A/N: Well, I read the fifth book last night. I was awake 'til two and enjoyed it heartily. I also woke up my cats several times laughing. While the latest is my favorite so far, except maybe for the third one –I digress, it does require a bit of editing to the previous chapter. I have removed one character for reasons those who have finished the fifth will grasp, and inserted another. Since I can't explain much more without ruining it for everyone whose parents didn't go out at midnight and get the book, readers may want to hit the Previous Chapter button and see what changes have been made. Thanks! Here you go. 

Chapter Thirty-Two: Advice, Ideas, and An Owl

"I'm a what?!"

Well, it wasn't the best reaction to the results of a Sorting, but it seemed to be one of the funniest. Snape actually laughed with some of the other professors, but it was mainly to cover the fact that he was just as shocked as Cassandra had to be. Fortunately, she had had plenty of practice in covering up emotions, too. "Explains my winning streak at cards, eh, Sevvy?" the werewolf called jovially, the words almost drowned out by the laughter and whispers now filling the hall. Almost nobody caught the fact that her merry smile was entirely false.

The Gryffindor table was especially dumbstruck. Ron looked as though his mother had just announced her intention to pose nude in Playwizard.

"How can she be a Slytherin?" he asked numbly. "She's more Gryffindor than Professor McGonagall! Professor Cass hates the Slytherins!"

"Not all of them," Hermione pointed out. "Look!"

The professors, all of them, were leaving the High Table to sit with their sorted House. John stopped and kissed his wife before she could get away, and did so in such a manner that the entire female student body let out a collective gasp. Looking even dizzier than before, Cass reluctantly left John's side to head for the Slytherin table, squeezing his hand gently before she went. When she got to her seat among the Serpents, Snape and Malfoy gave her welcoming hugs, as did a somewhat vacant-eyed Goyle, who made the lean professor look as though some of her ribs were snapping.

"I did not see that," Ron gasped.

"Goyle just copped a feel?" Harry asked.

"She let Malfoy hug her!"

"Ron, you nit, she hugged him back," Blaise pointed out. "They're friends."

"But…but he's…"

"He's a Malfoy. So? I've been friends with him for years." The calm Slytherin female picked up another strawberry and bit into it. "Don' ta' fingsso damser rously."

"Huh?"

"Don't take things so damn seriously," Hermione translated. "What is with you lot and talking with your mouths full?"

"Farry." Blaise gulped down some pumpkin juice before continuing. "Look, I'm toleratable and I'm a Slytherin."

"Tolerable," Hermione and Maria corrected absently.

"Right. So what's-a big deal 'at your fav'rite per'fessor is?" Blaise feigned a very accurate Yank accent. "She's still the Anti-Snape."

"She'd likely find that term funny," Mr. Tyler agreed, taking a seat by the Slytherin girl. "Hello."

"You don't think it's unusual that your wife turned out a Slytherin?" Harry asked.

"Nope." The American looked for something to eat. "Have you ever played cards with her?"

"Seriously," Ron added. "The Slytherins are really dodgy…it is a shock."

"Has it not occurred to you that Cassie's really dodgy, too?" John asked, putting some angelfood cake onto a plate. "Just because you can keep a secret, break rules, and be a bit on the clever side doesn't mean you're a bad person, right?"

It was a very good point. The Gryffindors had all kept secrets and broken rules.

"Still…" Ron pressed. "Don't you have to be a pureblood for Slytherin?"

"I'm a pureblood, if you look at it," John pointed out. "Tylers have been wizards and werewolves since before the American Revolution. But I'm still a Gryffindor."

"That's the thing. Is Professor Cass pureblooded?"

"I don't know an' don't care." John stared directly at Ron as he said this. "She's the woman I love and that's all I know."

It was certainly a Gryffindor attitude to the surprise; but Hermione knew what would be happening soon. John Tyler was a creature of abject emotions, but Cass was not. She would want to know who she was, no matter what it took to find out, and even whether the truth was terrible. Hermione also knew whom the professor would be asking first for help.

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The sixth-year Potions project was done, but Hermione still found herself in the dungeon at eight o'clock most nights. She was just opening the door when a weird green haze spread across the walls, moving like water covering a floor. It felt very strange; making her stomach hurt slightly, but after a moment it was gone. She stepped into the Potions room, confused.

"What was that?"

"I don't know." Severus already had his wand out and was looking like he might duel the walls. "It felt like a warding spell, though."

"Is Dumbledore making the castle safer?"

"Possibly." The professor's face suddenly lit up. "I think I know what it is. The Yanks want to make electrical things work on the Hogwarts grounds."

"So it won't do that again?"

"Not likely." Severus closed the classroom door, this time locking it manually as well as with a spell.

"You don't want company tonight?" Hermione asked.

"I don't expect any but you." The wizard took off his heavy outer robes and unbuttoned his coat, revealing an ordinary black t-shirt. "My students are under the impression that I have a migraine, the rest of the staff are all otherwise occupied, and the Tylers are –erm…busy."

