Author's Notes: Well guys, I'm going for it! Call me kooky, but exams are over and all, and I'm going to spend all today writing, hoping to get this thing done. After this chapter there's another short chapter and an epilogue…even if I get all the real chapters done, and I leave the epilogue for tomorrow, I'll be happy. Consequently, I don't really have time to write amusing author's notes or review songs or do shout-outs or anything. My humble apologies. But know this: I've read each and every review like, 50 times, and if it wasn't for you guys, I wouldn't be typing my arse off right now in a frantic attempt to finish this before Book 5. Thanks so much for all your criticism, support, and love. ^_^ Awww…

The chapter title really has absolutely nothing to do with the chapter, as a matter of fact. I think I just put that phrase in there, quite by accident, and when I read the chapter over I was like, "Hey, cool! I think I shall name the chapter that in honour of Michael J. Fox and co." Thus, crazy chapter title.

This chapter is for all the people who like Diana, or who have come to ship Harry/Diana. I'm still amazed that people actually accepted my OC paired with Harry Potter. That's very rare, and I thank y'all! So enjoy. ^_^

***

Diana awoke with a pounding headache and a very sore shin. She groaned, eyes still closed, and stretched her legs. She was lying down, but she wasn't in her bed. Daring to open one eye, Diana winced as bright sunlight temporarily blinded her. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the bright room she was in, and then looked around, trying to remember how the hell she had ended up in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.

She was lying on a fairly comfortable cot in the hospital wing, still fully clothed and wearing her boots. Judging by the bright light that burst through the large windows, it was early morning. Surrounding her was a tightly-drawn wall of curtains. Still lying down, Diana raised her arms over her head and stretched them, the details of the previous night slowly coming back to her.

Moments after she and Potter had finally bumped into Moody and Black after their confrontation with Malfoy, a queer look had suddenly come over Harry's face. With sudden alarm, he had only blurted out, "Ron needs us," had rattled off some co-ordinates, and then had Disapparated. Mad-Eye, Diana, and Sirius had quickly followed, only to Apparate into the midst of battle. Somehow, the four of them had managed to defeat a crowd of crimson Dark Hand members, who had seemed rather weak and weary, now that Diana thought about it, while Granger had read aloud the Scrolls of Scuro, evidently reversing their effects. Diana still wasn't absolutely sure of how that had worked.

The biggest surprise of the night was finding out that Potter and Weasley had been right – Stark had indeed been running the show, and not just one of him…two of him. Diana hadn't quite caught all the details, but apparently a misused Time Turner was involved.

Once everything had settled down, and everyone who should have been Stunned was Stunned, the M.L.E.S. and A.M.R.S. had been called in to mop up the mess. Diana remembered Albus and Crump, the Minister for Magic, arriving sometime around midnight to decide what to do with the older Stark. The consensus had been for someone from the A.M.R.S. to escort him back to the future, where, hopefully, he would find himself in Azkaban.

An unconscious younger Stark, a Petrified Malfoy, and a number of Stunned crimson figures were carted off to London to await trials. Diana vaguely remembered being pushed towards a fireplace by someone from the M.L.E.S, who had explained that all the Aurors were being sent to Hogwarts, where Madam Pomfrey would tend to their wounds. Diana had not been very thrilled at the prospect, but a large welt had begun to form on her head from when Malfoy had slammed her into the fireplace, and so she had reluctantly obeyed. Diana had been too exhausted to remember much else, and just vaguely recollected Madam Pomfrey doing something to her head to stop the red welt from growing, and then giving her something that caused her to fall into a deep sleep.

Diana sat up in the cot, wincing as her exhausted body protested loudly. Her shin throbbed painfully, and Diana rolled up her black pants to survey the damage. True to her predictions, a very large, bluish-purple bruise had already begun to blossom on the back of her right leg. She sighed, swung her legs over the bed, and pushed the curtains aside impatiently.

