Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, copyrighted, not mine, etc, etc. You know the drill.

o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o

She stood in a dark room, surrounded. She turned—the hooded figures were coming from every direction, wands out. She couldn't get away—she was screaming, crying…they came closer. He couldn't break through their ranks, there were just too many of them. She was shouting his name, begging for mercy—he pushed and stunned and ran, but he couldn't get to her. It was cold, so cold, and the smell of blood overwhelmed him—he sank to his knees, her shrieks piercing his heart, her screams lighting his bones on fire. He couldn't…he…he couldn't… he put his hands over his ears and fell back onto the icy stone floor. Suddenly, the room lit up with a flash of green and all was quiet. He was too late.

Ron awoke with a start, cold and shaking. Harry and Dean were standing over him, wands in hand, looking concerned.

"Ron—are you ok?" Harry asked. Ron looked up at him blankly, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Dean nodded and went back to bed, while Harry sat down next to his red-headed friend. "What's up? You were twisting and moaning…bad dream?"

"Yeah—" Ron swallowed. "Just a…just a bad dream. It's no big deal."

"About Kalea?"

"What?" He looked up at Harry, stomach going cold.

"Never mind; it just…sounded like you were saying her name, or something. Goodnight, then." Shrugging, he stood and went back to bed. Ron pulled his hangings closed and took a deep, shaky breath. Determined to put his dream behind him, he resolved to think of the one thing that always brought him comfort. Her sweet, soft skin, beautiful, long hair…those eyes…but he'd let her down…he couldn't let her down, she needed him… Turning over, he fell into a fitful sleep.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Gooood morning," smiled Hermione, joining her friends at the Gryffindor house table.

"Good…morning…you're awfully cheery so early…?" Ginny replied, watching as Hermione poured herself some orange juice.

"I know…I slept so soundly, it was excellent. I almost suspect the bed of being enchanted—I'd hardly lain down, and I was fast asleep." She began to pile her plate with bacon and pieces of fruit. The truth was that, for the first time in a week, she hadn't dreamed about Viktor. No, last night's dream was…different…she smiled to herself, fingering the dragonfly pendant that hung on her neck.

"What is this? Double Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts in one day?" Ron tossed his schedule onto the table, a look of complete misery on his face.

"Snape's not particularly happy about the arrangement either, from the looks of it," Ginny commented, nodding towards the staff table, where their greasy professor seemed about to be sick.

"Double Defense Against the Dark Arts, and double Potions," Harry read. "At least we have fewer classes again, this year. I wouldn't fancy being one of those—" he nodded toward the fifth years, "With O.W.L.S. coming up and all…"

Hermione had finally stopped humming and was now looking at him, completely shocked. "But Harry, this year is even more important—we have N.E.W.T.S! They determine whether or not we'll succeed in our chosen career paths, whether we'll be able to follow our dreams or not…"

"Right, right, I know—but at least now we'll only be tested on the subjects in our area. They'll have to take a History of Magic exam, as well as Muggle studies or Divination," he continued.

"In any case, this is still—well except for first term, fifth year—the worst Monday I've ever seen."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Kalea sat in the back of the room, trying to keep her eyes open. Professor Sprout had decided that today's lesson plan would be better served by lecturing in the greenhouse classroom, instead of doing anything hands-on. "The reason for this," she had explained, "is that you are all in your final year here at Hogwarts, with about half of you preparing to become Healers. It is essential, therefore, that you not only understand the practice, but the theory behind the things that we do. We wouldn't want to see you accidentally poison someone because you thought it would be faster to simply pull Tarantra leaves, rather than cut them with a sharp silver blade." For the past hour, she'd stood at the front of the classroom, reviewing every property of every single plant growing in the eight Hogwarts greenhouses. The classroom was just fading into darkness when suddenly a sharp jab in the middle of her back caused Kalea to jump and scratch her leg on the corner of the desk. Swearing loudly, she rubbed the sore spot and looked up. Several students and Professor Sprout were all staring at her, quite shocked.

"Miss Mitchell, are you quite alright?" she asked, concerned.

"Ye…Yes Ma'am, I'm fine. I apologize…I dropped my…my book." Kalea stammered, feeling her face grow red.

"Alright, then. As I was saying…"

"Sorry—" a muffled whisper came from behind her. "It's just…you were falling asleep and were starting to snore…"

"Thanks…uhm…"

"Neville, my name's Neville. You're the American exchange student, aren't you?"

"Yeah, my name's Kalea. What—"

"Miss Mitchell, did you have some thoughts on the effects of Gillyweed you were wanting to share with the class?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then kindly pay attention."

Kalea glanced behind her and winked at the slightly round-faced guy behind her, mouthing the word later. Turning back around, she smiled to herself. Maybe Hogwarts will be ok, after all, she thought. Just maybe. She did miss Fred, though. She'd gotten an owl from him that morning—they were able to move into their new flat, directly above their store space, earlier than expected, and had started producing mass amounts of their products. They were expected to officially open on location in two to three weeks, he'd said, and things were looking up. Their friend Lee was designing their signs and labels and, aside from Molly still being quite angry with them for pursuing 'such a useless thing,' everything was going according to plan. She sighed, wondering what kind of competition she'd have...after all, a young, handsome, rich inventor would surely be sought after by all sorts… and Merlin knows, he's only human. But he loves me, she sighed. And I….I…like him a lot. Still, she couldn't bring herself to say she loved him. She didn't know why, or what was stopping her, but for some reason, she just couldn't bring herself to say it. The chemistry between them was undeniable; it sparked into mad flames every time they were near each other… but was that love? Then again, did it need to be love? After all, they were both young. No need to settle anything right now, Kalea decided. They had plenty of time… Class was dismissed and she, still immersed in thought, followed the group back to the castle.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o

