A/N: :D Baaack! Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter two, I'm glad it
went over so well. Beth Ann kindly told me I'd had my settings put so that
I didn't accept anonymous reviews, but that's fixed now, and I'd like to
apologise. Anyway, on with the story!
Hermione cursed her luck as the last of her students left for lunch, watching the Gryffindors' backs as they all milled out of her classroom, talking cheerfully. Today was quite possibly one of the most horrendous days she'd had in a long time, without someone dying of course, and she still hadn't gotten her notes back from Snape's office. How revolting. She would have to seek him out after she'd had her lunch, or maybe even speak with him at the staff table. He wouldn't be in the greatest of moods. After all, he'd probably spent hours searching the castle, only to find out later there was nothing there. Provided Dumbledore had filled him in already.
If he hadn't that, then it would be even worse. 'Just what was going on yesterday, Professor Granger?' He'd likely hiss at her as they ate, throwing her dark looks. And then she'd have to avoid giving him an answer and simultaneously ask for access to his office. She drew in a quick breath. Oh boy would he hate that. Probably think she was trying to spy on him, or something equally unpleasant. 'Well, what can you do, Hermione? You need those notes.' Another part of her brain told her, and she had to agree. Without them she couldn't continue with their plan.
"No use in procrastinating. I'll just ask him at lunch." She told herself forcefully. Time to show a little of that Gryffindor bravery. Straightening out, she flung a stray lock of thick brown hair back, and made her way to the main hall. She wasn't out of the door for more than a minute before she stopped dead in her tracks. There, going down the hallway, was Albus Dumbledore. And he was being tailed by Draco Malfoy. Hermione's eyes narrowed. Why was Malfoy here? Everyone knew he was working for Voldemort. Well, except those blind gluttons in the Ministry, who seemed to think his job as an auror was more than just a pathetic guise. Or, at the very least, didn't care what it was as long as his family kept pumping bribe money their way.
It didn't take long for Malfoy and Dumbledore to notice her, too. The look of annoyance that was only barely visible on Dumbledore's face changed to worry when he saw her. Malfoy's features also darkened. 'Well, can't blame them, it's not like it would be entirely out of character for me to slap him a few times.' She thought darkly. As was expected, Malfoy's glare soon turned into a sharp sneer. It was almost pathetic it was so predictable.
"Granger." He spat darkly. Hermione made certain her hand was hovering within reach of her wand.
"Malfoy." She said, with an equal amount of dark vehemence. The blonde man sneered, his eyes flitting over her as he sized her up.
"I see your still riding on Dumbledore's good graces. Not that herding unruly children is a task below a woman of such... Unfortunate parentage as yourself." He told her viciously. Hermione felt her cheeks go red with anger. Over the years, young Draco's skill with insults had grown less blunt, as he found tact to be a useful ally. But the meaning was still there. He may as well have called her a mudblood for all she cared.
"Watch what you say to me, Malfoy, it would be a shame to wind up in Azkaban after killing a lowlife like you." She hissed back. He opened his mouth to retort, but right then, Dumbledore seemed to decide that a duel in a hallway teeming with students was likely not wise. And indeed, Hermione realised, many of her pupils had stopped to watch the scene. They stood in slack-jawed silence, obviously amazed at seeing their professor behave so contemptuously to such a high-ranking wizard.
"That will be enough Professor." Dumbledore told her lightly. She flinched a little. It made her feel guilty, like she was some errant school-child again. But, of course, the headmaster's attention did not focus on her alone. He shot Malfoy a very reprimanding look. "I believe, Mr. Malfoy, that your discussion was with me." He said firmly. After a few more minutes, during which Draco and Hermione glared at each other as though it was the last thing they would do, Malfoy finally cracked. With a nod to Dumbledore the two continued on their way to the main hall.
'Why is Malfoy here?' Hermione wondered, her rage calming at his departure. She shook her head. 'I'll just have to ask Dumbledore after he leaves.' She reasoned. Around her, the students were beginning to move away, returning to the business of heading down to lunch. Hermione sighed. Would she have to eat at the same table as Malfoy? Not a pleasant thought in the least. She pondered some brief avenue of escape. At least something to keep her busy for a while, give her an excuse to avoid going to lunch right away, although even with one there wouldn't be many who couldn't figure out what she was doing. Suddenly, an idea came to her, and she snapped her fingers triumphantly at the realisation. Snape! He was usually a bit late in leaving his dungeons for lunch. Maybe, she could catch him, and get her notes if she left right now. On the one hand, it was still a horribly humiliating thought. On the other, it was a hell of a lot better than lunch with Malfoy.
Her mind made up, Hermione re-directed her course towards the dungeons. She walked as quickly as she could without looking conspicuous. Never before had she found herself chanting the mantra 'let Snape be there, let Snape be there', but right then, she was. And meaning it as well! Her heeled boots clicked loudly against the stone floor as she walked. Gradually, the throngs of students began to thin out, as she neared the dungeons. Hermione rounded a corner, and almost plowed straight into Severus Snape himself. She swallowed back a sharp squeak of surprise.
"Professor Snape!" She said, a little too loudly for her liking, and winced as her own slightly squeaky voice sounded in her ears. Maybe lunch with Malfoy wouldn't be as bad as she thought...
"What is it?" He snapped back, fixing her with a particularly annoyed look. It was fairly obvious he'd been lost in thought before she came into sight. Hermione frowned. He was far more rude to her than he was to any other teacher, so much so that she found it incredibly degrading. Forgetting her previous insecurities she straightened out and fixed him with her sternest look. Which meant, naturally, that she looked almost freakishly like McGonagall.
"I believe I left my notes from our discussion the other day in your office. I was wondering if you could let me in to retrieve them?" She asked, doing her best not to sound like an ashamed student. Snape fixed her with a very thorough stare for a few seconds. His dark eyes hovered over her form briefly, and just as she was beginning to wonder what he was looking at, he turned on his heels with a swish and headed back down to the dungeons. Taking that as a sign, Hermione followed after him. He hadn't made any snide remarks or comments yet. Ordinarily she would be immensely grateful, but as she watched his dark robes swirling just a few centimetres before her, she realised he probably planned to turn on her at any moment. That would be just like him, wouldn't it? Make her think he was just going to let her get the notes, and then catch her off guard, with some incredibly degrading comment about responsibility and such? He'd turn on her with that dark scowl. It would stretch into a sneer as she walked past, and just when she couldn't see his face anymore, that's when he'd make the comment. Dark, deep voice rumbling out to fray her nerves and... when had she started thinking about his behaviour so much?
