Worth It

Chapter 7

A small red and green hurricane was ransacking Willow's rooms, in a desperate attempt to find her lesson plans. She was positive she had put them in her desk drawer. Definitely either there or on her sofa. Or maybe in her bag. The fact that she was tripping over her forest green robes wasn't helping.

"Crap, crap, crap!"

Finally finding the plans in the bathroom, where she had left them the previous night after reading over them while brushing her teeth, Willow grabbed her bag and ran for the Great Hall, praying she wasn't going to be late for breakfast. She slid in quietly and sat down, nibbling at her toast, while trying to spot the year fives that would be in her first class of that day. Thankfully it was a Griffindor / Ravenclaw class, she didn't know what she would do if she had to face the brats in her house first thing in the morning. Living near them was quite enough.

The butterflies in her stomach were apparently on helium as they were refusing to settle down, and she found she couldn't even look at the crispy bacon that was obnoxiously trying to cover her whole plate.

Willow could feel her palms slowly getting clammy, and tried to rub them discreetly against her robes. She started fiddling with her fork, scratching absently mindedly at a small chip in the handle that felt rough under her nail. Looking around the hall at the students, and trying to place names to faces, made Willow feel very lonely. She was sat on the teachers' table, of course, and while all of the students could blend into one another as they crowded onto their tables, Willow was on show at the front, for all eyes to stare at.

When breakfast was over she had to summon all her will power just to walk through the corridors to the small room that had been set up as her classroom. She could hear the children inside already, chatting loudly amongst themselves, and took a deep breath before opening the door. Silence immediately fell, as the students turned to look at her.

Hoo-boy! This is it!

She walked slowly towards the front of the classroom, in an attempt to give herself time to gather her nerves, while giving the students the impression that she was cool, calm and collected. Her desk was fairly large and set on the left side of the classroom, to allow the students a clear view of the chalkboard to the right. Behind her desk was a doorway leading to a small cupboard, although she had yet to find anything to put in it. You couldn't exactly keep a vampire in a closet. As she reached her desk and stood behind her chair to survey the classroom she could pick out a few whispers, and decided that maybe the five minutes she'd allowed in her plan for introductions wasn't going to be enough. Not by a long shot if she was reading the curious glances correctly.

"Hi," she said in her most confident voice, "I'm Professor Rosenburg, and I'll be taking you for Defence Against the Dark Arts this year."

A few murmurs rippled around the classroom and Willow sighed inwardly.

"Okay guys, I know you've had really crappy teachers in this subject. How about we just start with introductions? I'll take the register, and when you answer your name, tell me something about your experiences with this class before."

More murmurs, although Willow thought they might have been more positive ones this time. Then again, wishful thinking can do a lot for one's interpretation skills.

"Layla Adams"

"Here. Um," the small brunette looked slightly awkward, "what did you want to know about this class?"

"Just tell me about one of your teachers. Tell me about your last one, Professor Umbridge, I think it was?" Willow quickly tacked the question on the end of her statement. Wouldn't do any harm to let the students think that she hadn't been thoroughly briefed on the subject of Umbridge's dictatorship.

"She was from the Ministry of Magic," Layla said slowly, with a good few 'um's thrown in. She clutched at her DADA book defensively. "We did a lot of theory with her."

A snort came from the back of the room, and a low voice muttered, "We –only- did theory with her!"

Willow glanced in the direction of the voice, and recognised Ginny Weasley as its owner. She now firmly believed the story about Ginny Weasley having been shy and quiet when she started in Hogwarts to have been a sadistic joke. The little minx was anything but the wall flower that had been described to her by Dumbledore. Willow made a mental note to inform Dumbledore that saying someone has come out of their shell, did not suitably cover the fact that the someone in question was opinionated and held little respect for teachers of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Okay, you tell me about her then Ginny!"

Let's see if that Griffindor courage will at least let one pupil give an honest description of their last teacher. Willow thought to herself.

Ginny flushed slightly at the attention being directed onto her, but countered well and replied snidely, "No-one really liked Professor Umbridge. Apart from the Slytherins I mean. They did quite well by her."

