I was groggy when I left the castle for assistant duty with Grubbly-Plank. A light wind blew my spiky hair around and pressed the front of my black shirt against my chest. I had stupidly rolled up the sleeves of my cloak and goosepimples were tracking up my bare arms. I was grateful it wasn't muddy outside or my sneakers, the hem of my cloak and the bottoms of my blue jeans would have been caked by now. Birds twittered in the sky, and the grass rippled like a green sea.

Last night was probably the worst sleep I've had in a year. I was tossing and turning all night. Throwing the covers off the bed because I was sweating too much, then shivering as a result. Darkness and angry light blue eyes filled my dreams. Shouts and hexes were exchanged.

I barely ate any breakfast and half-heartedly joined in the conversation Minerva and Severus were having over this year's crop of students. There was no way I could contribute to the conversation, not in the state of being half-dead.

Grubbly-Plank called my name when I reached Hagrid's cabin. She was struggling with a long table, and I summoned the strength to help her.

"What are we teaching the students about today?" I asked as we positioned the table.

"Bowtruckles," said Grubbly-Plank in a gruff voice. "I thought we'd start out easy this year."

I nodded. "That's understandable." I glanced at the large box filled with little twig-looking creatures. "Which Houses are coming?"

"Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"We'll have to keep an eye on them then," I grumbled, crouching down next to the box. The little twig creatures scurried to the edge closest to me and peered up at me with their tiny beetle-brown eyes. I poked a finger into the crowd, and one of the Bowtruckles wrapped its little fingers around my digit. "Well, hello there."

"Please, Mr. Creary, they are creatures, not friends for the teacher's assistant." Grubbly-Plank's voice was sharp, but I could detect the amusement in her tone. "Help me put them on the table." She grabbed one end of the box, and I disentangled my finger to get the other end. With a slight heave, we lifted the crate and set it on the table. Together, we picked up the bowtruckles and scattered them on the table; the one that had grabbed my finger scrambled up my arm and settled on my shoulder.

"Mr. Creary. . ."

"Hey, I didn't put it up there," I objected, motioning to the bowtruckle. "I can't help it if it likes me."

Grubbly-Plank shook her head. "Just return it to the box when the class is over."

I saluted the Magical Creatures teacher, and to my amusement and amazement, the bowtruckle mimicked my movements. I heard voices drifting down from the castle. I looked up and saw a small sea of black moving toward us in two groups: one with red and gold ties, the other with green and silver. I took a deep breath. The students were fifth years, which meant not only do I have to deal with the cocky Slytherins, but Harry and his friends as well. I had avoided them last night at dinner and this morning at breakfast. I had felt their glances but refused to look at them. That had been easy enough, but now I have to actually face them.

"Is everyone here?" asked Grubbly-Plank when the students approached the table and were looking at the motionless twigs. "If you do not know him already, this is Mr. Creary, my assistant for the lesson."

I gave a small wave and smile. Some of the girls giggled and blushed when they looked at me.

"Now can anyone tell me what these are?"

Hermione's hand was in the air in an instant. Behind her I could see Draco Malfoy making fun of her, bouncing on his feet with his hand waving comically. I narrowed my eyes at him then smirked, remembering McGonagall. She had confirmed my new power at the school. "Ten points from Slytherin," I muttered under my breath, "for bullying and being an asshole."

Girls from both groups let out little shrieks as the bowtruckles sprung to life, looking around with their tiny eyes and flexing their fingers. The one on my shoulder shifted a little but refused to move to the table.

"Keep your voices down, please, girls." Grubbly-Plank pulled a small paper bag from her cloak. She tipped it over and a bunch of wood lice fell onto the table. The bowtruckles attacked with vigor; I grabbed up a few and gave them to the bowtruckle on my shoulder. It let out a small squeak and ate its treat.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"They're called bowtruckles. They're usually the guardians to wand-trees."

"Five points to Gryffindor."

