Author: Psykiapa (that's me, obviously)

Rating: Very meek PG-13

Genre(s): Romance, (is there romance yet? No, nothing major, just a warning) Fantasy, Harry Potter (duh)

Warning: This story does include slash (if you could call it that), but that is barely any part of it right now.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, never will, or anything incorporated with it. I am writing this purely out of the pleasure to be filling the time between when the books come out, and I do not disrespect the fact that J. K. Rowling owns this or that Warner Bros. owns the movie(s). Don't file a suit; I'm just a humble writer. Oh, and I may subconsciously quote TV shows or movies, or be inspired by them, sometimes it's indicated, sometimes its not, but you should know that I don't mean any harm.

Chapter Seven: Matchmaker, Matchmaker . . .

Liamh awoke to the sound of pounding on his door the next morning. He sat up, looked around his room for a while, confused about where he was for only a second before he remembered. This was his bed now; he was in his room. He rubbed at his puffy eyes (he could feel the ointment working on them already), and clambered out of the rather large bed he had been sleeping in. He stumbled toward the door, through the living room and into the hall. The pounding wouldn't stop.

"'Lo?" Liamh mumbled out to the morning.

"I just came to wake you for Danu." Came the voice of a young sylph. Fluttery, like a butterfly. "He should be up to pick you up soon."

"Thank you." Liamh said as the little sylph did a funny sort of curtsy-bow and left him to his own devices. "This should be interesting." He mumbled, going off into his chambers.

He hadn't looked around a lot yet; he had been much too tired last night. Now, however, he had the time to stare around at his suite in wonder.

It was like a small flat, only not. Everything looked so very old, like something you'd see in a Muggle movie that takes place in the Renaissance. He was standing on a carpet, an intricate weave of all different colors, ending in a golden phoenix in the middle. Next to the door, there was a small table, a place to put something when you walk in. All of the doors were magnificent ebony circles, carved in ornate knots that he supposed were for protection. Several sarongs hung on the walls, in the place of tapestries, each a deep, rich color, bleached with a design that usually had something to do with astronomy. Some were just abstract with color, a pattern there only for those who took the time to see it. He noticed that there was an iron door that led out onto the balcony, but in between the pillars were strange cloths that were tough, and he suspected they were to keep out the cold in the winter. However, this area was separated from the rest of the rooms by a large, ornate steel gate. Liamh looked around at the rest of the 'living room.'

There were instruments everywhere, strange instruments that he couldn't know how to use yet. Their curves curled around each other, intricate in their work so they would be efficient at whatever it was they did. Strange things hung from the ceiling, clinking together at different times. Then, Liamh's old Hogwarts astronomy classes kicked in, and he realized that these random pieces of junk were, in fact, a model of the stars. He looked over to the corner of the room, and saw what looked like a huge globe. He had seen one like it in Hogsmeade, but it wasn't half as accurate as this one. It was sitting in an old metal holder, the legs spindled on the floor and then tangling up to trap the globe. As he tried to see under where the legs were, the legs switched positions in an ever so subtle way, so Liamh barely even noticed. But then he realized that he'd have to take a shower or something to get ready for the day, and sheepishly wandered around the suite trying to find the bathroom.

When he did eventually find it, he saw that he could take a shower or a bath as he pleased, but that the furnishings were all circular. The mirror was a tan color, and it reminded him rather of the Mirror of Erised with all the designs running along its planes.

After a very satisfying shower (the water smelled like lavender), Liamh smeared some of the ointment Eldrid had given him over his eyelids, and eyed himself in the mirror. It was actually embarrassing when he came to think about it, how he was supposed to be a monarch to his people, but he couldn't even keep track of his appearance. He tried several times in vain to control his raven locks, but they had decided that today he would have spiked hair whether he liked it or not. After quickly changing into the clothes he had that were the most like the sylphs' clothing (his school robes), he went back into the 'living room' to wait for Danu.

After feeding both Hedwig and Ciaran, he tried to find a place to sit.

