First and foremost, I have to apologise for the delay in this chapter – what with uni exams, the spectacular corruption and subsequent crashing of my computer, work commitments, and a whole bunch of other stuff, new chapters have been pretty much put on hold. I'll be good, and write lots, I promise.

Second, a great big thankyou to all those who contributed – there have been some fantastic suggestions, and some that are rather…quirky. *grin* As promised, I'll try to use everything in some form. The lines are still open to put in suggestions if you're suddenly inspired….I'd love to hear more.

Know what? I've said enough – time for the new chapter. As always, feedback is the wind in my sails. Let's get this boat moving, people!

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Chapter 11: Getting Personal

# Casa De Summers, Sunnydale#

"She did what?"

" Let me get this straight… you've found nothing related to this prophecy at all?"

" Hey Angel, man, any chance of getting some regular people food in here? If you'd just hand over the damn keys…"

" Microwave's buggered, Rupes."

"No way – she really wore that? In public? Colour me stunned!"

" We've exhausted our resources already – I'm sure the Sunnydale public library is fresh out of mystical 17th century texts. Of course, if you have any other ideas…"

"Not a chance, Charles."

"Guys…"

" Spike, we've been over this. Retrieve blood bag from fridge. Put hole in said bag with fork or knife or that 16th century hole-poking thing in the china cupboard. Nuke blood bag. Bottoms up."

" Xander, do we have to stay here? That girl keeps staring at me. It's disconcerting."

"Hey! Guys!"

" I'm sure our supplier can find something that will help. She's rather good with the obscure."

" Hole? Bloody Hell…."

" Anya, maybe if you stopped trying to shock Fred with your… unique views on life, she wouldn't stare."

" Dawnie, have you finished your math?"

" HEY! SHUT UP!"

The room fell silent, eleven surprised faces turning in response to Willow's shout of frustration. From her place on the Summers' couch, the red-haired witch sighed.

" Look, I don't mean to come over all dictatorish, but I'm not gunning for the world to end while we sit around and catch up. There's evil afoot, remember?"

Nine faces displayed varied expressions of guilt. Spike caught himself in time, remembering his man…pire pride, and schooled his features into a smirk. Anya just looked bored.

"Well, can we get on with it? I'm hungry. Obviously somebody who shall remain nameless forgot to go to the grocery store again… In case you didn't know, Giles, I'm talking about you."

The Sunnydale contingent hid their grins as Anya directed an indignant glare at the ex-Watcher. Cordelia let out a most unladylike snort at Giles' expression.

" Bet you wish I was still around, huh?"

"Well…"

" So, what's the battle plan?" Willow cut in quickly, not letting Xander finish his sentence. The last thing they needed was a repeat of the Cordelia/Xander high school wars. (Although it was slightly comforting to know that some things would never change)

Giles took charge, filling the LA crew in on all that had happened in Sunnydale since Buffy's death. Within minutes, the level of noise was deafening as members of the Scoobies added their own versions of the ex-Watchers story. Amid the chatter, Anya raised an eyebrow at Cordelia, moving closer to Xander protectively. After all, this was Queen C, Xander's high school enemy slash closet groper. It had always been a running joke within the Scoobies that Xander liked his women with a little mystical energy in them – something that the dark haired girl now had.

Anya, on the other hand, was thoroughly human, though she had once heard Giles say that her particular brand of honesty made him wonder whether there was some demon left in her after all. Turning her hand slightly so that her diamond ring flashed brilliantly into Cordelia's eyes, Anya grinned at the Seer's shocked double-take.

*That's right, Queen C. Your broom closet days are over.*

"Anya? What do you think?"

Anya stared blankly at Giles, realizing she had no idea what he was talking about. He continued.

"Are you willing to do it? Of course, if you don't think you can handle it…"

With a quick glance Cordelia's way, Anya flashed Giles a thousand-watt smile. This was her chance to prove she could be useful – she could do something that Cordelia couldn't.

" Yes! I can do it! Nobody else could do it better than me. After all, I do have that way with doing… those things. You can count on me, Giles!"

Giles, as well as the others, looked mildly surprised at Anya's emphatic response. Xander looked as though a truck had just run over his foot….and then reversed.

As soon as the meeting broke for dinner, Anya pulled Dawn aside.

" You were listening to Giles."

Dawn grinned at her. "Yup. How did he talk you into it?"

" Well… here's the thing. The meeting was incredibly boring. So…"

The youngest Summers' already large eyes widened with what looked suspiciously like mirth. " You didn't listen, did you? Oh boy – I wondered how he did it. Guess the mind control theory is out."

