(a/n: Ladies and gentlemen. This is very important. Personally: I love Oz. I do. Most girls with eyes and hormones love Oz. And if they don't: they love Willow. giggles Just kidding, of course. The later part of this chapter happens in season four. This story takes place in season three. It is moved up. Please don't inform me of this, I know. And to answer a question, Harry is in his sixth year in this story, and Ron and Hermione are dating, and this is not a Harry/Hermione.)

Unexpected Losses: Chapter Five.

Harry packed the last of his belongings that he was taking home into his trunk. He ended taking more than he'd first expected, bringing almost everything except his broom, knowing that there wasn't much of a point in taking it. He double-checked on his text books, knowing that he'd be wanting them at some point. Even for the classes in which he did not have homework: at least he'd have some form of entertainment over the break.

Ron had been trying hard to not act overly happy at the prospect of going home, but with only Ginny left at Hogwarts, it didn't have the same Christmas-y feel without any of his brothers. Harry had been trying just as hard not to become angry at either he or Hermione. It wasn't their fault that they had families that wanted them, and both did their best to make him feel better, but Harry couldn't help it.

Ron had nearly turned conspirational before they left, clearly letting Harry know that he was sending presents to his best friend: muggle rules be damned. Harry was appreciative despite himself, and knew that no matter what, Ron would be sure to get presents to him. Hermione had said nothing, which generally meant while she disapproved, she wouldn't argue about it. That generally meant that Ron was going to do just as he promised.

Neville was staying, of course, but simply wished his friends well. This made Harry feel much worse than he had before, knowing that Neville was even worse off than he was. Neville seemed to sense Harry's unwanted sympathy and took to avoiding him whenever possible. Harry had, at first, tried talking to his fellow Gryffindor, but Neville made the task difficult.

When Harry finally caught up with Neville, he simply offered a "Happy Christmas," to Neville's relief, and returned to his dorm. Where he found himself finishing his packing. Just as on September eleventh every year, the Hogwarts Express was leaving at eleven o'clock sharp the next morning.

Harry had spent a lot of time brooding over his departure, but with enough cajoling from both Hermione and Ron, he relaxed. He spent almost all of his time with them, but the rest of it he spent alone, with Hedwig, or with Hagrid, who seemed to appreciate the company of his much, much smaller friend.

It was there, staring into space, sitting on the end of his bed, pondering over leaving Hogwarts, that Ron found him. Grinning, Ron waved a hand in front of Harry, trying to break him out of his daze. Harry didn't move, his thoughts turned completely inwards. Snickering, Ron returned to his bedside stand and picked up a small, silver, clock-like contraption.

"Think fast!" He shouted, and hurled it at Harry, who unthinkingly raised a hand and caught it. A moment later, he blinked into awareness and stared blankly at the object in his hand, not recognizing it. Ron just laughed. He'd discovered that particular talent of Harry's a few months before, after hurling a snitch-sized paper ball when he dozed off in History of Magic. "Wake up, mate." Ron added. "It's our last dinner for a while, you know."

"Don't want to miss that." Harry replied dryly. Ron nodded enthusiastically, missing the sarcasm in his deep and unshakable love for food. The pair headed off, joking around, towards the Great Hall, where Hermione would undoubtedly already be. She would probably have a book propped up in front of her and be rushing in her attempts at one more sweep of the library's Animagus section (a/n: this is me assuming they have one!!) before they headed home.

She had had her two best friends studying nearly nonstop since their Animagus class, but neither argued after a short while. For which she was grateful. For the most part, their subject was unwaveringly interesting, but when the material was dry…dry wasn't a strong enough word.

All three wondered how the Marauders were able to become Animagi when they were only in their fifth year. Hermione persisted that it must have been because it took them two years to accomplish the act, but even then it would've been nigh impossible. The potion that was required was positively the most confusing thing that Hermione had ever read.