"Ah." Hermione smiled. "Full moon."

"No, that's tomorrow." Severus smiled mischievously. "Something about their anniversary."

"Oh." Neither felt the need to pursue that topic. "What potions are you working on tonight?"

"I thought we'd set up some Wolfsbane to stew for tomorrow, and maybe the Veritas Sanguinus." Hermione was startled.

"Why that?"

"Dear, I've seen you reading, I've seen what you're reading, and I can tell which part of the book you're in. I'm also worried about her, too."

"Then you suspect…?"

"It's quite possible." Severus frowned. "A little more possible than I like to think about."

There was a long silence.

"Severus…when you were a Death Eater…there were times…?" Hermione didn't want to ask what she was thinking. Severus ran a hand through his black hair and sighed.

"There were times when I tortured and used potions. There were also times when I used terrible curses." The lean man shut his eyes for a moment, then looked at Hermione. "But I never…there's no chance of that. I couldn't inflict that kind of pain, somehow."

"I'm not sure I'd hate you if you had. It was a horrible time."

"You would," Severus replied shortly. "I spoke to Narcissa awhile ago, and she suspects the same thing we do. You can't imagine…maybe you can. She was in love with Lucius, for all his faults, and now, even when there's more reason than ever to loathe him, she still can't help caring for that man. I don't know what kind of person you'd have to be to feel that way, but I hope you aren't one. There's too much pain in it."

Hermione took Severus' hand in her own. It was larger, had longer fingers, but the two seemed to fit.

"I already am. But you've never given me any reason to feel pain in loving you." She brushed a bit of his long hair away from his face and stroked his cheek. "I do love you, you know."

"If you knew what it feels like to hear those words…" Severus smiled softly and kissed the only person who had dared to say them to him. "I love you even for knowing them."

"I want you to survive this war, Severus."

"I will. For the first time, I want to survive." The professor kissed her again, than went to his desk and opened the drawer. "I have something for you." Hermione looked a bit surprised and Severus smiled. "Miss Weasley suggested you would like a book, so I suppose this is sort of close." There were two leather-bound volumes, one in dark brown and one in black, which Severus set on the desk. "Choose one of these."

Hermione stepped over and touched the black book.

"Reminds me of you." Severus smiled.

"I chose the brown for the same reason. Turn it over." Hermione found her name had been embossed on the book's cover. Severus turned his over and showed his own. "Open it."

Hermione complied, but the book was blank. Astonished, she smiled quizzically.

"Are these what I think they are?" Severus smiled.

"So much more reliable than owls, under the present circumstances." There had been more reports of intercepted owls lately than ever, and these two of all people needed secrecy. "Will you write to me this summer?"

"Every day."

"You know whom you'll be staying with?"

"The Tylers."

"As I'd hoped. Potter is staying with me." Severus frowned momentarily and Hermione smiled at his distaste. "Noone can read these but you and I. If Cass or John or anyone else opens yours, it will simply look like something they've already read. Whatever you write to me appears in mine, and what I write to you will show up in yours." Severus smiled and opened his, writing something very quickly. "Look and see."

Hermione opened her copy and smiled.

"'Quoi q'uil arrive, je't adore.'"

"You do speak French?"

"Only a little." Smiling, Hermione picked up a quill and wrote a reply. Severus read it and raised an eyebrow.

"German?"

"Bulgarian."

"That, actually, is one I don't speak." Severus kissed Hermione on the cheek. "What does it mean?"

"The same thing as yours. I love you, come what may."

A few moments later, Severus clutched his arm and scowled.

"Bloody miserable…"

"Will you be back soon?"

"I don't know." Severus kissed her once more and then began to quickly draw out a map on a blank parchment. He handed it to Hermione. "Upstairs, on the second floor, there's a deserted classroom with a picture of a dragon by the door. Inside you will find a wardrobe filled with my old robes. In the pocket of the pinstriped set I lent Cass, you will find a glass marble. It's a Portkey."

"So that's how you get everywhere!"

"Flitwick set it up. I can get there from several places, and there are a good many Portkeys to various places there." Severus kissed his secret girlfriend. "If I'm not back by ten, go to the Portkey."

"Alright." Hermione kissed him back, being just as nearly addicted to it as Severus. "You know, Ginny said you had gone off your nut, trying to get to Narnia." Hermione smiled. "I didn't know you liked Muggle children's books."

"And who," Severus asked, looking scandalized, "told you C.S. Lewis was a Muggle?"