The hospital wing was quiet and peaceful; the eccentric hospital matron was nowhere in sight, and most of the beds either had curtains drawn around them, or were messy and empty, as if they had recently been slept in and then abandoned. Diana quietly walked through the empty hospital wing, glancing at the empty beds – she noticed Joel's dusty cloak lying by one bed, and Owen's wedding ring lying on a nightstand near one cot. Her fellow Aurors had probably awoken just before she had, and were probably either taking showers, eating breakfast, or terrorizing the students. Diana grinned faintly at the last thought; she hadn't been back to Hogwarts since she had quit her job as Potions Mistress last year, and she decided to perhaps do some terrorizing of her own later. She had a score to settle with White and Ramone.

Curious, Diana quietly reached out and pushed a wall of curtains aside in front of one bed, and then smirked to herself as she beheld the picture before her. Granger was sleeping peacefully in the little cot, tucked firmly in under the covers, her eyes no longer shadowed and her face no longer deathly pale. The colour had returned to her cheeks in only a few short hours; perhaps whatever she had done with the scrolls had worked after all. But the humorous part was Weasley, who was sprawled over top of the covers, sleeping soundly next to her. He cuddled closer to Granger in his sleep, and Diana used all her willpower to resist making some sort of snarky comment that would probably wake them. Shaking her head, but unable to keep from grinning wryly, Diana closed the curtains.

Her gaze was suddenly drawn to the doors leading to the balcony outside the hospital wing. Deciding that some fresh air would be beneficial to her throbbing head, Diana briskly walked towards the doors and quietly pulled them open, stepping onto the balcony and into the crisp, bright, morning.

There was no mistaking the tall figure already outside on the balcony; his messy black hair was damp, probably from showering, and his black cloak was thrown carelessly on the ledge of the balcony, despite the fact that it was February. Potter quickly turned around, and then smiled brightly once he saw it was her. Wordlessly, Diana joined him at the banister, leaning forwards on it. She glanced out at the Hogwarts grounds; though it was February, all the snow had already melted, and the lawns glittered as the sun caught the morning dew. It was not as cool outside as Diana had thought it would be, but the morning breeze was cool on her bare arms nonetheless. She glanced at Potter's wet hair.

"You know, Granger stopped an influenza epidemic…that doesn't mean you can't still catch pneumonia," she commented.

"I just took a shower," Harry explained.

"No way," Diana said in mock surprise.

Harry rolled his eyes and grinned at her, and then returned his gaze to the Hogwarts grounds. "Did you sleep all right?"

"I think Pomfrey may have drugged me. But yes, I suppose I did. Where's everyone else?"

"They said they were going for breakfast, but I suspect that they're really just strolling around telling everyone that they're Aurors so that the kids will look at them adoringly."

"I thought as much too," Diana said, smiling wryly. She glanced over at her partner and took a proper look at him for the first time; she was surprised to see that he had finally shaved his goatee, and he looked very clean and fresh after his shower. She was quite close to him, and she knew he smelled of soap and also faintly of grass from being out in the early morning. Diana mentally slapped herself for being foolish and noticing foolish things, and then returned her gaze to the clear, February sky.

"How's your leg?" she asked lightly.

"Better. Madam Pomfrey put something on it that smelled like old socks and burned like hell, and then the wound closed up."

"Old socks, huh?"

"A better description eludes me at the moment," Harry grinned. His green eyes flickered over to her, and Diana realized that she must have looked like hell; her short, black hair was messy and tangled, and she was fairly certain that her eyes were still puffy with sleep. "How's your head?" he asked.

"Well, it's intact. But I think someone may have taken a sledgehammer to my shin."

Potter cocked his head and glanced downwards. Diana mentally slapped herself again as she realized her right pant leg was still rolled up. Harry crouched down and ran his fingers over the large bruise, whistling and shaking his head. Diana inadvertently shivered as his fingers brushed against her leg. She quickly bent down and rolled down her pant leg, trying to remain indifferent to the fact that Potter had all been caressing her leg. She suddenly realized how completely ridiculous that would have looked to anyone watching.

"Yep, that's definitely a prize-winner," Harry said with a grin, rising to his feet again.