I gave a nod to the smart brunette, who gave a soft smile in return.

"Can anyone tell me what is their main food source?"

"Wood lice," Hermione said, "but fairy eggs will work."

Grubbly-Plank was impressed and gave her five more points. "Wood lice can be given as an offering to the bowtruckle if you need to take leaves or wood from the tree it is guarding. They may seem like they may be brittle, but when they are angered they will use their sharp fingers to try to gouge out the eyes of the offending wizard."

"Then why is one sitting on Mr. Creary's shoulder?" asked a female Slytherin with a puggish face. I believe her name was Pansy Parkinson; my guess my confirmed when I saw the Prefect badge pinned to her cloak.

I looked at her and smiled lightly. "This little one has taken a shine to me. As long as I give it wood lice, I'm sure I won't need a glass eye." I pointed at the bowtruckle that was content on my shoulder. "Bowtruckles may seem like the perfect bite-sized snack for any predator, but the truth is they have very few natural enemies. Can anyone tell Professor Grubbly-Plank why that is?" I glanced at Hermione, who looked a little crestfallen but seemed to understand; I wanted someone else to have a chance of answering.

All the Slytherins, with the exception of two or three, seemed to be distracted by a butterfly that was flitting around the table. It didn't surprise me that they wouldn't want to answer such a simple question.

Dean Thomas's hand rose into the air.

"Yes, Mr. Thomas?"

"Is it because they taste like bark?"

I smiled encouragingly. "Close. Miss Brown?"

"Because they're very small?"

"Even closer. Mr. Weasley?"

"Because. . . they look exactly like bark?"

"Five points to Gryffindor." I shot a smile at Ron, who's ears were turning red as the other students either smiled or glared at the redhead. "Bowtruckles choose a tree to protect, either a wand-tree or a regular tree, then almost literally become one with the tree. That is why it is very important to have some wood lice on hand when you go into a forest. You never know when a bowtruckle is going to pop out at you." I glanced at Grubbly-Plank and felt relief when I saw approval in her eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Creary, for that information. Now, class, I want you to take some wood lice and a bowtruckle - one for every group of three. I want a sketch from each of you with all the body parts labeled. This will be due at the end of the class."

The students scrambled to get the best looking bowtruckle then scattered into groups of three. I noticed Draco and Harry exchanging words as they grabbed their groups' creature. I sighed quietly and reached up to stroke the top of my bowtruckle's head with my forefinger. It chittered like a miniature squirrel and nibbled on another wood louse.

"That was excellent work, Creary." Grubbly-Plank appeared at my side; there was guarded interest in her eyes. "I remember you from when you were a student. You excelled the Magical Creatures course."

"I loved the Magical Creatures class and the creatures." I pointed to the bowtruckle which grasped my finger. "I find them interesting."

"Miss Granger seems to be knowledgable as well."

I nodded. "Yes. She is very knowledgable, but that is good thing. As far as I know she has excelled in almost every subject thrown at her, though only a few actually appreciate her smarts. I am one of those people."

Grubbly-Plank looked thoughtful for a moment then focused on me again. "Walk around and check on the students, Creary," she said, her voice once again rough. "Help any who need it."

My bowtruckle and I saluted her, and we moved from group to group to see if they need my assistance. I believe I did a good job; a group consisting of three Slytherins, Crabbe, Goyle and Bullstrode, were having a particularly hard time. They may have been my House's enemies but I reminded myself that I was not a student anymore, and by the end of the lesson they had gotten the labels right and knew more about bowtruckles than I expected. I had given five points to Slytherin for the group's good work. I reluctantly gave my bowtruckle friend back to Grubbly-Plank, said my thank you's to her for letting me help out then followed the students up to the castle.

"Hey, Talis."

The three teenagers who knew my secret were waiting for me near the greenhouses. I joined up with them. The metallic scent of blood reached my nose, and I winced. "Who's bleeding?"

