"You know, for a Prince o' Darkness, you seem right unhappy." Mel's lips brushed against Draco's throat as she spoke. When she was done, she went back to laying tiny kisses on his pale flesh.
"S'not you, if you're wondering," he choked out, his voice rough. Her hand was toying with the hair at the base of his neck, and the combination was going a long way to forcing him out of his funk.
"Like this, do you?"
"You know I do." He pulled her mouth up to his, and for a few minutes there was no sound louder than the wind whistling across the rooftop around them. When they finally broke for air, Draco wrapped her in his arms and pulled her against his chest. The feel of his muscular body made her tingle, even with two sets of winter robes between them.
"What's wrong, Malfoy? We finally slip away, an' you're here but you're sorta not, too."
She felt him sigh. "Long week."
"I woulda thought a Bad Boy like yourself would enjoy a little mudblood torture. Especially aimed at Granger and a Weasley. Or are we back to you being sweet on Granger?"
"Thought Gryffs didn't say that word."
"Sweet?'
"You know what I meant. Mudblood."
"Some do. Some don't. You need ta get off this good little Gryff image you got of me."
He gently disengaged himself from her and leaned back against a brick chimney. Only their hands were still touching. "Don't mind messing with them. Torture's a bit … common, for my taste is all."
"Something your minions do for you?" she said, half-joking.
"Exactly." Draco studiously kept his voice flat and uncaring. The truth was that he felt ill inside. After two months of training, he had begun to think Granger wasn't such a bad sort. For a Gryff, anyway. He had managed to sneak away to the infirmary one night, where he had found her physically unharmed but silent and shaking. The sight upset him so visibly that Weasley hadn't even tried to make him leave. Draco had tried to speak with Snape about it, but the Potions Master had deliberately blown him off, calling it the price of resistance.
Nonsense, in Draco's opinion. But now, here, with Mel, was not exactly the time for Draco's real opinion. He didn't trust her that much yet. So he gritted his mental teeth and kept his feelings inside.
"I just don't get it," Draco heard himself say, trying to focus on the feel of her hand in his. He was starting to really like her, and she kissed like a damn demon. "I mean, terrorizing people inside Hogwarts is fun, but wouldn't you think someone like the Dark Lord would have better things to do?"
"I dunno," Mel said with a shrug. "Don't much care, either. See, way I figure it, he'll win or he won't. People like me will get caught in the middle, and I'll do my best to get through it. It's up to Dumbledore an' the Ministry how far he really gets."
"You really think you can stay out of it?" He was incredulous, even though he knew many wizards felt the same way. How could people be so foolish? There was no neutral, see-who-wins position in this war. Voldemort wouldn't allow it. He was a worship-me-or-die-screaming sort. Mel seemed smarter than to believe she could be safe without taking sides.
"A'course not. But I'm just a kid, Draco," she said seriously, snuggling back up to him. "What can I do? I can't protect myself against that."
She moved to snuggle back up to him, and the revelation burst into his mind with a flash.
"Is that what this is about?" He shouted, dropping her hand and jumping to his feet. "Hedging your bets with a Slytherin Prince? Figure I'm in good with Slytherin, I can keep my girl safe from the Dark Lord?"
"Can't you?" His nostrils flared, and she started to giggle. "Relax, Malfoy. I'm havin' you on, you dolt." She reached out and took his stiff hand. "Truth is, I find you kinda fascinating. You're pretty yummy to look at," she paused and brought his fingertip to her mouth, "not to mention how you taste. That, plus you savin' my life with Nott, an' you really think I'm in this for protection? I'm a Gryff. I could go to Harry if I needed to. Or Dumbledore. And I will, if I have to."
She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her lips went back to his neck.
"You aren't what you seem, Draco Malfoy. I don't think you're all skeletons an' darkness like you play at. You're complicated. And I like that in a boy. That's as far as it goes. D'you believe me?"
That damn smell again, Draco thought, inhaling as he leaned in. Does it to me every time.
"Aren't they so cute?" Dawn whispered in the door of the roof stairwell. "You could just die."