" Stop laughing! What do I have to do?" Anya was beginning to panic.

" Oh, you're *so* not gonna like this…"

Leaning closer to Anya, Dawn quickly explained. For a moment, there was a horrified silence in the room.

"Oh, CRAP."

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*Malfoy Manor*

Narcissa Malfoy was troubled.

 In past weeks, Malfoy Manor had been eerily quiet; apart from the occasional glimpse of a house-elf, Narcissa had been utterly alone. Not that she minded much – in fact, it was quite a welcome change to have neither Draco nor Lucius darkening her elegant new furnishings with their ceaseless scowls.

Communication between the occupants of the Manor had never been a priority. Other wives whose husbands were in Lucius's line of work lamented that communication was forbidden, that their darling Erwic or Ralphonse would surely write if they had the chance.

Narcissa knew with a cold certainty that her husband would barely pause to think of those he left behind. It would never occur to Lucius to send an owl.

Draco? By now, the heir to the Malfoy fortune was far past the age where he needed his mother for anything at all really. Years ago there had been cut fingers begging to be kissed, childish fears to soothe in the darkness of the night.

Narcissa could remember her son's  early years, a time when Lucius had been....hiding? No. Searching for the Potter boy, a helpless infant much like her dear, rosy-cheeked son. Draco had been a few days shy of his sixth birthday when his father had returned to them: and yet, by the time he was seven, Lucius had already begun 'preparing' him for his future.

It brought bitter relief to know he was at Hogwarts, away from his father for the better part of the year. Draco was sixteen, almost a Hogwarts graduate.

Almost a Death Eater like his father.

Keeping her features neutral to hide her thoughts, Narcissa raised her eyes from her meal, gaze wandering to the very end of the table where two figures sat silently. Lucius had barely spoken a word to his wife since his arrival home the previous morning, spending most of his time in the western wing of the Manor. Narcissa was not concerned about this, in fact chose to ignore it.

The other figure, however, was one she could not help but notice.

Dark hair pooled limply around a pale face, hiding it from view. This strange girl moved through the hallways in a savage kind of poetry, deadly and beautiful all at once. Narcissa had first seen her – patrolling?- the second floor, had  been left breathless for a moment by her eyes. They echoed with the familiar emptiness of the Imperius curse. Narcissa imagined they had once been filled with fire, with passion. She remembered an old Muggle saying she had heard long ago.

"The eyes are the windows to the soul."

The light that had once shone behind those beautiful dark eyes had been extinguished, her windows were shuttered and dark.

Those eyes now raised to Narcissa's pale blue, and the mistress of Malfoy Manor felt icy fingers grip her heart.

Just for a moment, she thought she could see unimaginable sorrow; a world of longing flicker in the captive Slayer's deep brown eyes.

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#Hogwarts#

"You know, it's a pity Snape isn't ill more often – I could get used to this." Ron commented to Harry as they leant into the icy wind, their brooms slicing through the clean air high above the Quidditch pitch. Below them, the pitch was invisible beneath the thick layer of snow that had kept students and Quidditch teams alike trapped indoors for the past week.

Urging his broom downward, Harry could barely make out the red and gold clad figures of the other sixth year Gryffindors enjoying a temporary respite from their classes. As he drew nearer, closely shadowed by Ron, Seamus Finnigan whooped and flicked his wand in their direction, sending a snowball hurtling past Harry's right ear.

A second snowball followed, and once again Harry managed to dodge, pulling up sharply on the handle of his Firebolt. Climbing until he was well out of reach, Harry spun dizzily in the air, stifling laughter as he saw Ron speed toward him, covered in melting snow. A thought suddenly occurred to Harry, and he waited for Ron to draw level with him, the pair hovering lazily.

"Don't you think it's odd?"

Ron shook his head, pelting Harry with tiny, icy droplets. "What, that Finnegan actually managed to hit something that was moving? He couldn't direct a hex at an extra large, immobile troll on a good day!"

Harry grinned, glancing down to see Parvarti and Lavender pelting Seamus with perfectly aimed, extremely slushy snowballs.

" No…well, yes. That's not what I meant though. Snape hasn't missed a lesson in six years, and suddenly he's too ill to teach and we get the afternoon off?"

Ron looked at him as if he were mad. " We've got a whole afternoon without Snape,  without the Slytherins, and you want to send Snape a get well card? Harry mate, are you sure you haven't taken one too many Bludgers to the brain?"

Below them, there was a sudden shriek. Harry couldn't tell if it had come from one of the girls, or Seamus. Holding his Firebolt steady against the increasing wind, he squinted at Ron through his foggy glasses. It was suddenly important that he make Ron understand.

