Kit, who looked paranoid, and clutched her crucifix, awoke Harry the next morning. Fumbling with the curtains of his four-poster, Harry began to get out.

"Stop!" she whispered urgently, pushing him back in bed. "You have to get out of bed right leg first."

"What're you on about?" Harry asked sleepily, reaching for his glasses.

"It's Friday the thirteenth!" Kit whispered exasperatedly. "You have to have more than constant vigilance today."

Harry groaned. "You sound like Moody."

Kit ignored him. "So, right leg first … that's it … okay … and now … you're good." She let out a breath that she seemed to be holding in. "Now, get dressed, or we won't have time for breakfast."

Harry nodded and turned to his trunk. As Kit reached the door, Harry began to inhale sharply – the beginnings of a sneeze.

"NO!" she shouted, causing the four other boys to jump in alarm. She leaped across the room, falling on top of Harry, who was an inch from sneezing. Putting her hand over his mouth, he sneezed: the ultimate sneeze.

Kit pulled her hand away, a look of utter repulsion on her face. "You prat," she breathed, as Harry reached for a tissue.

"That's gross," Seamus said, pulling his tie on while eyeing the scene in front of him.

"What did you do that for?" Harry asked as Kit wiped off the sneeze remains from her hand.

She sighed. "If you don't cover your mouth when you sneeze, the devil will steal your soul." She said this as though explaining that one and one was two. A/N: the superstition actually states that you should always cover your mouth while yawning so your spirit does not leave you to be replaced by the devil; but that would make this scene so much less enjoyable, don't you think?

Seamus snorted. "You actually believe that crap?"

Kit shot him a glare. His smile faded quickly from his face.

"It is Friday the thirteenth," Neville said, pulling on his shoes.

"And we are in Hogwarts," Dean added, picking up his books. "Anything can happen."

"That damned poltergeist is going to be horrible," Ron moaned. The other boys nodded in agreement, and they all went off to class.

It was lunch before Kit lost her composure again. As Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their seats at the Gryffindor table, Kit stayed standing. Her eyes were wide and she held her crucifix closer to her.

Harry sighed. "What's so unlucky now?"

Not saying a word, she pointed to the tablecloth. Hermione moved the tureen of stew a little to the right to reveal –

"Cool!" Ron exclaimed. "It looks like a diamond!"

"So? What's so special about that?" Harry asked, taking up his goblet.

"'A diamond–shaped fold in clean linen portends death.'"

The other three froze, dumbstruck. Hermione was the first to recover.

"That's just a silly superstition," she said, picking up her bag.

Kit raised her eyebrows, shrugging it off. At the same time, her golden eyes became cold, which could only mean one thing.

Walking along the corridor to Charms, Kit grabbed Harry's arm.

"Ouch! Kit! What're you –?"

She pointed up, and as they watched, a picture of four monks fell off the wall and smashed at their feet.

"That's odd," Ron said.

"And it's bad luck," Kit said, voice full of fear. "Quick! Knock three times on wood!"

The three of them ran to the nearest door and knocked on the frame. Kit was still clutching her crucifix. Looking back, they saw Hermione bent over the fallen picture. She was speaking with the monks, and had not knocked on any wood.

Kit's eyes narrowed dangerously as they walked back to her.

"They say Peeves did it," Hermione said in an undertone as they continued down the corridor.

"So, you're saying that superstitions and bad luck are non-existent?" asked Kit, her voice as hard as her eyes.

Hermione did not have to answer as they had already reached the classroom.

The task in the class involved scissors. Harry had to hand them out. As he reached Kit, the scissors slipped out of his hands fell to the floor in a clatter. He picked them up and continued without delaying, but as he glanced at Kit, he caught the look of shock and suspicion on her face.

Once the class was underway, Harry turned to Kit.

"What was with that look you gave me?" he asked.

She looked at him, eyes full of distrust.

"You dropped the scissors," she said simply, her eyes narrowing.

