Disclaimer: Not mine.

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The rest of the week went smoothly by—well, as smoothly as possible, considering a majority of the students now had Snape for two classes. House points fluctuated almost hourly, and the younger students could be seen breaking into tears over their homework much more frequently. So far, Harry and Ron had been able to keep their tempers and not give into the professor's cruel remarks, but the same could not be said for everyone.

It had been a particularly tedious double Defense Against the Dark Arts period, in which the class was divided into pairs, practicing the Obstruere spell—a powerful blocking charm particularly effective against the Culter Vulnerare curse they'd been studying.

"Come on, you can do it—" Hermione ran over to catch her partner as he'd yet again been hit by her Jelly legs hex. "You just have to concentrate on forming the sphere around you and you'll be fine. Come on, hex me, I'll show you." She backed up, facing him. "Go."

Still wobbling a bit, he pointed his wand at her. Before he could finish his hex, she had erected a shimmery blue sphere around herself. He looked from her concentrated face to the sphere, off of which his spell bounced before hitting the wall, leaving a small burn mark.

"Get it?" she asked, the sphere collapsing with a flick of her wand.

"Yeah—I...I think so," he mumbled, watching as others around the room successfully erected similar shields.

"Alright, we can do this. Remember how well you did in the D.A. back in fifth year? You can do this. Just think about what you have to do. Are you ready?"

"Ready." He took a breath and got into position, focusing with all his might. Obstruere, obstruere…a wisp of tangy orange began to form at the tip of his wand, spreading out in front of him. I'm doing it, he thought gleefully as he vaguely heard her hex him. I can do this… He thought, feeling the pressure of the spell on his half-formed shield. Before he could bounce it off, though, he dropped his wand and the shield crumpled around him…what was left of the hex hit him square in the face, knocking him flat on his back.

"Neville! You almost had it, you were so close—" Hermione ran over and pulled him up, saying the counterjinx. "Come on, just a few more times and you'll have it!"

"If this were the real thing, boy, you wouldn't have a few more times. You'd either have it, or not. The Culter Vulnerare curse is not one to toy with… underestimate it, and you'll get yourself killed. Not sudden or painless, like Avada Kedavra, no…" Snape began, almost relishing the thought. "First it affects the chest—slashes deep into your skin, splitting you open, down to bare muscle. Then it spreads, all over the body, until your skin is so slit that you're hardly recognizable. The only reason it's not one of the three illegal curses is because the Ministry doesn't believe anyone in our day and age uses it anymore. After the torture practices in the 13th century had been abolished, it was assumed the curse was lost…but the Ministry is wrong. It's incompetent students like YOU," he continued, rounding on Neville, "who keep the Dark Arts under a light of fear, rather than one of respect. Like a dangerous animal, they must be studied, examined, understood, but never touched…and FOOLS like yourself who can't even complete a simple shielding charm will get themselves killed in the process!"

"I'm…I'm doing the best I can, sir…" Neville trembled.

"Yes, I'm sure." Snape sneered. "But Longbottom, as I would have expected you to have learned from your parents, trying your best just isn't good enough." Neville turned white with rage, tears brimming in his eyes.

Something inside Hermione snapped. "HOW DARE YOU INSULT HIS PARENTS LIKE THAT? AFTER THE SACRIFICE THEY MADE FOR THE WIZARDING POPULATION, HOW DARE YOU EVEN THINK YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THEM?"

"Miss Granger," Snape replied icily. "If you are going to defy me, at least check your facts, first. Otherwise, please refrain from such naïve outbursts in my classroom. Remember, unlike you, I was there when the Longbottoms gave their so-called sacrifice, and there was nothing heroic about it. They were merely two ignorant, arrogant fools who got in the way of the Dark Lord. It was their own stupidity that led to their insanity, not some marvelous, sacrificial act as some may have you believe."