"Think Moody will give me a medal?"

"Undoubtedly."

They briefly exchanged grins and then quickly looked away, returning to staring at the grounds. After last night, there was definitely something different between Diana and her partner, and it was putting her on edge. She dangled her arms over the railing of the balcony, listening to the peaceful silence of the morning.

"So," Diana blurted out, unable to stand the quiet any more. "How do you feel?"

Harry blinked, surprised, but considered this question for a moment. "Relieved, I guess, that it's over," he answered truthfully. "And…I'm glad that I didn't kill Malfoy."

Diana smiled. "I thought you would be."

Harry shook his head grimly. "No, not because I feel bad for him or anything. I want him to live so that he can suffer in Azkaban. Suffer for the rest of his life." Potter's eyes glittered with what looked like malice, but then the fire in his eyes died away and his shoulders slumped. "Is that cruel of me?"

"No," Diana answered bluntly. "He's a bastard."

"Still…people would start having seizures if they knew that Harry Potter liked the idea of someone suffering," Harry said gloomily. "It's not very Gryffindor of me."

"Albus wanted Grindelwald to suffer," Diana pointed out. "It's not cruel of you, it's just human nature." She paused, drumming her fingers on the banister. "Speaking of Albus, whatever happened to him last night?"

"He was trying to get to Crump," Potter explained. "Crump was off somewhere doing a last speech or campaign or something, and Dumbledore went to alert him of the situation. Elections are today, you know."

Diana started; it had totally slipped her mind. "So…does Crump automatically win, seeing as his opponent is currently en route to Azkaban?" she asked sarcastically.

"Probably," Harry shrugged. "Thought they'll likely want to keep all this quiet, so they'll allow the voting to continue as planned. But Crump will just win by default, I suppose, no matter what the votes amount to."

"Stark could have won," Diana said slowly, a hint of disgust in her voice. "He could've been our new Minister for Magic right now."

Potter said nothing; the look of disdain on his face was enough of a reply for Diana. They stood there in silence for a few moments, and then Harry suddenly gave a little chuckle.

"What?" Diana demanded, arching an eyebrow.

"Nothing," he grinned, glancing over at her. "It's just…you called me Harry."

"Excuse me?"

"At Stark Manor, when Malfoy was going to…you…you called me Harry." He shrugged, a small smile still on his face.

Diana's heart sped up as she vividly recalled the incident, and just how close her partner had been to getting a dagger in the stomach. But she managed to disguise it well, and sarcastically replied, "That's your name, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah," Potter admitted, shrugging again. "It's just…you've never called me Harry in the entire time I've known you."

Diana sighed impatiently. "Would you like me to call you Harry?" she asked in a patronizing tone. But she honestly wondered if perhaps she'd been offending him by calling him by his last name all this time; after all, it had been the name Malfoy had called him by last night, and perhaps Harry didn't want to be reminded of his old enemy's cold drawl. But Harry shook his head.

"No…no, Potter's fine," he replied with another quick grin.

"Well, great. Glad we established that," Diana replied cynically. She realized that that probably sounded quite lame, and decided it would be wisest just to shut her mouth.

The dark-haired Auror felt goosebumps begin to rise on her arms as the wind picked up again. The cool breeze ruffled her short hair. A very small part of her wondered if Potter would offer her his cloak again. Diana scolded herself, but glanced over at him anyway; his cloak was still slung over the railing, and he seemed too wrapped up in his own thoughts to offer it to her now. Something suddenly stirred in Diana's memory, and she turned around to look sideways at her partner, leaning her elbows against the ledge.

"Potter," she began, her eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Can I ask you a question?"

Harry looked up, surprised. "What sort of question?"

"First promise me that you'll answer it truthfully."

Potter fidgeted, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "What sort of question?" he repeated uncertainly.

Diana rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to ask you what colour underwear you're wearing or anything. It's just a simple question."

Harry sighed, and then hesitated. "Fine," he agreed finally. "Ask away."

