Professor McGonagall read the nervousness in the pink flush of Ginny's skin and a wave of sympathy passed through her. She motioned to the chair in front of her desk.

          "Sit down, please, Ginny. There's nothing to worry about, dear. I promise."

          Ginny nodded, glancing around the empty classroom. McGonagall had never called her in for a private conference before. Neither McGonagall's mollifying statement nor the knowledge that she had done nothing wrong reduced her anxiety at all.

          McGonagall watched her student seriously across the desk, suppressing a smile. Through the reading glasses perched on her nose, she took one last sweep over Ginny's transcript.

          "You've done quite well since you've arrived, haven't you?"

          "Y-yes, Professor. At least, my mum thinks so," Ginny added. "I've done my best."

          "Your best has been quite exemplary," she said, finally loosing a pinched smile. "I imagine your mother is quite vocal when she thinks her children aren't performing well."

          "That's the truth." Ron had gotten an earful this summer about his O.W.L.'s, and Ginny didn't want to be in his shoes next year.

          "And from what I understand, you and Mr. Potter are quite the couple."

          The tips of Ginny's ears blushed pink. "Umm … I … We're friends," she said carefully, embarrassed. McGonagall reached across the table to offer a reassuring pat.

          "Don't worry, my dear. Your social life is your business, and besides, I think Harry is a fine young man. I only bring it up because you must bear it in mind while I explain why I called you in here. As you may have noticed," she continued, "Gryffindor is currently one prefect short of a full complement."

          "I noticed. I figured Hermione was it an' she wasn't saying anything," which had offended Ginny greatly. She and Hermione had grown much closer during the past year, and she had assumed they would continue to share their secrets. For the past few days, though, the feeling that Hermione, Ron, and Harry were hiding something wouldn't go away. Hermione had been so upset in Diagon Alley and on the Hogwarts Express, but then suddenly calm and collected again with no explanation given. Something had to be going on, and being cut out of the loop really bothered her.

          "Miss Granger is an excellent student, and a good candidate in a normal year. She and I have spoken about this already; Professor Dumbledore and I feel that we do not want to repeat the error of having too many prefects in one year. That course of action led us to our current predicament: all of them graduated, and no experienced prefects remain. We have already selected Dean Thomas and Parvati Patil from among the sixth-years, and none of the seventh-year candidates were a very good fit."

          That's easy to see, Ginny thought. All they do is keep to themselves anyway. No one ever sees them. The explanation made sense, though she had a hard time picturing Dean and Parvati as better candidates than Hermione. She nodded her agreement anyway.

          "As a result, the remaining two prefects will come from your year. I'm sure you know that Colin Creevey is one of them."

          "He told me when we were in line the first night. I think he's a good choice. Everybody likes him."

          "Yes, we thought he would be an interesting fit as well." She laid the golden prefect badge in front of Ginny. "We would like you to join him. It's a large responsibility, and your duties could impact the time you can spend with …"

          "I'd love to!" Ginny interrupted excitedly. "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to interrupt."

          "Quite alright, my dear. I only meant to remind you that you will have less free time to spend in the company of your friends."

          Meaning Harry, Ginny thought. Nice of her to consider that, at least.

          "I couldn't say no to this, Professor. Thank you for thinkin' of me."

          "Believe me, Ginny: you've earned it."

          Harry spent the second day of classes glancing over his shoulder at his classmates. None of them seemed to act any differently, and fortunately the subject he dreaded discussing had yet to come up. He wanted to run some possible answers by Ron and get his story straight before he had to answer anyone else.

          He was also working really hard not to be disappointed that he would never be the Gryffindor captain, but he was failing miserably.

          With that thought resonating in his head, he tried to refocus on Professor Giles' lecture. For the second straight year, Defense Against the Dark Arts seemed like it would be a winner. Professor Giles was a Gryffindor favorite; Harry knew the Slytherins were less fond of him, and tended to grumble about his unfairness to them. The Gryffindors unanimously agreed, however, that any favoritism in Dark Arts had nothing on Snape, and consisted mostly of taking points away only when it was deserved.

          That was fine with them.

          "… And so," Giles said as the end of class neared, "in conclusion, our first module will be on alternative methods of casting black magic. I would like you all to pay special attention in your reading to the effect these differing methods have on the caster. Expect a short essay on that topic next week."

          In the far corner, Willow smiled as she took notes. Hermione had confirmed that the students appreciated warnings about upcoming assignments, and her superb lesson planning allowed Giles to give them a week for medium-sized ones and usually two weeks for larger assignments. He was also going to let her and Tara demonstrate alternative casting methods as part of the next section, something she desired (actually teaching would be a nice change from assisting) and dreaded (what if something went wrong?) in equal parts. It would certainly be interesting.

          Her assistant's job the year before had worked out differently than she had anticipated. She spent much of her time planning lessons and grading homework; during class, she mostly took her own set of notes while observing the response to Giles' lectures. The good news was that it was generally positive and his class was a favorite; the bad news was that it therefore was often boring. This year, though, Giles had promised more real teaching opportunities for her.