"Think about it for a second. Snape's the Potions Professor. He makes all the Potions for the hospital wing, for cripes' sake. Why couldn't he just brew up something to make himself better?"

Ron shrugged, his eyes fixed on two figures huddled together on the ground. Following his gaze, Harry could just make out the familiar shapes of Lily and Hermione, standing apart from their frolicking housemates. The two girls were deep in conversation, both looking serious. Apparently unaware they were being watched, both girls suddenly laughed, the sound ringing through the stands.

Harry grinned at the sight, relieved that Lily had come out of the shell she had been retreating into more and more lately. Out of the hospital wing for a week, Lily had been almost silent until now, refusing to tell even Hermione what had frightened her so. Hermione had confessed to a concerned Harry that the younger girl had been sobbing in the dormitory at night, but when questioned Lily had refused to even look at any of her best friends.

" Wish there was a handbook for girls. I just can't figure her out."

Startled, Harry looked at Ron, who was still staring at the girls, apparently unaware he'd spoken.

"Eh?"

Ron blushed scarlet, tearing his gaze away and focusing on Harry. He sighed, his ancient broom wobbling dangerously. " One minute she's all eager, and the next she's ignoring me completely! I asked her what was up, but will she tell me and make it easy? Hell no!"

Harry blinked, resisting the urge to clean out his ears. He couldn't have heard right. Ron liked Lily? How blind had he been? He had to force the question out against the pounding of his heart.

"You……and Lily? You….you….together?" Harry hated his stammering. To his shock, Ron shook his head emphatically, eyes wide.

" What kind of friend d'ya think I am? Everyone knows you're crazy about your mystery girl. You'd have to be blind not to see it, mate."

Harry stared at Ron for a moment before it sunk in. " You and Hermione?"

Ron nodded, his eyes darting down to the ground again. Harry edged closer on his Firebolt, slapping Ron on the back heartily in both relief and delight. Perhaps a little too hard, for Ron's borrowed school broom tipped dangerously to one side. By some miracle, he managed to stay upright, gripping the handle with white knuckles. Harry stifled a snort of laughter as he realized Ron's eyes had not left Hermione once.

"What are they talking about down there, anyway?"

"No idea. Probably you."

"Really? You think so?" Ron glanced anxiously at Harry. Harry just grinned at him.

"Oh."

*********

"What do you think they're talking about up there?"

Lily's eyes darted to where Ron and Harry hovered, dark-robed blurs against the increasingly grey sky. Beside her, Hermione clutched the small jar of blue fire tightly, hands pink with the cold.

" Who? Oh, Ron and Harry. I didn't even notice they were there." Hermione hoped the sudden rush of heat to her face had slipped past Lily.

Lily just stared at her, one eyebrow raised. " You're joking, right? Next you're gonna tell me you've spent the last ten minutes looking for stars. In the middle of the afternoon."

Hermione struggled to keep her face neutral. "Wh-what do you mean?"

" No offense 'Mione, but lying? Not your strength. What's the what with you and a certain redhead? Wake up and smell the hottie!"

Hermione couldn't help but grin at Lily. The younger girl's expressions were a source of great amusement to all three of the original Hogwarts crew. Ron often joked that they needed someone fluent in Lily-speak to understand her. Unfortunately, Hermione had understood perfectly. There was nothing to do but come clean, explain in a sensible and coherent way.

"Er…. Ron and I….there was a….in the library….researching Watchers….we…. together."

Where was the English language when you needed it?

Fortunately, Lily was fluent in Babbling Hermione. Her eyes widened in delight. For a moment all other thoughts fled her mind. Eyeing their fellow Gryffindors close by, Lily leaned toward Hermione, practically bursting with excitement.

" You kissed him? Hermione, that's fantastic! Not to mention long overdue….were there tingles?" Embarrassed, Hermione could only nod. Lily squealed, then clapped a hand over her mouth as Lavender and Parvarti quit pelting Seamus with snow and looked their way.

" Oops…loudness. Sorry. Back to you and Ron….are you – hey!" Hermione followed Lily's gaze to the boys, who were deep in conversation and unaware they were about to have company. Lily pointed at the three figures.

"What are those slimy Slytheries doing up there?"

*******

"Oh look, a touching moment for Potty and the Weasel. What's the matter, Weasley, did Potty turn you down?"

Fortunately, Ron was unable to do anything more than clench his fists tighter at the sudden sound of Malfoy's sneering voice. Harry spun his broom sharply to face the Slytherin Quidditch captain, and sure enough, his pale face was set in a taunting smirk. Behind him, as always, were Crabbe and Goyle, struggling to stay on their brooms.