"Malfoy might, if it gets out he's dating the Gryffindor Quidditch captain," Neville whispered back. The sight of Draco and Mel snogging was shocking, but he wouldn't say anything to anyone. It wasn't really his business who she wanted to snog, even if it was Draco Malfoy.
"Really?" Neville nodded. "Damn. Must be good kissage. Plus, they stole our spot."
Neville restrained a smile, thinking of the potential meaning of Dawn's words. Not that the two of them were looking for a place to snog, but the way she said it made his neck color slightly.
She didn't seem to notice. "Where else could we go?"
"Quidditch pitch, maybe?" He shrugged. "Worth a try."
The two of them made their way down to the Quidditch pitch, moving slowly so as not to attract the attention of the people on patrol. The night was chilly, but they were bundled up in winter robes over sweatpants and sweatshirts, so it didn't really affect them.
When they got to the field, the robes came off and they took positions opposite each other, five feet apart.
"You sure about this?" Neville asked again, knowing the answer from his first fifty tries to talk her out of it.
"Yup. Stop trying to be all dissuadey, Nev. I took a thump on the head, not a knife to the stomach. I'm good to go."
He sighed and nodded. "Long as you're sure."
"Oh, I'm sure," she replied impatiently. "I'm sure I'm gonna kick your butt all over this field, too."
They took fighting stances, Neville's feet closer and his hands lower than Dawn's. He let her make the first move and she did, wading in with a double-jab combination that he blocked easily. He tried a leg sweep that she hopped over, and for the next fifteen minutes they were off and sparring. Dawn was good, her style much more mobile than her sister because she lacked Buffy's raw power. She was more aggressive than Neville as well; he preferred to wait and let his opponents make their mistakes before he exposed himself. Neville quickly grasped that he was stronger and his technique was better, but Dawn was still quick enough to make things interesting. By the time they were done, they were both sweating profusely and smiling.
"You're way good," Dawn said admiringly. "How long have you been training?"
"A bit more than a year. You?"
"Same."
"Your sister must be somethin'. I remember last year, when she kicked You-Know-Who's hand. Bloody fantastic."
"The Slayer thing helps. Grey's not so bad either. He took Faith to school when we got here."
"Yeah, he'd be scary if he had the kind of speed all the time."
Dawn pulled a towel from her bag and wiped the sweat from her face. Neville did the same and she smiled when she saw the lion on his towel. "Tara did that, right?"
"Uh huh."
"She made me a sweater with a key on it. You can so tell it's her work."
"A key?"
"Long story," she said, clearly not wanting to discuss it. He let it drop.
"So you're okay? No lingering wooziness or anythin'?"
"Uh uh. Dandy." She smiled. "Thanks for doing this. None of the adults would let me yet."
"You just protect me from your sister an' we'll be square." At the mention of Buffy, her face dropped into a frown. "Dawn? Did I put my foot in it somehow?"
She shrugged and flopped onto the grass, her hands resting on her bent knees. "Not you. Just … worried about Buffy, you know? Something bad's after her. I've never seen her like she was the other day." Dawn had gone home for a quick visit through the floo, and Buffy's wan condition was frightening to her younger sister.
"Spike's the one who can save her, yeah?"
"Yeah. That's what Angel told me."
"Would you want to be the thing standin' between Spike and Buffy?" Neville asked seriously.
"Okay, not so much," she said with a slight grin. "He trained you, right? That's how you know him?"
"Partly. Grey did a lot of it while Spike was off, but yeah, he was a part of it. Speakin' of," Neville said, hoping to get Dawn's mind back on to a more pleasant topic, "what d'you do at six in the morning?"
"Umm … mostly I sleep." She looked puzzled.
"Grey an' I train in the mornings now. If you can get up, you should join us. I know he'd help you, an' with everythin' that's going on …" Neville let it hang, hoping he had kept the eagerness from his voice. Grey had given him a knowing smile when Neville had made the suggestion, and he had been nervous then, but after sparring with her, he felt surprisingly calm as he awaited her reply.