Half the class was now screwed round in their seats, shooting scandalised looks at Ginny for mentioning their new professor's house, in much the same way you go to great lengths to not mention disability around the disabled, or World War II around the Germans. The other half, naturally, were scrutinising Willow to see how she would respond. In the following silence you could almost have heard the house elves tidying up in the kitchen.

Willow's face was impassive for a few seconds as she thought about how to answer that little statement, and then a grin stole across her face.

"Yeah, that sounds rather Slytherin, ruthless little buggers, aren't they?"

Ginny was grinning as well, and clamping a hand over Luna Lovegood's mouth as the blonde Ravenclaw had started explaining the origins of the word 'bugger'. The fact that Ginny was now smiling back, after the rather pointed comment about Slytherins, assured Willow that although she might not have given the most professional answer possible, it had definitely been the –right- answer.

Ginny relaxed and continued, "Well, Professor Umbridge didn't trust Dumbledore, thought he was just causing trouble for Fudge. That's why we only did theory – they reckoned if us little kiddies could actually do the spells we might use them against him."

"Really?" Willow said incredulously, "That's just so… so…" she shrugged and gave up searching for a polite answer, "so stupid!"

This time most of the class were smiling at her and voicing their agreement. Umbridge certainly hadn't had any fans in Griffindor or Ravenclaw. Even the ones that weren't smiling were nodding to themselves.

"Okay," Willow continued, the register forgotten, "so if you didn't do any practical with Umbridge, who else took you for this class?"

"Lockhart!"

"Mad-Eye Moody!"

"Professor Lupin." Ginny's clear voice reached over the rest, and Willow smiled and nodded.

"Yes, Professor Lupin, quite the best teacher you've had, I heard."

"He was a werewolf!" a random Ravenclaw piped up indignantly, then withered under Ginny's gaze. "He was a good teacher though," he added quickly.

"What's wrong with being a werewolf?" Willow asked, "I dated one."

Silence blanketed the classroom once more, as the children stared at Willow in shock. Who was this woman that was so young teaching them, talked to them so casually and had –dated- a werewolf? DADA lessons looked set to be interesting this year.

"Was that when you lived on the mouth of hell?"

Willow's gaze snapped to Luna, and she looked at the girl curiously. As far as she could remember none of the pupils, not even three Griffindors in the sixth year, had been told that she had come to them direct from the Hellmouth. Luna's face was blank though, and if she even realised Willow was surprised she wasn't showing it.

"What's the mouth of hell?" asked Layla Adams, confident in her right to ask questions. After all – she was the one who had been first to mention Umbridge. The Ravenclaws' intelligence meant they were fantastic at working through problems, even if the problem in question was the fact that they had been shown up by a fiery little Griffindor.

Willow glanced at the clock on the wall – already ten minutes over the allotted introduction time, and it looked as though the rest of the lesson probably wasn't going to be spent talking about Defence Against the Dark Arts. At least, not in the way Willow had meticulously planned.

Lesson plans were for wimps anyway.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

During break that morning Willow wandered over to Professor Dumbledore's office and knocked tentatively on the door. Luckily the password for the gargoyles hadn't yet been changed, one mention of gummy bears and they had let her up the curling staircase.

Now she was waiting for the door to open, wondering if she was just being silly. Nonetheless, she just couldn't dismiss the nagging thought at the back of her mind, even though she'd been trying to push it away all morning.

As Dumbledore opened his office door, Willow smiled up at him.

"Not having trouble already, Willow?" he asked gently.

"No," Willow shook her head firmly, "No trouble, I'm actually here to talk to you about one of my students; Luna Lovegood."

"Ah." He gestured her into the office and closed the solid door behind them. The voices carried through in low, serious murmurs, and when they both emerged again, five short minutes later, Willow's expression was solemn.

"I thought you should know, Dumbledore. If I'm right, this isn't going to be easy for her."

"I have had my suspicions of the same thing, I must admit. Perhaps you could keep a close eye on Miss Lovegood, while she's in your class?"