There was a couch and an armchair; each surrounding what looked suspiciously like an apothecary table. In the center of the apothecary table there was a crystal ball, and Liamh groaned inwardly. Great, he thought, I hope I won't be studying Divinations. There came more pounding on the door, and Liamh knew it was Danu this time.

"Hello, Danu. I'm ready." Liamh said in greeting, before closing the door behind him.

"We have a lot to buy, but first, I must introduce you to sylvan food." Danu said, briskly walking out of the palace and onto the snow-covered grounds. Liamh wrapped his scarf around his neck and his cloak around his robes. He felt like he was in a big mitten.

As they ventured back into the sylvan city, Liamh couldn't help but notice that it seemed uncannily dark today. Something told him that it was because the weather above them, out through the tunnel, in the Open World, was pretty bad. He ran to catch up to Danu, her footsteps leaving him behind.

* * *

Ron pushed into the pub and out of the blizzard-like weather. It appeared that a lot of witches and wizards who had come up for some shopping had had to stray into the warm tavern of the Leaky Cauldron. He took off his snow- covered cloak, shook from it the wetness that was melting snow, and removed his scarf. He hung both on a hook, and went over to the bar.

"One Butterbeer, please, and make it warm." He ordered, smiling at Tom, the old bartender.

"Whatever you say, young Mr. Weasley."

And, soon, with no further ado, Ron was on his way to a seat at the back of the pub, a quiet little alcove where he could think in peace. He wondered if his parents would be able to find him, but realized that if they came in, he'd see them as they did, and would call out to them. He settled back, sipping the hot Butterbeer and letting it flow down into his stomach, warming his insides all the way. He thought of Hermione, hoping that she was faring well with her family. She had told him and Harry at Christmas that her parents had invited their relatives over for the New Year, and that she would spend her vacation cooped up in her parents' vacation home, trying desperately not to look at her spellbooks and listening to comments on how grown-up she was getting. He chuckled slightly; when the extended family of the Weasleys got together, they had to be outside the whole time because there was no room for everyone in their house. The whole point of him coming here was to get her a good book about sylphs, which he had (hopefully) done.

But his musings became very different as he heard the voices behind him, in the shadows.

"He's becoming much more independent, a handful, really . . . " Drifted a man's voice. Who did that sound like?

"Oh, Lucius, I knew you should never have put him under that spell, you're weak because of it." Ron knew who that was! The Malfoys were, apparantly, having a family disagreement.

"Narcissa! I'm not weak, he's weak, I'm the one who holds the upper hand here."

"But you don't really know what that curse does!"

"Oh, and you do?" Lucius replied. Ron would have thought him childish if not for what he said next. "Dark Magic always has a way of coming back and slapping you in the face; I'm just slapping it right back."

"Well, the least you could do is figure out what's bothering you if it isn't the side affects of the spell. That's what I brought you here for . . . " There were rummaging sounds, as if Mrs. Malfoy was digging around in her purse.

"Don't you tell me what I should and shouldn't do, Narcissa!" With that, Ron heard a slap, and a muffled screech, and two pops as the two Apparated out of the Leaky Cauldron.

Now what was that all about?

* * *

The fruit had been wonderful; it was something that seemed to be related to a banana if you looked at it, but it tasted like a mixture between an apple and an orange. Liamh looked at the rinds that were left over on his plate. He took one more drink of his Italian soda (raspberry), and looked back up at Danu.

"Are you finished?" she asked.

"Yes." Liamh grinned at him.

"Well, then let's pay for it so we can get out of here." Danu gracefully slid out of the booth and Liamh did the same.

Danu left some money on the table (a funny sort of interlocking triangular shape) and they left the small café.

"Where are we going first?"

"Well, let's go get you some different clothes, because frankly, you don't look like you belong here." Danu said, looking down at Liamh's robes.

"Where do we go for that?"

"Scringe." Liamh caught up to Danu after falling behind to stare at an instrumentalist and drop a coin in their hat. They went up the twisted alleyways, turning off down here, then over there, and soon were in the very center of the town Liamh had now come to know as 'Myquil.' In the middle of the square was a star design painted on the cobblestones, and Liamh saw a large building covered in art that had a sign hanging on the outside that read Scringe.