"Professor?" Her eyes flew up as Snape said her name with the usual doses of distaste. With a start she realised they were standing outside his office. He held the door open for her, waiting with mocking grace to let her pass through. Retaining her dignity with an admirable flare, Hermione nodded her thanks and walked in.
Much as she hated the man who worked there, Hermione had to admit she loved his office. It was an open, rectangular room, which stretched forward to end with a dark ebony desk. The space was wide enough for three people to walk side-by-side with only a little difficulty. The air in the room had a spicy, heady aroma, a bit like the scent of books but mixed with an undeniable sharpness. At first glance, it would be hard to tell the workspace from a storeroom, were it not for the desk at the end. And, of course, the cauldron just behind it. On either wall, up to the roof, were thick black shelves lined with bottles and boxes of the most fascinating ingredients. Things Snape didn't even like to keep in his special storeroom. Each item was labelled precisely, stored in alphabetical order, and facing forward so that the Potions Master's neat script was clearly visible. A thin veil of steam still clung to the air above their heads, coming from the cauldron at the back of the room. The potion they had been working on was simmering, before they would add the diced trolls' eyes and a few other unpleasant items.
In contrast to the neat order of the shelves was the uncanny chaos on Snape's desk. There were papers and notes strewn everywhere. Even so, it didn't take Hermione long to find her own work. While her print was tiny, compressed, and made with neat little strokes, every other piece of parchment on the table was covered in Snape's bold scrawls.
The man himself waited by the door as she swept her notes up into her arms. Quickly, she glanced at the potion they had started yesterday. It was as clear and translucent as water, but definitely thicker, as the gassy bubbles that stretched from it's surface indicated. Perfect. By the time they were done, it would be the colour of a clear sky, and would taste like regurgitated mushroom soup. "Is something wrong?" Snape asked testily, as he watched her pause to scrutinise their work. Hermione shook her head and made her way back over to him.
"No, nothing at all, just checking." She supplied. Then she braced herself, waiting for the inevitable 'Well, then, I'm glad it meets your approval, Professor. Seeing as how I couldn't bare not to meet your incredibly high standards, as I am only the lowly Potions Master after all, and it can't be expected for someone like me to know how to care for such things.' That he would surely spit with venomous sarcasm.
"And?" He said. Hermione paused.
"What?" She asked, confused by the lack of snapping or bitter sarcasm to his voice. He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.
"And, what was your opinion, Professor Granger?" He supplied with more detail. Now, this was a situation Hermione was completely unprepared for. He wasn't snapping at her, wasn't being sarcastic, was making no threats, and had yet to say a single degrading thing about her actions. She fought the overwhelming urge to check and see if he had a fever. Realising that he was waiting for a reply, his eyes fixed expectantly upon her, Hermione hastily drew away from her own amazement.
"It's fine, of course. Clear but thick and steaming nicely." She told him, a bit dazed. 'Maybe he's being civil on purpose, to throw me off my guard.' Her thoughts provided. He nodded in agreement to her statement, and it was then that she noticed, he seemed to be very deep in contemplation. 'Of course! He's just distracted, that's all. He must be thinking about Demitrius.' She realised, and berated herself for not seeing it sooner. Why else would he miss an opportunity to humiliate her? 'Severus Snape being decent on purpose. Quit dreaming Hermione.' Her brain told herself, and she was surprised to find just the tiniest, smallest twinge of disappointment lying there.
"Very well. We'll continue our progress tomorrow after classes then." He instructed. Then, leaving her to stand with her thoughts, he departed distractedly. Hermione watched him go quietly. Well, one thing hadn't changed, he still didn't bother to wait for her answer. 'I could have plans for tomorrow!' She thought darkly. 'Well, I don't, but I could have.'
~
Demitrius fought hard to keep from looking at Draco Malfoy, to keep from wondering what it would be like to crush his neck beneath his boot, or raise his wand and shout 'crucio' at the top of his lungs. Brutus Fitsgibbons seemed completely ignorant of the somewhat bloody and violent thoughts his new 'friend' was trying to suppress, and was barking out crude comments about several of the fifth year girls, and their new 'developments'. Demitrius ignored this, as well as his constant, annoying references to Quidditch. He was focusing hard on maintaining control. Outwardly, this showed very little. Perhaps in they way his jaw clenched, and his dark eyes darted over to Malfoy, as the older man stood talking to Dumbledore while he ate. Inwardly, Demitrius had rarely felt so at a loss of control. His nerves were frayed by this unexpected presence. Images were floating to mind, glimpses of painful memories, before he managed to slam down on them hard and lock them away. Before he could regain his inner composure.
He violently shoved all thoughts of Draco and Marcus Malfoy from his mind and wrenched his eyes away from the staff table. Such things could be dealt with later, but if he kept on his current course, he would more than likely cause a scene. He didn't even notice when his father entered the main hall, and balked at the sight of Malfoy. Silently Demitrius finished eating his lunch. He didn't spare Brutus a glance as he ate cleanly, but quickly, and then stood from the table. Without a word he left the dining hall.
Not knowing the password for the Slytherin Common Room, Demitrius headed for the library instead. Madam Pince was at lunch still, so he didn't worry about making noise anymore, as he walked over to a nearby table and firmly slammed a fist down on it. The sound echoed loudly. Pleasingly. A single violent act, and Demitrius felt some of the pent-up tension flee. He sank into a chair at the table and practically wrenched his list from the inner pocket of his robes. Work. 'Work on changing it, and try to forget.' He instructed himself. 'Think of ways of punishing that Finly and Ross pair, come up with insults for that new mound of flesh assigned to follow you, do anything but remember.'
And he did. The rest of the lunch hour came and went unnoticed, as Demitrius came up with his plan for the two 'pranksters', mentally referred to Brutus Fitsgibbons as 'that bucket-headed oaf of a prefect', and scanned through books on potions, charms, transfiguration, wards, and incantations to see what was recent. Often he found himself looking up names that didn't exist, and smiling in triumph when he failed to find them. Madam Pince discovered him soon enough, and had the nerve to peer over his shoulder, but didn't ask any questions. When she saw what he was doing Demitrius barely noticed her giving him a scrutinising look. Of course, what he was doing probably did seem a bit crazy. It looked like he was just making up names. But the librarian said nothing, and eventually shuffled away quietly.