Diana smiled triumphantly. "How did you get caught in Egypt?"

Harry's face fell and he swiftly turned around to look at the view again. "My underwear is white," he answered with false enthusiasm.

Diana almost snorted with laughter, but she managed to maintain her probing, determined expression. "Don't be a smartass, Potter. Answer the question."

"Why's it mean so much to you, anyway?" Harry challenged.

"Because my partner never gets caught," Diana replied, jutting out her chin and raising her eyebrows at him. Harry sighed in defeat and returned his gaze to the Hogwarts grounds.

"Because they knew about you, all right?" he muttered gruffly, his neck turning a bit pink. "I took off because I found out that a group of them had discovered there was an agent keeping track of their activity in Cairo…they thought there was just one of us…and they were going to go after us. So…I left, and I let them catch me so that they'd think I was the one agent in Cairo, and they wouldn't go after you." He said all this very quickly and then looked up at the sky, his ears growing pink as well.

Diana could only stare at him, her mouth hanging open slightly. There was a long silence between them, until Diana finally found her voice.

"You…idiot!" she exclaimed. "You deliberately walked into a trapped and allowed yourself to get captured?! You could've been hurt! Or killed! You were tortured, for Merlin's sake!" she ranted incredulously. "Why must you always be the hero, Potter?! Couldn't you have just told me that they knew we were there before you decided to go all self-sacrificing and got yourself captured? And I came to look for you, like the idiot I am, so you could've gotten us both imprisoned in the tomb that time forgot!"

Harry mouthed wordlessly, and then sighed. "I just didn't want to see you get hurt," he muttered, turning away from her again.

"That's right," Diana snapped, not really listening and continuing her tirade, "you just didn't want to see…" she trailed off and blinked, staring hard at him. Diana felt a slight flush in her cheeks, and she let the words die on her lips. Suddenly, she realized that his sacrifice had meant that she could continue her job in Cairo and gather essential information.

But Potter's actions had gone way beyond the call of duty. He had done it to keep her out of danger. And when it came to Harry's crazy hero tendencies, he usually only did the brave-and-noble thing for the people he truly cared about. Diana tried to ignore the fact that her heart had sped up again.

Honestly, Drago, when did you become such a sap? She snapped at herself. She was letting her barriers down again, all because of Potter; Potter and his stupid good listening skills and infectious laugh and noble tendencies and nice soap smell. Diana clenched her fists and glared at him.

"I am your partner, Harry," she said brusquely. "And I can take care of myself. So next time you decide to go and do something all noble, let me know, will you? Because you'll probably just end up getting us both killed."

Potter didn't reply, and he didn't look at her; he only dropped his eyes to the ground silently. Diana desperately tried to ignore the pull at her heartstrings, and turning around, she began to quickly walk away.

Before she could even reach the doors, however, Diana had slowed, feeling guilt wash over her. Perhaps she'd been a bit harsh. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she sighed heavily.

"Look, Potter – " Diana began apologetically as she turned around again. But to her surprise, she bumped right into Harry's chest as she whirled back around. Evidently, he had started to follow her, an apology on his lips as well.

They both went very still for the briefest of seconds, only centimetres away from each other. The only thing Diana's brain could register was that lovely soap smell, stronger than ever.

Then, before Diana knew what was happening, her hands were cupping Harry's clean-shaven, smooth face, his arms were around her waist, and their lips were meeting with a hungry eagerness. Before she could stop herself, Diana pressed her body to him as the kiss grew even more passionate and intense. Her head spun as an overwhelming, wonderful sensation filled her entire body. Every emotion she felt, every spark between them, was doubled as Harry's intense emotions filtered through to her through their bond, adding to her own. Diana almost forgot who and where she was as her hands moved to the back of his neck, sifting through his wet hair, and his hands ran up and down her spine, sending electric sensations coursing through her.

A tiny voice somewhere in Diana's head screamed its disapproval at her, reminding her that she prided herself on restraint, that she had emotional barriers in place for a reason, that she was letting down every defence she had carefully built up around herself over the years.