Danu led him inside, and a little bell twinkled to the void that was the shop. The sound bounced off the racks that were so packed with clothes that Liamh could barely tell what the outfits looked like. While they were waiting, Liamh looked under the glass on the counter at the jewelry. There were bangles and earrings and headdresses, most a delicate looking metal that Liamh couldn't recognize. But he didn't have long to look, for a salesmerchant was coming out from the backroom.

"Hello, Eamonn, nice to see you again." Danu called out to the other sylph.

"Well, hello, Danu, what do you need today? It seems highly unlikely that you just came to see me on your own." The sylph called Eamonn said with a little smirk on her face. He looked like she was Asian, or would, if Liamh knew that this sylph couldn't have been born in Asia.

"No, I did come here on business, but seeing you is just one of the many fruits of being at Scringe." Danu answered smoothly. "I'm here to get a full wardrobe for Liamh, here."

For the first time, Eamonn looked at Liamh, sizing him up. She looked strangly at his clothes, before telling him abruptly to stand on the stool.

"Well, you look like a small . . . " Eamonn muttered to himself, using a weird sort of measuring apparatus. "Yes, I know just what to do with you. Follow me. Are you just going to hover, Danu, or are you actually going to take a seat? This will take a while."

Danu blushed and refrained from saying anything more to the sylph who apparantly had a no-nonsense attitude toward life. Danu sat hurriedly in the chair to wait.

"Come on, here are your clothing choices." Eamonn smiled at Liamh, the first smile he had seen him wear. "Would you like to pick them out, or would you like me to show them to you so you can change into them?"

"Well, I really don't know what I'm looking for . . . " Liamh stammered, eyes looking over the thousands of clothes.

"Well, you'll need some for business, some for your social life, of course, others for dancing . . . " Liamh's face fell at this, he remembered perfectly well the Yule Ball from last year. "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure someone will teach you how to dance," reassured Eamonn. "Oh, and others for flying and . . . are you going to learn how to fight?"

"I suppose."

"Then you'll need the proper attire for battle, and certain rituals, etc. I'll also hook you up with some jewelry and stuff."

At this point, all was a blur to Liamh as outfit after outfit was shown to him to try on. There were all different kinds of things. There were patterns, shirts, pants (in both male and female styles), dresses (although they all had a cutting masculine edge to them, if that was possible), elegant dance outfits, flying shirts with plunging backs, comfortable clothing that Liamh found very easy to move in (Eamonn told him was used in combat), and pajamas (although he insisted that he had these already).

"Now, all you need is the proper lingerie. Follow me back to the back room, I'm sure you'll find something you'll like." Eamonn winked at him. "I'll let you decide on your own on this stuff." With that, he left Liamh blushing vibrantly under the dim lights of the back room.

Several embarrassing experiments later, Liamh had done that part and was out selecting jewelry.

"We are the only clothing store in town that doesn't specialize with just the certain thing. You're going to need these . . . " Eamonn pointed out several different kinds of necklaces, all different lengths and meaning. Then she pointed out the earring, which weren't quite as important as the necklaces, but nonetheless important. Next came the headdresses and masks.

"In the sylph world, these are the most important things that you could possibly pick up. They tell your personality and the flavor of what you are. You pick these out on your own."

Liamh ended up picking the Juliet style headdresses (1) and the theatre- style masks (2). Eamonn looked as if she would have liked to make a comment, but decided not to. Instead he slipped a note discreetly into Liamh's bag about the things he had chosen. Eamonn went to calculate the cost, and handed a long strip of paper to Danu to sign.

"That'll be 1,000 trisks."

"A thousand?" Liamh gasped.

"Well, you've basically got everything you'll ever need in the clothing department, so think of it as what you'd pay for a lifetime's worth of clothes. If you look at it that way, it's not so bad." Eamonn assured Liamh. Danu was quickly writing out a payment document, like a check, saying that they'd pay later when they had the money out of the palace/castle.