Hermione sighed as she sank into the bath. Like the prefect's bathroom by the statue of Boris the Bewildered, the Head bathroom had a pool-sized bathtub with an assortment of jeweled taps around the edge. Even better, though, was the Jacuzzi on the far side, facing the windows. Great giant blue bubbles floated merrily through the air while giant streams of white fizz gushed into the small, hot paradise where she sat, looking out the windows. That dream truly had been something to smile about. Closing her eyes, she could remember everything vividly…his red hair, adorable smile… the freckles that went all the way down… he kissed her like she'd never been kissed before—passionately, like he'd die without her. Oh, and how she'd surely die if he ever stopped doing that…Merlin, there were benefits to falling for older, more experienced guys…they actually knew what they were doing, for one…

"Can I join you?" Blaise asked, his deep voice startling her.

"Sure…" she jumped, heart racing from her daydream. She smiled, looking up at him in his metallic green swim trunks, glad she also had decided to wear something, too. As much as she hated to admit it, Kalea's bikini did look good on her, so she'd asked to borrow it indefinitely. "Absolutely," Kalea'd answered without hesitating, a mischievous glint in her eye. It had taken Hermione nearly an hour to figure out how to tie and untie the silvery slivers of material, but she'd finally gotten it down so that nothing hung out, exposed, unless she wanted it to.

"How was your first day?" she asked, watching as he sank slowly into the mercifully hot water.

"It was…good," he winced as he eased himself back against the massaging jet stream.

"Sore?"

"Yeah…I had to break up a fight between a couple of Gryffindors and a couple of Slytherins earlier. Both parties still got a few good swings in, though—most of which hit me. Then we had a preliminary Quidditch run—just making some checks on who's still here this term and willing to fly. I outflew pretty much everything, except for one bludger and, well…" he paused, turning so she could see the massive red and purple welt on his back, "It only takes one."

"Blaise, did you go to Madam Pomfrey?"

"Of course not—it's not like a battle wound or anything, I'll be fine. I just need to…lay here and…relax." He slowly eased back down, onto his sore back. Hermione put her feet up on the edge and looked out the windows into the silvery blue waters of the lake.

"You have nice feet," Blaise commented. Not sure she heard right, Hermione cocked her head. "What?"

"Your feet—you have nice feet. They're very delicate and pretty."

Completely weirded out, she sat there, silent for a minute before responding a half-hearted "…thanks." Nice feet? What did he mean, nice feet? Sure, the pedicure looked great, and all, but…nice feet? What kind of guy says 'hey, you have nice feet!'? Now that she thought about it, he was a fairly good dresser… and, not that she'd been looking, really, but his hands and nails looked taken care of. Had he ever had a girlfriend? There was that one…well, no…that was a rumor….no. No. It couldn't be. She glanced over at him, floating in the bubbly hot water, eyes closed and resting. His strong arms, developed muscles…. It couldn't be. Blaise? All that mocha skinned, chiseled hotness…….gay!

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"You're both idiots. I don't care what he said or did, but you're 17, for Merlin's sake! You should know better than to let him rile you like that! Especially you, Harry! You dealt with the Dark Lord himself, and you still allow stupid school boys to get to you!" Ginny exclaimed, standing at the foot of their hospital beds.

"Ginny, please, you're starting to sound like Mum… and I have such a headache…" Ron whined, putting his pillow over his face and quickly regretting it. He put his hands up to his broken nose and cut lip, hoping upon hope that there was a way they could get out of their without going through any of Madam Pomfrey's magical concoctions.

"Well maybe I wouldn't HAVE to, if you didn't act like such a CHILD all the time! Next time you get beat into a pulp, don't expect me to come running to your side! Just lay there, in the floor, all broken and bloody—if you're going to get yourself into such a mess, you can get yourself out again!"

"Gin, honey, seriously—headaches and pain…everywhere…" Harry groaned.

"Alright! You don't want me here? I'll leave! Since I'm SUCH a PAIN, I'll just GO!" she replied shrilly, starting to wake the other patients in the medical ward.

"Potter, can't you keep a lid on your little girlfriend?" Draco spat from the other side of the room. "I feel sick enough as it is, without having to listen to her yapping…"

Ron and Harry both pushed up from their beds, swearing, murderous glares in their eyes.

"Harry, Ron, sit down! Don't even think about letting him get to you! I SAID LAY DOWN, POTTER!" Turning to Draco, she smiled sweetly. "You should be used to, what was it you said? Right. Yapping. You should be used to yapping by now, Malfoy…after all, your little pug slut's a complete dog, isn't she?"

"Since both of you are too busy acting like children to listen to me, I'm not going to waste any more time on you. Goodnight." With that, she turned swiftly out into the hall, slamming the door powerfully behind her.

"What's wrong with her? We're the ones all bloodied up and in the hospital wing…" Ron sniffed, gingerly trying to reposition himself so as to take the pressure off the piercing sting hex still paining his arse.

"Dunno….but Ron…" Harry answered, voice muffled by the sheets he'd pulled over his face.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up!"

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

A/N: Read. Review. Then, maybe, I'll think about writing more. )