The brilliant December sun streamed through Willow's window. Behind his eyelids, Grey felt the warmth build and slowly transitioned from sleep to wake. The grogginess stayed with him even after he sat up and rubbed his eyes. His throat and mouth felt like they were filled with sand and his muscles ached from thrashing about uncomfortably in his sleep.

"Will," he rasped, sitting up and letting the sheets fall to his waist. "Come on, honey. Time to get up."

"Don' wanna," she mumbled into the pillow.

"School soon," he said. "You want the bathroom first?"

"Unh." Her head stayed in the pillow. Grey took that as a no.

When he finished showering and shaving, she was still lying facedown in their bed. Technically it was hers; his room had been repaired, but since he barely had any possessions left, he had been living with Willow. Occasionally he caught a disapproving look from Giles, but otherwise the arrangement seemed to be working fine.

Still feeling groggy, he shook her gently awake again.

"Sleepy," Willow muttered, rolling over and tangling the sheet around her naked waist. He smiled at the view.

"I know, but you have to get up. You have class in an hour."

"Grumble grumble," she said, pulling herself out of bed and throwing on a robe.

As she shuffled off to the bathroom, he watched her closely. Sleep had not done much to refresh her. She had dark bags under eyes. Even for the morning she looked terrible, worn down and exhausted from stress. Grey knew she wasn't the only one. Hogwarts seemed bathed in malaise lately, with everyone from Hagrid to Hermione to Professor McGonagall suffering from its effects.

Willow finished in the bathroom and threw on a plain black robe. As they walked down to breakfast, Grey thought about the malaise. He knew where it came from. He was feeling it himself, truthfully. Voldemort was gaining ground and everyone knew it. Instead of trying to stay a step ahead and stop him, Grey could feel everyone on their informally-assembled team waiting for the next shoe to drop. That was the worst place for them to be. Glancing over the faces at the Gryffindor and Staff tables, the fear was almost tangible. Even Dumbledore looked a bit more haggard than usual.

"Bit late this morning, don't you know," Jess commented as he and Willow took their normal chairs beside her and Tara.

Willow shrugged.

"Nothing naughty. Just extra sleep," Grey answered.

"I believe it. The whole o' Hogwarts seems a bit overtired, don't it?"

"Exams are coming," Tara pointed out.

"Could be. Feels different, though."

"It does," Grey agreed. "You've got the lesson tonight, right?"

"Uh huh." Jess put down her fork and turned to him. "Listen, Grey, I know you're not in charge or anythin' …"

"But?"

"See, it's just – combat magic isn't my specialty. I'm not good enough ta be takin' these lessons. They're too important. I was thinkin' we could ask your dad ta do it."

Grey thought about it and shook his head. "He wouldn't do it. He's too busy."

"I thought he was retired."

"He's retired from the Ministry, but he's hunting the Death Eaters full time. Let me think about it. I agree we need somebody else."

She leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Somebody's gotta do something about the bad vibes in this place, too. S'like we're all runnin' scared, an' we'll never win that way."

He forked a piece of omelet into his mouth and nodded. Somebody definitely had to do something.

Grey and Jess stared at each other in silence, wordlessly considering and rejecting options for fixing the problem. They had worked and lived together long enough to have the discussion without words. The quiet staring went on for a bit longer than Willow was really comfortable with. She was about to comment on it when two massive silver owls flew into the dining hall. Unlike normal mail owls, who dropped their packages and swooped out, these two monstrous birds winged their way to the staff table, dropped slim envelopes in front of Grey and Jess, and hovered in the air in front of them. The bird in front of Grey also had a pouch tied to its leg.

"Oh my," Professor McGonagall exclaimed, surprise on her face. "Ministry owls at breakfast? That can't be good."

Snape grunted his agreement. The rest of the table watched as the two former aurors opened the envelopes and unfolded the letters.

Grey's letter was written on Ministry stationery.

David,

Amelia Bones requests your presence this afternoon at 3:00. Please arrive on time and wear robes of some sort. If you have no robes, say so in your reply and I'll dredge some up for you. It is imperative that you appear dressed properly.