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From the diary of Maria Catesby, May twenty-third:

               I'm in my room in the Slytherin dormitories. I had to sneak in so Blaise didn't see the marks on my face. If I didn't have Bill, I would have probably not come back to Hogwarts. Gods, what do I tell him? Will he believe I didn't want it, that Milton had his friends with him and I was outnumbered? I feel so sick…
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From the diary of Cassandra Antigone Tyler, May thirtieth:

               If it isn't one thing, it's another, I guess. At least 'work'll be over in a few days. I went to a party last night in one of the deserted rooms, with some Gryffies and nice Slythies, but mostly Ravenclaws. (There might've been Hufflepuffs, to, but I didn't speak to any personally.) Maria Catesby left really suddenly and I found her in Moaning Myrtle's, puking like she'd just had one of those ungodly Weasley class-cut candies. You know, etiquette books should really include what one properly says to someone who's just been re-introduced to their last meal. What I said is definitely in the Tactless Tyler Hall of Fame: "Was it the cheese dip?"

               Maria burst into tears. I fucking hate it when that happens! I didn't mean to be blunt or inconsiderate or anything, and suddenly I had one of Hermione's mates pulling the waterworks. Drat me anyway. Then Moaning Myrtle (hereinafter referred to as the See-Through Hosebag,) started getting all chipper and telling me how Maria's been throwing up for days.

               Alright, here is when I really blew it. I immediately deduced with my Sherlock Holmes-like powers of wit that Maria had an eating disorder. I made a remark to the effects of 'But you look great!' and she immediately got worse. I had never wanted to see someone vomit, sob and swear at the same time, and I doubt I'd enjoy an encore performance. The See-Through Hosebag let out a giggle, though, and started going on about how that wasn't why and 'that poor girl's you-know-what…' until I really wanted to call for an exorcist. Maria was crying, still, which only got me more pissed. Not a good combination.

               I will admit I probably said some truly hideous things to the See-Through Hosebag. Most were to the effect of 'not even Peeves would want to (swearword) you,' 'at least Maria's pretty enough for guys to notice her without (swearword) –ing themselves in revulsion' and lastly, but most triumphantly, 'who asked you anyway, you bloated, acniferous sack of translucent woe!' (If 'acniferous' isn't really a word, tough beansies. I was pissed.) Then I told her to go to hell. I think she may have actually attempted it, given how she dove into the toilet and started flooding things. Remind me never to die in anyplace less than an amusement park.

               Maria is in the situation the Hosebag said she was. Now, if that poor kid was a Gryffindor, she could go to Minerva McGonagall and at least have a sensible human to explain things to. But Sev? Severus 'King-of-the-Snarky-Bastards' Snape? I know him and I know he's not quite the git he seems, but if I didn't, I'd sure be scared as hell to talk to him. So I pretty much became the Voice of Reason for Maria. (Not a role I'd ever imagined myself in. Not at all.) After I stopped her crying and got her to a warded room (the very walls have ears and those paintings gossip like mad,) I got her to explain.

               I thought my life was bad. Really I did. I have never been more fucking wrong. Maria was raped, by that miserable, pencil-dicked…
Approximately twenty-five words omitted, Mrs. Tyler evidently having let fly the nether side of a Pittsburgh vocabulary.
               …Milton Blodgett, whom I intend to kill personally, taking great care and using nothing less than a motorized Cuisinart. If that were the only snag, I would suggest she have Sev (or better yet, 'Mione,) make a termination potion on the spot. I don't know what the British wizarding stance on abortion is, but where I come from there are circumstances, and this is one of them. But that's not all. Oh, no. Maria is horribly, tragically in love with her professor, Bill Weasley, and apparently they're a bit more advanced in their relationship than… well, how the sod does one put this kindly? She doesn't know who the father is, and she won't terminate Bill's child. So she's screwed either way. I thought I liked being a teacher up 'til this point.

               I gave her the best advice I could. I suggested she report Milton, tell Bill, see Madam Pomfrey, and let me know the Slytherin password. (I should really know it anyway; I am one, after all.) She asked me why. I explained that bastards like Milton Blodgett don't deserve to stay at school, Bill will most likely support her in whatever she chooses, and if Dumbledore doesn't agree with my idea of punishing rapists, I want to emasculate the little slimeball myself. She almost smiled at that. I also told her that she didn't have to keep the baby, even if she did decide to keep it, meaning have the kid, but not get stuck raising it. I even offered to adopt it myself. (Not a bad idea, seeing as how I can't have my own.) She did a lot of crying, hugged me, and went back to her room.

I don't know what she's going to do, but I know what I intend to, as soon as Severus gets back from wherever he's gotten to. I am 'obligated by the rules' to rat out a kid to their Head of House, and in this case I think I'd do it anyway. I'm also going to ask Minerva McGonagall's advice. (She's been a teacher since God was in short pants and is very wise anyway.) I don't know about Dumbledore. He's so busy with the war, and this might only stress him out worse.

You know, I'm a freakin' spy here. I'm supposed to make sure Voldemort doesn't off these kids, and that's about it. And past that, if I hadn't used the Time-Turner, I'd be their age now. It is scary as hell to have a kid like Maria turn to me for advice, especially in a situation like hers. It's awful to have people needing you. I liked it fine when it was just bugging mansions and doing spy stuff and making the sixth-years think, but now I think I've distinctly lost my taste for it. Go figure.

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