It wasn't until the last classes of the day finished, and students began to come in for studying and such, that Demi finally put an end to his list. He'd only been able to come up with three new things in the last hour anyway. Carefully he replaced the books in their proper spots and tucked his list away again. 'Now, where to?' He wondered. Had he been in a proper state of mind when he left the main hall, he would have thought to ask that bucket-headed oaf of a prefect for the password to the Common Room. But in the circumstances he had forgotten.
Now that he had regained some of his composure, however, he could look at things with a keener eye. He shouldn't have fled so soon. Staying put and trying to figure out what Malfoy wanted, grilling Brutus for further information, that would have been the wise thing to do. But, like some pathetic infant, he had fled. "Demitrius!"
Demi turned as he heard his name being called, to see Hermione Granger headed his way. She clasped a stack of books in her arms tightly. "Hello Demitrius, how are you managing?" Hermione said politely as she came up to him. Dumbledore's words about how she should make him feel welcome must have been swimming through her head.
"Fine, thank you." He replied carefully. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know who that blonde man at lunch today was?" Demitrius asked. Of course, he knew the answer, but he wanted a little more information than that. 'Like, say, where he lives...' Part of him thought darkly. 'Stop it, brain, I'm working.' His other half berated his more emotional side. Meanwhile, Hermione was looking like she had just swallowed something fairly nasty.
"That would be Draco Malfoy. He's an auror for the Ministry, but really, everyone knows it's just a cover and that he really works for You-Know- Who." She told him, and Demitrius nodded politely, as if this was all new information. So, he had already started his work as an auror. Mentally he ransacked his brain for information on the man, while carefully avoiding dredging up feelings or memories with regards to Marcus. That was a door best left shut, locked, and bolted for as long as possible. "I don't know what he was doing here, but it can't be anything good. Professor Dumbledore certainly didn't look pleased about it." Hermione continued thoughtfully.
'Damn!' Demitrius thought. So, she didn't know why he was here, either. Possibly only Dumbledore did, and that would be no help. Demitrius would have a hard time tricking that particular wizard into giving him answers. "I see. Thank you, Professor." He said, before nodding and leaving the library. Perhaps if he headed down to the dungeons he might find his father or that bucket-headed oaf of a prefect, and they could give him the password to the Common Room. He had a scheme to see through with regards to Ross and Finly.
~
"With your job on the edge of a knife, Dumbledore, you had better tell me what that explosion of Dark Magic we picked up on was." Draco Malfoy said, hissing it at Albus Dumbledore, who was currently ignoring him and eating his lunch. The insufferably old man had only insisted that there was no danger, and refused to tell Malfoy any more. It was infuriating. Especially after they had run into that Granger woman in the halls. Pathetic. Mudbloods teaching classes! It was worse than having them attend as students, and especially since that wretched woman was teaching DADA. If it weren't for the fact that parents put such faith in Dumbledore, the Malfoys would have had him cleared out in no time flat, and replaced with someone who had their priorities in the right spot.
Dumbledore raised a hand to gesture to a seat next to himself. "Why don't you have a seat Mr. Malfoy?" He suggested. Malfoy waved a hand in disgust.
"To hell with niceties old man! There was a very high concentration of evil magic used, here, in this school, just earlier today. Now what was it?!?" He demanded. That magic had been strong, strong enough to have both the aurors and the Death Eaters worrying when it was reported. The Dark Lord hadn't done it. Could Albus Dumbeldore have finally broken through his pathetic moral barrier and decided to fight fire with fire? That would be bad. He Who Must Not Be Named needed to know the source of that magic, and needed to know it soon. If he came back empty-handed... Draco shuddered at the thought of feeling his body wracked with pain, writhing on the floor as his fellows laughed at his misery.
"I will tell you again, Mr. Malfoy, the source of the magic has passed and it no longer poses a threat. That was enough for your fellows." Dumbledore said, and though it was not apparent, there was a certain tone to his voice that indicated he would endure no further scrutiny from Malfoy. Draco looked away in frustration and disgust. As he did, his eyes swept over to the Slytherin table. A young man was moving from his seat towards the exit. He looked a bit familiar, but Malfoy couldn't quite place him. 'Probably one of our own's children.' He thought as the boy moved. Then, just as he was about to look away, the young figure glanced in his direction.
Draco had been looked at with utter contempt before. Potter, Weasley, Granger, and pretty much any other Gryffindor who crossed his path had shot him looks very much like the one he was receiving now. What was truly disconcerting was that this look came from a Slytherin. And even in just a fleeting moment, it sang of a deep, dark hatred. Malfoy paused. Why would that boy hate him? Someone whom he had never met before? Yet, there was still such a feeling of familiarity, something about the way he walked... Without a word Malfoy left Dumbledore's side in haste. This was turning out to be a most peculiar situation. And, he had a feeling it had something to do with that boy. 'Perhaps he is related to the spy Father has been searching for.' He thought suddenly, as he made his way stormily to the nearest fireplace. That would explain the utter hatred in his eyes.
Draco clutched a handful of floo powder, wishing vehemently that his fellow Death Eaters would hurry up and find a way to apparate to and from Hogwarts. He hated travelling by chimney. If that boy was related to the spy, then finding out who he was, would lead them to their internal leak. And that little discovery would get the Malfoys back in the Dark Lord's good graces soon enough. A cold smile crept up Draco's lips. Find the boy's identity, and you find the spy's. He had some digging to do.
~
Broken bits of Malfoy's conversation with Dumbledore drifted down to Snape, as he took his seat at the table. Until now he had been thinking almost entirely about Demitrius, trying to place the boy, to put his finger on what was so familiar about him. No matter how he tried he couldn't pin down what it was. Snape glanced curiously over to where his former favourite student was currently hissing at the headmaster, a murderous look in his eyes. No doubt here about the unexplained use of a powerful time- travel device, and the presence of high concentrations of Dark Magic. Much as he hated to admit it, Draco Malfoy had turned out just as badly as his father, and was a pitiably bad spy. Even most of the students could see right through him.
Snape grabbed a chicken and ham sandwich off of a nearby platter and ate it thoughtfully, pulling his gaze away from Malfoy and over to the Slytherin table. Demitrius Septimus was completely ignoring Fitsgibbons and eating his food so quickly one might think he was rushing. Snape had hoped that the burly prefect would be disarmingly stupid, enough so that Septimus might not feel at all worried about letting something slip, but it seemed that his little plan wasn't working. The boy finished off the last of his meal and then rose, whisking out of the main hall quickly but elegantly. Again something tried to connect in Snape's mind. The swirl of the robes, the head held high, the brisk pace. Who did the boy remind him of?