Unfortunately, they each needed to brew the potion on their own, because one of the base ingredients of the work was a piece of their hair. It had to be added every day at precisely the same time for two months. And it, of course, had to be fresh for lack of better word.

Otherwise, most of the ingredients were next to impossible to find, and each of the Golden Trio doubted firmly that Snape would kindly hand over what they needed. Hermione, because of her relationship with Madame Pince, was able to take some of the library books with her, with promise of an undefiled and prompt return. Ron had muttered something about Librarian Pet, but upon further question by Hermione, had wisely shut his mouth.

To their surprise, Hermione wasn't in her usual seat, and after a quick glance over the tables, realized that she wasn't in the Great Hall at all. They took their normal seat, assuming that she'd already eaten and was at the library already. Hermione rushed in a few minutes later, red-cheeked and with anger radiating off of her.

Ron and Harry shared a look as she abruptly slammed down into her seat. "Hermione, are you alright?" Ron asked in a quiet, nearly fearful tone.

She sent him a glare in return that could've frozen his soul. "And the nitwit asks if I'm alright." She sneered at him, and said nothing more, glaring at everything that dared to catch her eye. In a move that didn't truly suit Ron and his surprising sensitivity to anything from Hermione, he reached across the table and took her hand in his as she reached for her fork.

"Hermione." He said in a voice that could easily be described as sad. She met his eyes, slowly, and the anger in those cobalt orbs lessened some. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

Hermione stared blankly at him for a few minutes, retrieved her hand, and fled the Great Hall. No one seemed to notice her departure except for Ron and Harry. The pair ran after her after less than a moment. Something was wrong with their best friend, and they were going to find out what. And in the next sixteen hours…if they decided that they didn't need sleep.

They headed first towards the Library, which was empty, and then they checked the Gryffindor common room, but met no luck. One by one, they checked everywhere that they usually found the brunette. Wearily, Harry suggested the Owlery, and Ron agreed. Surprisingly enough, that's where they found her. She sat on a step, with Hedwig standing on her forearm.

She'd obviously been there a while. Hedwig look comfortable as Hermione absentmindedly stroked the owl, and then scratched at her crest, removing lose feathers to Hedwig's obvious pleasure. There was no emotion on her face, she just sat and stroked.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, and Hermione jumped. Hedwig barely seemed to register the surprised movement. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Leave me alone, Ron." She answered. "Nothing's wrong…I'm just…I'm just in a bad mood. Go away.

"Sorry, can't." Ron replied indifferently, and walked up to her, and took a seat beside her. To his relief, she didn't leave. Harry met Ron's eyes, and understood his redheaded friend's silent message.

"You know where I'll be." He mouthed to Ron, and beat a hasty retreat, sensing that this was a "couple" thing.

Almost an hour later, Hermione and Ron returned. Hermione seemed considerably happier, but Ron looked as if he was going to kill something, but most probably someone. Harry was in the Common Room waiting for the pair, but Ron headed straight up to his room. Hermione, on the other hand, simply took her customary seat across from Harry.

"You okay?" He asked her.

"Yes." She answered. "I'm sorry about that. Today hasn't been the best."

"Anything I can do?" He replied after a moment.

"I think so." She answered simply. At his prompting look, she continued. "Don't let Ron kill anyone, okay? It's not that big a deal, but you know Ron…involve Malfoy and all the common sense and logic he's ever possessed just flies out the window."

"Malfoy?" Harry questioned, slightly confused. "Did he do something to you?" He jumped to his feet quickly.

"I've already got an overprotective Knight in Shining Armor parading about for me, Hare. Thanks, but just don't let Ron get out of hand. Malfoy's not worth it." Hermione answered with a small grin. Harry shook himself mentally and smiled in response.

"You've got it, Herm." Harry returned, and was surprised with a hug before Hermione left to go to her dorms. Harry returned to his own, and was surprised to see that it was almost eleven o'clock. They'd gone down to dinner at seven. It seemed a lifetime ago already.

