to set itself down on the table. With another saccharine smile, she shuffled away, heading for another couple on the other side of the room. "It's just me. No siblings," she told him with a lift of her shoulders.

"I've got a sister," Adam told her eagerly, and she was glad he was talking again – it meant she didn't have to. "She's ten years older than me though, she works at the Ministry."

"Oh, doing what?" she asked politely, lifting the heavy, glistening teapot and pouring herself some of the liquid inside. The scent of the tea was sickly-sweet as it drifted up to her nose, and she crinkled it in disgust before taking a sip, uncaring about the temperature, even when it seared her insides on the way down.

At least she wasn't cold anymore.

"She works in Foreign Affairs," he responded, pouring a drink of his own but letting it cool before trying it. "She loves other languages, so she mostly works as a translator."

"That's so interesting," Winona murmured, and she wasn't lying this time. She found other languages fascinating and had always wished she had a knack for them herself. Unfortunately she'd barely mastered English, let alone French or Italian or Danish. "Does she like it?"

"It's good pay," he revealed, then laughed like he'd made a joke. Unsure, Winona forced herself to chuckle along, taking another sip of her scalding hot tea.

He began to talk some more, and though everything he said was interesting, Winona found there was little opportunity to talk about herself. Maybe that was how dates went, the first time you spoke all about one person, then on the next one it switched? That didn't sound right, but she didn't know enough about dating to dispute it.

Before she knew it, her tea was gone and she knew Adam's favourite colour, animal, class, food and what he wanted to do after school ended – yet he knew none of this about her. Still, he was handsome and had yet to stop smiling, and at one point, while he was talking about his holiday in Ireland, he reached over and grasped her hand on the table, holding it tenderly and beaming as he spoke.

"Come on," he said a good hour or two later, glancing down at his watch and noticing the time. "We should be heading back."

Looking over at the clock on the far wall, Winona frowned in confusion. "But it's only two o'clock," she said with a bewildered frown. "We've got ages until curfew."

"Yeah," Adam nodded patiently, "but I wanted to get started on my essay."

"It's Saturday," she reminded him, still confused. Didn't they have all day tomorrow for that?

"Exactly!" he grinned like she'd proved his point. Beyond confused, Winona could only allow him to pull her up, paying quickly before tugging her from the crowded little tea shop. "I'm sure you'll want to get started on your assignments too!"

"Um, yeah," she murmured as they pushed their way out into the snow.

"We can study together, in the library!"

The snow was falling even harder now, and Winona winced as a flake fell into her eye. Adam gripped her hand, pulling her through the fluffy sea of snow towards the castle. She'd been hoping to meet the twins at Zonko's or at least the Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer. But she saw the look of excitement on Adam's face, and knew she couldn't decline.

"Sounds good," she told him convincingly, wondering how he didn't seem to know about her reputation of being horrendous when it came to all things academia.

The library was much warmer than the weather outside, so Winona was content to fold herself up in one of the chairs off to the side, Adam getting immediately stuck into his work while Winona simply pulled a book off the shelf and started reading. It was quiet, and every now and again Adam would bump his shoes against hers teasingly, then glance up and smile, so although it was mind-numbingly boring, she put up with it, finding happiness in those adorable smiles of his.

She was just skimming a passage about apparition and wondering how she'd been talked into reading in the library, when she felt a soft touch at her hand. Looking up, she saw Adam grinning at her crookedly.

"What?" she asked self-consciously, reaching up to run a hand through her loose hair, worried it was sticking up and making her look ridiculous.

"You just look really pretty in the sunlight," he told her charmingly, and she realised the clouds had parted to allow a single sliver of light through, the ray of sunshine shooting through the glass of the window and falling over her, making her hair glow like a Patronus Charm and her grey eyes fade into molten silver.

Flustered, Winona smiled and turned her head away, but Adam's hand reached up to her face, cupping it in a hand that was smooth and warm, and turning her head back to him.

It all happened so fast, suddenly he was leaning in, and her mind went completely and utterly silent. As their lips touched she sucked in a breath, pressing into him as she saw in the movies, and copying what he was doing. It was a bit of a fumble, but Adam pulled away and gave her a breathtaking smile like she'd done something right. She realised she'd been holding her breath, and let the air out in a sharp puff.

Adam reached in and pecked her lips gently once more, then returned to his essay with a happy, crooked grin sitting firmly on his plump lips, which Winona now knew to be just as soft as they looked. She leant back in her chair, wordless, and they went right back to work, easy.

Easy is just a synonym for boring, a voice in her head whisper, but she ignored it, turning her eyes to her book and pretending everything was perfect.