Just as Demi was about to step out of sight, Snape noticed his eyes flicker over to something. Then, like a flash, the boy had stalked off out of sight. Snape followed where his gaze had wandered to see Draco Malfoy, stiff and tense, a look of confusion on his face as he stood at Dumbledore's side. Confusion? Snape's eyes narrowed. Surely, the Malfoy's wouldn't keep track of every Slytherin at Hogwarts? Or if they did, Draco himself wouldn't know them all by sight, would he? No, the boy certainly wasn't that smart. Suddenly Malfoy stormed out with much more heat and much less grace than Demitrius had. Snape scowled. There was something going on that was more than meets the eye. 'Perhaps the story about the boy being from the future is a lie. Could he be a spy for the Death Eaters? But then, why would Malfoy have looked so confused?' Snape wondered. Maybe he hadn't heard of the plan? From what he knew regarding his contacts on the inside, the Malfoys had lost their place in Voldemort's favour, falling from grace after his abandonment.
He would have to keep a keener eye on young Demitrius Septimus than he had even originally planned.
"How is your project with Hermione coming, Severus?" Professor Flitwick asked suddenly, with his usual chipper demeanour, as the tiny professor lifted his goblet to down some pumpkin juice. Why the other staff still tried to make conversation with him after all these years he would never know.
"Quite well. Tomorrow we should be ready to administer it to the populace at Hogwarts." Snape said dryly. Flitwick nodded with a smile on his face.
"She's quite brilliant, isn't she? It's so nice to have a fresh young mind teaching here now. Mind you, we need it, someone quick with their thoughts to keep the students on their toes." Flitwick continued. Snape returned his gaze to his lunch and tuned the little professor out. Well, yes, Granger was quite bright. Even he had to concede that. But she lacked the experience such a position required. Completely unseasoned, if you asked him. It was amazing the students hadn't eaten her alive yet. 'Probably too caught up in the sight of the only attractive female on staff.' He thought darkly, images of the fourth years and up ogling their pretty teacher as she went on about curses and such. Then he stopped. Where did THAT come from? Since when was Hermione Granger 'pretty' or 'attractive'? Snape's scowl darkened as Professor Flitwick continued to list his favourite student's virtues. He'd been having odd thoughts like that no and again ever since she came on staff. It was twisted, really, noticing that a former student was anything more than annoying.
Carefully Snape conjured up an image of a bushy-haired, buck-toothed Hermione Granger sitting in his class, her arm so high in the air it was almost dragging her out of her seat, buck-teeth barely visible through the opening in her mouth. That did it. Snape relaxed a little as 'Professor' Granger clicked back into the appropriate position in his mind. Annoying, know-it-all Gryffindor student. "Severus? Severus?"
Snape clicked back into reality as Flitwick began to say his name repeatedly. "Lost in thought, were we?" The charms expert asked, and Severus grunted in reply. "I was saying, have you seen that new student? The one who had the accident with the time-shifting device? Dumbledore's told us all he was in your house." Flitwick asked.
"Yes, I have seen him. He's nothing remarkable." Snape replied, then stuffed another sandwich in his mouth, and wondered when Flitwick would talk to someone else. He would have a while to wait, he realised, as several more sets of curious eyes turned their way at the sounds of their rather one-sided conversation. Apparently, more than one person wanted to know more about Hogwarts' latest phenomenon.
"Do you know if he's gone forwards or backwards?" Madam Hooch suddenly asked, leaning over towards Snape from Flitwick's other side.
"Backwards." Snape said curtly, and put something else in his mouth so he would have an excuse not to talk for the next little stretch. She whistled, putting a fork through the fluffy exterior of her beef pasty purposefully.
"Poor child, I wonder if he's bumped into anyone he knows?" She said thoughtfully. Then a curious glint came to her unusual yellow eyes. "Say, you don't suppose he could be related to someone we know, do you? A student or one of us? What d'ya reckon, Poppy, did he set any bells off?" The Flying Instructor asked. From her position several seats down, Madam Pomfrey paused, thoughtful for a moment. It was then that Snape realised that everyone except Dumbledore had stopped eating and was waiting expectantly.
"Now that you mention it, there was something about the face and hair." Poppy said at last. "But it was hard to place. I thought he must just be student I hadn't seen very often." She reasoned, and there were a few curious murmurs.
"What does he look like?" Professor Sprout asked, and there were several nods of agreement. It seemed very few teachers were familiar enough with each Slytherin to successfully pluck him out of the crowd.
"Oh dark hair, round face. I couldn't see his eyes since he was unconscious and almost covered in blood. Not short or scrawny, but he did have quite a few scars here and there, one big on his shoulders." Pomfrey said, thinking back to when she had used the cleaning charm on him and gotten her first good look at the youth.
"Hey, that sounds a bit like Harry Potter, don't you think?" Hooch said, and Snape rolled his eyes. The first mention of dark hair and she was jumping to hasty conclusions all too quickly. 'I'll eat my wand if that boy's related to Potter.' Snape thought, remembering the icy mask the boy had worn, and the sharp precision to his stride. Madam Pomfrey seemed to agree with his assessment.
"Not a chance, Hilda. Or at least not a very good one. He certainly didn't have Potter's mop of untameable clumps, and besides, he's in Slytherin. There's never been a Potter in Slytherin." She said firmly, and the table seemed to absorb this information quite nicely. More than a few eyes had moved over to the Slytherin table to try and find the boy who wasn't there.
"What do you think Severus?" McGonagall suddenly asked, and Snape shot her a dark look for bringing him back into this discussion. It was going quite well when everyone had been grilling Poppy. But of course, Minerva was more than used to his evil glares by now, and completely ignored it. "He was that boy who left just a few minutes before Malfoy, wasn't he?" She continued. With a roll of his eyes Snape nodded.
"Yes. And if he's Potter's boy I'll be damned." He said firmly. Suddenly Flitwick got a mischievous look in his eyes.
"What if he's yours then?" He asked. There was a pause, as everyone at the table went quite. Madam Hooch dropped her fork.
A/N: Dun dun dun! Hope you guys liked it. No shout-outs this time, I don't have much more computer time at the moment, but there should be some next chapter. Oh, and Susanna/Pigwidgeon37 caught me, chapters 1 - 3 were already complete by the time I posted chapter one. *Hands Susanna a cookie* 'Till next time folks, and don't forget to review!