Ron was awake when Harry returned, and sitting Indian-style on his bed. He looked up to Harry when he entered the room. "What did he do?" Harry asked simply. He knew that Hermione wouldn't want him inquiring, but he hated Malfoy just as much as Ron did…or at least he did most of the time.

"He hurt her." Ron answered after a long moment in an angry voice. "Not physically. She could out-curse him any day, any where. He just knows how to get to her. He said some stuff. She was feeling, to sum it up, hurt and more than just a little pissed."

"Ah." Harry answered calmly, but part of him was seething. He couldn't wait for Draco Malfoy to get his, the boy was impossible, and unjustifiably cruel.

Ron understood every word Harry didn't say, though. "I'm not going to do anything stupid. The bastard had just best stay out of my way and especially Hermione's, or I'm going to have to kill him, that's all." He spoke then. "We'd best get to bed. T'morrow's last breakfast…" He added drowsily as he crawled under the covers and shut the bed curtains.

Harry copied Ron's movements. The next day he'd be going back to the Dursleys…and towards an uncertain holiday involving a possible Dudley II.

Willow woke giddy. This was finally a new day, with new events, and a new person. A wizard-person to make the thought even better. Willow was on Grade Four of the spell books, and for merely a month of work, she was extraordinarily proud of herself. The only person that she told of her magical-tinkering was Xander, who promised to keep his mouth shut.

She was surprised to find herself, for the first time in a long time, heading downstairs happily towards a cup of mint tea. She found herself unable to skip a daily tea, which Xander mocked her for. With threats of a magical demise, he'd managed to contain himself…most of the time.

Vernon was sure to be awake, but for once Willow didn't mind. Nothing could damper this day completely: pardoning only the possibility that Harry could be just as boring as the rest of the Dursleys. Willow wasn't sure that she could take another one of them. They'd been rather indefinite about his schooling, and now that she knew why Willow was doubly curious about him.

She entered the kitchen, fully dressed only ten minutes after waking. She wore a black, v-necked sleeveless shirt and a boot-cut styled dark blue jeans. She wasn't wearing shoes at the moment, but her socked feet remained clean thanks to Petunia's efforts. She had a pair of black ankle boots up in her bedroom by her door, just waiting to be worn.

Most of the outfit was thanks to Buffy and Cordelia's fashion expertise, including the black, unadorned, velvet choker. The only thing that was purely her own was her silver chain link necklace, which had her parent's wedding rings on it. She hadn't gone anywhere without it since she received the rings, which her parents never took with them on their travels.

When she'd first gotten the outfit, she was surprised at how it looked on her. It didn't feel like her, but she had grown to like the Buffy-Cordelia-Willow style. So much so, in fact, that she started addressing it as the Willow style.

Petunia was in the kitchen when Willow arrived. Within a few moments, Petunia handed her a cup of mint tea, fully equipped with three sugar cubes in the saucer and a delicate spoon. Willow put two sugar cubes in the tea and stirred it. The last cube, she simply placed in her mouth, sighing in ecstasy when the sugar melted sweetly on her tongue.

After the deliciously saccharine cube was gone the tea held a slightly bitter taste to it, but Willow enjoyed the conflicting flavors. "Thank you, Aunt Petunia." She whispered dreamily over her tea.

"Of course, dear." Petunia answered absentmindedly, and set about making breakfast for the rest of the family. "I'm sure that you remember that my nephew is coming home today?"

"Yes, ma'am…Harry, right?" Willow answered in a completely false voice, and furrowed her brow in unfelt confusion.

"That's right, dear." Petunia answered, whipping four eggs with a whisk in a bowl in the usual preparations. She added a bit of salt and pepper as she continued whisking. "Now, we don't generally discuss his schooling here. He doesn't like talking about it, so we try not to ask questions."

"Alright, Aunt Petunia." Willow answered promptly. "I understand, and I won't ask him a thing."