"Where are we going next?" Liamh asked after they were let out into the open.

"We're going to the salon to get your hair done. Honestly, you look like you cut it off yourself the way it's so short and uneven." Danu replied, with a hint of irritation.

They walked, with Liamh trotting slightly to keep up, until they came to a place that was simply the salon. Liamh felt slightly nervous, and tried to comb his hair flat with his fingers, but the hair won, and he decided to give it up. No bell rang this time, but the hair stylist came right away.

"Well, what can I do to help you two today?" She asked, eyes twinkling.

"As you can see, Liamh needs a new style." Danu said, trying not to explain too much.

"Give me some background, please, I need to do my job to the fullest potential. Otherwise, I might do everything completely wrong for the young one."

Liamh was torn between being indignant that he was now 'the young one' and suspiciousness at what was about to happen to his hair.

"He needs a regal style; he's our next ruler." Danu added in a whisper.

The sylph's eyes got round, and he sucked in breath to stop herself from giving away this fact right away. After all, there was one more sylph waiting for their hair to dry to be styled.

"Hmmmm. Well, sit in the barber chair and I'll think of something." The hairstylist showed Liamh to a chair, and he sat in it, a little reluctantly. The sylph looked at Danu like he was crazy. "You know, with what I have to work with, you might want to take a seat and look through one of our magazines. I'm sure it'll be awhile."

Suddenly, there were hands in Liamh's hair, and he could hear some muttering from the sylph. It sounded suspiciously like 'never do anything with what they have . . . mumble mumble waves grumble grumble beautiful color . . . long, much longer.' Liamh tried to relax, and looked for the first time around at the salon.

It was an old building; not kept up as well as it could have been. The walls were ratty, and Liamh suspected (from the piles and piles of boxes messily strewn about, their contents spilling onto the floor) that the owner had moved here recently. It wasn't really furnished all that well, but that was all a part of the moving in stage. He supposed that materials weren't easy for the sylphs to come by; after all, Danu was fifty and had never been out of the Underworld.

"Are you comfortable?" the sylph asked.

"Yes, very," Liamh answered, trying to swivel around in the chair to look at him.

"Well, you may feel a slightly tingly sensation soon, I'm going to magically grow your hair."

Sure enough, before long, there was a tickle in his scalp, the sylph's hands running over it deftly, untangling the bits that got tangled as it grew, combing it. He could feel his head get heavier and heavier as his hair grew thicker and longer, and before he knew it, the process was done.

"All we need to do now is wash, dry, and brush through it and you should be good to go. Follow me over to the sink." With that, the sylph took a firm hold on his hair and determinedly floated him over to the sink. The hair was dumped into the sink (making a direct thudding noise as it did so) and Liamh felt the lavender smell that emanated from the water here wash over his skin.

Before he knew it, his head was being held over a fire, and he was a complete wreck. Looking up with terrified eyes, the sylph took this to mind.

"Oh, I thought you knew. Sylvan hair is stronger than mortal hair; as you may have found out, it does what it pleases, and not many things choose to shrivel and burn if given that choice." She answered his silent plea, embarrassed.

"That's you done, then, just brush through it with this every day, and you should be all right." The sylph handed him an oddly shaped comb/brush, it was bendy, and had bristles on the inside and outside of it to help untangle.

"Who here has the money? Oh, sorry about that, dear, there's a mirror over there." The hairstylist gestured vaguely to a back room. While Danu paid, Liamh decided he'd go figure out just what he looked like. Perhaps that wasn't a very good idea.

He looked imperial, to say the least. His (now MUCH longer) ebony hair flowed down to well past his waist, curling in some directions as it went and leaning in others, weaving gentle lines down his back. It completely set off his face, flowing around it rather than trying to cover it up, as it had seemed to be doing before. His ears gently poked out the sides, giving him a wild, surreal look. He touched his hair in wonder. Had it always been this beautiful?

"Liamh! We have to be getting back to the palace!" Danu called back to him.

"Uh - I'm coming!" He was then whisked off to the front desk.

"Thank you very much for helping us out, he needed this." Danu said apologetically.