Harry held up his hand. He unwrapped the handkercheif someone had placed over it. Two deep gouges on the top of his hand were bleeding heavily. "I held the bowtruckle too tight," he explained in a low voice.

I rolled my eyes and withdrew my wand from its sheath. I muttered a small healing spell and poked his hand with the tip. His wounds sealed themselves without leaving a scar. I growled the cleaning spell so his hand the handkerchief was free of blood.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." I returned my wand to its case and started to walk away.

"Wait! Talis!"

I paused and heaved a sigh before turning around. "Yes?"

"You've been avoiding us," Hermione said, pocketing the handkerchief.

"Do you want me to stop avoiding you?"

"Yes! We talked it over last night, and we accept you." Her brown eyes glistened. "All three of us do." Harry nodded and Ron beamed at me.

I swiped my tongue against the edges of my top teeth. I couldn't tell if they were toying with me or not. My sexuality wasn't something people should joke about, but the looks they were giving me. . . They did accept me. "Fine. I'll believe you and stop avoiding you."

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The majority of the castle was quiet. All the students were either stuffing their faces or, for the House of Gryffindor, out at the Quidditch pitch watching the Keeper tryouts. I wasn't really in the mood to watch people flying around on broomsticks but had already eaten supper. My footsteps were echoing off the walls as I walked down the hallway. The sun was starting to set, and my shadow bounced at my side every time I passed a window. I instinctively sniffed the air but could not detect anything wrong.

Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Something was flitting between the picture frames, causing a stir from the paintings' occupants. I stopped and watched. A flash of grey fur caught my attention, and the wolf from the portrait guarding my room popped her magnificent head out from behind a frame. There was glint of playfulness in her amber eyes. I cocked my head to the side. What is she up to?

The wolf darted out of the picure then appeared in the next one. She looked back, gave a woof and jumped away.

I smirked and raced after her. My sneakers slapped against the polished floor as I tore down the corridor. Somehow I caught up with the wolf and kept pace with her. We ran and ran, down hallways, through secret passages, up the stairs. . .

I was becoming short of breath when the grey wolf suddently stopped. The squeal my sneakers made when I skidded to a halt echoed noisely. "What. . . was that. . . about?" I asked between gasps.

The wolf gave a small huff and pointed with her muzzle at a figure near the end of the corridor. The person had stopped when they heard my sneakers. Green eyes were shadowed with pain and anger.

"You brought. . . me to Harry?" I glanced at the wolf.

"He's hurt," she stated. "I'll be in your quarters." She turned and bounded back the way we came.

Harry is hurt? I just healed his damn bowtruckle injury not too long ago. It couldn't have reopened. I walked down the hall to the stationary figure. His eyes were dark, and I noticed he was holding his right hand close to his chest as if shielding it. The scent of blood grew stronger the closer I got to him.

"What happened?"

"I ha demantin wih unbrish." His response was low and laced with pain.

I stood before the youner teenager. "What happened?" I repeated.

"I had detention with Umbridge." He held his hand closer to his body.

I held out my own hand. "Give me your hand." There must have been enough anger in my voice because Harry didn't hesitate to lay his hand in mine, our palms pressed together. A slight spark raced up my arm from the contact. I did my best to ignore it. His hand was sweaty from holding a quill. Then I saw it. On the back of his hand, shiny like a fresh wound, were the words "I must not tell lies." They looked as if they had been sketched into his flesh with a fine scalpel. Blood trickled in a small but steady stream down his wrist.

"She told me to write 'I must not tell lies' until the message sunk in."

"Well, it sunk in," I muttered humorlessly. "What the hell did you use? A knife?"

Harry shook his head and sucked in a sharp breath when I touched the enflamed skin. "It was some kind of quill. Jet black with a sharp tip. When I wrote the lines, this appeared on my hand. And I wasn't using ink either. I was using -"

"Your own blood," I finished. "I know. I've heard of those quills in my seventh year. They're supposedly banned from being used on students, but Fudge probably let Umbridge get away from it 'cause she kissed his ass."