"Very good, dear. Now, Vernon's going to go and pick him up this afternoon. We're going to have an early dinner today, alright?" Petunia asked. Willow made an affirmative noise into her tea. "Now, I know that you might like to go and see London soon, I'm afraid that this wouldn't be an opportune time."

"That's alright. I don't mind. There will be other times." Willow answered, secretly upset. She wanted to ask if she could go with Vernon to pick Harry up. She really was looking forward to meeting him, and despite herself was getting a little nervous.

"I'm so glad you're taking this so well." Petunia spoke approvingly. "You've been so accommodating for us, dear. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, thank you, Aunt Petunia. Thank you, though. Could I just have some grapefruit for breakfast? If we're having an early dinner, I don't want to be too full."

"Of course, dear. I do wonder, though, if you're just asking because you get more sugar." Petunia teased Willow lightly. Willow blushed when the woman sensed her ulterior motives for her breakfast fruit.

"Maybe just a little." Willow answered with a shy smile; grinning outright when Aunt Petunia placed another sugar cube in her palm, before preparing a grapefruit for Willow, cherry and sugar topping included.

Harry stepped from the Hogwarts Express. He, Ron, and Hermione were nearly jumped by the Weasley family. Surprisingly enough, that group included Percy, who shook his hand firmly, blushing slightly. Harry nodded once, slowly, knowing that the redhead was trying to apologize.

Molly Weasley descended upon him, hugging him fiercely before releasing him, just as he turned purple, to hug Hermione just as tightly. Harry grinned as he was sandwiched in a hug in between Fred and George. The Weasley Wizard Wheezes company had blossomed under Harry's kind patronage.

They winked at him conspirationally as they whispered something about free samples. Harry bit back a laugh at that. Hermione's parents were there, too, looking entirely comfortable with the situation. Hermione flung herself at them, glad to see them for the first Christmas holiday in five years.

Vernon was astonishingly easy to find, standing with his back to a brick column, neither looking for Harry nor hiding from him, as he'd done before. Harry walked up to him, rolling his trunk on a trolley, with Hedwig sitting atop it. Vernon nodded once, but said nothing as he led Harry away and back to his car.

Harry waved a sullen goodbye towards his suddenly distressed friends, who uncertainly waved back in response. Harry barely managed to keep up with his uncle, who seemed determined to leave all semblance of the wizarding world as far behind him as he could manage.

When both uncle and nephew were packed an in the car Vernon glared at Harry. "There are rules, boy." He hissed, and Harry nodded. He knew that already. "And you'd best follow them. Or else." Harry nodded again, when he was younger, he may have been frightened by this threat, but Vernon no longer scared him at all.

"First of all, Willow knows nothing of your…condition. And she does not need to. You will not mention it, you will not send nor receive mail during this visit. That bloody owl will be allowed out by night, but Willow does not find out. During daylight hours, that bird will be properly contained.

"Because Willow does not know about you, you have been staying in a boarding school that your parents sought out for you. Stick to that story."

"Better than St. Brutus'." Harry muttered under his breath in reply. Vernon acted as if he did not hear him.

"You will be sharing a room with her, and you'd best behave yourself, because you could be moved back to the cupboard any time we choose." Vernon continued. Harry didn't say anything at that, but was internally surprised.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry replied dryly.

"Good."

The rest of the ride was spend in silence. Vernon clearly ignoring Harry at all costs, and Harry brooding about the upcoming venture.

Willow waited impatiently for the day to come to a close. She'd spent most of it on an instant messenger with Xander, who'd kept her entertained as long as he was able, but he had to go at about three in the afternoon. Thus he left Willow alone to face the monster of her boredom. She'd tried to read, but found herself too easily distracted. She wondered why she was so nervous. She had all the real friends she needed back home, and they wouldn't be sharing a room long. Despite that, Willow really wanted them to get along.

Dinner had been an interesting affair, at about four in the afternoon. Vernon had firmly informed Willow that she was going to avoid Harry at all costs, perhaps in more discreet terms, but Willow got the message. She had just nodded solemnly and returned to her pork chops.