"Sure. Why not? I mean, it's not like I have anything better to do than hang out with you everyday anyway."
She said it off-handedly, and he knew she didn't really mean anything by it, but Neville couldn't keep a triumphant smile off of his face.
"Did you ever think you'd see that outta Neville?" Harry asked. He and Ginny had watched Neville and Dawn sparring from the hill overlooking the Quidditch pitch. Neither of the combatants had noticed them huddled together on the grass, the invisibility cloak draped over them like a blanket.
"Uh uh," she answered, her words muffled by the heavy fabric of his robes. His arm held her snugly against him while her fingers splayed across his chest. "He's good, though."
He nodded, and they lapsed into silence. Harry had no idea how to approach the conversation they needed to have, and he figured Ginny didn't either. After several days of rest she seemed ready for it, but he didn't know how to begin. They had been laying on the hill in uncomfortable silence for almost thirty minutes.
"Gin?"
"Yeah?"
"I … I'm sorry I let you get hurt." What the hell, he figured, I'll just blurt it out.
In an instant she exited his embrace and sat up straight.
"Are you unhinged?"
"Huh?"
"You didn't let me get hurt, you berk!" She was shouting at him in a whisper. "I followed you cos I was worried. I made a choice an' it went badly. You aren't there to protect me from me. Bloody hell, Harry, I'm a person just as you are."
He sat up, bringing his eyes level with hers and inspecting her carefully.
"I'm not some fragile little bird, Harry. I've had a knife at my throat. I've nearly been eaten by a giant snake, for heaven sakes. I'm not runnin' about screamin' with joy after what happened, I'll grant you that, but I'm not broken, either. This is why I'm so pissed about you keepin' secrets from me. I don't need your coddlin', an' if that's how you're gonna keep treatin' me, we're through."
Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Gin, I don't coddle you. Honest. I haven't forgotten any of it. You think I want you involved in that kind of thing? I don't care how much you can handle it, an' I know you can. I still want you out of it."
"You don't get to choose that for me, Harry!" Her cheeks flushed red. "I'm not lettin' you an' my idiot brother go off an' fight without me. I won't do it."
He nodded, resigned. What else could he do?
"Now, about the lyin', that's somethin' we need to work out here and now. What's goin' on with you three? You can do things I know you didn't learn in class or on your own. I'm not stupid."
"I never said you were. There's obviously a bit more going on than we've said," he admitted, "but I can't tell you, Gin. Not that I don't want to – I do. More than you can imagine. But I can't. You think I'm doin' it because I think it's best, but I'm not. I have no choice."
The implication was clear enough to her: Dumbledore had given him strict instructions.
"Listen, Gin," he said, taking her hands in his, "if it were up to me, I'd tell all in a second. Jus' so I could talk about it, if nothing else," he admitted. "I can't. It's for your own safety. Our enemies have ears everywhere – one slip, an' we're in serious trouble."
She could, strangely enough, hear Professor Giles in Harry's voice.
"It can't be …"
He cut her off abruptly. "It is, Gin. It's that dangerous these days. Even Ron an' Hermione don't know all of it. I almost think no one does, 'cept Dumbledore."
She didn't care. "I'm in this, Harry. You might not want me to be, Dumbledore might not want me to be, but I am. My brother's in it. My boyfriend's in it. An' even if you weren't, that bastard made me hurt." Her brown eyes flashed with anger. "I'm in this."
Harry didn't know what to say. All of them, even Dumbledore – they all underestimated Ginny. She had strength where most people didn't even know they needed it. She's like me, he realized, understanding suddenly why he was so drawn to her. That she could go through an ordeal like this and come out not only intact, but looking for a turn at the man who hurt her …
"You're bloody amazing," he whispered. Her eyes went wide, and he pulled her in for a kiss that left her breathless.
"Oy!" Ron shouted, moving away from the window. "I don't need to see that, Harry." Then he remembered himself, and turned back to the common room. "Sorry, 'Mione, I didn't mean to disturb you."