"It hurts," Harry said with a small whimper.

I pulled my wand from its case and muttered the healing spell I used earlier. The cut didn't change. I growled then used a different spell. That one didn't work either. I tried a third one, but got the same result.

"It can't be healed with a spell," I grumbled, more to myself. "The quill couldn't have been cursed, but who knows with that toad." I looked into Harry's eyes and almost winced when I saw the unshed tears. "You need a potion for this, one that I don't have on hand. It won't heal you but it will take most of the pain away."

"Anything would help right now."

It happened before I could stop myself. I lifted his hand carefully to my face and pressed my lips softly against the markings. Harry didn't move or make a sound. I let my lips linger for a few more seconds then lowered his hand. My fingers brushed against his when I finally let his hand go; it fell to his side like a deadweight.

"G-go to -" I paused and cleared my throat. "Go to Hermione. She can easily brew this potion. Just describe it to her. I expect she'll know which one you're talking about." I took a step away from Harry. "Okay?"

He nodded, and I noticed the faintest of blushes burning its way up his neck.

"Get to your dorm," I advised, trying to sound more like an authoritive-figure. "It's late and you are walking around after hours." I sound fuckin' ridiculous. I sighed and tore a piece off the bottom of my shirt. "Here." I handed it to him. "Put this over it; try to keep your blood to yourself."

"Thank you." He pressed the cloth to his wounded hand.

"I'll walk you to your dorm." I held up a hand when he opened his mouth, probably to protest. "If you run into Peeves you won't be able to cast a spell with your hand like that."

Harry was silent as we walked back to the Gryffindor corridor. The wolf had appeared within ten minutes of our journey and trotted through the pictures, keeping pace with us. Luckily we didn't run into Peeves or any of the staff; no doubt Snape would give him a detention of his own if he caught Harry walking at night. The torches that lit the halls had extinguished long ago but the scent of smoke still drifted down the halls. The moon was our only source of light, but I didn't have a problem with that. Harry walked quietly at my side, holding the piece of shirt to his hand.

When we got to the portrait of the Fat Lady, we were greeted by her snores. The wolf huffed once then went down the hall to her frame, which we had passed not to long ago.

"How am I going to get in?" Harry grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the Fat Lady.

"Nicely," I said. I stepped up to the portrait and tapped the frame a few times. "Excuse me? Fat Lady?"

The painting snorted loudly but she opened her eyes. "Tailees? Wah can I doo for you?"

"Will you please open for Mr. Potter?" I motioned the green-eyed teenager forward. "It is late and he needs to get some sleep."

"Oh. Yes, yes, in you go." Without Harry saying the password, the Fat Lady swung open to reveal the hidden passage that lead to the Gryffindor Common Room.

I looked at Harry. "In you go, and don't forget about asking Hermione for that potion." I stepped back and allowed him to enter the passageway. I felt like I should have said something else, but I didn't know what.

"Good night, Talis," said Harry, looking over his shoulder.

"'Night, Harry." I stepped back from the portrait, and the Fat Lady swung shut to seal the passage. "Thank you, my dear Fat Lady."

Even in her half-asleep daze, a blush darkened her rosy cheeks. "You're quite wailcome, Taillis."

I turned away from the dozing portrait. The wolf was already in her frame when I approached her. She was lying down with her chin on her crossed from paws. There appeared to be a smirk on her face as she looked up at me. "I'm not going to let you in without a password," she stated, a hint of teasing in her mighty voice.

"I thought you liked me?" I said, feigning hurt.

"I do like you," said the wolf with a small wag of her bushy tail, "but you still have to say the password."

I rolled my eyes but smiled. "Lupus cor."

"You're easy to train," the wolf teased, but she opened and allowed me into my quarters. "Good night, pup."

I stroked the edge of her frame. "Good night to you, too."