It was interesting how she perceived things about Harry, knowing the truth about his schooling. Things they said, and how she understood them. The more she listened to them, the more she understood that nothing they said was a direct lie. It became blaringly obvious that they didn't approve of magic, though, which explained Vernon's earlier reaction to the magic show.

And it made Willow very glad that she hid all of her magical possessions from them. They'd probably kick her out if they ever discovered them.

Willow, at about eight o'clock decided to check her e-mail one last time, before going downstairs to great Harry, who was supposed to arrive at about eight thirty. She'd received messages, unexpectedly from each and every one of her usual mail buddies (Xander, Buffy, Giles, Oz, and in this case: also Cordelia). Willow quickly assumed that there was some kind of an emergency.

She decided to read Xander's first, but paused as the subject hyperlink said only: Read Oz's first. If there's not one, call me.

Confused and slightly worried, she clicked on Oz's e-mail. The hyperlinked subject next to his name said only: Sorry. She slowly moved the curser over the words, which turned into a pointing hand when she did. She clicked it.

To: "Willow" RedWitchaol.com

From: "Oz" WolfBoyhotmail.com

Subject: Sorry.

Will,

I don't know how to say this, so I just will. I was touring with the band, and went to another show on our night off. There was a band, a singer called Veruca. She's a wolf…like me. It was the full moon, and I broke out of my cage.

Apparently I met her when I was wolfed out. No one got hurt, thank god.

Willow, she told me things, about being a wolf. How it's in me all the time. She's right. On the next day, I tried to convince her to stay in a cage. I didn't want her to hurt anyone, like I almost have a lot of times. I slept with her to get her to stay, I didn't see any other choice.

Xander found us, together, on the next morning. I'm sorry Willow. I'm leaving Sunnydale for a while. I've got to find a cure for this, and where I'm going probably won't have a computer. I've got to find a cure for this before I can't tell if I'm wolf or man.

I love you, and I'm sorry.

Oz.

Willow read the e-mail four times before she understood its message. Tears fell on her fingers, which rested on her keyboard, before she noticed that she was crying. She slowly, with a trembling hand, rolled her mouse upwards to click onto Xander's link.

To: "Willow" RedWitchaol.com

From: "Xander" TheXanMancconnect.net

Subject: Read Oz's first. If there's not one, call me.

Willow,

I'm assuming that you either got Oz's e-mail or were too curious to help yourself, so you're reading this anyway. If you've gotten it, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Buffy nearly killed him, I think, and none of us are talking to him. He took off, too. Cleared out of Devon's house. I couldn't care less, but I knew you would, and I asked Devon about it, where he went. Oz left the dingoes. Dunno where he went, though.

Please call me, I know you're going to wanna talk about this, you need to. Day or night. I'm your shoulder, Will, always.

I love you.

Xander

Willow closed her computer, her eyes too blurry to read any of the other e-mails. She buried her face into her pillows and sobbed. She was angry, but more than anything else, she was hurt. Didn't see any other choice?! Like maybe telling someone.

Willow sat up and moved her laptop from her bed. She scooted until she was sitting, leaning against the wall. She crossed her ankles, and pulled her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs, and rested her forehead on her legs. She was trying not to cry, and trying to break up the huge lump that took residence in her throat.

Oz had cheated on her. There was nothing that could make that okay. There was nothing she could do to feel better. A sob escaped her despite her efforts to smother it. What had she done that was so wrong? Was it because she had moved? Oz had never been much of an e-mail buddy, and she had been spending most of her e-time with Xander. Maybe she ignored him?

There didn't seem to be an answer. Veruca, though, she was in a band, too. They must've had so much in common…

Willow berated herself. She didn't know Veruca. She may not have known that she and Oz were together. Not if Oz didn't tell…but then again, Willow had never known him to be the type that lied. Willow decided that she must've somehow pushed him away from her. This had to be her fault…

Her computer beeped, annoyingly, and rang: "You've got mail."