"Well, it's business, I'm grateful for that. Goodbye." The owner called out to them as they passed on their way out.

"What're we doing now?" Liamh asked.

"Taking you back to the palace for lessons." Danu was almost jogging.

"Lessons? Already?"

"Well, you're going to need to know how to act at your coronation tomorrow." Danu countered as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Lessons? Act? Coronation?!?"

* * *

Dear Hermione,

I have your book, as was ordered, I'm sure you've gotten that by now. I had a job finding it; it appeared that there aren't very many accurate books on sylphs out there. Most of them are just myths.

Anyway, the real reason I need to talk to you is that I overheard a conversation when I went into the Leaky Cauldron. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy appeared to be . . . erm, well, fighting. She was going on about how he was weak because of some curse that he had put on someone else, and he was saying that he was slapping the Dark Arts in the face, and I was really confused. Does that mean that he's on our side now? What the heck was up with her being concerned about his health? Who's under a curse? Why would it affect him? I can't think of anything else; it's really becoming a wicked scary obsession, and I haven't the brains to figure this one out on my own. Help me.

Ron

* * *

Hermione quickly took Hermes in out of the gale; he was shuddering beyond belief. It appeared that Ron didn't think Pig could handle a book and a letter. He never really thought much of his little owl. She smiled to herself; she was in his debt once again.

She read the attached letter, and something that she had been wondering about fell into place. She had seen Draco Malfoy walk as if he didn't want to go where he was going, and not just to classes. Things like to Hogsmeade, into the Great Hall, but a second later he would grimace and keep going without further hesitation. As for the Dark Arts, she thought that it sounded like Lucius Malfoy was controlling something. She just wished she could have been there for the conversation. She knew Ron hadn't told her all of the details. She'd have to work extensively on this case.

* * *

"I'll leave you here; your instructor should be here in a moment." Danu muttered importantly, leaving Liamh to his own devices in the extensive ballroom.

It was huge. The hall was currently being decorated with strings and branches of beautiful green leaves. How would that be possible? It was the middle of winter. Of course, the air was open; it wasn't closed off on any sides except where it connected to the rest of the palace. The floor underneath him was cold stone; it was glassy, however, as if it had been polished marble. He looked up to see a sylph walking as if it had something monstrous to do in only a very short time.

"You must be Liamh. You look lost enough." The sylph held out its hand. "I'm Caelum."

"Well, then I'm Liamh."

"Very good. We've so far, in the last five minutes, established handshaking." Caelum looked distractedly at his watch. It didn't have numbers, or even letters, but rather, the stars and moons whizzing around in a circle. "Now, sit down."

Liamh looked at the floor, then back up at Caelum. "Where?"

"Oh, right, right, the chair, just a moment." Caelum appeared to be concentrating, and then a chair just suddenly appeared.

"How did you do that?"

"Well, I concentrated, but we have no time for magic tricks now. Sit in the chair."

Liamh plopped in the chair.

"No, you should sit up straighter."

Liamh forced his back into a straight line.

"No, slouch more."

"Why? I thought that nobles sat this straight." Liamh said, flushing.

"The whole reason you have to learn how to sit correctly is that you don't look like you should as a ruler. You're supposed to have an unreal beauty, but if you sit too straight, you look too perfect, and people are only beautiful because of their imperfections. You are supposed to have a surreal, yet regal stance, now let's try it again."

Liamh slouched a bit more in his chair, and he saw Caelum smile. He did feel good; it was strange to think that he was having lessons on how not to be too perfect.

"Very good. You're a fast learner. Now, to make you acceptable as a ruler (and you are vulnerable at an age so young, people may not trust you) you should hold your head with humility." Caelum explained.

Liamh was confused, and to cover that up, he said, "Could you show me?"

Caelum held his head straight, but not proud. It was as if they were equals. Liamh tried, and accomplished this small feat.

"All right. Very good. There will be a dance tomorrow, so we have to go into that whole thing. But for now, we will go over walking, standing, and vocals." Caelum looked slightly stressed, but hid it gracefully. "Well! Stand up!"