To hell with you, Diana mentally retorted to the tiny voice. The voice surrendered and disappeared as Harry's lips moved against hers eagerly, passionately. Her body seemed to fit just right against his. Diana felt wonderfully dizzy, and the bond on her wrist was burning. Had she known that the tension between them and their occasional awkward silences would translate into this, Diana would have let down her defences long, long ago.

Harry finally pulled away slowly, though he didn't release his grip on her, and Diana reluctantly opened her eyes. Both of them were quite breathless, and Diana was sure that her face was as flushed, and her ears were as red, as Harry's. He took a deep breath and searched her eyes uncertainly, and then a grin slowly spread over his face.

"…Well," Harry managed to breathe with a nervous laugh.

"Well," Diana replied, still feeling tingles run through her body. She fought the urge to run, to get out before she could get hurt. But surprisingly, she just laughed as well, and then pulled him towards her again by his cloak, closing her eyes as her lips readily met his again.

***

Any student who happened to be strolling on the Hogwarts grounds would have no doubt been curious about the large group of grown men standing below the hospital wing balcony, their necks all craned upwards. Thankfully, the students all seemed to be enjoying their breakfast indoors, and no one else was around to ask questions. The Aurors dropped their gazes and awaited the news as Joel Landers lowered the Omniculars he held in his hands.

"Well?" Jeremy asked impatiently, having recovered from the Cruciatus curse performed on him after a good night's rest.

Joel just sighed and nodded solemnly in response. This was met by a few triumphant cheers, an "About time," from Owen Darnell, and quite a bit of dejected grumbling as half the Aurors began to dig into their pockets unhappily.

"All right, all right, everyone settle down," Joel said, reaching into his pocket and removing a crumpled piece of parchment. He glanced down at it. "Okay…Ian owes Owen and Robbie five galleons, Radcliff owes Owen and Jameson ten galleons, I owe Robbie ten sickles and a drink at the Three Broomsticks, and I owe Jeremy…" Joel's eyes widened, "twenty galleons?!"

"That's right, Joel, old boy," Jeremy laughed, rubbing his hands together. Joel muttered under his breath as the rest of the Aurors began to exchange coins.

"Oh, Di," Joel sighed wistfully, glancing upwards as he rummaged around in his robes for his wallet. "You broke my heart, and now you're costing me twenty galleons."

"Cough it up, Landers," Jeremy said unsympathetically, extending his hand gleefully.

Joel counted out twenty golden coins and slapped them into Jeremy's outstretched palm, grumbling.

***

Ron protested sleepily as something tickled his nose. He tried to groggily swat whatever it was away without opening his eyes, but the thing did not move, and was now brushing against his face. Weighing his options, Ron decided that whatever it was wasn't all that annoying, and he happily tried to sink back into his deep sleep. But now Ron's mind was awake even if his body wasn't, and his brain began pestering him with annoying questions. There seemed to be something very important that he had to remember…something he had to check on…

Stark. Scrolls. Hermione. The memories of the previous night abruptly hit Ron like a Bludger, and he quickly opened his bleary eyes, trying to determine his whereabouts.

He was greeted by the sight of Hermione's beautiful face, lying next to his on the pillow. The tickling he had felt had been strands of her hair brushing against his face. Hermione's eyes were also open, and a small smile was playing across her lips.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi," Ron whispered back hoarsely. As his sleep-blurred vision began to improve, Ron could see that her cheeks were flushed, and some colour had come back into her face. Her eyes were no longer glittery or vacant, but full of warmth, and her lips were red again instead of bloodless. Her hair was a complete mess; but then, it always was. Ron closed his eyes again as relief swept over him. It had worked. She was still very much alive, and she was healthy. The small cot creaked as Ron reached out and pulled her closer to him, kissing her hair, her forehead, and finally, her lips. Hermione wrapped her arms around his body and snuggled closer to him, kissing all Ron's aches and pains from the previous night away.

"Ahem."