Willow picked it up, and clicked on the envelope.

To: "Willow" RedWitchaol.com

From: "Xander" TheXanMancconnect.net

Subject: Fault.

Willow. It's not your fault. I know you're blaming yourself. Stop.

I still love you,

Xander.

Willow put down her computer again, and burst into a fresh bout of tears at that. That settled it. It was her fault. Her fault for paying too much attention to Xander, too much time writing to him, or about him. Somehow: she was to blame.

"You've got mail."

"I don't bloody care." Willow replied through a sheen of tears, her face crumpling in pain.

"You've got mail."

Willow snatched up the computer, from where she'd thrown it on the floor.

She clicked on the envelope.

To: "Willow" RedWitchaol.com

From: "Xander" TheXanMancconnect.net

Subject: [None]

Willow, for God's sake stop it. I can hear you blaming yourself from here. Stop it. It's not your fault. You've done nothing wrong. He did something wrong, Will. He did it, don't blame yourself.

Love you,

Xander.

She tried to stop, at that, Xander had a point. Xander was still dating Cordelia. There was absolutely nothing between them. This one was all on Oz. Somehow, the thought did nothing to alleviate her mood. She witched off her computer and stuffed it into her bedside table drawer. She resolutely stuffed her head under her pillow, and cried until she felt empty.

A while later, she had cried herself into a daze. She wasn't quite asleep, but complete consciousness eluded her. She jumped up, having been laying on her stomach, when someone laid a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes, she knew, would be shiny and puffy, and her face a little splotchy. Willow was definitely not a pretty crier. She looked up to meet her room-invader's eyes, to meet the most sincere emerald pools she'd ever seen in her life.

"Hi." He managed after a moment, and with a self-depreciating look in his eyes, he flushed. "Are-are you okay?"

Harry finally rid himself of his uncle, after arriving home. He was surprised to find that Petunia had a plate heated and ready for him at his entrance to the kitchen. It was almost as good as the food at Hogwarts. Aunt Petunia said nothing to him directly, but set herself about her work, purposefully ignoring him.

When he'd finished, he washed his dishes and put them away, and finally headed up to his room. He assumed that's when he'd meet Willow, the probably she-Dudley. He was surprised to enter the dark room, no lights were on. He reached out and flicked them on. The girl lying on the bed had red hair to match the Weasleys.

She was slender, lying on top of her blankets, fully clothed. For a moment, Harry worried, she might well have been suffocated for all that she moved, with her head buried into her pillow. Harry, being the Gryffindor that he was, couldn't help but feel bad for her. She'd just lost her parents a month ago. He knew a little of what that was like. After all, his had died fifteen years ago, and he still wasn't over it. And the loss of Sirius still burned like a coal in his heart, and that, too, had been months ago.

He rested a hand on her shoulder, and was surprised when she jumped at the contact.

Hazel eyes, more brown than green, glassy with tears met his own, and he was surprised at how pretty she was. Her skin was flawless alabaster, her eyes red with crying, and her red hair was slightly mussed at the top of her head. She obviously wasn't expecting him.

Awkwardly, he spoke. "Hi." As soon as the word left his lips, he felt like an idiot. Internally, he smacked himself upside the head. "Are-are you okay?" Willow didn't say a word.

(a/n: that is it. They met. Happy? Lmao, 'cause I am! I completely believe that Willow's breakup with Oz is crucial in her character's development. Sorry Willow/Oz fans. I love him, like I said at the beginning. Let's all pretend that he's off to play Patrick in Scooby Doo 2 or something, 'kay?! Willow does get a huge Christmas surprise: just…not yet. No other chapters will be this long. This chapter is super special. I'm hoping to break a hundred reviews. When I do, I'm gonna do something spastic. I dunno what, yet, but I swear I will. Lol, gimme a "spastic" idea. Review. Whatcha think? I'm hoping I surprised some and/or most of you with the Oz move…how'd I do?!)