          For the time being, she resigned herself to observing, and the first thing she observed was Harry's obvious discomfort. Since it was Harry, Willow decided to do more than simply note his demeanor on her daily report to Giles.

          "Hey, Harry," she called when the period ended, "hold up?"

          He asked Ron and Hermione to wait for him in the hall and walked over to her seat in the front.

          "Hey, Willow. You want to talk to me?"

          "Actually, I was kinda thinking you might want to talk to me. Is everything okay? You seemed distracted today."

          "I was paying attention," Harry said quickly, mentally kicking himself for being so obvious. How're we gonna be secret if I can't even focus in class?

          "Oh, I know," she said with a reassuring smile. "You're not in trouble or anything. You just had elsewhere face."

          "Elsewhere face?"

          "Yeah, y'know, when you're here but your mind is elsewhere?"

          He chuckled. "Oh. I s'pose I did. It's not important, though."

          "Are you sure?"

          She looked so concerned. He started talking more to alleviate that than anything else. "Yeah. I've been thinking about Quidditch, is all."

          "About not being captain?"

          "Uh huh."

          "Well, we were sorta glad you guys picked the training. I know it'll make Professor Dumbledore feel better, plus we get to teach you. That'll be neat."

          "Don't get me wrong – I don't regret the choice much, but…"

          "Being captain was really important to you, huh?" He nodded, letting his face fall into the glumness he was feeling. "That's what's not cool about being one of the good guys. Choices sometimes get made for you."

          "I know it's the right one, and I actually think it will be pretty great, but…"

          "But it doesn't make the lost opportunity any less appealing."

          "No."

          "Y'know, I never told you about the time I had a chance to bail on the whole Slayerette thingy, did I?"

          Harry stared at her, surprised. "No, never. You had a chance to get out?"

          "Yup. A big chance, actually. You grew up with muggles, so you know about college, right?" Harry nodded. "I got into a whole bunch. Oxford, Harvard, Wesleyan. Places all over America and Europe and very much not of the 'On a Hellmouth' variety."

          "Wow. I never met anyone who actually got into Oxford."

          "Giles went there, before he got into the watching."

          "Cool."

          "Yeah. So anyway, my parents, who are muggle professors, really wanted me to go away to one of these super good schools, and Buffy, Giles and Xander did too. They all wanted me to be smart, safe, productive-member-of-society Willow. They were wrong, though, 'cuz that wasn't me."

          "So you stayed?"

          "Yup. I hated missing out on all that stuff, y'know, like beans at Harvard and scones at Oxford and learning neat things that don't really matter, because I would have been happy. But I had a responsibility, too: I was Buffy's friend and a magic-wielding Slayerette to boot. If Glory had sucked the world into hell or something while I was off taking a final, it wouldn't have been a good thing." She paused, realizing that she had rambled on and Harry's wide eyes were watching her. "Did that make sense?"

          "Yeah." He smiled bravely but continued to look downtrodden.

          "But you're still bummed, huh?"

          He nodded. "It's complicated. I mean, your friends and your life were really geared to this. I know I made the right choice, and once we get into it I'll believe it, but there's more to it than just that. What happens when someone asks why I'm not the captain? Everyone knows I would've been. I have no idea what to say."

          Willow turned that over in her mind for a few seconds before an idea popped up.

A clever idea.

A devious idea.

          A perfect idea.

          She smiled at Harry again, this one with the edge of conspiracy on it.

          "So you need an excuse, right? A believable one?"

          "Uh huh."

          "Didja ever see the movie Good Will Hunting?"

          "No. Dudley rented it once, but they wouldn't let me watch. Why?"

          "Oh. Too bad, because you haveta see about a girl."

          When Ginny met Harry in the dorm afterwards, she positively glowed. Ignoring her brother's presence, she ran up and hugged Harry hard, catching his lips with hers.

          "Hey, Ginny," he said when her grip loosened enough to speak. "Why're you so excited?"

          "I had to meet with McGonagall. I tol' you that, right?"

          "Uh huh. What'd she want?"

          Ginny waved Ron and Hermione over, grinning at them as she disengaged from Harry and took his hand. Her other hand, Ron noticed, was balled into a fist around something.

          "I'm glad she didn't call me in," Ron said. "Gives me the creeps when she does that."

          "Oh no, it was nothin' bad. A'course, I was kinda nervous, too," Ginny agreed. "But the news was all happy."

          "Don't hold us in suspense," Harry said. "Out with it."

          She held out her hand, palm up, and opened her fingers. The prefect badge glittered in the late afternoon sunlight, its 'P' prominent in her hand.

          "I'm the fourth prefect." Even as she said it, she remembered about Hermione and cursed herself for not being more circumspect.

          "Gin, that's …" Ron looked at Hermione, who tried in vain to keep the disappointment from her face. "… that's so great. Congratulations. Mum'll be really pleased that you're settin' a good example for me and Fred and George."

          "That's definitely great, Ginny," Harry reiterated. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, keeping his eyes on Hermione the whole time.