He had to chuckle. Even if the letter had been unsigned, which it wasn't, he would know the author anywhere from that passage. With the rest of the staff looking on, he continued to read.

I suggest that you come via floo directly to my office. It will save time and embarrassing questions about your weaponry. The special powder required to gain entry is attached to the Ministry Owl delivering this letter.

It will be nice to see you. Don't be late.

Love, your mother.

The bottom of the letter bore her title and personal seal: two crossed swords underneath a storm cloud.

Lady Elizabeth Grey

Deputy Head, Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic

Special Assistant to the Minister for Security Matters

Order of Merlin Second Class

KOQC, IRWW, NCWS

Grey looked at Jess, who seemed to be rereading the letter to make her astonishment abate.

"What's yours say?"

"Ministry at 3, dress robes, that sort of thing. Meeting with Bones. God only knows why. It's from your mum."

"Mine too."

"I can't believe she'd want me within a hundred miles of the Ministry."

"Maybe your house arrest is over?"

"Six months seems like a light sentence."

He shrugged. "We're at war."

"Still, Fudge'd never give me somethin' that light. So," she said, hoping to deflect the discussion from her misdeeds, "d'you even own robes?"

He shook his head. "I did. They got toasted when … with everything else."

"Bummer. What're you gonna do?"

"She wants me to write her back if I don't have any." He smiled wickedly.

"I know that look. We're gonna get yelled at, aren't we?"

Instead of answering, he kept smiling and leaned over to write his reply.

Grey knew he didn't have to leave until the afternoon. Instead of heading for classes as he had originally planned, he marched directly to Dumbledore's office.

"Come," Dumbledore said when he knocked. He entered to find Dumbledore elbow deep in paperwork and staring grimly at his quill. "Grey! Thank Merlin!"

"Uh, Professor?"

"Anything to end the drudgery. Anything!"

"I'm guessing that much damage generates a lot of it," Grey said, taking a seat in front of the desk and not bothering to restrain his amusement. He had never seen Dumbledore involved in the minutiae of his job. Despite the obvious strain on the old wizard's face, it was a genuinely refreshing sight.

"You have no idea, my young friend. Requisition orders, spending reports, house elf work schedules … I fear that it's quite endless. But enough of that – lemon drop?"

He held out a crystal bowl from his desk. Grey took one and popped it into his mouth.

"Thank you."

"Now, what can I do for you? Something to do with those owls this morning?"

"Actually, no, sir. I couldn't say what that's about." He watched Dumbledore closely and saw the twinkle in his eye. Grey could tell that the headmaster knew, but he wasn't about to ask and spoil Dumbledore's fun. "I came to talk to you about … well, about morale among the troops."

The twinkle left Dumbledore's eye and the smile left his face. He nodded grimly. "It's quite low at the moment. The entire school is feeling it, I'm afraid."

"We need to do something about it, Professor. Everyone's waiting for the next attack – for the next death or maiming. That's not how we're going to win."

"No, it's not," Dumbledore agreed. "I had hoped that our minor victory over the Don might have done so, but it raised more questions than it answered."

"Yeah."

"What do you think we should do?"

Grey shrugged. "I don't know. The kids are training hard, but I'm worried about Hermione. She's not bouncing back at all. It's dragging the others down, except for Malfoy. He's the only one who seems even marginally unaffected, but that could be due to other factors." The faculty all knew about Malfoy's burgeoning relationship. "As for the rest of us … Willow's refusal to do magic is making her touchy. The rest of us are on edge, waiting for it to explode. Meanwhile, we're trying to get prepped for Australia, and I know that everyone is worried about Buffy. Add that to Spike and Faith staying in L.A. to do their research and promptly falling off the face of the earth … there's a lot to worry about."

Dumbledore was impressed. He hadn't realized Grey had been looking so much at the bigger picture. He had assumed the younger man had focused solely on Willow's problems. Clearly that was not the case. He said as much to Grey, who nodded.