"Oh yes, yes, sure!" Willow's enthusiasm was back, and bouncing. "Anything else I can do, just let me know, yeah?" As Dumbledore nodded his agreement, Willow turned and hurried down the staircase again, determined to get to at least the majority of her classes today before the students did.

Dumbledore, stood at the top of the stairs, was frowning as he watched the youngest member of staff disappear. He stroked his long beard with one hand, and absent-mindedly fumbled for the door handle with the other, still thinking about what Willow had come to tell him.

He was impressed that she had picked up so quickly, on what it had taken him a good many months to spot, and nodded approvingly to himself as he ambled back to his desk. Willow Rosenberg was quickly proving to be a valuable asset to the school, and he still hoped that she would eventually lend her talents to the Order of the Phoenix as well.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

After school that day the children were milling about, some practising for Quidditch tryouts, some messing about in their common rooms, some, like Hermione Granger, were already knee deep into a pile of books in the library. Ginny and Luna had managed to sneak into an empty classroom, and were currently sitting on a couple of desks, talking. Luna had her feet on a nearby chair, and was making it swing back against her table, the sharp clunking noise of their collision punctuating her rant.

"I thought he bloody liked me, Gin. That stupid," –clunk- "stuck up," –clunk- "Slytherin!" –crack- She looked down at the chair and frowned, trying to pretend that the crack down the back had been there all along.

She had been friends with Blaise during her fourth year, when he had chosen to sit with her in the library as opposed to with his housemates, who were as usual testing how far they could push Madam Pince before she snapped and ordered them all out of her library.

For once, Blaise had actually felt like doing some work, and had informed Luna of this fact, adding on the end, "At least you're not a Griffindor, eh?"

She had quickly looked away from him, and stared at the Potions essay in front of her, which was steadfastly refusing to write itself. Blaise had been in an amiable enough mood, and had leaned over and given her a few pointers, and the occasional smile, before finishing his work and leaving. It hadn't been a long encounter, nor particularly warm, but it had opened the way for them to talk, or just nod when they found themselves passing each other in the corridor.

Now Luna was sure she knew why the handsome Slytherin had been so friendly towards her. "It was an act, it was just a stupid act so he could go and tell his mommy and daddy all about the daughter of the famous Mr Lovegood, and help them try and kidnap me. From my own house!"

Luna's voice was faltering and her tone was swinging wildly from choking back tears, to mocking and straight through to angry. She felt so vulnerable now. She never, never placed trust in people if they didn't prove themselves first – she had enough teasing from her own housemates to blindly accept a friendship that didn't seem true. Nonetheless, she had never seen any signs of insincerity in Blaise, never seen anything but honesty in his dark eyes. Damn but he was good.

Ginny quickly moved the already damaged chair away from Luna's feet, and went to sit next to her. Considering how calm Luna usually was, this outburst was unsettling Ginny, and for once she didn't know quite what to say. She settled instead for putting an arm around Luna's shoulder, and just letting the other girl sniffle quietly against her side.

"I can't believe I thought he actually liked me. Merlin, I'm such an idiot," she snorted. "Loony Lovegood."

"Don't say that Luna, you know it's not true." Ginny snapped. "It's bad enough other people saying it. I know you. I know it's not true, so don't bloody well start saying it yourself."

"Yeah well," Luna sighed, "if I'm not crazy then why did I even believe him?"

Ginny shrugged, more for her own benefit than Luna's, for the other girl was once more hiding behind her hair. She had believed in Blaise's friendship with Luna as well. Blaise didn't have many friends in his own house, because of his laid-back attitude, and it had seemed as though he had found a kindred spirit in calm little Luna. She could hardly believe what had happened, and knew that the resulting tragedies were weighing heavily on Luna's mind.

"He betrayed me Gin, and look what's happened. Maybe it would have been better if they had just let them take me. Did you see how guilty he looked on the train?" Fresh tears started to fall from Luna's eyes, and Ginny hugged her tightly.

"It wouldn't have been better Luna. The Order are going to get Tonks back, it'll be okay. You've still got me, don't worry." Ginny pushed her red hair back out of her face, and thought back to Blaise's surprising entrance, and speedy exit from their train carriage.