          Hermione felt a wave of regret pass through her, then gamely offered a smile. She was genuinely happy for the younger girl; she just wished they could have been prefects together. "Congratulations, Ginny. You deserve it."

          "Thanks, Hermione. I was really …" She was about to say how surprised she was that Hermione hadn't been picked, but Ron's sudden look cut her off, "really honored that McGonagall wanted me."

          They spent a few more minutes congratulating Ginny and talking about all of the new duties she had to assume, but the conversation was halting and awkward. Hermione finally begged off and disappeared, pleading homework as her excuse. Ron moved to follow her, but she shook him off and left the other three alone.

          "Bugger," he said softly as the door swung closed behind her.

          "I'm sorry," Ginny said, distressed. "Should I not have said anythin'? 'Cos Professor McGonagall said they had already talked, so I figured it was okay."

          "They talked," Harry said. "It's not your fault. Hermione was okay with it, mostly."

          "She's happy for you, Ginny. I know she is," Ron added.

          "It's kind of weird that they picked Dean and Parvati over Hermione."

          Harry and Ron traded a look.

          "Well," Harry began, equivocating lamely, "I guess they had a tough choice. I mean, Parvati and Dean are good students."

          Ginny gave him a queer look, but he and Ron were saved from any serious lying when a blonde head poked through the door.

          "Ron? Harry? Can I talk to you guys for a minute?"

          Both of the boys released the breaths they had been holding. Harry answered her. "Sure, Mel. Come on in."

          Sensing the talk would involve private Quidditch matters, Ginny excused herself. "I'm gonna go talk to Hermione. I don't want her feelin' bad."

          "Okay." Harry pecked her on the cheek. "See you at dinner?"

          "Yup. Bye, Ron."

          "Bye, Ginny." His sister ducked out of the room, leaving the three of them alone. He turned to the blonde. "So Mel, what's up?"

          Melissa Norton was in Ginny's class, a girl nearly as tall as Ron and Harry with the lithe build of an athlete and short, perpetually curly blonde hair. She was both very attractive and very smart, and Ron knew several boys in their year that wanted to get to know her better. She was also a Chaser on the Quidditch team and the only other player left from last year's starters.

          "So … umm … here's the thing. I talked to McGonagall today."

          "Uh huh," Harry said slowly, knowing what was coming. He had been preparing for this since they left Dumbledore's office, and he tried to focus on what Willow had said.

          "She … she wants me to be Quidditch captain."

          "I know," he said. Ron glanced at him oddly; Harry was not approaching this the way Ron thought he would. He seemed way too calm. Then again, they hadn't discussed how they would manage to conceal the fact that Harry had been offered the job. He decided to just run with whatever his friend said.

          "You do?"

          "Yeah."

          "And … you're okay with that?"

          He nodded. "It's either you or me. I'm not gonna kid you; they offered it to me."

          "You turned them down?"

          "Didn't have a choice. You know Ginny's a prefect, right?"

          "That's the rumor, yeah."

          "With her doing that, and me being Quidditch captain, we'd never get to see each other. So I said no."

Ron did a double take. What was Harry talking about?

          "You turned down Quidditch captain for her?" Mel appraised him carefully. "Harry Potter, I had no idea you were such a romantic. That's beautiful. Insane, but beautiful."

          "I'm still playing. That's the important thing."

          "I guess," she said, clearly disagreeing. "So we're it for the team. I was thinking we should do an open tryout."

          "What about the reserves?" Ron asked.

          "A few of them might work. Most won't, and I don't know anything about the second years. Are you guys busy on Sunday?"

          "Uh uh."

          "Nope," Ron concurred, "why?"

          "Well … I'd like your help. I mean, I only played for a year, even though I was a reserve for a while. It's really your team, Harry, even if I'm the captain. I'll need your help in a big way. If you don't mind?" She said it tentatively, expecting bitterness that he couldn't be captain.

          Harry smiled broadly, excited by her unexpected offer. She was saying that, in effect, they'd be co-captains. "I'd really like that, Mel. Really."

          "Great!" She beamed. "Let's talk Friday sometime about what we want them to do. I'll put the word out that it's open to anyone."

          They discussed the tryouts for a few minutes before she left, all of them getting more and more energized for the upcoming year. When she was gone, Ron couldn't hold himself back any longer.

          "What was that crap about not enough time for Ginny? Where'd you come up with that?"

          "Willow."

          "Willow? Our Willow? Red hair, blushes a lot? Could be my older sister?"

          Harry laughed. "Yeah, Ron. Willow. She stopped me after class an' told me she was glad we accepted the offer from Dumbledore. We got to talking a little, and she suggested that should be my excuse."

          "You knew Ginny'd be a prefect?"

          "Willow told me. I didn't want to spoil the surprise or upset Hermione, so I didn't say anything. Besides, it was only today."

          "You coulda told me, though."

          "No," he replied with a laugh, "I wanted to see your face. And," he deadpanned, "it was worth it."

          "Hey! That's not fair!"

          Harry shrugged. "It was fun, though."

          Ron scowled, and Harry burst out laughing.