She shrugged non-committally. It was all she seemed to do since the attack: act like nothing really mattered, good or bad. Ron felt like he was waiting for Christmas morning, except instead of presents, Hermione would explode into tears.
Or disappear altogether.
He didn't know how to handle her. None of them did, not even Ginny. Hermione seemed to be somewhere else entirely. Today had been her first day back in class, and she had not spoken once. Hermione not raising her hand once! He couldn't believe it.
"Alright, 'Mione?" Ron asked for the hundredth time.
"Fine, Ron. Really. You should be in bed, though," she added listlessly.
"An' you shouldn't?"
She shrugged again. "Can't sleep."
Actually, she was desperately tired. Every time she drifted off, though, she heard that oily laugh and the pain would rip through her body again. She couldn't bear that right now. She knew Ron and the others thought she was completely lost, that she had somehow disappeared when that bastard Grindelwald had hurt her. She would have screamed out her frustration if she could have, but she hadn't the energy. Her anger – at Grindelwald, at herself, at Harry and Ron – remained trapped inside her. She could feel it coming to a rolling boil, but she couldn't do anything to release the pressure.
All she really wanted was to be alone when it blew.
"Ya could stay with me … I don't mean in a, y'know, naughty way," he added quickly, embarrassed. "Just in a comfort way."
"We'd get in trouble."
"Can't say I rightly give a damn about that." She didn't correct his swear, and it made him even more nervous. She just shook her head and stared at the floor. "'Mione, please, jus' tell me what I can do?"
"You can't do anything! Why must you keep badgering me, Ron? Don't you think if you could do something I would've accepted one of your endless offers to help? I just want to be alone! Go to sleep. Go out and yell at Harry for being with Ginny, or go yell at Neville for sparring on the pitch. Go anywhere. Just leave me alone!"
She had come up out of her chair to scream at him, her face completely red, her brown hair bouncing everywhere, her arms flailing about wildly. Her voice echoed in the silent common room and rang in both their ears.
His eyes went wide, and she saw them fill with tears. He didn't cry, though. Not in front of her. He just nodded and made his slow way back to the boys' dormitory.
Disgusted with herself, she sank back into one of the squashy armchairs and lit a fire in the main fireplace. She had blown her stack at him. She knew she would, but though she hadn't wanted to, she secretly hoped it would make her feel better. It hadn't. Her insides still felt ready to explode.
"Didn't help much, did it?" The matter-of-fact voice came from one of the darkened corners. She whirled around, wand at the ready. Grey stepped out and waved for her to put it away.
"No," she said bitterly, slouching back into the chair.
He walked quietly over and sat in the chair across from her.
"It was a good try, though. I mean, if anything's going to blow the lid off, that rant would do it." She stared at the fire. "I'm not going to leave you alone, so don't ask."
"I don't care."
"Well, your actions kind of put the lie to that, Hermione."
She shrugged.
"Ah. The shrug. It's a fantastic rhetorical device, isn't it? Let's you say nothing, not care, and answer all at once."
She shrugged again. He couldn't help but smile for a second. Then he turned somber again.
"Dumbledore sent me to speak with you. Do you know why?"
"Because you've been tortured before, so you understand what I'm going through." The sentence dripped with contempt.
"Yeah. Something like that. What Dumbledore doesn't know, though, is that I can't fix your problem. Nobody can."
"No?" She asked quickly. Too quickly. He caught the glimmer of fear in her eyes and almost smiled again. She was going to be fine; she wanted to get better, and that was really all it took. That, and time.
"No. There's no formula for it, no spell that will make it go away. For a long time you won't want to talk with anyone, or do anything, or go anywhere. When you're with people, out and about, you'll just want to sit in the dark alone, and when you're sitting in the dark alone, you'll wish you had someone to yell at and the energy to go find them. That's how you feel, isn't it?"
Her head moved up and down a fraction of an inch. It wasn't much, but it was a nod.
"It's perfectly natural. Probably healthy, even. But it sucks. I won't tell you it doesn't. I spent a month alone in the dark after … mine. I didn't get better until I came here and met Willow. You're lucky – you have Ron already. The only thing I can say is don't hide behind a fake happy face. Be sad. Be upset. Don't lie about it. He won't abandon you because you aren't cheerful."