" What's the matter, Potter? Afraid I'll spill your secret? Honestly, what you Gryff boys do in your dormitory is your business."

Harry gritted his teeth, keeping both hands firmly on his Firebolt lest one of them connect with Malfoy's face. With a lazy wave to Crabbe and Goyle, apparently telling them to stay where they were, Malfoy circled Harry, stopping when he was face to face with Ron.

Eyeing the shabby broom Ron was now in control of, Malfoy's sharp eyes darted toward the ground, where the Gryffindors watched eagerly. Ron chanced a quick glance toward Hermione, hoping Malfoy hadn't noticed.

No such luck.

Harry watched with a sinking feeling as the Slytherin's eyes turned in the direction of Lily and Hermione, the smirk on his face replaced by a look that Harry couldn't read.

" Sorry Potter, looks like you've been cast aside. Weasel's got himself a girlfriend, boys. And what a lovely thing she is too!"

Before either Ron or Harry could react, Malfoy's wand was out and pointed at Ron. He muttered something, and Ron's tightly clenched hands swelled up to triple their normal size. His grip on the Comet faltered, and the broomstick began to wobble dangerously. Malfoy's smirk returned as Ron fumbled for a grip, then awkwardly began to steer toward solid ground.

Malfoy's triumphant shout echoed in Harry's ears. "See if Asher will still want your hands on her now, Weasel. Maybe she's into that kind of thing. Let me know how it all works out for you….I'm sure there's enough of her for all of us."

Harry felt a sudden rush of rage pound through his body. He spurred his broom toward Malfoy, who suddenly lost his smirk at the look in Harry's eyes.

Harry wasn't quite sure when Malfoy had whirled on his broom and shot away, or why he was currently following close behind his blonde rival. Crabbe and Goyle, unable to keep up with the pair, had dropped behind and were uselessly staring in their direction. The Hogwarts grounds whirled by as Malfoy dove and swerved, Harry pushing his Firebolt faster in order to keep up.

Harry chanced a swift glance at the ground below, hoping that Ron had managed to get down safely. To his relief, Ron was standing between Lily and Hermione, all three of them waving frantically at him. Were they trying to tell him something?

Whipping his head to the front, Harry was confronted with the sight of the Ravenclaw stands directly ahead of him. Malfoy had disappeared. Pulling up on his broomstick with all his strength, Harry heard only a deafening roaring in his ears as the world tilted alarmingly.

**********

"Oh bloody hell, what is he DOING? I can't watch." Ron covered his eyes with his misshapen hands as Harry shot upwards at a death-defying angle, his slipstream whipping the Ravenclaw banners into a frenzy.

There was a gasp of relief from the spectators on the ground as Harry cleared the stands by mere inches, then leant forward and resumed chasing Malfoy, who had reappeared from behind a goalpost.

A delighted shiver shot through him as Hermione squeaked in fright and buried her face in his shoulder. From his other side, he felt Lily nudge him none too subtly, without taking her eyes off the spectacular chase through the sky.

Ron reached out with a heavy hand and drew Hermione closer, muttering words he hoped were comforting. The faint honeysuckle smell of her hair was driving him mad, and to his horror he could feel a stirring begin in his…lower regions.

*Think unsexy thoughts. Freshly vomited slugs. Crabbe and Goyle naked. Hippogriff dung. Snape naked. Hermione naked. Bollocks!*

A furious voice interrupted his internal rambling. The Gryffindors weren't the only ones who had noticed the impromptu chase. McGonagall had arrived, robes flapping in indignation.

" WHAT is going on here?" In the blink of an eye, McGonagall's wand was out, and tapping her throat. "Sonorus!"

Ron winced as a magically magnified voice boomed directly in his ear, startling Hermione who jumped as though she'd been bitten.

"HARRY POTTER! DRACO MALFOY! KINDLY STOP THIS CHILDISH DISPLAY AND COME DOWN AT ONCE!"

McGonagall continued ranting angrily, but all Ron could think of was the tantalizing smell of Hermione's hair, the feel of her soft body pressing into his.

* Snape naked. Snape dancing naked. Snape dancing naked with Flitwick. Snape dancing naked with Flitwick on top of the Gryffindor table. Hermione…. naked….dancing…table.*

"Bloody Hell."

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A/N: I know, it's only a short update today – this part ended up being SO long that I was forced to divide it in half. This seemed the best place to do it.

As always, drop me a line, let me know whether you loved or hated it. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, it makes me write faster ( except when that pesky thing called Real Life gets in the way.)