Liamh tumbled to his feet, and smoothed the creases sitting had made in his robes.

"I never want to see you do that again. Except in the morning. I can't expect anything too much in the morning." Caelum sat down. "Like this." She stood elegantly, and as he did so, running both hands smoothly down her shirtfront.

"Oh."

"Now you try it."

Liamh sat down and imitated Caelum perfectly.

"Very good." He briskly shook her head, getting to the next part of the lesson. "Standing. Oh dear lord, we barely have enough time. Okay, stand usually with one foot slightly behind the other, back nearly straight, head held at an elevation that suggests you're royal, but that you don't have the mentality of a pig."

Liamh stared at Caelum like he was completely stark ravers bonkers, then pushed his back out, put his right foot before his left, and held his head up so he was looking down his nose. Caelum actually giggled.

"Okay, you look like your nose is being magnetically pulled upwards. Level your head off so people can look into your eyes. They truly are windows to your soul; if you try to hide them, people may think you're scared."

Liamh leveled his head, slouched his back just a tad, and looked over at Caelum.

"We have a lot of work to do." Caelum muttered. "Anyway, when we walk, we try to do it as if our feet never leave the ground. Do you think you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yeah."

"Well. Try it out." Caelum gently prompted.

"Oh."

Liamh shuffled off across the floor. He tried to walk as though it was natural for his feet not to leave the ground.

"You look like you've severely hurt yourself. Watch."

Caelum glided across the floor; Liamh made sure to look at her feet. They did indeed look as though they never left the ground, but they did. Just as his toes were leaving the ground, her heals skidded across the floor, but somehow there was no shuffle sound.

"You try it."

Liamh got up his courage, and mechanically glided along, his arms plastered to his sides.

"Well, you've got the footwork, but the top half of you looks like a bloody robot. Swing your arms casually."

Liamh doubled back and swung his arms, as he would have in the Free World.

"But your hips! Swing them ever so slightly."

Liamh frustratedly tried this, but he swung them with the wrong rhythm.

"No! Swing them with your legs, not fighting them!" Caelum finally sighed, giving in. "You've basically got it." He glanced down at the odd kind of watch that the sylphs used to tell time. "Now you need lessons in fine dining."

* * *

Hermione looked over at Crookshanks. She had been perusing her miniature library for over two hours. He was mewling excitedly; pawing at a bookshelf.

"What are you trying to show me now, Crookshanks, dear?" She muttered, suspiciously tilting in her chair.

She bent low to pick up her slightly neurotic cat. She kissed his forehead, glaring at the very bottom of the shelf. There was something she had never seen before.

* * *

"Today, we'll be having a sampling of the foods that we'll have tomorrow, just so you know how to eat it when the time comes." Caelum said, but stopped as Liamh tried to sit at the same time he did. "No, you always let the people who know more than you sit first. It's common courtesy."

"Oh." Liamh held back then sat. His face fell at the sight of all the utensils they had set before him. Caelum discreetly noticed this, and held up the first thing that occurred to him. "This is a seed remover. You stick it in the fruit (or sometimes vegetable) and concentrate on bringing all the seeds out of the fruit. And it will. Try it with your apple."

Liamh stuck it in the apple and concentrated, feeling the seeds moving toward his seed remover. When he pulled it out, and opened it again, the seeds fell out.

"If you like to peel your apples, we usually do with our knives, and skin it in a circular motion." Caelum demonstrated. "If not, just bite into it." Liamh bit into his apple.

"What you see on your plate is a stewed Billywig." He pointed to the little bug-like thing that Liamh recognized from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. "What we do to eat these is take these-" she held up something that was vaguely like tweezers and pliers combined. "and pry open the shell to eat the inside." Caelum did so, and Liamh, thinking it looked rather simple, tried to open his, but instead found that Billywigs fly quite adequately when flung. Caelum looked over to where it had landed; a small little amused smile on his face, and beckoned it back from the small fountain in the corner.

"Don't be so forceful." She said gently.