Ron yelped and rolled backwards, only to discover that there was nowhere to roll. With a dull thump, he fell off the bed and landed in a heap on the ground. Hermione quickly sat up in the cot, her hair flying, blushing furiously. Madam Pomfrey gave the two of them a very cold, disapproving look.

"I see you're both feeling better," the hospital matron said curtly. "Well…if you don't mind, I'd like to send you both on your way, then." She swiftly closed the curtains with a sour look on her face. Ron sat on the floor, staring at where the hospital matron had been, and Hermione winced as they heard a door slam not far off.

The two of them exchanged looks, and then burst out laughing.

Ron rose off the floor, rubbing his behind where he'd fallen, laughing madly. Hermione giggled hysterically for a few moments, and then their eyes locked, both pairs twinkling with humour. Ron quite suddenly bent down and held Hermione to him tightly. Surprised at this rather abrupt change in emotion, Hermione nevertheless hugged him back.

"Merlin, I thought I was going to lose you," Ron muttered over her shoulder. He drew back and gave her a quick, fierce kiss that took her breath away. "Don't ever go and do reckless, daring, and/or heroic things again, understand?"

"I don't plan on it," Hermione admitted, giving him a dazzling smile. She sighed as Ron sat down on the cot facing her, and reached out to gently cradle his face in one hand. "I would have never done that a year ago, you know," Hermione said seriously. "In fact, I would have avoided this entire business at all costs. It would have interfered with my perfect little life, and I probably would have ignored it."

"Shows what a good influence I am," Ron said teasingly, bending his head to kiss her nose. It was good to joke; all he wanted to do was ignore everything that had happened last night, and move on with their lives. Hermione was fine, Harry was fine, and the Muggles and Muggle-borns were safe. That was all he needed to know. Ron smoothed Hermione's hair and kissed her curly head again. He was rarely this affectionate, especially in public, but nearly losing Hermione had had quite the effect on him. He would never take her for granted again.

"It shows what a complete idiot I was," Hermione said with a hint of disgust in her voice. "Don't ever let me become like that again."

"I don't plan to," Ron promised, quickly kissing her again. "You saved the world, Hermione Granger," he said with an air of shock and admiration. "How's it feel?"

"Tiring," Hermione confessed, laughing. "Lucky you took early retirement from the world-saving business."

Ron smiled and reached out, gently pushing her hair out of her face. Hermione grew quiet and sobered. "What happened to the Starks? And Malfoy, and – "

"They were all taken into custody," Ron explained. "And I'm thinking some very harsh new laws are going to be put into place concerning Time Turners."

"And Harry, and the others?"

"I remember them being taken here," Ron commented, rubbing his chin. He briefly pulled back the curtains to see an empty hospital wing. It must have been at least mid-afternoon, and though many of the beds were messy from being slept in, any other signs of the Aurors were gone. Ron let the curtains fall back into place. "They must have showered and eaten here, and then they probably Apparated back to London. But I think Pomfrey fixed everyone up last night. They're probably all fine if they're gone."

"And the scrolls?" Hermione demanded.

"Taken back to the Ministry, I presume."

A frown darkened Hermione's face. "So…they weren't destroyed…when I read…?"
Ron shook his head, and Hermione's shoulders slumped. "So they're still out there," she murmured dejectedly. "Someone like Stark could still waltz away with them, and it could happen all over again."

"It won't," Ron said firmly. But Hermione's expression had changed from dejected to pensive, and she had fallen silent. Ron could almost hear the wheels spinning in her mind.

"Ron? Hermione?" a high, nervous voice called from beyond their curtained refuge.

"Over here," Ron said loudly, swiping the curtains aside. A small, red-headed figure whirled around and rushed over to them.

"You're both all right!" Rowan cried ecstatically as she hurried over. She threw her arms around both Ron and Hermione, and then quickly released them, looking embarrassed. "Sorry," she murmured shyly.

"It's all right," Ron shrugged. "I realize I'm irresistible." Hermione playfully hit him, and he grinned at her.