"And it's bad luck," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"'Dropping a pair of scissors is said to warn that a lover is unfaithful,'" she recited, eyes boring into Harry's.

Harry looked back at her incredulously. "You think I'm cheating on you?" he asked, not believing that this was actually happening.

Kit did not do or say anything, but the look on her face said everything. Harry looked back at her, sorrow etched all over his face, his eyes wide. Before he could say anything, the bell rang. Quick as a flash, Kit gathered up her things and left at top speed.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked as they made their way along the corridor.

"I don't know," he sighed.

"Are you coming to Divination?"

"No," Harry said immediately. "I have to plan for tonight."

Ron nodded as they encountered a wave of Hufflepuffs going in the opposite direction.

Harry made his way up to Gryffindor tower. However, Harry did not intend to plan the D.A. meeting: he had arranged it days ago. He needed to plan for tomorrow.

As he wrapped his invisibility cloak around him, he pulled out the Marauder's Map. No doubt, he would need it.

Quietly as possible, he made his way to the one eyed witch. Jogging along the tunnel, he hoped that what he was about to do was not completely impossible.

Later that night, he joined Kit, Ron, and Hermione in the Great Hall for dinner. They did not ask where he had been, assuming that he spent the last hour in the Room of Requirement. They ate in silence, letting the conversations around them wash over them. Ron and Hermione would occasionally exchange glances, at which Kit and Harry would raise their eyebrows.

As Harry reached over for the pepper, someone behind him pushed him forward. He missed the pepper and knocked the saltshaker over. Some of it spilt, and Kit gasped.

"Throw some over your left shoulder," she ordered, panic on her face.

Harry obliged, and as he threw it, someone spoke from behind him.

"Damn it, Potter."

Harry turned in his seat to find Malfoy brushing salt from his face.

"Doesn't look like you got rid of the devil after all," Hermione said sarcastically. Malfoy sneered.

"What do you want?" Kit asked him bluntly.

"Oh, I just came to tell the Mudblood –"

Ron jumped up, his face and ears red.

"Shut your filthy mouth, ferret," he spat.

Malfoy's face contorted in fury. He began to advance on Ron.

"Why, you little –"

"Malfoy! Weasley!" a voice rang out. Both boys looked up to the staff table to find Professor McGonagall glaring at them.

"Don't make me come over there," she threatened.

Malfoy shot one last glare at the Gryffindors before he swept out of the hall. Ron sat back down, enraged.

Kit stood up. "I'm going to the library," she announced. "Does anyone want to come?"

"Sure," Harry said, standing up.

"I didn't ask you," she said coldly.

"Wha–?" Harry began, but Kit swept out of the hall before he could finish. He looked at Ron and Hermione.

"That was –"

"Cold," Ron finished. Both of them were looking at him with sympathy in their eyes. Hermione less so.

"See you at the meeting," Harry said quietly, still fathoming Kit's attitude.

He walked out of the hall, and Hermione looked at Ron. She smiled slightly, as she watched him reel over the earlier events with Malfoy. He has his hands clenched on the table and he still looked mad.

She placed her hand on his fist.

Ron jumped slightly, his gaze moving from her hand to her smiling face.

"Thank you," she said quietly, giving his hand a slight squeeze.

He opened his hand and took hers. Looking at it, he could see the scars of the abuse she endured with the Death Eaters. He ran his thumb along her smooth knuckles, looking into her deep, brown eyes.

"I'm always here for you," he said quietly. "I, umm ..."

"I like you too," she whispered, beaming at him.

He smiled. "There's a Valentine's ball tomorrow," he said. "Will you – I mean –"

"I'd love to," she said a little breathlessly, as his hand was still holding hers. She found she loved the feel of his skin.

They got up, Ron a little light-headed, hoping she did not notice –

"Should we go to the Room of Requirement?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Ron nodded, and still holding hands, oblivious to the whistling, left the hall.