The rest of lunch was rather an adventure, and Liamh found that around him, most of his food was adequately equipped to fly. Caelum was quite exasperated, but still (amazingly) patient.

"What am I going to do when I try to get that British accent out of your voice?" She moaned, eyes heavenward.

* * *

Hermione prodded at the knot, and, as her suspicions had told her, the bookshelf moved aside to allow her just enough space to walk in.

It was amazing. There were shelves upon shelves of wizard's books, all at the tips of her fingers. She didn't know where to run off to first; the section that would help her with her Transfiguration, or the section labeled Restricted. Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her, and she went over to the Restricted Section.

* * *

"Now, Liamh, I have to say, through your accent, it's really hard to tell what you've been saying, but we can get the gist of it. You really must try and lose the accent. Listen to the way we talk here, and try to imitate it." Caelum drawled in a tongue that flew and punctuated itself at ease, making it easy to sound lighthearted, but also sound as though you truly did See more than mere mortals. "Well, say something."

"Oh, right. I must really learn to speak correctly, or you might think I needed to go to the madhouse." Liamh said quickly.

"Heavens help me." Caelum muttered. "I think we're going to need the books." She drew something out of his pocket. "I thought we might need these. Repeat after me: Moses supposes his toeses are roses."

Liamh looked at Caelum like he was crazy. "I saw that in a Muggle movie! I think it was called 'Singin' in the Rain.'"

"Repeat after me: Moses supposes his toeses are roses." Caelum impatiently said.

"Moses supposes his toeses are roses."

"No, now do it like I say it. Moses supposes his toeses are roses."

They went on rather in the same vain for a while, with little sayings that tested different parts of Liamh's speech. After watching Singin' in the Rain, it was rather hard not to just burst out into song. They went through most of the sounds, but it was trying, and Caelum still had something to teach Liamh.

"Put this in your mouth horizontally so that we can see it poking your cheeks." She handed Liamh a little cue tip, and he (reluctantly, I must add) shoved it in his mouth.

"Read from the book of sayings." Caelum put the book in his hands. "And remember, we want it somewhat decipherable."

"Molez shupozes hish tosz are rosvis."

"No, try it while rolling your tongue around the cue tip."

"Mozes su-poe-ziz hisz toes-es are ro-ziz."

"Try harder!"

"Moses supposes his toehs are roses."

"Just say toeses."

"Toe-ziz."

"Again!"

"Toeses!" Liamh laughed, trying to cover his mouth.

"Right! You've got it! Next line!"

* * *

Lucius fell back into bed. It had been a trying day, to say the least. Narcissa just wouldn't leave him alone. Why did the woman think that she had a remote chance of changing his mind? His son was too old to have the curse lifted from him; he was also a teenager. We all know that even with a spell they can sometimes get out of hand.

But he felt so tired. He didn't know where his son was, but he could feel that Draco was thinking about something he shouldn't be thinking about. He sent a jolt of pain to him, anger merging into a physical burning. That would teach him.

* * *

"Now, when we dance, we usually just follow the music, and let our subconscious tell us what to do." Caelum said, making the chair they had been practicing with disappear. "It actually looks somewhat like Free World- ish ballet and hip-hop combined." With that, Caelum went to the door with a flourish. "Your dance instructor is here."

Liamh turned to see a sylph gracefully floating toward him.

"I'm Nikiatom." This sylph was shy; she didn't seem to want to say much. "You can't dance in that. For these lessons, you'll need to put on one of the dance costumes you bought today." He whispered, embarrassed. Liamh decided to help her out.

"Where would I do that?" He gently probed.

"There's a side door out to your left if you leave the hall."

Liamh left, watching quietly as Nikiatom started warming up to the soft melody that was playing from somewhere.

* * *

Draco shrieked out in pain; why must his father punish him so?

He had only been thinking about Harry. What was so wrong with that? He had been wondering where he was, what he was doing. He knew nothing of sylphs, had barely heard of them. In fact, the only reason he knew anything about them was the fact that when he was four he had wandered into the kitchens and had overheard the House Elves telling stories to the baby House Elf about the Elder Breed, the Sylphs. But he was an impatient little child, or at least his father made him that way, and he coughed loudly. However, not before he heard that sylphs were beyond mere mortal beauty. He sighed.

