Disclaimer: see previous

A/N: Sorry for not updating for so long. I dedicate this chapter to my newly year-older friends. Sorry it's not an eventful one.

Former Know-It-Alls and the Ethics of Slaying

Just then, they turned a corner and nearly ran into Ron and Harry. Hermione realized they were near the Tower.

"G'morning, 'Mione, where've you been this early?"

Hermione glanced about. Satisfied that they were alone, she murmured. "Training."

Faith whistled. "So these two fine specimens are the ones you told. Got to say, H, nice choice. Very nice. Especially the redhead."

Hermione's face went beet red. "Faith!" she exclaimed, then lowered her voice. "They're a bit young for you, and well, not dead."

Faith grinned, circling around Ron. "Yea, but not for you." She ran an incorporeal hand up Harry's arm. "This one looks kinda strong, in the deceptive way, kinda like us. Y'know, strength of things other than muscles."

"Faith," Hermione begged.

Ron and Harry traded glances. "Is there someone here, Hermione?"

Hermione focused on them. "Yes. It's Faith, the slayer from two back in line."

"What's she saying?"

Hermione colored again slightly. "Err – nothing, really. Ah, slayer stuff."

Faith walked back to where Addy was laughing. "We oughta be going. I think Achira wanted to go to class with you. Misses school for some odd reason."

They waved and faded out.

"OH! OH! I know the answer!!" Hermione looked sideways out of her eyes at Achira. The ghostly girl was bouncing up and down, her hand in the air. Hermione raised her own hand and gave the correct answer.

"Achira," she subvocalized, "he's not going to call on you."

The ex-slayer lowered her hand, blushing. "I keep forgetting. I loved school so much back before I died.

"Didn't you have to leave when you got called?"

Achira shook her head. "No, in the 6th century, we started at age 8, and girls only studies 5 years. Then we went home and learned how to be good wives when we got married a year or two later."

Hermione shuddered. "That's horrible."

Achira nodded, "Yes, I agree. It's why I was half-glad when I got called. I got to kill the evil creatures instead of raising my own." she giggled, but frowned. "Although I probably would have taken a brood of children and a horrid husband over being imprisoned as a vampire for a thousand years."

"Fate worse than death?"

Achira looked at her like she was crazy. "Of course. I mean death is your – well, I'll let Buffy do that spiel, she's reigning champ on the subject."

Professor Vector asked another question. Achira's hand shot up and Hermione rolled her eyes.

That night brought Hermione and Professor McGonagall to the dark forest. The trees reached up into a brilliantly moonlit sky, but little of the light filtered through the thick branches. Hermione was uncomfortably reminded of the night in her Third Year when they had used the time turner to save Sirius. She gripped the stake in her hand tighter.

"Do you sense something?" her Watcher asked.

Hermione began to shake her head, "No, I was just– " she stopped, feeling the hairs on her neck rise. "Yes."

"Where?"

She closed her eyes, searching around the forest with all her senses. A branch snapped. Hermione whirled and caught the fist headed at her face. She slammed her knee into the demon's stomach. It doubled over and she pounded the back of its head with the hilt of the knife she was carrying. It fell to the ground, lifeless.

Hermione straightened, wiping her hands one at a time on her sleeves. At her feet, the corpse began to liquify into a black puddle. She watched it narrowly.

"Not to worry. It's dead." McGonagal assured her.

"What was it?" she asked, studying it closely before it completely disappeared.

"A Flaque demon. It eats the eyeballs of mammalian creatures."

"So it's only bad when it's attacking people?"

"Yes, I suppose. But sometimes you have to pre-empt an attack."

"Do they have a language?"

McGonagal seemed startled by her question. "I believe so."

"Then you could ask it if it was going to kill humans."

"Yes, if you spoke their language."

Hermione frowned, then nodded. "A translation spell."

"How would you prevent lying? Veritaserum won't work on a demon."

Another pause of thought. "I don't know. A spell. . . or sincere, severe threats."

McGonagal pursed her lips. "I can't help but think these ideas are coming from the rogue Slayer, Ms. Summers."

Hermione nodded, "Yes, but she's right. Not all demons are evil."

McGonagal sighed and looked around. "Well, I think we've done enough tonight. Let's head in."

They walked back to the castle in silence. Hermione snuck into her room with a silence that was quickly become natural for her. Smiling, she sunk quickly into sleep.