"When I found out yesterday that you two were missing…and I heard all the students talking about some people searching the grounds in the middle of the night, I almost had a heart attack," Rowan said all in one breath. "What happened? Is everyone okay? Are the scrolls destroyed? Was it really Stark?"

Once the excited and agitated young woman had been calmed down, Ron and Hermione sat her down and re-lived the night's events for her, despite their reluctance to do so. Occasionally, Hermione lapsed into silence and let Ron take over the story, but once it was over and they had gotten all the painful details out in the open, she seemed to feel much better. Rowan's expression changed from one of shock, to horror, to admiration, and finally, relief. Hands clasped in her lap, the young Divination Apprentice sighed as she absorbed it all.

"That was why I couldn't See anything," she murmured thoughtfully. "Direct interference with the past causes chaos in the future, uncertainty…it was all foggy for me because fate had been tampered with."

"Oh, please," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "There's no such thing as fate."

Rowan looked very grave. "Oh yes, there is."

Ron looked at her skeptically. "You're telling me that I have absolutely no real choice in my life…that everything follows the course of a pre-determined path, and we don't have any say in the matter?"

Rowan shook her head. "Of course we do! Why do you think that the art of Divination is so imprecise? It's our choices that determine our fate…what I See in a crystal ball is not necessarily your future, but it is most definitely what one of the paths you have the choice of taking could lead to. What Dameon Stark did was destroy those paths. He tried to build his own roads that would take him where he wanted to go. You could say that he didn't so much tamper with fate, as he tampered with choice."

Ron stared at his former student, impressed. "Rowan," he said sincerely. "You will make a very, very good Divination teacher."

Rowan blushed a deep red, and Hermione smiled at her. "Where's Arden?" Hermione asked. Rowan suddenly jumped up, as if she had sat on something sharp.

"I'd almost forgotten!" she exclaimed. "It was horrible…the night you two left for the banquet, he was just sitting there one minute, and then his eyes had rolled into the back of his head and he was on the floor the next…I didn't know what to do, so I called Madam Pomfrey, and he was in here ever since…" Rowan trailed off and eagerly searched the empty hospital wing, as if expecting to see him. She fiddled with her necklace. "But if you reversed the effects, Hermione, he must be better too!" she said excitedly, her face glowing.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks again. "Well, maybe you should go find him," Ron suggested innocently.

"I think I should probably go find him," Rowan echoed absently, her hand unconsciously reaching up to smooth her fiery hair. She looked back to Ron and Hermione and smiled brightly. "But I'm so glad you two are all right," she blurted out breathlessly. She hurried out of the hospital wing.

Ron and Hermione exchanged meaningful glances, and then burst out laughing again. The dark events of the previous night were already fading fast. Ron reached out and grasped Hermione's hand. She basked him in the radiance of her smile again, and Ron squeezed the small hand tightly. He never wanted to let go of her again.

At that moment, in his heart, a decision was made.

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Woo! The triumphant return of shameless smut. I love it.

That's not all, folks! A chapter and an epilogue to go, huzzah! I am empowered only by caffeine and Girl Guide cookies, which are really quite good. I'm partial to the vanilla ones myself, but my brothers like the chocolate, so, you know, to each their own. Wow, I'm aimlessly rambling. Got to go now and finish typing up Chapter 24 and the epilogue! Hooray!

P.S. This fic now officially has more reviews than Bury the Hatchet. This may or may not be because this fic has more chapters. *Shrug*

P.P.S. Just FYI, I'm currently revising and editing Bury the Hatchet for the Sugar Quill with the help of a beta reader, so a) it will be longer b) it will be much better and c) this fic will make a lot more sense as its sequel. Once it's done, I'll put the revised version up on ff.net, so keep an eye out for that!

P.P.P.S. The purple fuzzy has written a short monologue from Diana's POV inspired by this fic, which is totally awesome and amazingly in character, in my opinion. I think Fuzzy's going to put it up on ff.net, but I'm not sure when or under what name. Details to come! 

P.P.P.P.S. REVIEW! …Please? ^_^