Did he look guilty? she thought to herself, remembering the look in his eyes. That wasn't guilt. That was something entirely different. His eyes looked so powerful. So sad. He didn't look guilty, he looked upset.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Blaise, at that particular moment in time, was in his bedroom with Draco, talking about the Death Eaters.

"Look Drake, I'm not saying I believe in their bloody cause, alright? I'm just saying I don't really fancy getting killed for not believing in it."

"And that's your sodding problem!" Draco yelled back, "You don't give a flying fuck about anything but yourself. You just think…"

"That's not true!" Blaise shouted, jumping to his feet. "You know that's not true, you bastard, don't you fucking dare tell me I don't care about anything."

"So you cared about the Ravenclaw chit, well she's still alive isn't she? Who was it that wanted her dead, Blaise? The Dark Lord. You really gonna join his side?"

"I…" Blaise deflated, and sank back down into his chair. "Look Drake, I don't know what to do."

"Neither do I, but you know what? We'd better figure it out soon."

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Ginny and Luna were traipsing reluctantly back to their dormitories when they ran into Willow. Or more accurately Willow ran into them. The elder red-head had been dashing back to her rooms after finishing sorting out her classroom for the following day's lessons. There was a book packed somewhere with her belongings that was calling out to her to read, especially after the surprising turn her year five class had taken.

Luna ended up sprawled on the floor as she had been directly in Willow's way as the hurrying witch had rounded a corner. She sat up slowly and rubbed her elbow, which had been introduced to the floor at a high velocity.

"Oh my Goddess! Oh, I'm so sorry! I should have been looking where I was going. Oh Luna, please don't cry! I'm sorry." Willow pulled Luna back to her feet and started to frantically brush the girl down.

"Are you okay? Did you hurt anything?"

"No, I think my bum cushioned my fall," Luna sniffed. "Really, I'm okay. It's not… I mean, you didn't do anything." She glanced up at Willow from under hooded eyes, while biting her lip. Their new teacher was definitely cool, but Luna didn't know if she really wanted to be talking about her murderous-boy-problems to anyone apart from Ginny.

"Are you sure? Well, what's up then? Maybe I can help. You guys wanna come to my rooms? They're kinda Slytherin-y, but I'm working on that!" Willow was already herding the girls in front of her, and expertly manoeuvred them towards her painting. Years of guiding the rather goofy and absent-minded Xander to class had taught her well.

"Look," Willow turned to face the girls just outside her painting, "you don't have to trust me, or tell me what's wrong, but I really do want to help. I'm all new here so you don't have to worry about me working for the wrong guys – I hadn't even heard of them until a few days ago. But if you really don't wanna talk about it, that's cool too; we can just drink hot chocolate or something. I've even got the little marshmallows to go on top!"

A dark shadow detached itself from a patch of slightly darker shadows and drifted away down the corridor. Professor Snape had been witness to the whole touching scene outside Willow's chambers, and was now mulling it over in his mind.

He had been expecting an arrogant, pretentious witch, and yet Willow was either a very good actress, or she was a genuinely nice person. Someone who thought they were better than everyone, so much better that they had the right to end life as we know it, surely shouldn't be talking to the students about their problems and inviting them to their rooms for a chat and hot chocolate with – Snape could hardly believe it – marshmallows on top.

So she isn't what you expected. What does that matter? he asked himself, and found to his disgust that it did matter. If the girl was that nice, then his actions earlier had been out of order.

When Snape had joined the Death Eaters he had thought they were fighting for honour, for the honour of their kind. Just because he could now see that there was nothing honourable in Voldemort's mission didn't mean that he valued the trait itself any less. There was also nothing honourable in the way he had treated Willow earlier, and the uncomfortable itch in his mind that just couldn't be scratched was forcing him to do something about it.

As Snape reached his rooms he swept in and sank down on his couch. Like Willow's rooms, his were dark green and black, although as opposed to Willow, he found the colour scheme very fitting to his personality. While he brooded on the couch his eyes wandered aimlessly around his possessions – a meagre collection of belongings padded out solely by his extensive book collection.

There was nothing else to be done, he realised, with a sinking feeling. He was going to have to apologise to Willow.