"Yeah, well, the whole thing is making me nervous. We have so much going on and no one doing anything. It's combustible."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

"Then perhaps we had best give everyone something to do, yes?"

"Why're you all giddy?"

"Talked to Dumbledore," Grey told Jess. "Thought of a plan to keep everyone from going bonkers. And I'm wearing snappy duds for a change. I think I have a right to be giddy."

The two of them stood in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room. Jess wore midnight blue formal robes. Her long black hair fell loosely across her back. Grey had convinced Dumbledore to conjure some clothing from Angel in Los Angeles; he sported a shimmering shirt, nearly as dark a blue as Jess' robe, with black dress pants and shoes. His lightsaber hung from his belt, the sparkling sapphire ribbons setting off his shirt perfectly.

"Don't tell Willow I said so, but you do look hot." Jess' green eyes walked their way up and down his outfit. "Damn hot. Yum."

"You too. Did you maybe drop by Tara's before you came up here, just to," he shrugged, mimicking a motion he had seen from her a thousand times, "you know, say hi and see what's up?"

She punched him on the arm. Hard.

"Hey!"

"That's what you get for mockin' me. An' I don't care what your girlfriend thinks, I DON"T have those feelings for Tara."

Instead of sarcasm, which she expected, Grey's brow furrowed and he stared hard into her eyes.

"You don't? Really? Because if not, I think you need to make it clearer to Tara."

Jess sighed. Talk time. He always did this – caught her off guard by bringing up serious stuff at odd times. It always seemed to work, too, which pissed her off even more.

"Are we really talkin' about this?"

"We've got ten minutes to kill. But we don't have to. It's just … I mean, I thought we were going to be friends."

"We are."

"Are we? If we are, why do I hear about this from Will?"

"What d'you wanna hear, David? That I don't know how I feel about Tara? That the whole thing weirds me out? That half the time I want to run away from her and the other half I'm really curious what would happen if I just grabbed her and kissed her?"

"That's a start," he said with a smug smile.

She punched him on the arm again. Hard.

"What the hell?" It's like being hit by a pitch. Don't rub it. Even if it hurts like a bitch, he thought. The girl had a jab and, he remembered dolefully, he had been the one to teach it to her.

"Don't tease me about this. Seriously." The anger simmered in her eyes.

"Okay. I won't. But I'm here if you need to talk. I can handle the weirdness of it, if you're worried about that."

"You can?" He nodded. "I dunno if I can." She paused, considering the situation. "I dunno what's goin' on with me. I'm not gay."

"I'm pretty sure that if anyone knows that, it's me, hon. But you are … attracted to her?" Willow is so, so much better qualified to handle this than me.

Jess nodded tentatively. "But, I mean, guys too. I do think you look hot, an' if we were datin' still I think we might've had to make use o' one of these squashy armchairs before we left. An' Willow's friend Xander is totally cute, too," she added defensively. "So it's not like I'm, y'know …"

"Gay?"

"Right."

Grey shrugged. "You could try it out. With Tara, I mean. And take pictures." She glared at him. "Only if it's convenient."

"I can't, though. What if I hurt her?"

"Problematic, I agree. Maybe if you didn't …"

"If you say one word about riding crops, one bloody word, I swear ta Merlin I'm gonna beat you down. That was one time and I had about twelve firewhiskeys and we are not EVER gonna mention it again!"

Grey did his best to contain it, and he was impressed that he didn't laugh. His grin, though, was really quite large.

"I had fun," he said with another shrug. The anger in her eyes went from simmer to smolder. "Okay, okay, I'll stop."

"While you're still alive, even. Good choice. You know what I meant."

His expression turned somber. "I do, and I understand. But the thing is, that's never gonna change. Not ever. I think your best shot is to explain how you feel to Tara, kiss her, and see what happens. Better that than never knowing."

"Was that your strategy with me, then?"

"Sort of. Mostly my strategy with you involved not letting the fear force me to throw up."

"Good work, then. And smart. Vomit would've been a turn off," she admitted.