Hermione cursed her luck as the last of her students left for lunch, watching the Gryffindors' backs as they all milled out of her classroom, talking cheerfully. Today was quite possibly one of the most horrendous days she'd had in a long time, without someone dying of course, and she still hadn't gotten her notes back from Snape's office. How revolting. She would have to seek him out after she'd had her lunch, or maybe even speak with him at the staff table. He wouldn't be in the greatest of moods. After all, he'd probably spent hours searching the castle, only to find out later there was nothing there. Provided Dumbledore had filled him in already.
If he hadn't that, then it would be even worse. 'Just what was going on yesterday, Professor Granger?' He'd likely hiss at her as they ate, throwing her dark looks. And then she'd have to avoid giving him an answer and simultaneously ask for access to his office. She drew in a quick breath. Oh boy would he hate that. Probably think she was trying to spy on him, or something equally unpleasant. 'Well, what can you do, Hermione? You need those notes.' Another part of her brain told her, and she had to agree. Without them she couldn't continue with their plan.
"No use in procrastinating. I'll just ask him at lunch." She told herself forcefully. Time to show a little of that Gryffindor bravery. Straightening out, she flung a stray lock of thick brown hair back, and made her way to the main hall. She wasn't out of the door for more than a minute before she stopped dead in her tracks. There, going down the hallway, was Albus Dumbledore. And he was being tailed by Draco Malfoy. Hermione's eyes narrowed. Why was Malfoy here? Everyone knew he was working for Voldemort. Well, except those blind gluttons in the Ministry, who seemed to think his job as an auror was more than just a pathetic guise. Or, at the very least, didn't care what it was as long as his family kept pumping bribe money their way.
It didn't take long for Malfoy and Dumbledore to notice her, too. The look of annoyance that was only barely visible on Dumbledore's face changed to worry when he saw her. Malfoy's features also darkened. 'Well, can't blame them, it's not like it would be entirely out of character for me to slap him a few times.' She thought darkly. As was expected, Malfoy's glare soon turned into a sharp sneer. It was almost pathetic it was so predictable.
"Granger." He spat darkly. Hermione made certain her hand was hovering within reach of her wand.
"Malfoy." She said, with an equal amount of dark vehemence. The blonde man sneered, his eyes flitting over her as he sized her up.
"I see your still riding on Dumbledore's good graces. Not that herding unruly children is a task below a woman of such... Unfortunate parentage as yourself." He told her viciously. Hermione felt her cheeks go red with anger. Over the years, young Draco's skill with insults had grown less blunt, as he found tact to be a useful ally. But the meaning was still there. He may as well have called her a mudblood for all she cared.
"Watch what you say to me, Malfoy, it would be a shame to wind up in Azkaban after killing a lowlife like you." She hissed back. He opened his mouth to retort, but right then, Dumbledore seemed to decide that a duel in a hallway teeming with students was likely not wise. And indeed, Hermione realised, many of her pupils had stopped to watch the scene. They stood in slack-jawed silence, obviously amazed at seeing their professor behave so contemptuously to such a high-ranking wizard.
"That will be enough Professor." Dumbledore told her lightly. She flinched a little. It made her feel guilty, like she was some errant school-child again. But, of course, the headmaster's attention did not focus on her alone. He shot Malfoy a very reprimanding look. "I believe, Mr. Malfoy, that your discussion was with me." He said firmly. After a few more minutes, during which Draco and Hermione glared at each other as though it was the last thing they would do, Malfoy finally cracked. With a nod to Dumbledore the two continued on their way to the main hall.
'Why is Malfoy here?' Hermione wondered, her rage calming at his departure. She shook her head. 'I'll just have to ask Dumbledore after he leaves.' She reasoned. Around her, the students were beginning to move away, returning to the business of heading down to lunch. Hermione sighed. Would she have to eat at the same table as Malfoy? Not a pleasant thought in the least. She pondered some brief avenue of escape. At least something to keep her busy for a while, give her an excuse to avoid going to lunch right away, although even with one there wouldn't be many who couldn't figure out what she was doing. Suddenly, an idea came to her, and she snapped her fingers triumphantly at the realisation. Snape! He was usually a bit late in leaving his dungeons for lunch. Maybe, she could catch him, and get her notes if she left right now. On the one hand, it was still a horribly humiliating thought. On the other, it was a hell of a lot better than lunch with Malfoy.
Her mind made up, Hermione re-directed her course towards the dungeons. She walked as quickly as she could without looking conspicuous. Never before had she found herself chanting the mantra 'let Snape be there, let Snape be there', but right then, she was. And meaning it as well! Her heeled boots clicked loudly against the stone floor as she walked. Gradually, the throngs of students began to thin out, as she neared the dungeons. Hermione rounded a corner, and almost plowed straight into Severus Snape himself. She swallowed back a sharp squeak of surprise.
"Professor Snape!" She said, a little too loudly for her liking, and winced as her own slightly squeaky voice sounded in her ears. Maybe lunch with Malfoy wouldn't be as bad as she thought...
"What is it?" He snapped back, fixing her with a particularly annoyed look. It was fairly obvious he'd been lost in thought before she came into sight. Hermione frowned. He was far more rude to her than he was to any other teacher, so much so that she found it incredibly degrading. Forgetting her previous insecurities she straightened out and fixed him with her sternest look. Which meant, naturally, that she looked almost freakishly like McGonagall.
"I believe I left my notes from our discussion the other day in your office. I was wondering if you could let me in to retrieve them?" She asked, doing her best not to sound like an ashamed student. Snape fixed her with a very thorough stare for a few seconds. His dark eyes hovered over her form briefly, and just as she was beginning to wonder what he was looking at, he turned on his heels with a swish and headed back down to the dungeons. Taking that as a sign, Hermione followed after him. He hadn't made any snide remarks or comments yet. Ordinarily she would be immensely grateful, but as she watched his dark robes swirling just a few centimetres before her, she realised he probably planned to turn on her at any moment. That would be just like him, wouldn't it? Make her think he was just going to let her get the notes, and then catch her off guard, with some incredibly degrading comment about responsibility and such? He'd turn on her with that dark scowl. It would stretch into a sneer as she walked past, and just when she couldn't see his face anymore, that's when he'd make the comment. Dark, deep voice rumbling out to fray her nerves and... when had she started thinking about his behaviour so much?