What Draco didn't know was that he had gotten in trouble because he had been thinking that it seemed right now that Harry was part Sylph . . . he was far too etherial a creature to be a wizard.

* * *

"How do you think we would dance to this music?" Nikiatom timidly asked of Liamh after he had emerged redly wearing a floaty sort of thing.

"Well, it sounds light, so you wouldn't make any sudden movements, and . . . erm, it gets louder and softer a lot, so . . . um, that means that you'd do a lot of upper body movements. Uh, I don't really know."

"Well, actually you're right, in a way. Let's just get started dancing, and I think you'll get it."

They danced. Only it was nothing like dancing as Liamh knew it. It was flying. They twirled their way across the floor, dancing in their bare feet, letting the music take their bodies and gracefully bring motion to sound. Before either of them expected it, the dance was over.

"That was one kind of dance." Nikiatom murmured after their dance was done. Liamh saw that he clearly needed help with this, so he asked, "What kind of dance?"

"Ballroom dancing." Nikiatom was just barely starting to build courage. "The next song that will be played will hopefully be a slightly less formal kind. In this dance there is a slight requirement; we aren't to kick high or anything really acrobatic, u-unlike what we just did. Most of the time that we dance, our hands will be in contact. There is one move, the rest is improvisation." Nikiatom showed him a little funny kind of half-step, then gestured for Liamh to do the same.

"I think you're ready for it."

The music that played this time was a funny sort of jazz, only the instruments that were being used were barely recognizable. Liamh heard a piano, and what sounded like a saxophone/clarinet, and the rest was undecipherable. It was a bit of a faster song, and they danced quickly, less worrying about the grace of the dance than the way they appeared.

After that, Nikiatom explained that the more casual the dance, the more complicated it was. They wouldn't go into casual dancing if Liamh didn't want to, so they finished the night off dancing for practice, and Liamh got more skilled as the night went on, and Nikiatom got more open as the night wore on, and finally, they were walking to Liamh's suite.

"Thank you very much for the lessons, Nikiatom, they meant a lot to me, and I get the feeling that you didn't have to teach me." He smiled at the nervous sylph, who quirked her mouth. "Good-night."

"G'night." Nikiatom whispered.

Liamh leaned on his door after going back inside. He wasn't sure about it, but he thought he'd made his first real friend.

A/N- That was a fairly tedious chapter, I hope that it kept your attention. I also hope that you appreciated the whole cue-tip in mouth bit, because I actually . . . oh, wait, if I said that, I'd be embarrassed. Ignore me.

The chapter after the next may be a while in coming, I have to think of something political, and it's gonna be another one of those filler chaps that we all get really irritated with. If you have any ideas, please tell me in a review (the whole 'only members can review' thing is fixed, thanks to those of you who told me about it, I forgot all about it.)

Thank you very much to all my lovely reviewers, my internet was down for a while, so I couldn't email you back. And I wish I could, but now that FF.N is running again I for some odd reason can't check my reviews and its really irritating, but I'll hopefully do all that in the next chapter. (



1-For those of you who are interested, they are a chain-metal band that goes around your head, with delicate chains that sit across your hair and fit it perfectly, then other chains that go down your back in a sort of hairnet thing. Very delicate and beautiful. Liamh's had a chain that hangs down on your forehead for decoration with little green things on them.

2-Also for those of you that are wondering, these are slim styles that cover the top half of your face, but these sort of morphed with your head so they stayed on but complimented your features exactly. Kind-of like Mardi Gras, only these were in a more Renaissance reminiscent style. Liamh's were silver with deep purple and forest green in stripes that resembled a dragon design, and another for more formal occasions was black and white, the black as the background, with silvery-white around the eyes and four dots under the eyes which were horizontal and went from one side to the other. Sprouting from the top were six sleek peacock-ish curls (three on each side) with a teardrop thing hanging from them. Extremely elegant.