Before Hermione could react, Neville turned and hurled his fist with all his might at Snape's jaw. The two connected and, almost as if in slow motion, the professor wheeled around and crashed to the floor with a deafening thud. The room was completely silent, all waiting for the Head Girl to say something. Instead, she stood there, staring wordlessly, at the scene before her. Neville eased himself down to the ground, cradling his fist, still shaking. He looked up at her, slightly ashamed, but not at all remorseful; how was she supposed to handle this? People couldn't go around punching their teachers…on the other hand, after what he said… She blinked, realizing everyone watching her.

"Uh—" she began. Professor Snape was thoroughly unconscious, but other than that, unhurt…though he'd be a little sore from his fall. The damage done was only to his ego—which was more than fair for what he'd done to Neville through the years—and his respect, which was negligible anyway. She put her hand out to help the student back up.

"Neville, you can't just punch your professor…" she began.

"Hermione—" Harry and Ron both approached, ready to defend his actions. She held up her hand and continued. "Therefore, I am forced to take five points from Gryffindor…and dismiss this class." Everyone laughed and happily began gathering their things, making sure to give Snape a few 'friendly' kicks on their way out the door.

It didn't take long for the news of what had happened that day to spread. Soon, almost every student stopped by to congratulate Neville or shake his hand for doing what they'd all dreamed of. Even Dumbledore, when approached by a livid Snape, merely replied, "Professor, the matter has already been dealt with in a manner deemed appropriate by our Head Students."

The only person who seemed completely unaffected by the event was Kalea.

"What's been with her lately, anyway?" Ron asked, sitting down to dinner one evening. "We've hardly seen her since she was sorted…"

"It's not for a lack of trying, though…" Ginny mused. "I've chased after her more than once, on the way to class…but she hasn't answered me."

"Every Potions class we have with Slytherin, she's there—but always on the far side of the room with that black haired girl." Harry agreed.

"Reckon we're gonna have to corner her?" Ron suggested.

"From the looks of it, that'll be more difficult than we suspected…" Ginny nodded towards the door to the Great Hall, where Kalea stood, surrounded by Draco and his croons. She didn't seem to upset, however, as she sat down, laughing and talking with the Slytherin prince. The whole scene made Ginny want to hurl. There was definitely something up—there was no way Kalea would sell out to the bunch of arrogant, pig-headed jerks!

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Another week went past and soon enough, it was Quidditch season. Harry had been offered the captain's position, but after all those years of trying to stay out of the limelight, he decided against it.

"But Harry, you're a natural leader!" Ginny whined. Still, Harry didn't feel it was right…especially since that would put him in a position of seniority over Ron. Merlin knows their friendship didn't need to go through any more of that… so the Captainship, instead, went to a smart, sixth year chaser named Caleb.

The team met in the changing room early Saturday morning to assess the damage last year's graduation had done. The sandy-haired captain stood at the front of the room, pacing, while the rest of the members arrived. After a few minutes he looked up.

"Is this everyone?" he asked.

"Pretty much," Ron replied. "Everyone who's left, anyway."

"Well, we have a lot of work to do. First off, positions that need filling," he picked up a small red notebook from the bench and opened it to the first page. "Chasers? Myself,"

"And me." Ginny stated, sitting down. "Sorry I'm late."

"Seeker?"

"Me." Harry said.

"Beaters?" No answer. "Alright, we need two beaters. Keeper?"

"Me." Ron smirked. "Guess that's all of us."

Shaking his head, Caleb began writing and marking all over the page. "Alright, we need one chaser and two beaters. Tryouts will be held next Saturday, a week from today. In the meantime, I want each of you out and flying for an hour every couple of days, getting back into shape for the year. That's it, you're dismissed." With a small nod, he turned and walked out the door towards the pitch.

"That was Caleb? I've never seen him so serious before…" Ginny remarked as they stood to go. "In fact, I've never seen him serious at all…well, except for when he's drawing…"

"Yeah, he was really business-like in there," Ron agreed.

"Quidditch is just something he takes very seriously, I guess. Come on, let's go do something." Harry smiled. "You're it!" He whacked Ron on the back of the head and took off running.