"Professor?" Her eyes flew up as Snape said her name with the usual doses of distaste. With a start she realised they were standing outside his office. He held the door open for her, waiting with mocking grace to let her pass through. Retaining her dignity with an admirable flare, Hermione nodded her thanks and walked in.
Much as she hated the man who worked there, Hermione had to admit she loved his office. It was an open, rectangular room, which stretched forward to end with a dark ebony desk. The space was wide enough for three people to walk side-by-side with only a little difficulty. The air in the room had a spicy, heady aroma, a bit like the scent of books but mixed with an undeniable sharpness. At first glance, it would be hard to tell the workspace from a storeroom, were it not for the desk at the end. And, of course, the cauldron just behind it. On either wall, up to the roof, were thick black shelves lined with bottles and boxes of the most fascinating ingredients. Things Snape didn't even like to keep in his special storeroom. Each item was labelled precisely, stored in alphabetical order, and facing forward so that the Potions Master's neat script was clearly visible. A thin veil of steam still clung to the air above their heads, coming from the cauldron at the back of the room. The potion they had been working on was simmering, before they would add the diced trolls' eyes and a few other unpleasant items.
In contrast to the neat order of the shelves was the uncanny chaos on Snape's desk. There were papers and notes strewn everywhere. Even so, it didn't take Hermione long to find her own work. While her print was tiny, compressed, and made with neat little strokes, every other piece of parchment on the table was covered in Snape's bold scrawls.
The man himself waited by the door as she swept her notes up into her arms. Quickly, she glanced at the potion they had started yesterday. It was as clear and translucent as water, but definitely thicker, as the gassy bubbles that stretched from it's surface indicated. Perfect. By the time they were done, it would be the colour of a clear sky, and would taste like regurgitated mushroom soup. "Is something wrong?" Snape asked testily, as he watched her pause to scrutinise their work. Hermione shook her head and made her way back over to him.
"No, nothing at all, just checking." She supplied. Then she braced herself, waiting for the inevitable 'Well, then, I'm glad it meets your approval, Professor. Seeing as how I couldn't bare not to meet your incredibly high standards, as I am only the lowly Potions Master after all, and it can't be expected for someone like me to know how to care for such things.' That he would surely spit with venomous sarcasm.
"And?" He said. Hermione paused.
"What?" She asked, confused by the lack of snapping or bitter sarcasm to his voice. He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.
"And, what was your opinion, Professor Granger?" He supplied with more detail. Now, this was a situation Hermione was completely unprepared for. He wasn't snapping at her, wasn't being sarcastic, was making no threats, and had yet to say a single degrading thing about her actions. She fought the overwhelming urge to check and see if he had a fever. Realising that he was waiting for a reply, his eyes fixed expectantly upon her, Hermione hastily drew away from her own amazement.
"It's fine, of course. Clear but thick and steaming nicely." She told him, a bit dazed. 'Maybe he's being civil on purpose, to throw me off my guard.' Her thoughts provided. He nodded in agreement to her statement, and it was then that she noticed, he seemed to be very deep in contemplation. 'Of course! He's just distracted, that's all. He must be thinking about Demitrius.' She realised, and berated herself for not seeing it sooner. Why else would he miss an opportunity to humiliate her? 'Severus Snape being decent on purpose. Quit dreaming Hermione.' Her brain told herself, and she was surprised to find just the tiniest, smallest twinge of disappointment lying there.
"Very well. We'll continue our progress tomorrow after classes then." He instructed. Then, leaving her to stand with her thoughts, he departed distractedly. Hermione watched him go quietly. Well, one thing hadn't changed, he still didn't bother to wait for her answer. 'I could have plans for tomorrow!' She thought darkly. 'Well, I don't, but I could have.'
~
Demitrius fought hard to keep from looking at Draco Malfoy, to keep from wondering what it would be like to crush his neck beneath his boot, or raise his wand and shout 'crucio' at the top of his lungs. Brutus Fitsgibbons seemed completely ignorant of the somewhat bloody and violent thoughts his new 'friend' was trying to suppress, and was barking out crude comments about several of the fifth year girls, and their new 'developments'. Demitrius ignored this, as well as his constant, annoying references to Quidditch. He was focusing hard on maintaining control. Outwardly, this showed very little. Perhaps in they way his jaw clenched, and his dark eyes darted over to Malfoy, as the older man stood talking to Dumbledore while he ate. Inwardly, Demitrius had rarely felt so at a loss of control. His nerves were frayed by this unexpected presence. Images were floating to mind, glimpses of painful memories, before he managed to slam down on them hard and lock them away. Before he could regain his inner composure.
He violently shoved all thoughts of Draco and Marcus Malfoy from his mind and wrenched his eyes away from the staff table. Such things could be dealt with later, but if he kept on his current course, he would more than likely cause a scene. He didn't even notice when his father entered the main hall, and balked at the sight of Malfoy. Silently Demitrius finished eating his lunch. He didn't spare Brutus a glance as he ate cleanly, but quickly, and then stood from the table. Without a word he left the dining hall.
Not knowing the password for the Slytherin Common Room, Demitrius headed for the library instead. Madam Pince was at lunch still, so he didn't worry about making noise anymore, as he walked over to a nearby table and firmly slammed a fist down on it. The sound echoed loudly. Pleasingly. A single violent act, and Demitrius felt some of the pent-up tension flee. He sank into a chair at the table and practically wrenched his list from the inner pocket of his robes. Work. 'Work on changing it, and try to forget.' He instructed himself. 'Think of ways of punishing that Finly and Ross pair, come up with insults for that new mound of flesh assigned to follow you, do anything but remember.'
And he did. The rest of the lunch hour came and went unnoticed, as Demitrius came up with his plan for the two 'pranksters', mentally referred to Brutus Fitsgibbons as 'that bucket-headed oaf of a prefect', and scanned through books on potions, charms, transfiguration, wards, and incantations to see what was recent. Often he found himself looking up names that didn't exist, and smiling in triumph when he failed to find them. Madam Pince discovered him soon enough, and had the nerve to peer over his shoulder, but didn't ask any questions. When she saw what he was doing Demitrius barely noticed her giving him a scrutinising look. Of course, what he was doing probably did seem a bit crazy. It looked like he was just making up names. But the librarian said nothing, and eventually shuffled away quietly.