"I shouldn't have yelled at him."
Now it was Grey's turn to shrug. "Maybe not. But I guarantee an apology and a kiss on the cheek will fix it. And Hermione?"
"Yes?" She looked up hopefully.
"I've heard that it helps if you find the guy who did it and kick his ass."
Then Hermione did something she hadn't done since Halloween.
She smiled.
"S-so Grey went to find Hermione?" Tara asked.
"Uh huh. He'll sort her out. Now no excuses. Hurry up." Jess waved her spoon at Tara's bowl.
The blonde witch tentatively dipped her spoon into the dish and came up with a sliver of red ice cream. When she tasted it, her face lit up in a smile and she dug into it with gusto.
"Miss Tara is pleased?" Winky asked hopefully.
Tara nodded. "It's really good, Winky. Thank you."
"Winky is trying new flavors all the time, Miss Tara. Some are bad, but Winky is liking the Strawberry Peppermint very much."
"Good stuff, Winks," Jess said, taking a bite of her own ice cream. Winky watched the two witches eat in silence for several minutes before being satisfied that they enjoyed the ice cream. Once she was, she left to finish washing the dishes from supper. "Dobby says she's kicked her butterbeer habit. You can tell, too – the ice cream's really improved."
"T-totally," Tara said, her teeth chattering from the cold ice cream rather than her stutter.
"So how're you doin', Blondie? After Sunnydale?"
"I'm a little freaked out still," Tara admitted. "It was way more power than I can handle, and it sort of all came out in a rush."
"I know the feelin'."
"I was in control the whole time. N-not that you wouldn't be," she hurriedly added, not wanting to offend the Irish girl.
"Bah. Not if I was drawin' the power you were, girl. I'd be all black-eyed an' ragin' an' you know it. Did you have this much power on the Hellmouth?" Jess took another bite of ice cream, her green eyes locked on Tara.
"No. Not ever, not even when I would work with Willow on-on things that needed big power. Sometimes, I felt l-like her insect reflection." Not that dumb joke again, Tara thought as soon as she said it. But to her delight, Jess started to laugh.
"Insect reflection. I like that. You certainly aren't that anymore, don't you know." She paused, thinking about the fight in Sunnydale. "Gotta admire Spike – boy doesn't screw around. Wouldn't wanna be him, though, havin' to face that angel down again. That boy had power."
Tara nodded her agreement. "When he punched the barrier? Ow."
Jess smiled. "Totally ow."
"But really, it's kind of scary how much magic I pumped into that spell."
"How'd you do it?"
"I don't know. I just pulled and it was just there. Why did you ask about the Hellmouth?"
"I was jus' thinkin' about the feel of the magic there. It's sorta dark and heavy in Sunnydale, not at all like the magic at Hogwarts."
"I know what y-you mean," Tara said. "You can feel the goodness in the magic here."
"Uh huh. Usedta piss me off, the times I was here an' all evil-like. I'm wonderin' if that might account for your new power."
"How?" Tara took another bite of ice cream. "Magic's j-just magic, right? I mean, you can feel the emotional intent in it sometimes – me, not so much, but you can, and I kn-know Willow can – but the magic is the same."
Jess' spoon stalled halfway to her mouth. "What if it's not? This place used ta be safe. When I was here … when my parents were here … it was always the safest place on Earth, y'know? The only place safe from Voldemort. Or it was before the damn defenses took a holiday. Could that be about the magic itself?"
"That w-would mean that it was here, this place, that was important to Hogwarts, not just Dumbledore," Tara continued, following her train of thought.
"Right. An' if Hogwarts is in this spot for a reason, an' Voldemort knows why …"
"… and we could find an equally evil type place, we could maybe f-figure out where he's hiding," Tara finished. Jess smiled at her and she wanted to melt right there. The girl really was beautiful. "Th-that … sounds like a longshot."