"What did you do that for?" Ron yelled after him.

"Ron, remember? It's that Muggle game, you're supposed to go after him! Hurry up, he's getting away!" Ginny pushed her brother up the steps as realization dawned on him and he raced after his friend. She continued to saunter slowly up the steps, pondering what to do next…she snickered as she heard a distant crash and the unmistakable laughs of Harry and Ron followed by Filch's shrill and angry yells.

"Weaslette," a deep voice sounded from the dimly lit hall where she stood.

"Malfoy," she responded, trying not to let on how he'd startled her.

"Think you're smart, do you, tempting me the way you did at King's Cross?" he stepped out from behind a corner, the flickering torch casting a pale light on his strong frame.

Suddenly realizing they were quite alone and wondering how she'd gotten here, she stopped. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Only what you so blatantly offered me, whore." He responded quietly, eyeing her long, lithe form. Her red Quidditch robes hung open, revealing her tight jeans and low-cut black t-shirt, marked with a scarlet Chinese dragon. Her long red hair had been pulled up in a knot, but was now coming down, falling across her face and down her back in long, tantalizing layers.

"Just try it, Malfoy, and I'll hex you straight into a permanent spot at St. Mungo's."

"Will you? With what wand?" He smiled. Her heart dropped as she felt in her robes for the wand that wasn't there.

"Looking for this?" he continued, twirling it in his fingers. "Tsk, someone with your looks should really be more careful…one day you might find yourself in a bind…" With each word, he stepped closer. Seeing the look in his eyes, she glanced around wildly, willing anyone, anyone, to walk by. She continued stepping backward until she felt the cold stone wall against her, sending chills down her spine. Still, he came closer until she could smell the warmth of his breath and see the cruelty in his eyes. Come on, she thought, pull yourself together! You have six brothers, you can handle one guy! She squared her shoulders and, eyes narrowed, swung her knee up as high as possible—but before she could stop him, he caught her leg and spun her to the ground.

"You're feisty, I'll give you that—but it won't take long for me to break you. You've spirit, but no endurance, cow…you couldn't fight me if you wanted to. All your life, overshadowed by your brothers—then Potter, too. No one to see how beautiful you are, how magnificent…" he trailed off, sliding his hand up and down her quivering body.

"And what, you're the one who sees me?" she spat.

"I see right through you. You're tough, but only on the outside. On the inside, you're a broken, crying little girl…one that will soon learn to answer to my every call." His soft, gentle tone was utterly terrifying—he seemed so sweet, yet here she was, twisted on the ice cold floor, his strong body hovering above her. She squirmed to the left—he matched her. She squirmed to the right, and again, he was there. Hands on either side of her shaking shoulders, he looked down into her eyes. "Why are you so afraid of me, my dove? I am kind to those who love and respect me…" he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"What do YOU," she kicked him off and pulled herself up, "know about LOVE?" Sitting up now, she felt slightly better, but realized her position was still precarious. He pulled her to her feet and pinned her against the wall. Eyes a dark, steely grey, he pushed his lips onto hers, trying to force his tongue into her mouth. Looking up, she saw Peeves drifting by and willed him to look her way. He did, but before he could come up with any obscene song lyrics, he recognized her as Fred and George's sister. She motioned toward the giant vase on the other side of the hall with her eyes, then meaningfully at Draco's head. Peeves understood and, for once, complied. Just as Draco succeeded in parting her lips, she bit down on his tongue and Peeves dropped the vase on top of him. He fell back, mouth bleeding, holding the back of his head.

"Thanks, Peeves!" she breathed. Without thinking, Ginny grabbed her wand and ran down the cold corridor, away from him.

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A/N: Alright, this is the last update for a while. I'm off to my grandparent's house until the middle of August when I go back to school, and won't have a net connection until then. In any case, I hope you READ and REVIEW what's here and keep an eye out for some updates towards the end of next month. Oh, and happy birthday to me (19)! )