It wasn't until the last classes of the day finished, and students began to come in for studying and such, that Demi finally put an end to his list. He'd only been able to come up with three new things in the last hour anyway. Carefully he replaced the books in their proper spots and tucked his list away again. 'Now, where to?' He wondered. Had he been in a proper state of mind when he left the main hall, he would have thought to ask that bucket-headed oaf of a prefect for the password to the Common Room. But in the circumstances he had forgotten.
Now that he had regained some of his composure, however, he could look at things with a keener eye. He shouldn't have fled so soon. Staying put and trying to figure out what Malfoy wanted, grilling Brutus for further information, that would have been the wise thing to do. But, like some pathetic infant, he had fled. "Demitrius!"
Demi turned as he heard his name being called, to see Hermione Granger headed his way. She clasped a stack of books in her arms tightly. "Hello Demitrius, how are you managing?" Hermione said politely as she came up to him. Dumbledore's words about how she should make him feel welcome must have been swimming through her head.
"Fine, thank you." He replied carefully. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know who that blonde man at lunch today was?" Demitrius asked. Of course, he knew the answer, but he wanted a little more information than that. 'Like, say, where he lives...' Part of him thought darkly. 'Stop it, brain, I'm working.' His other half berated his more emotional side. Meanwhile, Hermione was looking like she had just swallowed something fairly nasty.
"That would be Draco Malfoy. He's an auror for the Ministry, but really, everyone knows it's just a cover and that he really works for You-Know- Who." She told him, and Demitrius nodded politely, as if this was all new information. So, he had already started his work as an auror. Mentally he ransacked his brain for information on the man, while carefully avoiding dredging up feelings or memories with regards to Marcus. That was a door best left shut, locked, and bolted for as long as possible. "I don't know what he was doing here, but it can't be anything good. Professor Dumbledore certainly didn't look pleased about it." Hermione continued thoughtfully.
'Damn!' Demitrius thought. So, she didn't know why he was here, either. Possibly only Dumbledore did, and that would be no help. Demitrius would have a hard time tricking that particular wizard into giving him answers. "I see. Thank you, Professor." He said, before nodding and leaving the library. Perhaps if he headed down to the dungeons he might find his father or that bucket-headed oaf of a prefect, and they could give him the password to the Common Room. He had a scheme to see through with regards to Ross and Finly.
~
"With your job on the edge of a knife, Dumbledore, you had better tell me what that explosion of Dark Magic we picked up on was." Draco Malfoy said, hissing it at Albus Dumbledore, who was currently ignoring him and eating his lunch. The insufferably old man had only insisted that there was no danger, and refused to tell Malfoy any more. It was infuriating. Especially after they had run into that Granger woman in the halls. Pathetic. Mudbloods teaching classes! It was worse than having them attend as students, and especially since that wretched woman was teaching DADA. If it weren't for the fact that parents put such faith in Dumbledore, the Malfoys would have had him cleared out in no time flat, and replaced with someone who had their priorities in the right spot.
Dumbledore raised a hand to gesture to a seat next to himself. "Why don't you have a seat Mr. Malfoy?" He suggested. Malfoy waved a hand in disgust.
"To hell with niceties old man! There was a very high concentration of evil magic used, here, in this school, just earlier today. Now what was it?!?" He demanded. That magic had been strong, strong enough to have both the aurors and the Death Eaters worrying when it was reported. The Dark Lord hadn't done it. Could Albus Dumbeldore have finally broken through his pathetic moral barrier and decided to fight fire with fire? That would be bad. He Who Must Not Be Named needed to know the source of that magic, and needed to know it soon. If he came back empty-handed... Draco shuddered at the thought of feeling his body wracked with pain, writhing on the floor as his fellows laughed at his misery.
"I will tell you again, Mr. Malfoy, the source of the magic has passed and it no longer poses a threat. That was enough for your fellows." Dumbledore said, and though it was not apparent, there was a certain tone to his voice that indicated he would endure no further scrutiny from Malfoy. Draco looked away in frustration and disgust. As he did, his eyes swept over to the Slytherin table. A young man was moving from his seat towards the exit. He looked a bit familiar, but Malfoy couldn't quite place him. 'Probably one of our own's children.' He thought as the boy moved. Then, just as he was about to look away, the young figure glanced in his direction.
Draco had been looked at with utter contempt before. Potter, Weasley, Granger, and pretty much any other Gryffindor who crossed his path had shot him looks very much like the one he was receiving now. What was truly disconcerting was that this look came from a Slytherin. And even in just a fleeting moment, it sang of a deep, dark hatred. Malfoy paused. Why would that boy hate him? Someone whom he had never met before? Yet, there was still such a feeling of familiarity, something about the way he walked... Without a word Malfoy left Dumbledore's side in haste. This was turning out to be a most peculiar situation. And, he had a feeling it had something to do with that boy. 'Perhaps he is related to the spy Father has been searching for.' He thought suddenly, as he made his way stormily to the nearest fireplace. That would explain the utter hatred in his eyes.
Draco clutched a handful of floo powder, wishing vehemently that his fellow Death Eaters would hurry up and find a way to apparate to and from Hogwarts. He hated travelling by chimney. If that boy was related to the spy, then finding out who he was, would lead them to their internal leak. And that little discovery would get the Malfoys back in the Dark Lord's good graces soon enough. A cold smile crept up Draco's lips. Find the boy's identity, and you find the spy's. He had some digging to do.
~
Broken bits of Malfoy's conversation with Dumbledore drifted down to Snape, as he took his seat at the table. Until now he had been thinking almost entirely about Demitrius, trying to place the boy, to put his finger on what was so familiar about him. No matter how he tried he couldn't pin down what it was. Snape glanced curiously over to where his former favourite student was currently hissing at the headmaster, a murderous look in his eyes. No doubt here about the unexplained use of a powerful time- travel device, and the presence of high concentrations of Dark Magic. Much as he hated to admit it, Draco Malfoy had turned out just as badly as his father, and was a pitiably bad spy. Even most of the students could see right through him.
Snape grabbed a chicken and ham sandwich off of a nearby platter and ate it thoughtfully, pulling his gaze away from Malfoy and over to the Slytherin table. Demitrius Septimus was completely ignoring Fitsgibbons and eating his food so quickly one might think he was rushing. Snape had hoped that the burly prefect would be disarmingly stupid, enough so that Septimus might not feel at all worried about letting something slip, but it seemed that his little plan wasn't working. The boy finished off the last of his meal and then rose, whisking out of the main hall quickly but elegantly. Again something tried to connect in Snape's mind. The swirl of the robes, the head held high, the brisk pace. Who did the boy remind him of?