"Better a longshot than no shot, right?"
"Should've had some ice cream," Willow muttered.
She very much did not want to turn the wrought iron knob in front of her, nor did she have any great desire to haul open the thick stone door that had appeared in the wall after her third circuit of the hall.
She really, really didn't want to talk with the occupant of the Room of Requirement either. Unfortunately she wanted to talk to her more than she wanted to be the kind of person who did not take responsibility for her actions.
With a hefty sigh, she pulled the door open and stepped through.
A fully functional infirmary station waited inside. The room's only occupant reclined on her bed, watching through slitted eyes as Willow entered.
"Hi, Amy," Willow said somberly.
"You." The venom in Amy's voice reminded Willow of Amy's mother Catherine. "Here to gloat?"
"N-no, not so much. Actually," Willow said, taking the chair next to the bed, "I'm … kinda here to apologize."
There it was. She hadn't known how she would say it – she didn't know how anyone could. What the right way would be. So she just dropped it right out there and waited for Amy to scream at her.
Amy laughed.
She started slowly at first, just a little chuckle, then quickly moved on to gut-wrenching peals of laughter, her one remaining arm clutching her chest as she struggled to laugh and inhale at the same time.
Willow watched from beside her, her breath coming quickly and her eyebrows raised in surprise.
"You're … you're here … to apologize?" Amy gasped out. "I love it. I love it. You're one of a kind, Willow. Apologize." Her laughter halted instantly, and she turned her black eyes on Willow. "You ripped my arm off." Amy twisted at the waist, showing Willow the reddened bandages where her left arm had been. "Oh, apology very much not accepted. I'm going to kill you. You can stick your apology up your ass."
"Not in here you're not," Willow pointed out. The Room had become a magic-free jail cell for Amy, a place to hold her until Dumbledore figured out what to do.
"You think I'll be stuck in here for much longer? We both know I won't. And the first thing I'm gonna do when I get out is sign up for some dark magic classes with Lord Voldemort. I'd bust Ethan out of the dungeon if it weren't so much work."
"He hasn't been working too hard to get you out, Amy." This conversation was rapidly escaping Willow's control. She had come in here to apologize for her own sake, not Amy's, but the girl's aggressiveness was starting to worry her.
"Well, no, but I'm used to it. I mean, you worked awful hard to make me not a rat, didn't you?"
Ashamed, Willow looked away.
"Yeah, that's right, don't look at me. I know who you are, Willow. I've known it since we were in high school. You have a great act going: sweet, innocent Willow. Everybody's friend. Nicest girl you'll ever meet. But we know the truth, don't we?"
"Don't," Willow said meekly. She still couldn't look at Amy.
"Oh, I think I've earned it. See, we both know that really, you're a weak little bitch who gets what she wants because everything comes so easy for her. Like me – your girlfriend bailed on you for doing whatever you wanted. Messing with her memory, right? To make her the way you wanted? Taking the easy way out? And when she was gone, then it's a good time to fix Amy being a rat," she spat angrily. "Oh, I'll just conjure myself up a little friend. I'm just glad you weren't missing the sex yet. Who knows what you would've cast on me for that?"
"I wouldn't've … I mean …"
"Oh no?" Willow turned just enough to see Amy's raised eyebrow. "We both know you would have. And now I bet you're still looking for the easy way out. Let me guess: you swore off magic altogether. Why fight through the control problems? That's too hard. I'll just run away."
That did it. In the blink of an eye, Willow went from meek to furious.
"Shut. Up. You don't know anything." She burst out of the chair, glaring at Amy from three feet away, her eyes flickering black. "You're just jealous because I have power and you want it. Go ahead. Go to Voldemort. Come back all dark magicy and evil."
Willow leaned down very close to Amy's face, so close that the injured girl could smell the cinnamon on Willow's skin.
"I'll be ready, and I'll kick your butt so far back in time, you'll have both arms and a mother again. And as for the whole Amy-the-magic-sexbot idea? You wish."
With that, she turned and left, and Willow was very proud that she didn't start shaking until the door slammed shut.