Just as Demi was about to step out of sight, Snape noticed his eyes flicker over to something. Then, like a flash, the boy had stalked off out of sight. Snape followed where his gaze had wandered to see Draco Malfoy, stiff and tense, a look of confusion on his face as he stood at Dumbledore's side. Confusion? Snape's eyes narrowed. Surely, the Malfoy's wouldn't keep track of every Slytherin at Hogwarts? Or if they did, Draco himself wouldn't know them all by sight, would he? No, the boy certainly wasn't that smart. Suddenly Malfoy stormed out with much more heat and much less grace than Demitrius had. Snape scowled. There was something going on that was more than meets the eye. 'Perhaps the story about the boy being from the future is a lie. Could he be a spy for the Death Eaters? But then, why would Malfoy have looked so confused?' Snape wondered. Maybe he hadn't heard of the plan? From what he knew regarding his contacts on the inside, the Malfoys had lost their place in Voldemort's favour, falling from grace after his abandonment.
He would have to keep a keener eye on young Demitrius Septimus than he had even originally planned.
"How is your project with Hermione coming, Severus?" Professor Flitwick asked suddenly, with his usual chipper demeanour, as the tiny professor lifted his goblet to down some pumpkin juice. Why the other staff still tried to make conversation with him after all these years he would never know.
"Quite well. Tomorrow we should be ready to administer it to the populace at Hogwarts." Snape said dryly. Flitwick nodded with a smile on his face.
"She's quite brilliant, isn't she? It's so nice to have a fresh young mind teaching here now. Mind you, we need it, someone quick with their thoughts to keep the students on their toes." Flitwick continued. Snape returned his gaze to his lunch and tuned the little professor out. Well, yes, Granger was quite bright. Even he had to concede that. But she lacked the experience such a position required. Completely unseasoned, if you asked him. It was amazing the students hadn't eaten her alive yet. 'Probably too caught up in the sight of the only attractive female on staff.' He thought darkly, images of the fourth years and up ogling their pretty teacher as she went on about curses and such. Then he stopped. Where did THAT come from? Since when was Hermione Granger 'pretty' or 'attractive'? Snape's scowl darkened as Professor Flitwick continued to list his favourite student's virtues. He'd been having odd thoughts like that no and again ever since she came on staff. It was twisted, really, noticing that a former student was anything more than annoying.
Carefully Snape conjured up an image of a bushy-haired, buck-toothed Hermione Granger sitting in his class, her arm so high in the air it was almost dragging her out of her seat, buck-teeth barely visible through the opening in her mouth. That did it. Snape relaxed a little as 'Professor' Granger clicked back into the appropriate position in his mind. Annoying, know-it-all Gryffindor student. "Severus? Severus?"
Snape clicked back into reality as Flitwick began to say his name repeatedly. "Lost in thought, were we?" The charms expert asked, and Severus grunted in reply. "I was saying, have you seen that new student? The one who had the accident with the time-shifting device? Dumbledore's told us all he was in your house." Flitwick asked.
"Yes, I have seen him. He's nothing remarkable." Snape replied, then stuffed another sandwich in his mouth, and wondered when Flitwick would talk to someone else. He would have a while to wait, he realised, as several more sets of curious eyes turned their way at the sounds of their rather one-sided conversation. Apparently, more than one person wanted to know more about Hogwarts' latest phenomenon.
"Do you know if he's gone forwards or backwards?" Madam Hooch suddenly asked, leaning over towards Snape from Flitwick's other side.
"Backwards." Snape said curtly, and put something else in his mouth so he would have an excuse not to talk for the next little stretch. She whistled, putting a fork through the fluffy exterior of her beef pasty purposefully.
"Poor child, I wonder if he's bumped into anyone he knows?" She said thoughtfully. Then a curious glint came to her unusual yellow eyes. "Say, you don't suppose he could be related to someone we know, do you? A student or one of us? What d'ya reckon, Poppy, did he set any bells off?" The Flying Instructor asked. From her position several seats down, Madam Pomfrey paused, thoughtful for a moment. It was then that Snape realised that everyone except Dumbledore had stopped eating and was waiting expectantly.
"Now that you mention it, there was something about the face and hair." Poppy said at last. "But it was hard to place. I thought he must just be student I hadn't seen very often." She reasoned, and there were a few curious murmurs.
"What does he look like?" Professor Sprout asked, and there were several nods of agreement. It seemed very few teachers were familiar enough with each Slytherin to successfully pluck him out of the crowd.
"Oh dark hair, round face. I couldn't see his eyes since he was unconscious and almost covered in blood. Not short or scrawny, but he did have quite a few scars here and there, one big on his shoulders." Pomfrey said, thinking back to when she had used the cleaning charm on him and gotten her first good look at the youth.
"Hey, that sounds a bit like Harry Potter, don't you think?" Hooch said, and Snape rolled his eyes. The first mention of dark hair and she was jumping to hasty conclusions all too quickly. 'I'll eat my wand if that boy's related to Potter.' Snape thought, remembering the icy mask the boy had worn, and the sharp precision to his stride. Madam Pomfrey seemed to agree with his assessment.
"Not a chance, Hilda. Or at least not a very good one. He certainly didn't have Potter's mop of untameable clumps, and besides, he's in Slytherin. There's never been a Potter in Slytherin." She said firmly, and the table seemed to absorb this information quite nicely. More than a few eyes had moved over to the Slytherin table to try and find the boy who wasn't there.
"What do you think Severus?" McGonagall suddenly asked, and Snape shot her a dark look for bringing him back into this discussion. It was going quite well when everyone had been grilling Poppy. But of course, Minerva was more than used to his evil glares by now, and completely ignored it. "He was that boy who left just a few minutes before Malfoy, wasn't he?" She continued. With a roll of his eyes Snape nodded.
"Yes. And if he's Potter's boy I'll be damned." He said firmly. Suddenly Flitwick got a mischievous look in his eyes.
"What if he's yours then?" He asked. There was a pause, as everyone at the table went quite. Madam Hooch dropped her fork.
A/N: Dun dun dun! Hope you guys liked it. No shout-outs this time, I don't have much more computer time at the moment, but there should be some next chapter. Oh, and Susanna/Pigwidgeon37 caught me, chapters 1 - 3 were already complete by the time I posted chapter one. *Hands Susanna a cookie* 'Till next time folks, and don't forget to review!